Tasting, Finding, Keeping: The Story of Never (11 page)

Ty and I are the first ones to arrive at the meeting.

The group leader is there, of course, but none of the other participants. My heart is in my throat, and I'm so tongue-tied that I let Ty introduce me.

“My name is Ty McCabe and this is my best friend, Never Ross,” he tells the woman with skin like cocoa powder and eyes like emeralds. She's beautiful and powerful and so in control of herself that I'm mesmerized, by her and by Ty's words.

Best friend?

Have I ever had one of those? Do I want one? Best friend is really just a fancy word for someone that has their hand wrapped around your heart.
Best Friends Are the Soul Mates You Don't Sleep With.
Lacey has this plaque over her bed. I avoid looking at it because it's painted in pink on a cheery, white china backdrop. It hangs crookedly from a bit of twine. I always thought that in some strange way, it was put there by the universe to mock my pain. Yet here Ty is telling this woman with the steady hands, the confident smile, that I'm his. His best friend.

I look away from them both, unsure how to handle this situation. It's been a long time since I was so vested in something that I was actually afraid about how it would turn out.

The building around us is old and crumbly but pretty. Or it was once. Like many things, time has shredded it of its original beauty, covered up old details with layers of poorly applied paint, took what was once something grand, a mansion maybe or a boutique, and now here it is serving as a community center for this half of the city. I hear a basketball echoing from somewhere in the back of the building and smile.

And the downtrodden found refuge in dilapidation; and they were happy there because it was theirs and no one else's; bare of pretense and expectations, this place became a haven of solace and a sanctum for peace.

The poem that pops into my head is called
For Them The Wheel Turned
and it's by my favorite poet of all time, a one, Noah Scott. It suits this place so perfectly that I get this intense urge to chisel it into the wall of stone across from me. I don't think anyone would mind; there are already murals galore there, layered on top of one another, overlapping from the cement floor to the soaring heights of the ceiling. It's a massive wash of color that humbles at the same time it inspires. Impressive.

“My name is Vanessa Pickett,” says the woman with the emerald eyes. She takes Ty's hand and shakes it firmly. When she sees me scoping out the wall of murals, she turns and looks at it, too, like she's seeing it for the first time, eyes darting along the stories pictured there. “It's pretty, isn't it?” she asks as I drop my gaze to her face. As if she can feel my eyes on her, she turns and looks straight at me. “What do you think of it, Miss Ross?” I shrug my shoulders and go for a cigarette. It's that or gum, anything that gives me an excuse not to talk, and I think I could use the nicotine right about now. Vanessa doesn't stop me. This room already smells like smoke anyway, and most of the windows are either broken or look rusted and seem to be stuck open.

“Would you like to help me set up the rug?” she asks, and I raise my brows.

“Rug?” Ty asks as he looks over at Vanessa. She laughs and gestures for us to follow her. There's a massive, metal box against the wall, wet on the top from the rain that's splattering in through the empty windows. Vanessa unlocks the padlock with a key and tosses Ty and I a pair of towels to dry off with. In the box is an assortment of things, one of which is a massive rug, rolled neatly and tied with a bit of rope. Ty wraps his towel around his shoulders and helps Vanessa lift it out and drag it across the floor to a dry spot in the center of the room. She unties the knot and kicks it out flat.

“I find that this works better than those horrible plastic chairs,” she says, and I shiver. I couldn't agree more, so I help her pin down the curling edges with stacks of old books that she retrieves from her metal box. When we're done with that, she pulls out a plastic bag filled with yellow T-shirts.
Get SOGgy, they say. Sexual obsession
is
a disease. Find your cure today.
She gives one of these to Ty and one to me. “You don't have to wear them,” she says with a white-toothed smile. “They're just for fun, but some people find it helpful to have a uniform of sorts. It makes them feel like they belong and we all need a little of that now and again, don't we?” Neither Ty nor I say a thing. He's as nervous as me, I can tell by the way he's pacing around. I, on the other hand, stand stone still, but my hands shake so badly that I tuck them in the pockets of the coat. “Have a seat if you'd like,” Vanessa says as she sets a backpack down on the edge of the rug. From it, she removes a tablet along with a bag of colorful coins.

