Let It Roll Page 2

  Kevin could recall the exact feeling of hot embarrassment those words had evoked, making his face burn with shame. “What, did you tell her I was some kind of stalker?”

  Liz let out one perfect “Ha!” and strode past Kevin, toward the elevators. “The truth would just make her freak out more.”

  “So what did you tell her?” Kevin’s eyebrows bunched with confusion.

  “Just you’re Susan’s gay friend, Kevin. And you’re dating the captain of the football team.”

  Kevin had halted in his tracks right before the elevator doors and stood staring incredulously at Liz until they slid open. She sauntered brightly into the wood paneled box, turned and smirked at him. The nastiest retorts imaginable circled in Kevin’s mind, forming a tornado funnel on the tip of his tongue, leaving him with too many things to say. Yet he said nothing.

  Liz had raised her eyebrow and grinned. “You should be thanking me. At least I saved you from a shit-load of getting bitched at.”

  And from any shred of masculine pride he had left.

  Liz rolled her eyes. “Are you getting on? Or did I hurt your sensitive little girl feelings?”

  “Fuck you,” Kevin said through gritted teeth.

  “In your dreams.” The satisfaction in her voice was maddening. “But…way to grow a pair.”

  ###

  “I remember her mother,” Kevin said as he gulped down his wine and motioned for Liz to pour him another. “She was crazed. I thought she was going to have a goddamn stroke over it.”

  “Feel sorry for me,” Liz said. “I was the one fielding all her phone calls every day and putting up with her every weekend for a month!” She smiled at Kevin and raised her glass. “Thank God the only male she ever found loitering around her little girl was the nerdy gay friend, or she would’ve been on our backs ’til graduation!”

  Kevin winced at her toast, yet shook off the barb and raised his own glass.

  Neither took a drink though. The tintinnabulation seemed to break the revelry of their shared memory.

  “Seriously…” Liz’s voice cracked. “What are we going to do? We can’t just leave her here--she’s a mess. And if we stay here, Mommy Dearest is going to descend like the fucking troops on Normandy!”

  “Your place?” Kevin said.

  “That’s where all the wedding gifts and that fucking dress are.”

  “Not your place. So...a hotel?”

  “You got a room?” She perked up.

  “No. I wasn’t planning on sticking around. Just brought a change of clothes and my toothbrush.”

  Liz shot Kevin an unfathomable look.

  “So sue me, I wasn’t gonna stick around for the after party. My flight leaves in two hours.”

  “Well, cancel it! You’re not going anywhere.”

  “Wasn’t planning to. Not now, anyway.”

  Liz bit her lip. “Unfortunately, I already called in all the favors from guys wanting to fuck me to get rooms for Susan’s family. The rest of the city’s booked solid for some god-awful Mary Kay convention. You never saw so many fake blond housewives driving pink Cadillacs in your life.”

  An idea shimmered in Kevin’s mind. Something Tim, the loaded groomsman had said...

  “Mark maxxed out his credit cards booking their honeymoon in Cancun.”

  Liz and Kevin looked at each other with blank stares for a long beat, and then they both smiled with too much satisfaction.

  Chapter 2

  TURNED OUT THE TICKETS for the flight to Cancun were lying right on top of Susan’s luggage. A quick call to the airline and Liz confirmed the tickets hadn’t been cancelled. After she’d called, Kevin gathered Susan’s bags and his own flimsy gym bag, and dragged them downstairs to be watched over by Lou, the building’s ancient yet all-seeing doorman.

  Susan had told him that Lou no longer opened the door, but kept a watchful, though admittedly myopic, eye on the comings and goings. And if you needed anything, he was the man to ask. He’d found Susan a date for a company retreat last year. He’d found Liz a surfboard in the middle of winter so she could live out a Beach Blanket Bingo fantasy orgy with three strapping members of the Olympic Gold Medal water polo team.

  Kevin’s request was much simpler. “Hail us a cab that will get us to the airport in record time.”

  “When you come back down, your taxi will be waiting.”

