Frozen Over Read online

Beth, my best friend had mentioned that she had spoken to Allison the night that shit hit the fan. She confessed to me a few days later that bit of information, which pissed me off, yet made me happy at the same time. Beth means well, and I could tell that she likes Allison, so I was fine with her talking to her. Hell, maybe she could talk some sense into the girl and bring her back to me where she belongs. After all, I’m an amazing guy and we do make an excellent looking couple as evidenced by the photo in the newspaper.

  I run my hands over my face and decide to head home for the night to catch a few winks before starting the day again tomorrow.

  ***

  Jacob is in the studio today, he’s unhappy about being cooped up in the space since Maddie and him have stopped seeing another. He texted me when Allison showed up, and told me that they exchanged an awkward greeting, more so on her end. Beth knows that Allison is downstairs and has been doing everything that she can to keep me occupied and within her eye sight.

  “Chicks before dicks.” She says as I stand and try to make my way to the elevators.

  “You’re my friend, need I remind you of that. You should be helping me get the girl back.”

  “Not with the way you put things. When you realize that she’s a person and not a thing, then yeah, I will. But for now, you’re not worthy of her.” She crosses her arms.

  “So what you’re saying, is that I can’t go to the 8th floor of my company?”

  “Exactly. You have a meeting in ten minutes and then a lunch with GQ for an article. You don’t have the time today in your schedule that will allow you to stalk Allison. At least wait until after hours.”

  Beth is right. I need to focus back on the company and get my head out of the clouds. If Allison made up her mind about me, then she did and I should let that be. That’s further proof that relationships are bogus and not worth my time. I can continue to fuck whoever the hell I want, without the hassle of a headache of nagging and doing things I don’t want to do. I try to convince myself of that.

  I go back to my office and sit behind my desk. My fingers itch to text her, to send her dirty photos, to do something so that way I know that she’s thinking of me. Who am I kidding? Of course she’s thinking of me! To further act like a pussy, I pull my phone out.

  Tyson: I know you’re downstairs, I know that you’re thinking of me. I’m thinking of you.

  Well played Maddox, well Played. I adjust my semi-erect dick at the thought of Allison and then stand to head to the conference room the meeting is taking place in. Where I zone out, and think of the girl on the 8th floor.

  ***

  Beth sat beside me at the bar signaling the bartender for attention. She was trying to help me occupy my time, of course her answer was drinking. We’re on our… I lost count shot of tequila, I know tomorrow I will be regretting this, but at this moment I could care less.

  “You know what your problem is Maddox?” She smiles after ordering another round of drinks.

  “I’m sure you will tell me.” I say sourly sucking on my lime.

  “You went so long, being a cocky asshole and not giving a shit about anyone, then comes this creature who peaks your interest and when shit gets hard, you bail and turn into a bitch.”

  “Need I remind you that I wasn’t the one who bailed.” I remind her.

  “True, but the fact that you gave her an ultimation was you dooming it from the second those words left your mouth. You expected too much of her, to choose you over something that’s been working for her for a few years. You guys were still fresh, you technically were only a couple for a day.”

  “We were something to another far longer than a day and you know that.”

  “That may be, but it’s still your fault.” Beth takes her shot smoothly after clinking her shot against mine sitting on the bar.

  “Can we discuss something else?” I want desperately to talk about something other than Allison.

  “How drunk are you right now?” She asks.

  “Fucking Irish.” I notice a slight slur to my words, yet take another sip of the bottled beer sitting in front of me.

  “This whole other job thing that she has, is that a complete no go?” Beth asks.

  “Affirmative.”

  “Then maybe you should move on. It’s been over a week. She may have moved on as well.” Beth shrugs.

  “Has she?”

  “You would know better than me. I know you’ve been keeping tabs on her. It’s not like I want you and her to not be together, because I do, but it would seem that this is a moot point with you, so you are both not making any moves with both of you being so stubborn and full of pride, so why not just move along?”

