“So Emily and Bruce, how did you guys meet?”
Bruce met my eyes, a huge smile cracking his lips.
“I don’t remember. We were in university together, and we just started hanging out, I guess. Nothing memorable.”
He stepped closer to her, his open palm caressing her waist. She leaned into him as one of their friends launched into their story.
“You should have told her the other story,” Bruce whispered into her ear, the warm waves sending shivers down her back.
Emily held back the laugh.
It was true they had dated while in campus. They had also broken up two years after graduation. Three years later, they met again. She’d been arrested, and he was there to spring her out.
She was in a police cell, her ass cramping from sitting on the frozen cement floor for hours. Plus, there was the small matter of her olfactory condition. The floors were dry yet inexplicably urine-soaked. Every part of her reeked of urine. She was afraid it had seeped into her pores and was now fused to her skin.
Her sister, Hannah, was supposed to get her out. Except she was stuck at work. Her boss wouldn’t let her leave. The only lawyer they both knew was Bruce. So, Hannah had called Bruce, and Bruce had come running. Embarrassingly eager to see her again, desperate to make things right with her.
He hadn’t seen her in three years, and it suddenly felt to him like he couldn’t go another day. So, he’d presented himself as her lawyer and gotten her out. He’d powered through the strong urea smell in his car and tried to make small talk while she kept her responses monosyllabic. He’d stopped at a pizzeria she liked and bought a large meat deluxe, her favourite and drinks.
“So, what happens now?” She asked when they got to her house.
“They don’t have any evidence, and I’m not going to testify against you, so you’re good.”
She turned to him, sipping her soda, daring him. “Why would you testify against me? You weren’t there.”
Bruce chuckled. “Yeah, babe, I think I’ve seen this film before.”
“No, you haven’t,” Emily protested.
He winked at her. “Close enough.”
Her heart leapt against her ribcage. It was close enough. The day she’d overheard him telling a mutual friend of theirs that he didn’t think their relationship was going anywhere because, “you know the way she is,” she’d taken her sharpest butcher knife and sliced through every single one of his tyres, and she’d enjoyed every second of it. Then she’d broken up with him.
It had been months before he was able to save enough to replace all his tires.
“What’d he do? I bet he had it coming.” Bruce said.
She raised a brow in his direction. “So now you admit you had it coming?”
He shrugged. “Yeah. I had it coming.” He turned to her, serious. “I should never have said that. You were great, I should never have made it sound like I wanted you to change.”
“You did want me to change.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
He met her eyes, his voice soft, firm. “I didn’t, Em.”
She matched his tone. “You did, Bruce.”
He sighed. “Maybe a little. A tiny amount. But it was all because of people, not because of what I wanted.” He met her eyes, his open palm on his chest. “I, Bruce, deep in my heart of hearts, didn’t want you to change. I loved you because you were you.”
He was a lawyer, and she was an eccentric girl with prominent piercings and tattoos and a matching impulsive personality to boot. She did not fit the part of a lawyer’s wife. Everyone told him that directly and indirectly by how they looked at her.
Emily looked out of the window, the emotions churning in the car, and her chest more than what she had expected to deal with after being sprung from police cells.
“I’m sorry. I need you to know that. That’s why I came, I wanted to say that,” he said, voice low and serious. “Well, that and to free you from the long arm of the law.” He finished with a chuckle.
Emily shook her head, smiling wryly before meeting his eyes. “Thanks for that.” She shuddered. “I was starting to freak out about spending the weekend in cells.”
His heart stuttered. That smile. He couldn’t believe he’d let foolishness, shame and fear keep him away from this awesomeness.
“Tell me, what the Range Rover guy did,” Bruce said, leaning back like they were going to just stay in the car talking all day. If he was honest, there was nowhere else he wanted to be.
She sucked her teeth then clicked her tongue. “That son of a bitch hit my cat, with a stick. Fucking asshole.” She ran her hand through her blonde hair. “I had to rush her to the vet then he said he’d pay for it and when it was time he showed me his ass. Fucking asshole.”
“You have a cat?”
Emily narrowed her eyes at him. “Yes. Is that all you’ve gotten from this?”
Bruce shrugged. “He had it coming. How’s the cat?”
“Good. He freaked her out, though.”
“You freaked me out when I heard you were in jail.”
She laughed. “What’d you think I’d done?”
“A million things.” He laughed. “You’re crazy, you know this.” He met her eyes. “Best kind of crazy.”
She licked her lips, her tongue piercing peeping out for a second. Man, he’d missed her.
“Nothing too crazy,” she winked at him. “This time.”
His heart stuttered. He smiled. “What did you do to his rims?”
He grimaced at the memory of the desecrated rims from the police files. The previously black matte rims were streaked with obscene patches of white. He felt the owner’s pain deep in his chest.
“Do we have that thing, attorney-client, whatever?”
He laughed. “Yes. We have attorney-client privilege. Tell me what you did.”
Emily laughed. “Hey, we just met, I can’t be out here confessing things. That would just be dumb.”
Bruce turned, leaning slightly towards her. “Okay, what if we hang out for a bit? You think you could maybe tell me then?”
She shook her head, noncommittal. “We’d have to see how it goes. Also, hang out like how?”
He smiled at her. “Like date. Many, many dates. Until such a time as you’re tired of me.”
“Or you mess it up, somehow.” She countered.
“I’m not messing it up this time.” He kissed her hand. “You’ll see.”
Two years later, on the anniversary of her arrest, she’d told him how she’d bought all the abrasive cleaning chemicals she could find and mixed them all up. Then every evening for weeks, she’d spray his black matte rims at night, hoping for the best. She’d gotten so much more than she’d expected.
He hadn’t messed things up yet.
-The End-
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