Even

U2's Mysterious Ways is coming out of my phone again: My ringtone for Emily. I ignore it - just watch the waves crash on the beach until it shuts up. I take another sip of beer as the missed call chimes. I glance down at it next to me: Five missed calls. I'd only been here about an hour.

StingRay's bar & grill was rather empty for a weekend. Maybe the heat was too much out on the patio. It was 90-something degrees, even under the umbrella over the table I'd chosen. But the breeze coming in from the water felt nice, and the patio gave me an impressive view of the nearby shoreline. In another frame of mind, I would actually enjoy this.

Emily had always been a firecracker. At 5'1" I guess she feels she has to compensate for her height. She's a petite girl with a runner's build, only a 29 inch waist. She sports toned legs, a tight stomach, and a proportionate chest to match her tight little frame. And an absolutely amazing ass. She keeps her jet black hair in a tight pixie cut showcasing her ocean blue eyes, angular jaw, and mile high cheekbones. She's not exactly what you'd call elegant, though. But she's also not an unhinged psycho either. She could hold her own in the bar after hours, and then meet my parents in the morning.

That's actually how we met; running. She'd lapped me at the park I use. I couldn't let that tight little red spandex covered ass out of my sight. That skin-tight halter top and shiny red runners shorts left nothing to the imagination. I picked up my pace to watch her perfect body glisten with sweat.

"Enjoying the view?" She shot over her shoulder at me. "Try and keep up!" Then she sprinted up the track, leaving me exhausted and humiliated. I caught up to her in the parking lot and introduced myself.

"Gasp...Hi...Gasp"

"Hi. I'm Emily." She smiled warmly.

"Tucker. My friends call me Tuck." I struggled to say, still catching my breath.

"Well, Tuck, looks like you still need a few more laps if you're going to keep up with me. See you next time." She teased, getting into her car.

A week and four more jogging trips later, I got her out of those spandex. She was amazing. Three months later we got an apartment together.

We argued from time to time, and almost always over stupid stuff. But the make up sex was always worth it. She has this high pitched undulation she makes when she was about to cum. Then, when she does, cover your ears. She belts out the loudest horror movie scream you've ever heard. I'm not kidding. We've had the cops show up at our door, making sure no one was being murdered. Our neighbors hate us. It's - or it was - one of my favorite things about her.

I'd bury my face deep into her, holding her thighs while she digs her nails into my skull and writhes. I used to love that image, watching her throw her head back and arch her torso while the orgasm takes over her tanned, toned body, screaming through clenched teeth.

I'd climb back up her body, trailing nips and licks from her navel to her chin. She'd inhale sharply when I paused to tug at her tight, eraser-sized nipples, then encircle them with my tongue. Then when she'd hooked her ankles behind me, I'd bite her ear and sink deep into her in one solid smooth stroke. We'd both sit still at first, just savoring the first rush of penetration. Then I'd start slow and deliberate strokes. Then she'd plant her hands on my hips, again sinking her nails into me and quicken the pace. But only when I heard the high pitched noises she'd make would I really start to pound on her. Then she'd tighten her legs and pull on my back with her hands. It was like she was trying to fit my entire body into her tight, shaved, dripping wet pussy. Then she'd deafen me again. Whatever argument we had was always worth watching that happen to her. And what's more, knowing I did it to her. She would always reciprocate. She'd treat me to a view of her deep blue eyes looking longingly up at me with her mouth full. She never disappointed, and she never missed a drop. Over the last two plus years, that has been my life.

I don't know what she could possibly have to say now, beyond the empty clichés and hollow apologies. I don't care what she has to say. She could be calling to say the apartment was on fire for all the fucks I give. Fine. Saves me the trouble of moving everything out. I'm tempted to just leave it all there anyway.

Another sip. I think to myself: "Nah. I need the laptop. It's mine and I need it for work. She uses it too, but fuck her. It's mine. I paid for it. Hope she's got backups." The phone strikes up again.

This morning, a lazy Saturday, we were finishing breakfast, discussing possible ways to spend the weekend. I'd taken our plates to the sink as we talked. That's when the storm started.

"We should pack an overnight bag and take the bike to Hilton Head island; take the scenic tour. Show off the new taillight I put on." I said.

"New taillight? She said, wrinkling her brow, "What was wrong with the one it had?"

"Nothing."

"Then why'd you get a new one?"

