Ten Thousand Words (9 page)

Although I had never actively looked for meaning in my relationships, it wasn’t that I was opposed to it.

Why does this feel so different?

Because
she
was different. She was like looking through a brand-new lens where the world was fresh and bright, the colors more intense, clear. Xanthe made me
think
, which was a hell of a lot more than I could say about the women I had back in Amsterdam.

“What sort of relationships do you have then?” I asked her, standing close enough to brush her arm, needing the contact with her.

Again, she shrugged. “I have a few really close friends. Nothing sexual going on right now though. I suppose I could say I live vicariously through my writing.”

“When was the last time you had sex?” I wasn’t too sure I wanted to know.

She looked pensive.

Holy shit, she’s actually trying to figure it out!

“I hooked up with an old lover back in February.”

“So…eight months ago?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “What about you?”

“Hmm…” I said, looking out over the stream. “Three weeks ago—give or take a couple of days. A pretty standard lay.”

She sighed. “Lucky. Mine ended on a depressing note.”

She laughed suddenly, and because it was so infectious, I joined in. It was just so nice being able to connect with someone like this. It wasn’t that it was easy. It was just…worthwhile.

“Come on. I need more pictures,” I said.

She pushed herself off the wall.

For the next few hours, we walked around, and I took up several rolls of film. I bought us hot dogs and hot apple cider from a vendor. The smell of it reminded me of her, and I could almost imagine what it’d be like drinking her in.

I asked to hear more stories of her growing up, and she held nothing back while speaking about her friends Jaime and Ricki—her Bro Dawgs, whatever the hell that meant.

“We’re a pretty close-knit group—Jaime and Ricki and Rex. I hang out with them all the time back home. There’s Ronen and Lilla, whom I talk to at least three times a week. They had to move about two years ago. We’re all hoping they get to come home soon.”

They seemed to be a rowdy bunch of misfits, from the sound of it. I wanted to meet them.

“Ricki and Jaime run the Inkwell—”

“The tattoo shop? Your Ricki is Ricki
Conklin
?”

Xanthe gave me a huge smile. “You’ve heard of him?”

“Yeah. Many of our clients have tattoos from him. His work is amazing. I’ve photographed quite a few of his pieces. It’s all the rage nowadays. Tattooed models are much more mainstream.”

“Do you have any tattoos?” she asked.

“No. I’ve never seen anything I’d want permanently etched into me. I guess, for some people, it’s all right. Sometimes, I wonder though…”

“What?”

“It’s kind of crazy to actually do something like that.”

Xanthe averted her gaze. “What? Do you always judge people before you get to know them, Ollie?”

Surprised and maybe mildly hurt, I asked, “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you seem to make up your mind about people before even knowing them. Like Elaine. You’ve stated that you think she must be insane to have come up with the stories she has. And, now, people with tattoos have to be somewhat crazy to want them.”

Now that it had been pointed out to me…I realized I did. “I’m sorry, Xanthe. I guess I never thought of it like that. It’s not like I’d be mean or rude to a person for what they looked like.”

“Really? If I had been smartly dressed and looking like I hadn’t just rolled out of bed when you knocked me down in the airport, do you think you’d have been nicer to me?”

Talk about a slap in the face.
But honestly…
“I don’t know.”

She nodded. “I think you would have. When it happened you said, ‘not another one.’ What did you mean by that?”

Ashamed now, I squirmed next to her on the bench. “The Paranormal Hunters weirdos—shit.” Mortified, I could now see what she was talking about. “It’s just—”

“It’s just that you seem to have people lumped into categories, and that’s kind of sad. Tell me, what category have you shoved me into? What do you mean by, I was just another Paranormal Hunters weirdo?”

“You were dressed like a lot of the fans who’d been popping up and harassing me recently. Then, you said my name, and…I’m not really like that. I don’t look at a person and pass judgment.”

“What about Elaine?” she demanded. “What makes it okay to assume—”

“I haven’t met her, Xanthe. I just thought that it was weird that someone could just imagine the shit she does. Is that so wrong? I just wonder what goes on in a person’s head when they come up with those sort of things.”

Sighing, Xanthe clasped her hands together and stared straight ahead.

“As to what sort of category I’ve put
you
in…you’re all by yourself. I’ve never met anyone like you, and it’s what I find so fascinating.”

“If boring and sedate is your definition of fascinating.” She laughed.

“Boring and sedate? You’ve traveled the world! Seen amazing sights, met incredible people—”

“So have you,” she said.

“Not like you.”

“Well, tell me what you’ve experienced then. Who’s your favorite person in the world? The one person you can’t imagine your life without.”

I told her about Trey.

“How long have you and Trey been friends?”

“Nearly our whole lives. We were raised together. When his father died, his mother became my siblings’ and my nanny. When she died from breast cancer, my parents adopted him.”

“Do they know he’s gay?”

“Yes.”

Then, I confessed about the time when I had been curious about what being gay entailed, and I’d made out with him one boring Sunday afternoon while my parents had taken my younger siblings to London. We were sixteen, and it had done nothing for me, except given me some unexplainable beard burn.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone about that,” I said.

Xanthe laughed until tears were rolling down her cheeks. I felt quite proud to have made her lose it like that.

We finished with our late afternoon meal, and she crumpled up her wrappers and sighed. “I have to get back. I’ve got some work to do, and I have a conference call at six.”

“Sure,” I replied.

I’d hoped we could hang out more, maybe watch a movie in either of our rooms. I wanted in her personal space, if I was being honest. I pictured that her stuff had exploded out of her suitcase and was situated in heaps all over her room.

Instead of walking, we hailed a cab. Since she hadn’t made any sort of move toward me since I’d mentioned dating other people, I took the initiative and clasped her hand. I felt her hesitation, but she couldn’t help but twine her fingers with mine. I knew she felt the pull between us.

