Leila: Thanks, I had a great vacation, but it's good to be back!
guel: lol, no one-night stands for this Michael and Maria. Michael would be mortified!
Alien_Friend: Aw, you're right, Maria is definitely making a home in Michael's heart (whether either of them realizes it or not!)
spacegirl23: I'm glad you like this Maria. She'll never lose her crazyiness or her spunk, but she'll make some positive changes and grow up somewhat, too.
Jan: Not liking Max? That's perfectly fine!
Alison: Who would wear that costume? You'd be surprised. I saw two guys at a Halloween party dressed as man-eating sharks once.
Two guys. It was really laughable. There's just nothing remotely sexy about that costume. It seemed perfect for Kyle in this fic.
behrlyliz: Hmm, well, I don't watch Gossip Girl on a regular basis, but I agree, Max is kind of like Chuck Bass. I'm glad you enjoy reading him. I hope that I'm able to portray him realistically.
Christina: What I'm most surprised about is Liz's quick get-away at the end, after Michael mentioned Isabel breaking his heart. What's up with that? Color me intrigued.
I probably should've made that more clear. Liz's getaway had nothing to do with Michael mentioning Isabel, but Michael mentioning
Evans. She doesn't want anyone to have the slightest suspicion about her and Max because it would tarnish what people think of her, so she just got out of there before she became even more uncomfortable and honest.
And I have to say that you're absolutely right about Maria. As confident as she seems, she does have insecurities. She exploits her reputation as a wild, crazy, party-girl, and when people view her that way and think there's nothing more to her, she unfortunately starts to believe they're right. (And yes, Max isn't just a jerk for the sake of being a jerk--although he does enjoy it--so rest assured that you'll get more insight into him.)
killjoy: I think you'll be happy to know that the whole nice guys vs. bad boys issue is a really big part of this story. In fact, it was your feedback for Passion that inspired a lot of this fic. That should boost your ego!
Buddha-boy: I'm so glad you like Marty. I'll admit that I use him mainly for comic relief; it's not like he's some deep, complex character or anything. But sometimes you need that in a story. And I'll agree that Kyle certainly embodies a lot of canon Alex's nerdiness in this fic. I always thought that Kyle got nerdier and nerdier as the show went on . . . but that just made me love him more and more.
Mercedes: If you were able to get caught up, that must mean your computer's working again! Here's hoping it stays working, girl. I'm glad you're enjoying the fic and all the characters. You seem to understand them really well.
Thanks for all the wonderful feedback, everyone! Just a little tidbit of info: This story is up to 738 pages now, and it's not finished. God, I never thought it would be this long!
How about more music? I just love music, and I love "Lie in the Sound" by Trespasser's William. You can find it here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GPeiAMmqUtc&fmt=18 to listen to if you choose to when you see
.
Enjoy this part. It's a little bit longer.
Part 8
The party didn’t even start to dwindle until after 3:00 a.m. By the time 4:30 rolled around, everyone was gone, and Michael was exhausted, but he wanted to get his place cleaned up. Maybe he was a bit of an “anal neat freak,” as Maria would describe him, but that had its benefits. What was wrong with a clean apartment? Absolutely nothing. People were only as clean as the environments they lived in.
Kyle stayed after, helped clean up for a few minutes, then sat down on the couch to “supervise.” He had climbed out of his ridiculous costume now and thrown it out the window onto the street.
“Well, at least none of your paintings got damaged tonight,” he remarked.
“Yeah.” Michael picked up the remnants of his grandmother’s antique vase and shook his head. So much for that family heirloom. All the women in his family were going to be pissed.
“Pretty wild bash you had going here,” Kyle went on. “Too bad I dressed up in the lamest costume ever.”
Michael dumped the shattered remains of the vase into the trash can and said, “No, your costume wasn’t lame. It was . . .”
“If you say unique, you’ll become the man part of my man-eating shark,” Kyle warned.
Michael stayed silent for a moment, then said, “I was gonna say memorable.”
“Oh, great. So my lame costume’s memorable.” Kyle grunted. “Tess won’t remember me.”
Michael grinned. “Who?”
“Oh! Wes,” Kyle lied quickly (and dumbly). “I met a girl tonight. Named Wes.”
“Girl named Wes.” Michael contemplated it and shrugged, pretending he believed it.
“Well, you know, those unsexed names are all the rage,” Kyle explained nervously. “I knew of a girl named Michael once. And I went to high school with this girl named Kyle. It was really weird. I’d run into her and say, ‘Hey, Kyle,’ and she’d be like, ‘Oh, hey, Kyle.’” He laughed a shaky laugh.
Michael sent him a what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about look and bent down to retrieve some cups from around the fireplace.
“Don’t listen to me. I don’t know what I’m talking about,” Kyle said in a rush. “So, uh . . . if you had to pick a best dressed girl tonight, who would you pick?”
Michael spied an unmistakable item lying on the floor to the left of his fireplace just as Kyle posed that question, and he shouted, “Oh, that’s sick, man!”
“What? What’s sick about that?” Kyle spat. “Those girls spent a lot of time on their costumes. We should award a gold medal. They deserve that much, don’t you think? I’m not being a creep.”