"This one's custom. It looks cool. Plus it was only 85 bucks."

"Why do you do that; waste money like that?"

"I'm not wasting it. I'm enjoying it."

"You always do that."

"Emily, it's not a big deal." I said.

Her response to that was to walk out of the kitchen mumbling to herself, but loud enough to hear; "Geez. You can be so irresponsible sometimes."

"Excuse me?" I shot back.

"Blowing money on stuff like that when you've got bills to pay." She shouted from the bedroom. "And it's not just you. I live here too. That's irresponsible. I didn't stutter."

"Woah!" I defended. "I make my bills, don't worry about that. And 85 bucks hardly breaks me. We'll be fine. Hell! We're planning a weekend trip for crying out loud. That's gotta cost more than my taillight."

Ignoring me, she went on, "That's not the point! It's 85 bucks for something you didn't even need! And you didn't even tell me about it. Does my opinion even matter? Fucking irresponsible!"

"I'm telling you now. My bike, my money. When I start missing rent payments then you can bitch. So for now, stop bitching and stop being irrational."

She stormed back into the kitchen. "Irrational?"

"Yes. You're being-" before I could finish my sentence she began strafing me with plastic bowls and insults.

"I'll show you irrational. You fucking asshole! I'll show you Bitch like you've never seen! Asshole. Fucking asshole!"

I ducked and moved out of the line of fire. "Stop Stop Stop! What the fuck had gotten into you?"

"You did, you asshole. I'm trying to be fiscally responsible, and you're out blowing your money acting like it doesn't matter and calling ME irrational!"

After she spat that out she followed it with a coffee cup. I ran out into the living room as it crashed on the wall behind me.

I'd had enough. I grabbed my keys off the desk and headed for the door. "You need to calm the fuck down. I'm out of here."

All I heard as I closed the door behind me was a loud "Fuck You!" Followed by another crash. I think it was a plate this time.

Like I said, we've had arguments before. And usually over stupid shit. But this was a new level. She'd never thrown anything but words until now. Still this wasn't enough to make me run to the beach and get drunk yet. I hopped on my bike and rode around a while, clearing my head and taking my frustration out on the road.

After a couple hours, I was out of gas, anger, and direction. I was in the next county and had no idea where I was. I topped off and headed back to the apartment. I'd considered calling, but in my frustration, I'd left my phone. If I hadn't already had my wallet I'd have really been screwed.

Pulling back into our parking lot I spot my buddy's jeep.

"Odd. What's Matt doing here?" I thought. We were friends and coworkers, and if there was a big marketing project coming up he'd come over and we'd pound it out. But there wasn't one that I was aware of. I parked next to it and got a closer look.

"Yeah, that's Matt's. Maybe we just got a new client or something." I said to myself as I walked up to my door.

And then I heard it. Emily. Her pitched shrills building towards crescendo. There is no mistaking that sound. Listening closer I can hear Matt grunting and groaning on top of her. "God help me, Matt is in there fucking Emily. Go in there, grab him by the hair, yank him off of her, sink your fist into his jaw, and keep going until his teeth come out!" I told myself.

But I didn't. I couldn't move. I was frozen right there on the doorstep. All I could do was stare at the doorknob. And there it was. Her scream. Her blood curdling orgasmic report. It punched me in the gut.

I don't know how long I was standing there. I lost track of time. But at some point, Matt opened the door as he was kissing a towel-wrapped, freshly-fucked Emily goodbye. I could smell the sex on them.

"Tuck!" They said, in unison, startled to see me there.

I ignored them both as I pushed my way passed Matt, stepped over the shattered plate on the floor and went to the desk.

"Tuck, wait. Let me explain this." Emily began. "Please. Just wait a second."

I retrieve my phone, then hold up a finger to silence her. Matt was still standing there, in shock I guess. His hair was still wet, and jaw just hanging open. So I take my own advice from earlier. I draw back and sock him out into the walkway.

"Tuck!" Emily shrieks.

I ignore her as I walk to Matt. He rubs his jaw and tries to get up. I grab him by the collar and shove him towards the parking lot.

"Monday morning you're going to put in your 2 week notice. You're going to quit, or I'm telling your wife."

He stumbles without saying a word.

"Tucker, wait!" Emily demands.

I step passed my former friend and get back on the bike. She tries to call out to me again from the doorway but her words are drowned out by the bike firing up. I keep hitting the throttle as I back out, then gun it out of the parking lot. Now it was time for a few beers.