  Kevin went back upstairs and found Liz trying to get a comatose-looking Susan out of the bed and onto her feet. Kevin swooped in, scooping Susan up and carrying her to the front door. “Gotta get going if we’re all going to make it on the flight.” He gave Liz a pointed look. “We have just enough time to stop by your place so you can do a quick packing job.”

  Liz smiled wanly. “I’m not going.”

  “What!” Kevin yelled so loud Susan’s eyes almost focused as she looked right through him.

  “I’ve got Curtis Browning showing his new collection in three days. It’s guaranteed to be the highlight of the season.”

  “And that’s more important than your best friend!”

  Her look was cross. “Don’t be an idiot. Susan’s more important than some middle-aged Picasso’s second coming, but if I ever want his caliber of showing again, I have to be here. I own the gallery, Kevin, so it’s not just my job, it’s my entire future.”

  Kevin shifted his weight uncomfortably, yet never even jostled the woman in his arms. “I get it. But I don’t know if I...”

  “Of course you can,” Liz whispered, her pale blue eyes too understanding. “You love her, don’t you?”

  Kevin felt his face go slack. His mind turned blank and numb.

  “Okay, that was a low blow,” Liz said. “But you can take her down there now. I’d have to wait a week. And even if I could go down with you two now, there aren’t any flights open for four days...I checked.”

  Kevin leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling, blowing out air in a low whistle.

  “It’s only for a week, you pussy!” Liz exhorted. “Then I’ll be down to take over, so you can go have a mental breakdown or something.”

  Kevin laughed. “Mental breakdown?”

  Liz raised her eyebrow slyly, pursing her lips. “After a week of listening to her talk about losing...” Liz started whispering again. “M-A-R-K.” As if spelling it would keep Susan from comprehending. “What the hell do you think you’ll want to do?”

  Kevin looked down at Susan’s vacant expression and thought about how she’d been telling him the relentless, gruesome details of her love life for the past five years. This could be very bad, he told himself.

  “Yeah, you taking over in a week is a really good idea.”

  “That’s a good boy,” she said, her tone placating. Kevin was about to tell her she was a bitch when she swiftly scooted around him and opened the door. “We better hurry.”

  When they got downstairs Lou had a taxi waiting at the curb outside Susan’s apartment building, all the luggage already stowed in its trunk, and was standing there--at long last--holding the door, his expression turning from merely polite to fatherly worried.

  Liz stopped for a moment and uncharacteristically threw her arms around the aging doorman. “She’ll be fine. We’re taking care of her.” She pulled away to look deep into Lou’s eyes. “You know what to do about the locks...and if he shows up?”

  Lou’s polite reserve returned as he smiled at Liz. “The locks will be changed before you arrive at the airport. I’ll have...him arrested for trespassing if he dares shows his face.”

  “Knew I could count on you, Lou.” She pecked the old man on the cheek, wiping the light smudge of lipstick off before bolting out the door.

  ###

  Kevin was surprised how few people bothered you when your carry-on luggage was another person. The usually brutal security screeners waved him through. The flight attendants showed him hastily to his seat, not daring to ask what was wrong with the pretty, though catatonic, woman in his arms. Kevin buckled her into her seat and sp
ent the rest of the flight with his arm around her, not saying a word. Partly because he didn’t know what to say, and partly because he genuinely couldn’t let her go. He’d missed her so much.

  When the flight landed in Cancun, the hotel picked them up in a simple yet spotless black sedan. No limo, no tacky Congratulations or Just Married signs in sight. Obviously, Kevin thought with gratitude, Liz had already contacted the resort.

  “We’ve moved you to a luxury suite, sir,” the driver said as he pulled the car out into the gridlocked traffic. It seemed that half the United States had said, “Screw it!”and exited en masse to this sunnier, warmer destination. Kevin could feel himself start to sweat through his suit, even after he had already removed his tie.

  At least they wouldn’t have to deal with the honeymoon suite or some heart-shaped bed. “I’ll need to have some more appropriate clothes sent up to the room.”