  “I need to use the restroom.” I get up slowly off the stool and as I walk to the restroom, I see a group of women sitting in a booth. I could possibly try to hook up with one of them, get Allison off my mind and like Beth suggests, move on.

  I wink at the table as they look me over and I retreat to the bathroom.

  ***

  In the past, before Allison I would be waking up after a night of drinking hungover smelling like sex. Instead, I smell like a bar and I’m waking up to my breath tasting like a cat shit in it recently and fully clothed. How I got home is questionable, yet I’m sure my drinking partner had helped me somehow with that. At least the good news is that I still woke up alone.

  I rub my hands over my face and slowly get up and move to the bathroom. I haven’t drank like that in years, my control is so firm with my drinking that seldom I drink more than two drinks. While in the shower, I lean against the wall to let the warm water pound against my neck, I take my time more so because it’s painful to move in fear that my brain may jostle out through the side of my head with sudden movement.

  I am fully clothed, ready for the work day to begin and approaching the kitchen when I hear Beth talking to Lincoln. Relieved that it’s not some random girl from the bar from last night, I continue into the kitchen.

  “Well, look who finally woke up! How’re you feeling there buttercup?” Beth smiles.

  “I’ve had better mornings.”

  “You seemed to enjoy last night.”

  “Did I do or say anything stupid or incriminating?”

  “Well, there was a chick who was trying to get your attention, but she didn’t really feel like hearing you talk to her about your woman troubles.” She smirks.

  “Oh great.”

  “Why don’t you take the day off?” Lincoln asks.

  “I’m already up, I’m already dressed, there’s no point. I’m a grown adult, I can handle a hangover.” I shrug, even that movement hurts my head..

  “That’s good. I didn’t feel like explaining to your mother the reasoning that you didn’t come into the office. She is still pretending to be the boss. Come on, we better get going. There’s an investors meeting at ten.” Beth stands and thanks Lincoln as we walk towards the garage.

  The ride to work was quiet. Small talk wasn’t something that I could handle right now, and Beth looked to be hurting just as much as I did. When we got to the office, we went our separate ways and began our day.

  Later on, I sat at home in my office replying to emails when I called my brother to have him meet me at a bar in Palo Alto on University Avenue. Maybe I should listen to Beth, I needed to get out, and I needed to try to move on. Easier said than done. Since Allison wasn’t coming back to me, I needed to get back on the horse.

  We went to the usual spot where I used go to meet a new chicks. Stanford was close by, so the college co-eds were always out partying it up on a Thursday night where bars turned into dance clubs. It didn’t take long for me to hook eyes with someone. She was easy and not too bad looking either. She was petite, blonde and looked like a good time. She was definitely young looking, so hopefully she could handle a one night stand. As she licked her lips, I whispered in her ear to get out of there. I nodded to my brother, who was busy with his own college co-ed and with my arms around my own co-ed, we left.

&nb
sp; “Where to?” I ask.

  “My apartment is walking distance from here. We can go there?” She giggles, looking up at me through her eyelashes.

  “Sure thing doll. Sure thing.” I can do this.

  It took us under ten minutes to reach her front door, after she opened the door and stepped inside the dark hallway, I closed the door quietly behind me.

  “Do you have roommates?” I ask roughly.

  “No.” She smiles.

  “Good, I am going to fuck you, I want to fuck you with your body over the back of the couch, and you will let me.”

  “Y-y-y-es.” She stammers. I wasn’t sure if she thought that was a question, but fuck it.

  “Strip.” I order her relishing in the control.

  She begins with her shoes and then she pulls her tight black tank top over her head. I’m watching her every move and when she’s standing there in just her bra and panties, fiddling with her hands, I close the distance and crowd her space with both arms on her sides. I run my nose against her neck, like a predator about to eat its prey. She doesn’t smell like heaven, but cheap body spray. I’m still fully clothed; I have no need to take off my clothes, because this isn’t a sleepover. I’m done and I’m gone. Just like old times.