“No,
that.” Michael pointed to the item that had evoked his emphatic exclamation.
Kyle peered ahead with squinted eyes and asked, “Is that a . . . used condom?”
“I told you it’s sick!”
“Dude!” Kyle laughed. “At least they’re using protection.”
“It’s still sick,” Michael said, having to look away. “I don’t wanna pick that up.”
“You’re gonna have to.”
“You pick it up.”
Kyle made a face of repulsion. “I’m not picking it up.”
“You’re my guest. Earn your right to exist here.”
“Earn your guest,” Kyle retorted. “Or just ask Maria to pick it up. She’d probably do it for fun.”
“Yeah, probably,” Michael agreed. “Maria!” He waited for a few seconds, but when he didn’t get any response, he called again. “Maria!”
She came waddling out of the bedroom a minute later with a sheet wrapped around her naked body. “What?”
“Are you having sex?” Kyle asked her before Michael could tell her about the condom.
“About to,” she replied innocently. “What do you guys want? You wanna watch? You can if you want.”
“Can we?” Kyle asked eagerly.
“We don’t wanna watch,” Michael cut in. “Maria, we’ve kind of got a . . . a situation.”
She frowned as she surveyed both of their crotches. “Strange, I don’t see any unrelieved erections.”
He rolled his eyes in annoyance. “No, no that kind of situation. There’s a used condom on the floor. Neither one of us wants to pick it up.” He shrugged helplessly. “So . . .”
“Oh, you big babies.” She waddled over to the condom, still clutching the sheet around herself, and said, “Paper towels would be nice.”
“Oh, right.” Kyle hopped up from the couch, scurried into the kitchen, tore a bundle of paper towels from the dispenser, and gave them to Maria. She picked up the condom and tossed it into the trash can Michael was holding.
“There,” she said. “Who’s the man?”
“You’re the man,” Michael replied, wrinkling his forehead in confusion as he did so. Maria was anything but manly.
“Thank me later,” Maria said. “Right now, imagine a ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign on the bedroom door. You know.” She winked. “Later, guys.”
“Later,” Kyle said as she headed back down the hallway to the bedroom. “Wow, she’s really gonna have sex with someone, just like that?”
“Yeah.”
“How does she do that?” Kyle seemed amazed. “I wish I could do that.”
Michael shook his head. Casual sex and expendable relationships didn’t have any appeal to him. If he was going to be with a girl, then he was going to
be with her, make her feel like she was the most important thing in the world to him, because she would be.
About ten minutes later, after Michael had gathered up most of the trash off the floor and taken it out into the hallway to dump it down the trash chute, he and Kyle sat down on the couch and turned on the news. Michael closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the tug of exhaustion, and was just about to fall asleep when Maria’s loud, obnoxious, sex-having voice interrupted his peacefulness.
“Uh! Yes! Yes! Yes!”
“Oh, no, not again,” he muttered. He could hear the squeaking bedsprings, too. Those things were squeaking more than
ever. She was really going to bust up that bed if she wasn’t careful.
“Wow, I thought that’d be hot, but that’s . . . kind of disturbing,” Kyle commented.
“Just a little,” Michael agreed.
“You wanna come crash at my place tonight? Or, I guess there’s not much night left,” Kyle said, looking at the clock.
“No, I’m fine here.” He could sleep on his couch. It was Saturday, so he didn’t have to wake up early, either. Thank God.
“You sure?” Kyle kept offering.
“Yeah.”
A moment later, a different voice overtook Maria’s. This one was coming from the bathroom, and Michael knew immediately who it belonged to.
“Oh! Harder! Come on, cowboy, ride it!” Marty yelled as he had sex with some guy. “Ride it hard!”
Michael turned to Kyle and said, “On second thought, your place sounds good.” The two of them shut off the television, sprang up off the couch, and fled outside in a panic.
“You think we’re the only people not gettin’ laid tonight?” Kyle asked as he unlocked the door to his own apartment, 522.
“No,” Michael said, not really caring. “Well, maybe.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Tess tensed as Max snapped the cold metal handcuffs around her wrists. They were the same cuffs he had been wearing earlier as part of his costume. She should have known he had been planning on using them.
“Max,” she said, instinctively spreading her legs as he settled himself between them on the bed. “Can we go to sleep after this? I’m really tired, and I have to get up early for an Interior Design Club meeting. We’re gonna talk about redesigning the library on campus and--”
“Shh,” he hissed. “You’re talking too much.”
“But I feel like we never talk anymore,” she told him. “You know what I mean? We’re always doing this, and it’s good, but . . . you know? Oh!” She gasped as he plunged his manhood into her with little warning. She wanted to move her arms and hands, to hold onto his shoulders and feel close to him, but she couldn’t do that with her wrists bound together.
“Max,” she whimpered as he pounded himself into her. “Can you . . . slow down?”
His only response was a grunt and an increase in the pace of his thrusts.
“Max . . .” She felt the cuffs digging into her wrists, and it didn’t feel good. “Ow.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“Oh, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum.”
