Nellie and The Bastard

Those moments of anger only seemed to come out at night, though, and that day, I was doing a reasonably good job of convincing myself that J.P. carried all the blame.

Anne-Marie sighed. "Nellie, I know you do not want to hear this—"

"Then don't say it."

"I will say it," she said firmly. "You and Jean-Paul belong together. Give him a chance."

"I don't want a relationship."

"Why?" she asked. "You give him some convoluted excuse about feeling suffocated but—"

"Since when does he tell you everything?"

"I have my ways," she said, her lips curling up into a smirk reminiscent of J.P.'s. "Just tell me this, Nellie. Why do you think relationships are so suffocating?"

"I don't need someone telling me what to do and where to go and how to act," I said. "I got enough of that from my dad. I'm not putting myself into that situation for a regular source of dick."

"You know, I have been with Remy for nearly five years," she said.

I rolled my eyes. "Is that with or without all the times you broke up?"

"Without," she said patiently. "We may have broken up a few times, but we always get back together. In any case, I have never felt suffocated by him. He has his life, and I have mine, and at the end of it, we come together and share those things."

"What are you, some kind of walking romance advice column?" I grumbled. "I shouldn't have to justify why I don't want a relationship."

"It's just, I don't quite believe that. I think you do want one." Her tone was almost condescending. "You are just scared to admit it."

"No, I'm not," I said. "If that's all you came here to tell me, maybe you should leave."

"Actually, I came here to give you this." She pulled a piece of paper out of her purse and handed it to me.

"What is this?"

"Jean-Paul's new address."

I crumpled the paper and threw it at her. "Goodbye, Anne-Marie."

"It's just for when you change your mind!" she giggled, snatching the paper and flattening it again. "Believe me, cherie, it is very strange for me to try to talk someone into sleeping with my brother, but you were both much happier when you were together."

"We weren't together!" I said, exasperated. "You might not want to hear it, but we were just fucking, okay? He's the one who wanted more."

"You miss him."

"I don't. I could go out right now and find some other guy to sleep with. Anyone I wanted."

"Except you are miserable."

"I am perfectly happy."

"Mm-hmm," she said, gathering her purse and slowly moving towards the door. "That is why you are sitting at home on a Saturday night, alone, watching shows about charming serial killers instead of... what, going out and finding some other guy to sleep with? Anyone you wanted?"

"I could if I wanted to, I just don't feel like it," I huffed.

"Of course," she said patronizingly. "It couldn't possibly be because the one guy you want to sleep with, you can't, because for some asinine reason, you're refusing to consider falling in love with him."

"Goodbye, Anne-Marie," I said again.

She smiled, put the scrap of paper with J.P.'s address on it under a magnet on my fridge, and blew me a kiss as she left.

I didn't know who the hell Anne-Marie thought she was, coming to my apartment and telling me how I was supposed to handle things. Pissed off, I marched across the kitchen and plucked the paper off my fridge. I tore it in half, and then in half again, and crumpled the pieces before throwing them aggressively into my garbage can.

Then, I called Sydney.

"Don't let her in again," I said.

"Nell, I'm sorry, I just—"

"And get your ass ready. We're going out."

"Really?" she said. "Okay. I just got out of the shower. Let me dry my hair."

"Get dressed and come get ready here," I directed. "And Syd? I'm not joking, I'm aiming to either get laid or black-out drunk tonight."

"That seems like an entirely unhealthy way of dealing with whatever emotions you're currently avoiding," she said. "I'm totally in."

My methods of picking people up at bars were pretty unique compared to most. I didn't deal in high heels and miniskirts; I relied more on shock value and being candid to a fault to get what I wanted. Still, I wasn't taking any chances that night.

I didn't own a miniskirt, but I did own a ridiculously expensive black dress that my dad had approved because, in his words, it was "tight enough to be alluring, but not low-cut enough to be slutty."

Well, a pair of scissors could easily fix that.

I smirked as I pictured what Kimberlee's face would look like if she saw me taking my kitchen scissors to the black Chanel dress. All I had to do was cut a few threads here and there, and then tuck the skirt up so instead of a respectable knee-length, it was halfway up my thigh. After glancing in the mirror, I made one more small adjustment, so the tattoo on my collarbone was showing.

Sydney let out a long whistle when I let her into my apartment a few minutes later.

"You mean business," she said.

"I told you I did."