  I roughly turn her around and pull her excuse for panties off her body, throwing the torn pieces to the side. I fucking hate cheap panties. Pussies should be treated with care, and that includes spending more than $2 on your fucking underwear!

  I pull her hips back, lifting her ass to the level that my dick can slide in easily into her pussy, I lean down and look between her legs, her pink is glistening and waiting my arrival. College girls are easy in my experience. Never needing primer, always ready to go.

  I unbuckle my belt and yank my dick out. The damn thing is fucking limp. My dick, which is always rearing and ready to go is fucking limp. I have a wet pussy in front of me and my dick is fucking limp. I stroke myself from the base to the tip a few times, to no change in demeanor.

  “Everything okay back there?” College girl asks.

  “Give me a minute and I’ll fuck you right.” I sneer trying to buy myself time and hiding my frustrated tone.

  What the fuck! I continue stroking myself, I can’t even get a semi. I grunt out my frustration and I pull my phone out of my pants, turn my phone off and fake a phone call.

  “Yes…” I grit out, more pissed off at my dick than anything as college girl turns around. “Yeah, Alright… I’ll be right there.” I make the motions of ending a phone call, shove myself back into my pants, buckle my belt back up and slap college girl on the ass.

  “Got to run doll. Business calls.”

  “You’re gonna just up and leave? I thought we were going to fuck?” She spins around and puts her hands on her hips. She doesn’t do anything for me, with her waif-like body, she looks like she hasn’t grown into it yet. She also lacks the correct composure and hips to make that superhero pose sexy, unlike Allison.

  Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck!

  I left the college girls apartment and took my time walking back to my car. I ran my hand over my face in frustration.

  I had left Palo Alto pissed off and unsatisfied. I wanted to punch my own dick and disown it for betraying me when I had a willing pussy thrust at it, drooling for its attention. But it wasn’t Allison’s pussy, you idiot. I got home in record time and went directly to my shower to beat off to the last images I had from Allison sucking me off in this shower. After my shower, I contemplated going back out to a bar to try again, instead I grabbed my keys and absentmindedly drove to her apartment.

  I’m just hoping to get a glimpse of her, that’s all I need.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  ALLISON

  They say that if someone lets you walk away; they’re the ones who let you go. If that’s the truth, how come I saw so much inner turmoil in his eyes? How come he still randomly sends me text messages? And how come I know he’s watching me, yet not coming to me? He hasn’t let me go, and because of that a tiny part of me keeps holding onto him. Onto the thought that he will come to his senses and we can just pick up where we left off because he will realize that this other job isn’t anything like how he thinks it is.

  It’s been a month since I walked out of his bedroom. It’s been a long month, full of Ben & Jerry’s and Netflix. The looming holidays are approaching and while I’m usually in a happy mood this time of year, all I want to do is sleep and hide away.

  A week to Thanksgiving and my dad tells me that he does not want to do anything, so I set up to volunteer at Grace Cathedral instead.

  I’m early to work the kitchen to prepare the meal then is taken to one of the Tenderloin locations in the city and instead walk inside the beautiful church. I’ve come to this place on occasion when I was younger, always mesmerized with the beauty and size of the place. Today though, I’m concentrating on the labyrinth gracing the floor before the pews.

  I stand before the labyrinth, looking at the size of it as I feel a presence beside me.

  “Do you know the meaning to the labyrinth here?” He asks in a deep voice that echoes off the walls.

  “It’s a meditation of some sort.” I reply.

  “Indeed, you quiet your mind and let the labyrinth guide you through the stages. You let your mind and body lead you with an open mind and open heart.” He says.

  “Stages?” I question.