Liz lay beneath Johnny, the guy she had brought back to her dorm room from Maria’s party, as he moved atop her. “Not yet.” She was so disappointed in him. He had big feet, so she had thought he would be huge in
other areas as well, but he was without a doubt one of the smallest and most inexperienced men she had ever been with.
“I’m gonna cum.” Johnny kept repeating his mantra.
“Not yet,” Liz pleaded again. She was nowhere close.
Johnny closed his eyes and scrunched up his forehead, and seconds later, his orgasm overtook him. Liz just lay there and watched, wondering if he knew he made such stupid faces in his state of pleasure, wondering if he even cared that she wasn’t making faces with him.
He collapsed atop her, all sweaty and disgusting, and she fought the urge to push him off her and onto the floor. She didn’t get it. What was the problem with these guys? She told them where to touch her, how to touch her, and they did it. Granted, Johnny hadn’t done it well. Not cumming came as no surprise with him, but the other guys she had hooked up with since Max . . .
And therein lies the problem, she thought to herself bitterly.
Max. She hadn’t had a genuine orgasm
since she’d been with Max a year ago. Even when it was just her and her vibrator, she
had to think of Max. He’d ruined it for her with anyone else. Together, they had created fireworks, really extravagant, huge fireworks like the ones you saw at Disney World or the opening ceremony of the Olympics. She and all the other guys she’d tried out since Max . . . lame fireworks. The kind you set off in your driveway and feigned satisfaction with, even when they barely crackled and popped.
“Wow,” Johnny panted heavily. “That was great.”
“Yeah,” she lied in agreement. “That was great.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael trudged back into his apartment at 9:30 a.m. in the morning, barely able to keep his eyes open. As comfortable as Kyle’s couch was . . . it wasn’t. In fact, it felt like a slab of metal. He hadn’t slept a wink.
Maria stood in the kitchen a white sports bra and pink shorts that looked more like underwear. She looked wide awake, though he didn’t see how that was possible. She’d had a much crazier night than he had. “Good morning,” she chirped.
“If it is, which I doubt,” he muttered in response.
“Whatever, Eeyore.” She laughed. “It
is a good morning. You know why? ‘Cause last night was a good night. Brad got me off twice. He’s a nerd, but I’ll tell you, he’s got some
surprising bedroom skills.”
“That’s too much information. Thanks.”
She shrugged and reached into the refrigerator, pulling out a bowl of strawberries. “These still good?” she asked.
“They should be.”
“Do you think it would be tasty if I mixed strawberries with Oreos?”
He made a face of disgust. “No.”
She shrugged. “I’m gonna try it anyway.”
“Knock yourself out.” He plopped down on the couch and groaned. “God, I’m so tired.”
“Why?” she asked.
“Why? Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I had to sleep on Kyle’s rock-hard couch on account of the chorus of moans and groans in this apartment. You and Marty, I’ll tell you . . . like brother like sister.”
“Well, I can’t speak for Marty,” she said, “but I couldn’t help it. Brad was doing this thing with his tongue.”
“Don’t elaborate.”
“It triggered my scream reflex. God, he’s so good.”
Michael rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the impending headache. “So is he your boyfriend now?” he inquired. “Or just your hook-up partner?”
She shrugged. “Both? No, I’ll probably just hook up with him one more time. He’s getting a little clingy. I had to kick him out on his butt at 6:00 a.m. because he wanted to have a conversation.”
“God forbid.”
“I know. So I guess he’s just a hook-up partner. And a damn good one at that. I’m so very satisfied right now.”
“Well, I’m glad you are.”
She laughed. “Jealous?”
He just shook his head. Was he jealous that she was hooking up with people she barely knew, risking pregnancy and STDs and God knew what else? Not at all. Was he jealous that she was having lots of sex and he was having none? Maybe a little. Was he jealous that all these guys got to have sex with her and he didn’t? Now that was just a weird question.
“Is Marty still here?” he asked.
“No, he and his boy-toy left an hour ago. He says he apologizes for the stains on the bathroom walls.”
“Oh, I don’t even wanna look.”
“Well, you’re gonna have to eventually. Here, try this.” She thrust a small bowl in front of him filled with cut up strawberries and Oreo cookies. She’d really gone and done it.
“I’m not hungry,” he said.
“Just try it, you big fuddy-duddy.” She scooped up half a strawberry with one of the Oreos and popped it into his mouth.
“No,” he mumbled, chewing despite himself. He let the taste of the strange mixture roll through his mouth, and oddly enough, he enjoyed it. “Hey, that actually tastes pretty good,” he told her, surprised.
“I knew it would. I’m gonna add ice cream.” She skipped back into the kitchen to do just that.
“Now, listen, I got plans today,” he told her. “I’m not goin’ shopping. I’m not goin’ out to eat. I’m not doin’ anything like that. I’m gonna paint, alright?”
“I never would’ve guessed,” she muttered sarcastically.
“I’m serious. I got a midterm painting due Monday. I really gotta focus on it.”
“I’m not stopping you.”
“Yeah, not yet.”
“You act like I’m a bad roommate.”
“Well, if the boot fits . . .” He smiled at her.