  “Of course. Should I charge it to the room?” The driver’s expression was one of keen knowing.

  “No. I’ll pay for my own clothes. But charge everything for the lady to the room.”

  “Very good, sir. Would you like medium or large shirts, and your waist is probably a thirty-two?” The driver’s eyes were smiling in the rearview mirror as he peered back at Kevin and Susan.

  “Large shirts, size eleven shoes, and my waist is a thirty.”

  “Ah, big feet.” The driver wriggled his eyebrows. “Very good indeed.”

  The driver’s smile was smug, and Kevin guessed he already knew his measurements the moment he looked at him. That first look at the airport was not only professionally friendly, but unabashedly appraising. At least someone would be flirting with him.

  ###

  The luxury suite was exactly that. Some thousand square feet, two bedrooms, private and master baths, a living room and a fully functioning kitchen.

  Kevin took Susan straight to one of the bedrooms and lay her down on the bed, covering her up and tucking her in protectively.

  The bellman had left the bags by the door, but two maids had come in and were unpacking Susan’s before Kevin even noticed they were there. He would’ve told them he’d take care of it but as they transferred Susan’s underwear, and other unmentionables that had been packed for much more erotic adventures, he decided it best if they finished.

  Amazingly, Kevin counted back the hours and only two and a half of them stood between where they were and Susan’s aborted marriage ceremony. Two and a half hours and he was already ready to jump out of his skin. He couldn’t stand seeing her like this. If she’d get up and start throwing things, start screaming all the nasty curses she knew how to use perfectly, maybe he’d get through this.

  “Yeah, that Mark, what a fucking prick!” he’d say. Maybe he’d help her plan some mindless revenge. But with her lying there, helpless on the bed, all he wanted to do was lie next to her, holding her in his arms, protecting her from all those things that could hurt her.

  But how could he do that? It’s what he should do. It was what a real friend would do, ignore their feelings and do what was needed for the good of their friend. But if he held her in his arms for one instant, he was sure he’d never be able to let go, never be able to just be her friend again, and the memory of it would haunt him for the rest of his life.

  Susan groaned. A small gasp escaped her lips as her ribs expanded and contracted with the efforts of her silent sobs. Kevin didn’t give any of his misgivings or worries a second thought, he crawled onto the bed and lay down facing her, pulling her to him and holding her against him as she cried softly, her face pressed against his chest, soaking his shirt in tears without end.

  ###

  Kevin did not sleep. For hours he simply held Susan, silently comforting her as she finally cried herself to sleep. Strangely, the sound of her breathing, and how her trembling, stress stiff body softened in his arms, gave him some relief. But for almost two hours he was afraid to even move, lest he wake her.

  When Kevin finally slipped away, he found room service menus and three heaping bags of clothes waiting for him in the living room of the suite. He knew he should be hungry, but he didn’t feel the slightest desire to eat.

  The bags made him pause. What if the driver had picked out nothing but tropical printed shirts and polyester pants? Or worse, what if everything was two sizes too small and ripped directly off the brawny backs of the cast of Queer as Folk?

  Either way Kevin would not sport anything so cheesy or oversexed.

  Well, he might try them on to cheer up Susan, but he certainly wouldn’t leave the room wearing any of it.

  But when he pulled the neatly folded clothing from the shopping bags he was pleasantly surprised. A mixture of light weight pants, shorts, t-shirts, some tank tops and three different pairs of shoes--sandals, cross trainers and a moderately dressy pair of loafers. More surprisingly the driver had bought Kevin underwear--boxer briefs, thank God--socks and two boxer-style swimming trunks.

  Though these choices were conservative, Kevin got the sense the driver probably knew his body better than any of his former girlfriends had--and without the advantage of seeing him naked.

  It gave him a small shiver of distress. A tension headache started to form right between his eyes. Some days he wished he had a neon sign over his head blinking Straight! Maybe then he’d quit getting grief. He stripped out of his long-sleeved oxford shirt and the suit pants had been broiling him most of the day, and pulled on a pair of the shorts and one of the t-shirts. He would leave opening the packages of underwear until morning.