“Come on, Nev,” Ty says, using the same nickname that Lacey gave me. I like it. A lot. I smile at him. “Put on the tee?” I raise my brows, watch as he lifts his shirt above his head and tosses it in a soggy heap on the floor. My pulse starts to race and my blood runs hot. Ty's midsection is a work of art, a collection of grooves and hard muscles that make up a wide chest and a thin waist that tapers down to perfect hips. His pants are hanging tantalizingly low, dragged down by the rainwater, and I catch a hint of deep grooves on either side of his body, that 'V' shape that a lot of women, including myself, go nuts for.

Shit.

I take my jacket off, suddenly hot, and put my cigarette into the glass ashtray that Vanessa sets out. I wonder what kind of woman I am that I'm horny just hours after a fairly humiliating STD test.
A crazy one,
is the only answer to that question, so I busy myself with slipping on the yellow tee over my tank top. Mine, at least, is dry thanks to Ty's coat. And the fact that he gave it to me doesn't escape my attention. I have heard Lacey say before that she only gives her jacket to girls she really likes because there's a chance she'll never get it back and she wants to be okay with that. Ty is okay with that? Or does he think that we'll be hanging out enough that he could easily retrieve it if needed? Either way, the thought is sort of terrifying. And nice. Both and neither.
God, how did I get into this mess?

“Sit by me,” Ty says as he settles himself on a corner of the rug and tugs me down next to him. Our knees touch and the air around me feels hot. There's a storm brewing outside, sending cold gusts of wind and water into the building and I'm
hot.
Wow. I really do need this meeting.

“So,” Vanessa asks as she moves her finger across the screen of the silver tablet. She smiles and her eyes crinkle at the corners. “I know I spoke to you over the phone, Mr. McCabe, but do you have any questions about the process?”

“Uh, no, I'll just go with the flow,” Ty replies, smiling without his dimples.

“How about you, Miss Ross?” I shrug and light another cigarette. Ty pulls it out of my mouth and sticks it in his with a wink. I get out another.

“I'm okay,” I say, and Vanessa nods with a secretive, little smile that tells me I might not be. I let my eyes drift to the side and watch water drip down the wall and pool into a puddle on the floor. Moments later, they start to trickle in, a sea of people so ordinary that I wouldn't pick them out of a lineup. Ty and I are the strangest looking ones there. Especially Ty. Most definitely Ty. I notice that a few of the women notice him, let their eyes linger just a bit. To my relief, Ty doesn't look at any of them. In fact, he seems completely checked out. I touch his hand and he blinks like he's coming to. Then he leans over and whispers into my ear, sending chills down my spine.

“Whatever I say here, whatever I do, don't hold it against me.” I nod and I know that I won't. How can I? Where's my high ground? That's right, I don't have any.

“Okay,” Vanessa begins, lighting a series of small candles and sticking them in the center of the rug. “Now that we're all here … ” She lets her eyes trail around the twelve faces that are present, pausing for just a moment longer on mine and Ty's. “I'd like to introduce two new members to SOG. This fine gentleman here is Ty McCabe.” Ty holds up a hand and gives a tight smile. I wonder if he wonders about getting up and leaving, just walking out. That's what I'm thinking about, even though I know I won't do it. The way I felt at the clinic, like I was right where I was supposed to be, that's how I feel here, too. “And the lovely, young woman next to him is Never Ross.”

“Printed just like it sounds right across the top of my birth certificate,” I say, used to getting stares and questions about my name. It is strange. Admittedly, I've never met another person with it. At least it makes it easy to tell me apart. The group claps and smiles, but I can see that they're looking at us like we're outsiders. This is not going to be easy.

“What we're going to do to start off the day is get to know Never and Ty, learn some of their secrets.” Vanessa smiles, but I shift uncomfortably. I don't like sharing secrets, especially with myself. And there are a lot of them buried down inside, waiting for me to take notice, to take control. I swallow hard and look at Ty. He's staring right at me, through me maybe. God, we're the same, me and him. “Why don't we go around the circle, introduce ourselves, and say something that we feel represents the deepest part of us, anything at all. Is there anyone that would like to start?”