She stuck her tongue out at him. “You’re not getting any more of this food concoction,” she said as her cell phone began to vibrate on the coffee table. “Would you be a dear and get that?”
He rolled his eyes and leaned forward to answer the phone. “Hello?”
“Um . . . hi,” an unsure voice said. “I think I’ve got the wrong number.”
It took him a moment to recognize the voice, but he did. “Ms. DeLuca?”
“Yes?”
“Hey, Ms. DeLuca, it’s Michael. I’m Maria’s friend. She’s right here. I’ll get her for you.” He held out the phone to Maria.
“No!” Maria shrieked in a whisper. “No, I don’t wanna talk to her.”
He brought the phone back up to his ear and said, “She’s very excited to talk to you, Ms. DeLuca. Just a minute.” He held out the phone again.
“Evil!” Maria said. “You’re so evil.” She reluctantly took the phone from him and immediately changed her tone. “Hi, Mommy!”
Michael rolled his eyes.
Mommy?
“Yeah, that was Michael. The same Michael you met last year. I’m living with him now.”
This should go over well, Michael thought. He knew enough about Amy DeLuca to know that she would not approve of Maria living with a boy. She was conservative, set in her ways, and above all else oblivious to her daughter’s actions.
“No, he’s not my boyfriend,” Maria said. “I needed a place to stay. Tess and I drifted apart, and I moved out.”
Michael lay back on the couch and closed his eyes, contemplating a nap before he began painting.
“Dinner?” Maria said. “Um . . . oh, and hanging out before dinner, huh?”
He opened his eyes just long enough to see her cringe and stomp her foot in frustration. Maria must have been reaping some bad-ass karma. She’d thrown a huge Halloween party after promising to throw a small gathering, and now her mother was initiating a mother-daughter day. Perfect.
“Sure,” Maria said reluctantly. “That sounds . . . great.”
Michael laughed, and he should have known it was a mistake.
“Actually, Mom, Michael can join us at dinner tonight. He’s got some spare time today.”
“What?” he shrieked, shooting upright into a sitting position. “No! No, no spare time! Painting!”
“He’s got all the time in the world,” Maria went on. “The three of us, dinner tonight. Sounds like a blast.”
Dammit, he thought. Maybe karma was catching up to him, too. But what for? He hadn’t done anything wrong. No, with Maria it was karma. With him, it was just plain old bad luck.
“Alright, well, the apartment’s not too hard to find,” Maria went on. “It’s about ten minutes north of my old place.”
“South,” Michael corrected.
“South of my old place. And about five minutes west of Best Buy.”
“East.”
“East of Best Buy. It’s by the old fair grounds, you know? Hence the name Fairview. You can’t really miss it. There’s this big fountain out front and everything.”
Michael got up from the couch and headed into the kitchen to try to devour as much of her strawberry and Oreo concoction as he could. Simple payback. She was making him go out to dinner, so he was eating her breakfast.
“Alright, well, I’m . . . looking forward to it, too,” Maria forced herself to say. She scurried into the kitchen and shoved Michael away from her food. “Alright, I love you, too. Bye, Mom.” She hung up her phone, slammed it down on the counter and dug into her concoction. “Oh, fuck, I need to stress eat.”
“Is it still a good morning?” he teased.
She shot him a death glare and didn’t answer the question. “Shut up.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Maria spent hours cleaning that morning and managed to rope Michael into it with her. They picked up the entire apartment, and it was quite a process, but by the time afternoon rolled around, it was looking pretty good.
“Okay,” she said. “Is it clean? It looks clean.”
“It’d be cleaner if we hadn’t had a drunken orgy here last night,” Michael grumbled.
“Oh, when are you gonna let that go?”
“Never.”
She rolled her eyes. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy yourself. You had fun and you know it.”
“Sure, if you define fun as listening to my family heirlooms break, having you try to set me up with that Liz girl, picking up used condoms afterward . . .”
“You got to watch Tess and me dance battle on the counter,” she reminded him. “Don’t even pretend you didn’t enjoy that.”
He shrugged. “Every time you do something like that, you just give guys a reason to objectify you.”
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
“You know what it means.”
She really didn’t. Objectify? What did Michael think she was, a walking dictionary? He was probably just saying she should be less slutty. Before she could ask him to clarify, there was a knock on the door, a very light, polite knock that could only belong to one person.
“Oh, shit, she’s here!” Maria shrieked. “Okay, clothes . . .” She surveyed her attire, a pink sweater and jeans.
Way more conservative than the clothes she usually wore, but it was all about lying her ass off. “Good. Study, gotta look studious . . .” She flung herself onto the couch and pried open her math book, coughing as dust flew up into her nose. She hadn’t opened that book . . . ever.
“It’s upside down,” Michael informed her as he made his way towards the door.
“Oh.” She flipped it around and pretended to be all engrossed in it as Michael pulled open the door.
“Hey, Ms. DeLuca,” he greeted. “How are you?”
“Oh, I’m fine. Nice to see you again, Michael.” She gave him an awkward hug and squeezed inside. “Maria!” she squealed. “How’s my girl?”
“Mom!” Maria set her book aside and sprang up from the couch, really honing her inner actress as she skipped over to Amy and gave her a bear hug. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“How long has it been?”