  Kevin flopped down on the overstuffed couch, planning on turning on the TV, but the moment he fell on those plush, ever-so-soft couch cushions, he passed right out.

  ###

  The tropical sun radiated in through the enormous bay windows of the suite, not only warming Kevin to the point of discomfort, but slowly robbing him of the still shelter afforded by the dark. As he pushed himself up off the couch, he was surprised by how little his back and neck hurt. This was the most comfortable couch in the history of the world. Yet no sooner did he think that then he remembered who was in the other room, sleeping on the bed--alone.

  Kevin bolted back toward the bedroom and into the darkened room where the drapes blessedly remained pulled shut. Susan lay there, tucked in as he had left her. He circled the bed and crouched down, trying to see if her eyes were open. They were, but she wasn’t exactly awake. She still looked catatonic, eyes blank, expression slack, her coloring that of someone in shock.

  Wracked with guilt, Kevin wondered if Susan was in shock. What if she was teetering on the edge of a real nervous breakdown? What if she needed professional psychological care, or industrial grade pharmaceuticals?

  Don’t freak out! he told himself.

  Kevin tried quelling the glut of thoughts bouncing around in his head. He needed to be steady if he was going to get through this. Unfortunately, as the whirlwind of panicked notions subsided, Kevin realized he had to pee in the worst way. It would have been a welcome distraction except “the worst way” included the mother of all pee hard-ons.

  No, this can’t be happening. Hot guilt flooded his veins, and he prayed to God that Susan hadn’t noticed him hopping through the room to the bathroom with the front of his shorts tented with a woody the size of…well, a tree.

  All he’d wanted to do was let her go, to say goodbye so they both could move on. But instead he was stuck in this Fantasy Island, Oxiconton nightmare, trying to help his comatose, unrequited first love get over her asshole ex-fiancé. God had to be a woman, one who hated him with a perverse passion.

  Maybe Liz was God? Kevin laughed at the thought.

  Touching himself in that state felt so wrong. His best friend was in the next room, her life torn to shreds by her lying, cheating fiancé, and here was her horn-dog best friend in the bathroom trying to bend his incredibly inappropriate stiffy down enough so he could take a leak.

  Guilty or not, Kevin couldn’t not sigh with great relief as he v
oided the contents of his near bursting bladder. And he couldn’t ignore how good it felt having his manhood engorged in his hand. But with admirable restraint, and another heavy load of guilt swelling on each shoulder like twin boulders growing in size until they crushed him, Kevin pulled up his shorts, tucking his flagging erection back where it belonged.

  As he washed his hands with the sweet-smelling hotel soap, looking in the mirror at his sleep-mussed hair and unshaved mug, he thought of Susan, and her bladder. He bounded into the bedroom and stopped cold. Was he just going to carry her into the bathroom and set her down on the toilet? Sure he could pick her up, but one problem--he’d have to pull down her pants and panties. The thought was not only disturbingly geriatric, but perversely more prurient than Kevin could handle.

  Seeing the hotel maids unpack Susan’s undies was one thing, but to have to touch them while they were still on her...

  “Susan?” Kevin’s voice cracked under the weight of his frenzied paranoia. “Susan? Do you have to use the restroom?”

  Her stare never wavered, her expression unchanging.

  Kevin folded his arms over his heaving chest. He couldn’t do it, it was too much to ask, and too much to do, and he couldn’t stand feeling so useless. Squeezing his eyes shut until green clouds of light permeated the blank slate behind his eyelids, Kevin did the only thing he could think of doing. Keeping his eyes closed he said, “Go to the bathroom, Susan!” Affecting the best impersonation of his own father he’d ever achieved . Voice commanding yet placatingly smooth.

  He didn’t look, just kept his eyes closed. And then he heard her stir, heard the sheets rustle as she pulled herself out of bed. He opened his eyes as she disappeared into the bedroom’s private lavoratory. Kevin blew out the stinging breath he’d been holding. “Thank God.”