“I'll go first,” Ty says, dark eyes still searching mine. It's making me nervous, so I look away. “My name is Tyson by birth,” Ty says as he takes a drag on his cigarette. I'm just letting mine burn, watching the cherry crackle like fire. I don't want to inhale; I can't. I want to block out all of Ty's words, put him back in my dangerous boys category, forget about why he hurts and who he is, go home and cry. I want to do this because like Ty, I'm afraid, too. I'm terrified. I make myself sit still, prove to myself that I'm as brave as I'd like to believe I am. “But if you call me that, I won't answer. I lost my virginity at thirteen, got roped into the sex trade, and worked as a whore for a good portion of my adult life.” I don't look at him. I won't look at him. I
can't
look at him. “I had male and female clients and I rarely used condoms. If I die tomorrow, it won't be a surprise.” Ty's voice is so bitter that I have to squeeze my eyes shut to listen to him.
You brought us here,
I think at him frantically.
You opened up this Pandora's box.
I want nothing more than to slam it shut in that moment, let it fester and burn. What's so wrong with being tortured anyway? My emotions are on a roller coaster right now and it's making me sick. At least when I was unhappy, I was always unhappy. I can't stand these fluctuations; they sting too much.

“You sound pissed off, Ty,” Vanessa says, and I look back at her. I won't look at anyone else, but I'll look at her. She's sitting up straight with her tablet in her lap and her green eyes locked on Ty's.

“Damn right I'm pissed off,” he says, and I can see from the corner of my eye that he's running his hand through his dark hair. “I can't … I don't … ” Ty tries to get me to look at him by putting a hand on my knee, but I push it off and let it fall to the rug. He's asking for my help.
Fuck.
When I went to find him today, I didn't expect this. I guess I expected some kind of fairytale crap, but this is the real world, the world where Ty and I got ourselves into trouble and are just now realizing that we need to get out. “I'm sorry,” Ty says as he takes a massive breath. “I've been preparing myself for this for the past few days. I had a speech planned, but I forgot all of it. Honestly, I'm a little freaked out.” Vanessa nods.

“Understandable,” she says. “Would you like to continue?” Presumably Ty shakes his head because Vanessa moves on, swinging her gaze to mine. My spine stiffens and I feel my fingers curling around my knees. I reach up suddenly and grab my cigarette, take a huge drag and try to hold the smoke in my lungs. “What about you, Never? Would you like to go next?” I blow out the smoke slowly, so very slowly.

“My name is Never, and I'm a sex addict. Can I go now?” There are some nervous chuckles around the group, but Vanessa sees right through me.

“That's great that you can admit that, Never, but we're not about twelve steps or confessions or any of that bullshit here. We're real people with real problems. Do you have a problem, Never?”

“I don't know,” I reply honestly. “Is being promiscuous a problem? Men have been praised for centuries for doing exactly what I'm doing. I go out, find guys I like, and fuck them. Maybe I'm just a stud?”

“Do you feel like a stud, Never?” Vanessa asks. She knows that I'm bullshitting her, and she doesn't like it. I
know
I have a problem. Looking for people to fill the holes inside of me is not going to make me better. They get in there and they break me up inside. They make me miss home and the possibilities that might've happened had I stayed. I dream sometimes that I never left that night, that I stayed with Noah Scott and got married. See, Noah Scott is the kind of guy you can take home to your family, show off, and know that at the end of the day, he'll be there for you. That's who Noah Scott was. See, this guy next to me, this Ty McCabe, he's one of the dangerous ones, the ones with pasts that burn like fire and melt everything around them.

“I don't know, Vanessa,” I say feeling confrontational all of a sudden. “I stopped counting at forty.” There's no reaction from the group, no murmuring, nothing. If they're judging me, they're doing it quietly.

“What do you love most about yourself?” Vanessa asks, and the most horrible thing about that question is that I don't have any answer. “Don't answer that yet,” she says suddenly, like she's a fucking mind reader or something. “We'll come back to you. Ben, would you like to go next?” I finish my cigarette, toss it into the ashtray and start on another. And another. I start a new cigarette for every person who speaks, all ten of them, and when the circle finally returns to Vanessa, I feel sick. From the nicotine, from the smoke, from the stories, I don't know. I hear the words
empty, lonely, helpless, afraid.
They repeat these over and over again as they share bits of themselves with me. I smoke and stare out at them with tired eyes and a down turned mouth.