Not long enough. “Oh . . . too long.” She sneaked a glance at Michael and saw him rolling his eyes.
“I hope you don’t mind me getting here early,” Amy said. “You were right. The place was easy to find. I didn’t catch you in the middle of anything, did I?”
“Oh, no, I was just doing some studying,” Maria said, sidestepping back over to the couch. “Just looking over some fun facts about . . .” She peered over the couch at the textbook and squinted to read one of the words written there. “Different equations?”
“
Differential equations,” Michael corrected.
“Differential inqua-equa-uh . . . math,” she sputtered.
“That’s good, that’s good,” Amy remarked. “Hopefully this means your grades will be picking up soon.”
“My grades,” Maria echoed. “Yes. Yes, because those have been . . . not so great lately, I know.”
“I’ve been checking them online,” Amy admitted. “What’s the problem, sweetie?”
“Professors,” she blurted. “Close-minded, malicious professors. I swear, it’s like they
want their students to fail. Pop quizzes all the time. Stuff like that.”
“You’re keeping up with your reading and all your assignments, though, right?”
“Right,” she lied. “It’s just the nerves, you know? They say ‘pop quiz’ and I freeze up.”
“Well, I’ll write a note of complaint to the dean,” Amy decided.
“No!” Maria screeched. “I mean . . . it’s not necessary. I’m gonna study harder than ever, and my grades will pick up real soon. I promise.”
“Well, that’s good to hear,” Amy said, patting her shoulder. “What about you, Michael? Do you have problems with your professors?”
“Not really,” he replied.
“Michael’s like a genius, Mom,” Maria informed her.
“I’m not.”
“Yes, you are,” she insisted. “You’ve got that scholarship.”
“Which scholarship?” Amy asked.
“Oh, it pays for my tuition,” he explained. “It’s nice, but I gotta keep up a 3.5 GPA.”
“And what does he do? Gets a freakin’ 4.0 every semester.” Maria didn’t see any harm in bragging Michael up. He wasn’t her boyfriend, but he was her roommate now. It was important that her mom liked him. And really, who wouldn’t? Michael was such a likable guy.
“You must study a lot,” Amy remarked.
“Well . . .” He shot Maria a semi-angry look. “I try.”
Maria laughed nervously. “Well, what he means by that is, uh . . . he works, too, at the art museum here on campus.”
“I was wondering how you paid for this place,” Amy said, glancing around at the apartment. “It’s very nice.”
“Thank you.” Michael smiled, seeming proud of that. “I sell some of my paintings, too, so that’s a pretty good way to make some money.”
“That’s very industrious of you.”
“Thanks.”
“Is Maria helping you pay the rent?” Amy asked, narrowing her eyes at Maria suspiciously. “I bet she’s not.”
“Well, not yet, but she’s going to,” Michael said. “Isn’t that right, Maria?”
“That’s right.” She smiled, still nervous. She was supposed to be looking for a job. She still hadn’t done that. Michael and Amy were both so responsible. She so totally wasn’t.
“Well, it sounds like you two have a nice little arrangement going here,” Amy said. “Although you’ll have to tell me what happened with you and Tess, honey. Don’t get me wrong, I’m relieved; that girl was a bad influence on you. But you two were best friends for so long.”
Maria shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. We don’t see eye to eye on a lot of stuff. We drifted apart. That’s all.” She really didn’t want to talk about it. The truth was, sometimes she missed Tess, missed their friendship. But it was gone, nothing she could do about it now.
An uncomfortable silence settled upon the three of them, and Maria wasn’t sure what to say. The last thing she expected was for Michael to pipe up and say something, but that was exactly what he did.
“So,” he said, clearing his throat, “will Marty be joining us for dinner tonight?”
Maria’s eyes almost bulged out of her head. “Uh, Michael! Come here!” She grabbed his wrist and pulled him down the hallway and into the bedroom. “Oh my god, you just committed fuck-up
numero uno! Do
not mention Marty in front of my mother,
ever!”
Michael looked confused. “Why not?”
“Because she pretty much disowned him when she found out he was gay. Okay, they haven’t spoken to each other for years, and whenever anyone mentions him, she goes on this ‘homos go to hell’ rant. It’s not fun. I hate her for it. So just don’t say anything about him, okay?”
“Okay. Sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. Just go tell her hair looks nice or something.” There. That sounded like a good, safe conversation for the three of them to have.
When they walked out of the bedroom, they found Amy standing in the corner of the living room, surveying something on the floor.
“Ms. DeLuca,” Michael said, “your hair looks really . . . what’re you-what is—oh my god.”
“Mom what’re you looking at?” Maria asked as Amy bent down and picked up something on the floor, something that, from a distance, looked a lot like a . . . “Oh my god, is that a . . .
oh, my god.” It was
another used condom, just like the one she had picked up last night. How had they missed that? They’d cleaned the entire apartment.
“Maria?” Amy looked horrified. “Is this what I think it is?”
“Mom, put that down!”
“Are you having the sex?”
“What?
No,” she lied a little too emphatically. “No, of course not. That’s probably left over from the previous tenant or something.” Bad lie. Just bad.