She was dressed similarly, although she probably didn't have to cut up a Chanel dress for something club-appropriate. Together, we quickly did our hair and makeup, popping open a couple of beers while we got ready.

I had wanted to go somewhere we had been before, since I figured that would be a safe bet when it came to meeting someone to hook up with, but Sydney insisted we try somewhere new.

"Big risks, big reward," she giggled as we got out of the car in front of a bar creatively calledThe Bar.

It seemed far too trendy for my taste, the kind of place where my dress would have probably gotten more attention before I cut it up to show off my chest and legs. Still, as a bouncer waved us past the entrance line to the soundtrack of frustrated sighs from those waiting, I decided it got the job done.

The Bar played music I'd never heard, probably because it wasn't cool yet and therefore was trendy enough to play there. It wasn't quite a club, and it wasn't quite a pub; there was a dance floor, but most of the clientele seemed to be older than Sydney and me.

That didn't bother either of us in the slightest, especially when we got to the bar and immediately had two complimentary drinks in front of us. As I turned to thank the men who had bought us a drink from the other side of the bar, Sydney's eye caught something else entirely, and she almost dropped her glass.

"Nell," she said cautiously. "I don't mean to alarm you but—"

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," I said as my eyes followed hers.

Sitting at a table on the other side of the bar were five people. I knew two of them very personally, one of them in passing, and one from pictures that Sydney had tearfully shown me a few weeks earlier.

I had slept with Shaun and Darryl months earlier after meeting them in a bar, albeit a much dirtier, danker bar than The Bar. A woman was sitting between them who appeared to be around the same age as them, and given the way she was touching Darryl's cheek while she had her arm around Shaun's shoulders, she was going to find herself in the same position I had. That is, she'd probably end up with one of them taking her from behind while she sucked the other one off, although who knew. Maybe they'd stepped up their game. I had no hard feelings about the fact that they were picking some other woman up, or about the fact that they'd never called after I'd hooked up with them. It was a one-night thing, and I was okay with that.

However, the man who sat across the table from them, looking slightly resigned with his arm around a sweet-looking woman... I had a grudge against him.

"Let's go," Sydney said. "Let's just... find another bar."

"What?" I said. "We're not going over there to confront him?"

"Don't," Sydney said. "Let's just go. Please."

"You know how I said I wanted to get fucked or get fucked up?" I said.

"Nellie, don't—"

"Turns out, I'd rather just go fight with that cheating asshole," I continued. "Come on, let's go confront him."

"I can't," she said. "Not in public, I'm too... I don't want to."

"I'll do it, then."

She sighed, grim acceptance across her resigned face. "Just... just be nice about it."

"He doesn't deserve nice."

Before Sydney could even say anything, I shoved my drink into her hand and started walking towards Greg Murphy, the man who had strung her along for months. Sydney had been heartbroken to discover that not only was he a cheater, but that she was the other woman.

He caught sight of me before any of the others at the table. I saw his arm tense around the woman, but he didn't have time to react before I was standing there.

"Shaun! Darryl!" I exclaimed.

Both of them looked up at me, surprised.

"Nellie," Darryl said unsteadily, drawing my name out as he scrambled for words. "Hey. Long time, no see."

"I know," I said, laughing. "Crazy, right? Don't worry, I'm not here to step on your game or anything, I know how competitive you guys get when it comes to the ladies."

Shaun laughed uncomfortably as the woman between them looked confused.

"Oh, oops," I continued. "Sorry, she doesn't know yet, right?"

"Thanks," Darryl said flatly.

I laughed. "Actually, I just wanted to say hey to you, Greg."

"Don't," was all he managed to grunt.

"Don't what?" I said innocently. "Oh, the whole thing with Sydney? Don't worry, I have no hard feelings. I just wanted to say it's nice to see you moved on so fast and introduce myself!"

The woman looked bewildered as I stuck out my hand and smiled. "I'm Nellie. I was friends with Greg's ex-girlfriend! She was pretty upset when they broke up—I mean, you can't blame her, they were together for months—but she's moving on just fine now."

The woman stared at me blankly, her hand rising to shake mine out of instinct.

"And sorry, you are...?" I asked.

"Marla Murphy," she said. "Greg's... wife."

I was lucky looks couldn't kill, and even more fortunate that looks couldn't jump across a table and strangle me in the middle of a crowded bar, because that's what Greg looked like he was about to do.