I look down at my phone again. Missed text this time. I seethe it out, chug off the last of my beer and read the message.

"Please!! Can we talk???"

I switch it off and toss it back onto the table. I raise my hand to hail the waitress from behind the bar. She pulls her attention from the game on TV as I hold up my empty bottle. She nods.

She's not exactly a supermodel, but she's kind of cute. Wavy red hair stopping just at her shoulders. Her eyes are a bluish green and shaped expressively around her inward curved nose. She looks so bored its almost sad. She's not fit but not thick. Just a little curvy. She's got great skin , and freckles positively everywhere. Well everywhere I can see. She still sporting a lot of midriff despite the lack of tone in her stomach. Her bright blue t-shirt is tied high up her torso. Her white cotton skirt is way up the thigh too. It is, however, in the 90s and she's working the patio.

Eyes still on the game, she's bringing me another cold one. Only when she puts it down and takes my empty does she look at me. She gives me this odd look, like she's just now noticed something surprising about me. Then she walks back to the bar tossing the empty in the trash with a loud clink.

As I'm work on beer number three I'm back into my own thoughts. I'm wondering what led Emily to summon Matt right after the fight. He couldn't have just shown up unannounced like that - Matt just happens to come by, she's pissed and jumps him to get back at me - highly unlikely. That means this isn't new territory for her. This has happened before. So how long has this been going on?

I remember vividly, a Friday I worked late, meanwhile Matt took the day off. Emily had said she was going to run at the park. I'm sure now that she got her workout another way. That night she was too tired to have sex.

That, of course, leads my thoughts into searching for signs that I may have missed. I can't think of any. But there must have been something. Another question I kick around a while: Why? Was I just that bad? I'm so lost In thought that I don't notice I've finished my beer. And I also don't notice the redhead setting a fresh one down in front of me.

"This one's on me." She says with an almost pitiful smile.

"Thanks." I offer glumly.

"So. What'd she do to you?" Redhead says in a deep yet pleasant tone. It throws me off.

"Huh?"

"Whatever it was, must have been a pretty big deal breaker."

"I'm sorry. What?" I'm still not putting it together.

She sits down across from me at my table as she gives this exasperated sigh.

"It's Saturday afternoon. You just ride up here by yourself, sit by yourself, drink 3, now 4 beers by yourself. And you've been ignoring your phone and staring at the beach ever since you got here. So either your dog died, or she screwed you over. So which is it?"

She's pretty observant. I have to give her that. But I'm not in the best of moods.

"Yeah. Look, I don't want to talk about it right now."

"Oh come on. I'm bored. Braves have already lost this one," she says pointing at the TV. "No one else is going to sit out here until the sun goes down. Hell I even bought you a beer."

She did buy me the beer. What the hell.

"Fine. Long story short, I just caught my friend fucking my girlfriend."

"Ooh. Ouch. Yeah that's a deal breaker right there. Wow. Sorry buddy... "

She's making that air sucked through teeth sound you make when you burn yourself.

"Yeah I'm gonna need the dirt, please. No short version on this one."

"Excuse me?"

"Story that juicy..." She says almost gleefully, "I gotta hear the full Monty."

Damn she's nosy for a stranger.

"I've just suffered an emotionally traumatic experience. You'll forgive me if I don't quite feel like sharing the details with someone I don't know."

"Oh. Sorry." She says, leaning up and extending her hand all prim and proper. "Teagan. Nice to meet you."

Just jumping right on in there, isn't she. Why not?

"Tuck." I reply shaking her hand.

"So. Tuck. Gonna spill those beans? What happened? Spare no dirty detail."

She's obviously not going to leave this, or me alone. So I tell her about this morning; about how I pissed her off and she pissed me off and I left, how I came back in time to hear her get off. I told her about decking Matt.

I'm done explaining and she's just sitting there listening, but not saying anything. I'm through with my sad tale and still Teagan just sits. Finally she leans back.

"Tuck? Your name is Tuck?" She's trying not to laugh. I'm trying not to be pissed. She reads my face and changes her tone.

"Sorry. I just haven't heard that one before."

"I've never heard Teagan before." I throw out defensively. "And actually, it's Tucker." I don't know why I'm having this discussion with her.

"Tucker. Hmm. I like that."

I just nod and take a sip of beer.

"See, this is the part where you tell me that you like my name too."