“This is ridiculous,” Michael muttered.
“No sex for me!” she shrieked, sending Michael a warning look. If he said anything about her non-virgin status, she was going to kill him.
“Whose is this?” Amy demanded. “Maria? What’s been going on here?”
“It’s really not mine,” she insisted. “Think about it. Why would
I wear a condom? Got a hole, not a pole.”
“I got a pole,” Michael volunteered. “It’s . . . oh, god, what am I saying? It’s mine. I’m sorry, Ms. DeLuca, that’s . . . ‘cause I’m a guy. And I’ve got needs.”
Maria stared at him in disbelief. He was covering for her, for the party she’d just thrown? He was so great.
“Then I suppose you won’t mind taking this off my hands, so to speak?” Amy cringed.
“Oh. Sure.” Michael turned to face Maria and muttered, “The things I do for you.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He pulled a large bundle of paper towels off the dispenser and used them to collect the condom from Amy. “You might wanna . . . wash your hands,” he suggested.
“Trust me, I’m going to.” She shuffled into the kitchen and thrust her hands under the sink as he threw the condom into the trash. “So, Michael,” she said as she lathered up her hands with soap. “You’re sexually active. That's just great.”
Maria felt so bad for him. He was going to get grilled. “Mom, this is really an intrusive conversation, don’t you think?”
“I’m just trying to get to know your new roommate better,” Amy said innocently. “To be honest, I’m not too fond of this new development. I was hoping Michael was saving himself until marriage like you are.”
Michael must have choked on his own spit upon hearing that, because he coughed loudly and had to slap his hand against his chest to recover. “Sorry.”
“It’s just . . . I don’t really approve of premarital sex,” Amy told Michael.
He nodded. “I can tell.”
“I mean, I don’t know what I would do if Maria crawled into bed every night with somebody she barely knew.”
Now it was Maria’s turn to cough loudly.
Mom, I’m so glad you don’t know me, she thought thankfully.
“Um, you know, I really don’t have an opinion on the subject one way or another,” Michael said, doing his best to play the part of Switzerland and be neutral in the debate.
“Well, the people involved should at least be in love,” Amy said. “At least. Tell me, Michael, were you in love with the last girl you slept with?”
Maria covered her face with her hand and shook her head. This was horrible. So horrible. Michael probably hadn’t anticipated getting into
this discussion when he’d lied and claimed the condom.
“Yes,” he replied, and it was an honest reply. His eyes glazed over for a moment, and Maria knew he was thinking about Isabel. Great. In addition to barging into his private life, Amy had managed to make him think about the one person he tried to never think about. One of the many reasons why Maria couldn’t stand her own mom. She made everything bad, and then she made everything worse.
“Well, that’s a small miracle,” Amy said. “Although . . . I don’t know. I guess I still don’t like the thought of this, you two living together and possibly . . .” She trailed off.
“Oh, no, we’re not . . .”
“It’s not like that,” Maria assured her readily. “Michael’s a friend. A good friend. But not a sex friend. Because I’m . . . such a virgin.” She laughed a high-pitched laugh full of nerves. Michael stared at her in disbelief, looking as though he were about to either laugh or cry.
“I just wanted to paint today,” he mumbled.
She mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ to him and placed a hand on her mother’s shoulder. “Mom, you know how we talked about dinner?”
“Yes?”
“Well, why don’t we make it lunch?” She wanted to get this over with a soon as possible. “Yeah, we’ll go to that sandwich shop on P Street, eat some whole grain bread. Healthy, yummy. Doesn’t that sound good?”
“Sounds good,” Michael said readily. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
“Okay,” Amy said. “Let me go touch up my lipstick.” She grabbed her purse off the couch and headed into the bathroom.
Maria couldn’t help but giggle when it was just her and Michael in the kitchen. He actually laughed a little, too, though he added, “This isn’t funny. Your mom thinks I’m a slut.”
“Well, she thinks I’m a virgin.” That alone was a real knee-slapper. “I’ll make this up to you, I promise.”
“Yeah, you say that.”
“No, I
promise,” she insisted. “This is just--”
“What are all these stains on the walls?” Amy asked suddenly. “Michael?”
Maria clapped one hand over her mouth to stifle the laughter that came pouring out of her. Those had to be the same stains Marty had mentioned. Oh, if only her mother knew . . .
“Don’t mind those, Ms. DeLuca,” Michael called back to her. “Just part of the wallpaper.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Max and Tess had just taken a seat at the counter of Galeotti’s Sandwich Shop and begun to look over their menus when Max looked up and said, “Oh, look, there’s Michael and Maria. Joy. Who’s that with them? Don’t tell me Michael scored himself a three-way.”
Tess glanced over her shoulder and saw a familiar face accompanying them. “Not likely,” she replied. “That’s Maria’s mom Amy. She’s extremely unpleasant.”
“Ooh, I like her already.”
“She hates me. She thinks
I’m a bad influence on
Maria.” Tess huffed. “Can you believe that?”
“Does she even
know her own daughter?”
“Nope.”
“Lucky her.” Max closed his menu, apparently having decided on his order, and asked, “So what’s this lunch all about?”