"Oops," I said, letting go of Marla's hand. "I'm so sorry."

I didn't stick around long enough to find out what happened next. Before Greg could even take a breath or Marla could process what I'd said enough to turn to him, I had whirled around and was striding back to where Sydney was hiding by the bar.

"What happened to being nice?" Sydney said helplessly as I took my drink back from her.

"Nice? I tried, Syd." I took a sip of my drink. "I mean, how nice can you be when you're telling someone her husband's cheating on her?"

She looked miserable as she peered across the bar. "Look. She's trying not to cry."

I turned to see Marla Murphy rushing out of the bar, Greg following behind her desperately. He didn't look in our direction, thankfully, but Sydney was right: Marla's eyes were full of tears, and she had a hand to her mouth as she scurried through the throngs of people.

We both watched as they left the bar, followed a few moments later by a dejected-looking Shaun and Darryl. Sydney shook her head.

"You need to think about how your actions affect other people," she said. "Marla deserved better than finding out like that."

"Why'd you tell me to do it, then?!"

"I asked you to be nice about it."

I took another sip of my drink, not willing to admit that Sydney was right. Marla probably did deserve better than how I'd broken the news, but she'd thank me one day.

Maybe.

Maybe it was just another way I'd fucked up.

"I need to get laid," I said.

"Or maybe we should go home," Sydney said.

"Let's see, be a responsible adult, or have sex and forget all of my problems?" I replied. "It's a tough choice, Syd, but—"

"Nell, you're spiralling."

I glared at her. "Fuck you. I am not."

"You've been totally out of it for two weeks and now—"

"Look, I'm sorry I wasn't nicer to Marla fucking Murphy, okay?" I snapped. "Jeez, I just did the first thing that came to mind."

"That's not what this is about," Sydney replied.

"Bullshit," I muttered, sipping my drink.

"I'm saying this as your friend. I'm worried about you."

"I am perfectly fine."

"I'm just saying—"

"You're just saying, everyone's 'just saying' everything, aren't they?" I snapped. "Why can't people respect the fact that I don't want a serious relationship?"

"Because you're lying so obviously that it's painful to see!" Sydney snapped back. "You never even gave J.P. a chance to—"

"I don't want to talk about J.P." I took another sip of my drink, trying to steady the anger that was crawling across my skin and into my stomach. "You're pissing me off, Syd."

"I'm sorry," she replied. "But you're being ridiculous. You're so stubborn and unyielding that you refuse to admit how miserable you are, and you think you can solve it by picking some random guy to hook up with."

"Why can't you just be on my side?" I asked. "You're supposed to be my best friend, not letting fucking Anne-Marie into my apartment and then telling me I'm spiralling."

"Yeah, and as your best friend, I should've said something before it got to this point, so I'm sorry."

I scowled, but before I could respond, we were interrupted.

"Ladies, I hope the drinks we sent over didn't cause all this tension," said the tall man who sidled up beside us.

I looked over at him, silent for a moment as I took in the expensive-looking jeans, the perfectly pressed shirt, and the stylish-in-a-careless-way hair that brushed his forehead. Beside him stood a shorter man, somewhat nervous-looking, who seemed to be the one who'd had eyes for me. Unfortunately, I wasn't in the mood to deal with nerves.

"Yeah, you'll do," I said to the taller man.

He laughed. "What?"

"I said you'll do." I drained the rest of my drink and put the glass on the bar. "Buy me another, and let's go dance."

"Nellie—" Sydney said.

"Go home if you want," I interrupted.

"I'm not leaving you here."

"Well, I'm going to dance!" I said loudly, turning back to the man. "What's your name?"

"Kyle," he said. "But I—"

"Nice to meet you. I'm Nellie, and I'm looking to get laid tonight. Play your cards right, and you're the current front runner."

The two men glanced at each other, and the shorter one shrugged before turning to Sydney.

"I'm Daniel."

There was probably something to the whole theory about me being a bad friend, or maybe I was just immature. Either way, I barely looked at Sydney as I led Kyle to the dance floor. I focused on him, and I knew for a fact he was enjoying it.

Our dancing started innocently enough. After all, if I was too aggressive, he probably would have been freaked out. My body didn't touch his as I swayed to the music, my hands grazing his arm the only form of contact. For one or two songs, we stayed that way, just teasing each other as we moved to the music.