Xanthe insisted she pay the cab fare. She all but shoved me out of the car before thrusting a fistful of bills at the driver.

“Thank you!” she called to him before shutting the door.

I made sure to hold her hand all the way to the tenth floor, and I walked her to her room.

“Thank you for a lovely day.” She smiled, taking out her key.

“Thank
you
,” I replied, watching her for signs of escape. “Xanthe?”

“Yes, Ollie?” she asked, giving me her full attention.

“I’d really like to kiss you again.”

She sighed, and I wondered what that was all about. Giving me a shrewd look before closing her eyes, she turned her face up to mine. She was just so fucking cute; I could hardly stand it.

This time, I pressed my lips to her forehead. The clean scent of her hair filled my lungs, and the warmth of her soft skin teased my lips. I knew it wasn’t going to be enough for long. She was nothing I had ever looked for and everything I had ever wanted.

Xanthe pulled back and opened the door. “See you later,” she said.

“I certainly hope so,” I replied.

Turning back toward the elevator, I got a few steps down the hall before I heard a door open.

Xanthe’s voice called out, “Hey, Ollie?”

I had to restrain myself from sprinting back over to her. “Yeah?”

“Let me know when you make it to chapter eleven.”

Then, she shut the door once more, and I was left grinning like a dipshit in the corridor.

Xanthe

Standing up, I stretched and worked out the kinks that had formed from sitting in the same position for a conference call for two hours. My cell phone began blaring the special ringtone I had for my married friends, Ronen and Lilla Kelly, and my spirits lifted.

“Hello?” I answered.

“Woman!” barked Ronen’s voice through the speaker. “Get your ass over here, and meet your goddaughter. You’ve been in New York for more than a day.”

“I know, I know—”

“No excuses. We’ll be seeing you in an hour. Food and booze. Ass here. Pronto.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Ronen hung up, which meant I really had no choice in the matter.

Heading to the bathroom, I splashed some cold water on my face and tamed my hair, which had somehow reacted to the stress of the conference call and turned into a rat’s nest.

“Bleh,” I commented to my reflection in the mirror.

At the age of sixteen, Rex and I had met Ronen and Ricki under extremely awful circumstances. Out of that situation, we’d all forged a strong bond of friendship, more like family. Not long after the unmentionable incident, Ronen and Ricki’s work had taken them to Amsterdam, and when I’d gone to university, Rex had also moved there for training to work with them.

When I had moved to Amsterdam seven years ago, I’d befriended Lilla. She’d been running a cheap hostel with a woman named Marta. A New York native, Lilla had developed wanderlust at a young age, and she had upped and left her home for adventure. We’d met one evening in a coffee house. She’d been in line behind me, and when I’d placed my order, she had caught the American undertones in my accent and demanded to know where I was from.

We’d struck up a conversation that night that lasted hours and decided to meet up the next day for a few drinks. I’d brought my oldest friend, Jaime, with me, and the three of us had become inseparable. We introduced Lilla to Rex, Ricki, and Ronen.

Until Ronen had met Lilla, he’d never had any plans on settling down with any woman. Then, his heart put down some serious roots, and they had fallen deeply in love.

Unfortunately, Ronen had to leave Holland. Half-Irish, half-Israeli, some shit from his past had caught up to him, and he’d had to split. Really long story made short, Ronen had landed a job with a well-respected tattoo shop in Manhattan, and both Ronen and Lilla made the move to Lilla’s native New York. A few days after they’d arrived, they had gotten married. Lilla had immediately gotten knocked up, and they now had a ten-month-old daughter named Maddison, my goddaughter.

Grabbing my bag and stuffing a change of clean underwear in it as an afterthought, I headed out and caught a cab.

A night in with two of my favorite people might just be what I needed to shake off the thoughts I had going on with Ollie. I was doing my utmost to keep cool about the man. I really enjoyed being with him, but his offhanded comments about Elaine and her craziness made me want to slap him. Then, that shit about dating other people—
what am I supposed to make of that?

However, Ollie was endearing, engaging, witty, and overall adorable when he turned on the charm.

I definitely needed to get out of my hotel room and be with people I understood.

Maybe it was what I deserved though. Even though I was just being myself when I was with him, he didn’t know that I was someone else, too. Before whatever this was between us went anywhere, I had to let him know that I was the crazy-ass weirdo behind
Haunted Bonds
. When I did, I had the feeling it would change everything.

The taxi pulled up in front of Lilla and Ronen’s duplex. I paid for the ride and hopped out.

After softly rapping my knuckles on their door, it opened to reveal a grinning Ronen, who promptly hauled me into his arms.

Ronen was forty, completely bald—both from hair loss and shaving it because of said hair loss—and scrappy. His Irish-Israeli genes had blended well, creating a handsome man. He wore John Lennon glasses perched on the bridge of his rather beaky nose, and his smile was always huge and blinding.

“We’ve missed you so much, sweetheart!” He ushered me inside.

“I’ve missed you, too. We need you guys to come back home to us. It’s not the same without you.”

“Hopefully, we’ll be able to one day soon.”

Lilla was in the living room with Maddison conked out in her lap.

“Oh!” I whispered, disappointed that I’d missed out on holding my goddaughter.

Lilla was a big-boned woman—tall, muscular, and curvy. Motherhood had exploded her already large breasts to epic proportions, and she had worked hard to shed the pregnancy weight. She glowed with health and happiness, and I knew that, no matter how much we missed each other, she had chosen the right path in following Ronen.

“Don’t even.” She patted the couch next to her. When I took the seat, she transferred the sleeping chubby Maddison into my arms. “She’s a good sleeper. She probably won’t even notice.”