“Oh, right.” Tess had been waiting awhile to approach this topic with her boyfriend. Now seemed like as good of time as ever. “Well, I . . . I was doing some thinking.”
“You were?”
“Yeah.” She frowned for a moment, not sure if he was teasing or . . . she let it go. “I was thinking that you spend a lot of time at my place. You sleep there, like, three or four nights a week now that Maria’s gone. Why don’t we just go ahead and make it official?”
“Official?”
“Yeah. You could move in with me.” She smiled hopefully.
“I could,” Max said. “I won’t.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because, your apartment’s so small and pink and . . . middle class.”
Tess wasn’t sure what to make of that assessment. “That’s because I
am middle class.”
“But I’m not.”
She frowned in disappointment. “So . . . you’re not gonna move in with me?”
“No. You should move in with me, though.”
“No, I . . . don’t want to,” she admitted. “Your place--”
“Is amazing,” he cut in matter-of-factly.
“Yeah, but it doesn’t feel like home.”
“It’s a penthouse suite in my father’s hotel,” he reminded her.
She wet her lips and tried to explain. “It’s too stuffy and dignified.”
“Dignity’s a bad thing?”
“No, it’s—Max.” She was getting a little frustrated, and she didn’t like the overall tone of this conversation. “Let’s just drop it, okay? Clearly we’re not ready to move in together.”
“Clearly,” he agreed. “God, next thing you know, you’ll be wanting me to propose.”
She glared at him, doing her best to quell her anger, and said, “Oh, trust me, that’s not what I want right now.”
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael did the calculations in his head and estimated that, by the time they finished lunch and Amy got out of their hair, it would be around 5:30 p.m. Possibly even 6:00. Either way he looked at it, he had to put up with her for at least four more hours. He was beginning to wonder if he could do that.
They slid into a booth, Michael and Maria on one side, Amy on the other, and began to look over their menus. Amy glanced up and asked, “Oh, is that Tess over there?”
“Unfortunately,” Maria mumbled in response.
“Is she still dating that rich boy?”
“Unfortunately,” Maria repeated.
“Hmm.” Amy shook her head. “No, that’s no good. Better to be with the right guy than just any old guy. Don’t you agree, Maria?”
Michael smiled, sensing an opportunity to mess with her. “Yeah,” he said, turning to face her. “Don’t you agree, Maria?”
“I agree,” she answered quickly, nervously. “Why is everyone looking at me?”
Michael chuckled a little and decided to change the topic just so that she could relax. “So, Ms. DeLuca, what brings you to Santa Fe?”
“Well, you might remember that I work with a charity organization. The Sunshine Kids Foundation. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”
“Of course,” Michael lied.
“Anyway, I’m assigned to a case at St. Anthony’s hospital—poor little girl with leukemia. I thought I might as well pay a visit to my daughter while I’m up here. It’s been . . . gosh, six months?”
“Yep. Your birthday,” Maria said.
“I missed my little girl.”
“You’re so sweet, Mom. Hey, don’t mind me. I’m just gonna go hit the powder room for a minute, freshen up.”
“Powder room?” Michael echoed as she squeezed past him and out of the booth. “What powder room? It’s a unisex bathroom.”
“Well, that’s where I’m going. Try not to have too much fun while I’m gone.” She smiled, patted him on the shoulder, and quickly darted away.
Oh, she did that on purpose, he thought. She didn’t have to go ‘freshen up.’ She was just trying to diminish the time she had to spend with her mother, and she was leaving him with her. Traitor.
Amy cleared her throat as though she were about to say something important and then asked the most ridiculous question Michael had ever heard in his life. “So, Michael. When do you plan on marrying my daughter?”
He just froze for a second, thinking he couldn’t have
possibly heard her correctly, and then his eyes bulged out of his head. “Marrying?”
“Yes. I recently purchased a five-year planner. I’d like to schedule it in sooner rather than later.”
“Well, how about later, as in way later, as in never. I’m not marrying Maria,” he told her decidedly.
“Well, why not? Do you think you’re too good for her? Is that it?”
“What? No!” Where was she coming up with all these crazy ideas. “Maria’s a-Maria’s a great girl.”
“She’s more than great. She’s pure and respectable and beautiful.”
“Yes, she’s very . . .” He stopped, wondering if he could honestly call Maria pure and respectable. Nope. “Beautiful,” he finished up. “Um, look, Amy . . . Ms. DeLuca . . . I gotta be honest here. I don’t know where you’re getting this whole marriage idea. I mean, Maria and I aren’t even dating.”
“But you
are living together,” Amy pointed out. “The next logical step is holy matrimony, followed, of course, by the formation of a traditional nuclear family: mother, father, and two children. A boy and a girl would be nice.”
Michael just sat there, mouth agape, staring in awe at the insanity of this woman, and he didn’t even know what to say. “What?”
“I’m thinking she’ll give birth to the first around age twenty-four, after you’ve both finished college. So should I set the wedding date somewhere in age . . . twenty-two-ish?”