I let him be the one to make the next move; as my fingers trailed down his arm, he turned his palm up to catch my wrist and tugged me closer to him. He leaned in, his lips moving, but I shrugged helplessly.

"The music is too loud!" I shouted, and he smiled and returned the gesture.

Not that it mattered. I wasn't there to talk to Kyle.

I took a sharp breath as his body pressed to mine, inhaling the scent of overpriced cologne and subtle sweat. Closing my eyes, I focused on the feel of his hands as they trailed down my sides, strong fingers pulling my body just a bit closer to his. There was a comfort to his body, a gentle familiarity that made me relax against him. I took another deep breath, then frowned.

Familiar, but not quite right.

There were two things wrong with that: one, I had never met Kyle before, so nothing about him should seem familiar. Two, it shouldn't have been possible for something to be not-quite-right about him, because there was no reason for him to seem familiar in the first place.

Something in the back of my mind knew what the answer was, but I refused to acknowledge it. Instead, I touched Kyle, held his body, ground myself against him and pressed my breasts into his chest. His hands moved up and down my sides in a way far too intimate for a man I'd spoken a handful of sentences to. Still, I kept dancing, and I kept letting him touch me, and I kept smelling that strange spice of his cologne.

He moved one hand to the small of my back, holding me even closer. I rested my hands on his shoulders, trying to ignore that déjà vu-like sense that was creeping through my nerves. My tension must have been palpable: moments later, Kyle's lips were brushing my ear.

"What's wrong?" he shout-asked.

I shook my head as if doing so would shake off the strange feeling and grinned, looking up at him.

"Nothing!" I shouted back.

Without warning, he tightened his grip on me, making me gasp as his body crushed against mine. I looked up at him with wide eyes, and he raised an eyebrow at me questioningly. Before he could speak or I could think, I pulled his face to mine and kissed him as hard as I could.

It surprised him; that much was evident by the way he jumped slightly. It was just as apparent that he wanted it, though; as soon as he recovered, he kissed me back, his hips grinding into mine. I smirked against his mouth, responding by pushing my chest into his, and I felt him exhale softly against my lips.

He pulled back and said something, but again, I couldn't hear it.

"I don't read lips!" I shouted.

Kyle laughed and brought his mouth next to my ear again. "I said, how serious were you about getting laid tonight?"

Turning my head slightly, I spoke into his ear. "Are you wondering how long you have to put up with the dancing charade before you ask me to go home with you?"

He laughed again. "Forward, aren't you?"

I pressed my body tighter to his, already able to feel his body reacting through his jeans. "You seem to like it."

"Well, maybe."

It was my turn to raise my eyebrows, though I accompanied it with a shifting sway of my hips. "Maybe? So that's just your cell phone vibrating in your pocket, then?"

The shifting of my hips had the desired effect. His cock twitched again, and Kyle's eyes sparkled as he smirked.

"Maybe," he repeated. "Maybe I'm just very happy to see you."

I knew what I wanted, but I wasn't quite ready to leave with him yet. Instead, I ran my hand up to his cheek, running my hand along his cheek and winding his thick blond hair through my fingers. His eyes fluttered just slightly, and his lip curled between his teeth.

I kissed him again, and again, breathing softly as his lips worked mine, and his fingers dug into my skin. His body was reacting to mine; I could feel his cock hardening beneath his jeans. Usually, that would get a reaction of my own underway. I waited patiently for those tingles of desire to start, for my panties to start dampening and my nipples to start hardening, but they didn't.

Frowning, I kissed Kyle harder, slipping my tongue into his mouth. He exhaled a soft sigh, his hands moving to my ass and squeezing. His tongue flicked against mine, and again, I waited for that shot of arousal to course through me.

Nothing happened.

Frustrated, I pulled back just slightly, moving my mouth to his neck. I felt Kyle groan, the sound making his neck vibrate beneath my lips, and he kissed the side of my head. His hips rolled, pushing his erection against me again as his lips found my ear.

"Leave with me?" he asked, his voice husky.

My smile brushed his neck before I made the critical mistake of taking a breath. I inhaled just as he pulled back to look at me, and another whiff of that cologne met my senses. Combined with the sparkling smirk on his face, it hit me all at once.

The cologne was a mix of woods and spice, but there was one thing wrong about it: a distinct hint of anise. Once I identified it, the licorice-like scent was all I could smell, and it was wrong. The sparkle in his eyes, that familiar smirk, it was reminiscent of someone else, but it just wasn't right.