I give her a snide look.

"Sensitive, aren't we?"

"Like I said," I reply, "I've just been through an ..."

"Yeah yeah yeah. Emotional experience. Blah blah blah. You already said that." She cuts me off. "Time to buck the fuck up, there Tuck. See what I did there?" She says, laughing at her little rhyming joke. Then she kept going.

"Look. Bitches are cruel. Alright? Women do mean, horrible things sometimes."

"Kinda like you are right now?"

"Tucker, she's the one who fucked you over and cheated. I'm the one just trying to tell you how it is; help you get over it." She says, sounding serious for once.

I hold up my bottle, "you've done more than enough." I didn't mean for that to sound quite so sarcastic. But she doesn't seem offended.

"Oh come on, Tucker. You act like you're the only one who's had that happen to them. Join the club. Okay so ya got cheated on."

"Okay?" I'm intentionally being sarcastic now, "what exactly am I supposed to do?"

"Don't you read T-shirts? 'Don't get mad. Get even.'" She says with an almost devilish grin. "That's what you're supposed to do."

I think I know what she's getting at but I'm not 100% sure and I don't want to add to today's humiliation by assuming the bartender is coming onto me.

She reads the look of doubt I'm wearing. I guess she thinks I need more convincing. She glances around the empty patio, puts on this playful grin, as she reaches under the table at her hips. Now she shifts left and right, wiggling and smirking. I'm just giving her a look of bewilderment as she continues to wiggle, then she reaches down at her feet and comes back up with presumably nothing in her hands.

"What the hell is she doing?..."

Still looking sly, she reaches behind her head and begins to gather her hair into a pony tail. She starts to tie it back with a white hair tie that was around her wrist. And then I get it: it wasn't a hair tie, she didn't have one before. She'd just pulled her panties off from underneath her skirt.

While I finally register what she's done she picks up my phone, turns it on, types in her number, then calls her phone.

"I'll call ya in a couple hours when I get off. You can take me to my place. Something tells me you don't quite want to go back to yours yet." She gets up, winks at me, and then goes back to the bar.

"Eh. Why not?"

Okay, I'm sad and angry, not dead. I am still a man. And I'm not an idiot: I'll need a few things. I finish my freebee, pay and tip Teagan as she winks at me again. The bike can stay here until I'm a little more sober. I'll hoof it down the strip to a tourist shop for fresh clothes, shampoo, deodorant, and a toothbrush. I'm not even thinking about going home tonight.

The provisions stowed securely in the bike's saddle bags, I leave it again and walk the strip for a while to clear my head of my buzz and my betrayal.

I smell something intoxicating. As I round the corner a vendor is selling dogs. "Just what I needed!"

After treating myself to a loaded polish with slaw, I ponder my predicament. My perspective for now was that my heart was, indeed, broken. But I wasn't going to need that portion of my anatomy tonight. But if I'm being completely honest with myself, I'm more hurt by Matt than Emily.

If she were going to cheat, then it didn't matter who's dick it was; she was going to screw it. But Matt was my friend. Possibly my best. He should have come and told me, not screw her behind my back. I should tell his wife anyways; fuck him royally.

As the sun has finally set I think to myself: "Shit, I want another beer. My buzz is all gone now."

My phone rings. I don't recognize that number, but I'm sure I know who it is.

"Hey." I answer.

"Ready to come pick me up? I'm so fuckin' wet right now." She says less teasing than she is jovial. She might as well have said "hungry."

"Yeah, I'm just down the street. Be there in a few."

"Alright. See ya soon."

I was less than 5 minutes away from the bar. As I come around the corner I can see Teagan leaning almost seductively across my bike. She's helped herself to the spare turtle-shell half helmet I keep in the other saddle bag. Despite the helmet I can still see that her wavy, silky copper locks are still tied up in a pony tail. That means she's still rocking a bare pussy on my motorcycle. For some reason that turns me on.

As I walk up to greet her she interrupts me by grabbing my shirt pulling me into her, and sticking her tongue in my mouth. This has to be one of the sluttiest, dirtiest kisses I've ever had. I might get over Emily rather quickly. She purrs as she lets me go.

I don my own helmet and join Teagan on my bike while she wraps her arms around my waist. I fire it over and she tightens her grip and moans in my ear, getting teased by the bike's vibration.

"Mmm... If you don't take me home right now, I'm going to fuck this you right here in the parking lot."