  “Yes, my child. The purging of the distractions and thoughts to allow your mind to silence and you heart to open. The illumination, which is the center of the labyrinth that is your meditation and prayer to locate from within what you wish to receive and then the union which is the healing forces at work mending you back together, leaving the labyrinth, the same path out. For everyone it’s different, but for most it is whatever feels most natural.”

  “I’ve never thought of it as such. I just think of it as peaceful.” I openly admit to him.

  “For everyone it’s different.” He says as he walks away quietly.

  I walked the labyrinth, leaving my mind open and stilling my running thoughts. By the time I was finished, I felt free and yet heavy with emotion. I never subscribed to the hippy dippy shit, but I will admit that walking the labyrinth helped me feel more light. I took a seat in one of the pews and as my shoulders started to shake, I let out a cry that had been needed for quite a number of days.

  My evening was taxing, and I’m sure that my meal prepping skills were less than stellar, since I’m a horrible cook. By the time, I pulled my car up to my apartment, I was drained. I slowly walked up the walkway and stopped as I saw someone sitting in front of my door.

  My heart was pounding as I slowly walked towards the person, as I got closer I recognized Lincoln, Tyson’s friend and personal chef.

  “Hey, Lincoln. What… are you doing here?” I ask warily looking him over after searching the surrounding shadows.

  He gets up off the floor and dusts himself off. He’s wearing casual clothing and picks up a bag that was sitting beside him.

  “Do you mind if I come in?” He asks, holding up the bag.

  I nod and open up my apartment. I turn on several of the lights to illuminate the place, bringing me back to the discussion with the pastor at the church earlier this evening. Part of my meditation was in thoughts of trying to figure out the hurt that I was feeling with Tyson and coming to terms of what my future may hold with or without him. Strange that I’m offered something from Tyson in the form of Lincoln.

  “So, what brings you around these parts?” I ask, removing my scarf and gloves.

  “I wanted to check on you, see how you were doing.” He says, as he opens the bag and begins removing Tupperware full of what looks like a Thanksgiving feast.

  “You brought me food?” I gasped.

  “It’s what I do. I feed people, sometimes I feed them to get information, and sometimes I feed them to give information.” He smiles.

  “So what is it that you’re doing here? Giving or receiving?�
�� I ask.

  “I’m hoping a little bit of both, can we sit?” He asks motioning to my table.

  I sit down and he sits beside me. He’s calm and not fidgety as I am as we sit.

  “So, how are you doing?” He asks again.

  “I’m alright.” I shrug indifferently.

  “Let’s try a different approach. Tyson is a wreck, so how are you?”

  “The same.” I admit my eyes locking with him slumping my shoulders.

  “I was hoping that you would say that. So what’s the hold up? Why are you two not working this misunderstanding out?” Lincoln asks sitting back.

  “It’s not that easy. It’s not a misunderstanding. He doesn’t agree with something that I choose and he can’t see past that.”

  “Is whatever it is that you choose, worth it?”

  “He didn’t tell you?” I ask.

  “He did, But right now, Tyson Maddox has shut down. He works and drinks. Sometimes when he drinks he blabs. So I ask you, is what your choice is, worth it?”

  “It makes it possible for me to live. I have school and then I have modeling, normal jobs can’t work with spur of the moment notice like the service can.”

  “I know for a fact that you have a modeling contract with Mad Designs. I know that you can make all your bills with that alone.”

  “Not that it’s any of your business and while that may be true, the job with Mad Designs isn’t a forever thing.” I’m getting angry now, the unexpected visit, which I assumed was friendly is becoming anything but.

  “What about Tyson?”

  “He’s not the forever kind.”

  “And you know that for a fact?”

  “He’s a playboy. He’s gorgeous, sure of himself and can get any woman he wants. Have you ever googled his name? There are dozens of women that he’s photographed with.” I point to my closed laptop.

  He stands up and goes to the counter and retrieves the photo that I’ve left sitting there out in the open, so when I pass it every day, I see a glimpse of happiness. He must have noticed the photo as he walked in. He put the photo in front of me.