Michael considered bolting at that moment. He wasn’t a runner by any means, but his feet were twitching with the desire to run out of the sandwich shop and far away from her. Relief appeared in human form, though, as he saw Kyle walk through the front door. “Kyle!” he called, waving his arms frantically. “Kyle, come here! Please!”
Kyle approached the table, glancing up at the counter now and again, and said distractedly, “Hey, man, what’s up?” He then noticed Amy and said, “Got a hot date, huh?”
“Oh, very funny. Kyle, this is Amy DeLuca, Maria’s mom.”
“Oh. Shit. I mean, hi,” Kyle sputtered, extending his hand in greeting.
“Hello,” Amy said, tentatively shaking his hand. “Kyle, is it?”
“Yeah. I’m Michael’s friend. And neighbor. And your son’s latest fashion project.” He laughed.
Amy made a face, and Michael remembered what Maria had said about her no-longer-in-existence relationship with Marty, so he quickly interjected. “So, Kyle, what’re you doin’ here?”
“Oh, nothing,” Kyle replied flippantly. “I was just passin’ by, thought it seemed like a good day for a . . . for a . . . for some lasagna or something.”
“Well, good luck finding that here. It’s a sandwich shop,” Michael informed him.
“Right, right. I knew that,” Kyle said unconvincingly. He tried to sneak a glance up at the counter one more time, at Tess, but Michael saw him. He just shook his head and decided not to razz his friend about the crush. Yet.
“God, that bathroom’s gross,” Maria proclaimed as she
finally rejoined them, sliding past Michael again back to her spot in the booth. “Oh, hey, Kyle. How’s it goin’?”
“Decent,” he replied. “I’m a little tired, though. Last night was pretty crazy.”
“Last night?” Amy echoed curiously. “What happened last night?”
“Oh, Amy, your daughter throws a hell of a Halloween party,” Kyle raved before either Michael or Maria could answer. “I’ll tell you, I’ve never been to such a rager. This girl is a party machine. She’s crazy.”
“Hmm.” Maria smiled and said, “Bye, Kyle.”
“Bye? I just got here. What do you mean--” Kyle glanced up to the counter again. Max and Tess were leaving now with sandwiches in hand. “Oh, bye.” Kyle dashed out the door after them.
“I’m confused,” Amy said once he was gone. “You had a party last night, Maria?”
Maria didn’t say anything, so Michael jumped in with an explanation. “Actually, uh,
we had a party. Yeah, Maria wanted to keep it really small, low-profile, just a dozen or so people. But I went ahead and invited all these people, and it was a pretty wild time. ‘Cause I just . . . love to party.” He tried to sound as convincing as he could. He wasn’t a natural-born liar, but he could pull it off if absolutely necessary.
Amy surveyed him skeptically. “Is that so?”
He shrugged. “So it is.” He looked over at Maria, and she was smiling at him gratefully. He smiled back.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Michael stood out on the balcony of his apartment that night, clothed in paint-covered sweat pants and a white tank, with his easel and canvas in front of him. Maria stood back awhile and watched him while he painted. He looked so in the zone. She had known Michael could concentrate on things that he was passionate about, but she had never seen him look so focused, so intent on one thing. She wasn’t sure whether to interrupt him or not, but eventually she gave in. She was a talkative person by nature. She couldn’t just stand there.
“That’s pretty,” she remarked as she slipped out the sliding door to join him on the balcony. “That your midterm painting?”
“Yep,” he replied. “It’s the view from my apartment.”
She surveyed the painting in greater detail and noticed that it was, down to the very last trash can. The view wasn’t great—the old fair grounds a few blocks away were really run down and shoddy. Still, Michael’s painting was beautiful. He was very talented.
“What’s it called?” she asked.
“The view from my apartment.”
She laughed. “Oh, creative.”
“Yeah, really.”
She stared at the painting a moment longer, then decided to come right out and say what she’d been wanting to say ever since her mom had left. “Hey, I just wanted to thank you. You . . . really came through today.”
He feigned surprise. “I did?”
“Yeah. You completely tarnished my mom’s opinion of you. She hates you now, which is way better than her hating me.”
“She hates me?” He laughed. “I’ve never actually had an adult hate me before.”
“Well, maybe she doesn’t hate you. She just think you’re a sex addict who parties too much.”
“Really?” He set down his brush and turned to face her. “Now who does that sound like?” He smiled and teased, “I can’t believe she thinks you’re a virgin.”
“She doesn’t know me,” Maria informed him in case he hadn’t noticed. “And I’m more than happy to keep it that way.”
“Why?”
That question surprised her. She wasn’t quite sure how to answer. “Because. Look, my mom’s not completely horrible. She
does pay for my college loans, which is nice and all, and I’m grateful for that. I am. But the minute she finds out I’m
not a virgin and
not a braniac and not so many things, she’ll stop paying those loans. And then it’s bye-bye college for me.”
“You think?”
“Oh, yeah.” Sadly, there wasn’t a doubt in her mind. “She cut off all her ties with Marty when she found out he was gay. What’s to stop her from cutting all her ties with me?”
Michael nodded slowly, mulling that over, and then blurted out something that made her laugh. “She’s crazy.”
“Oh, god. Was she trying to plan our wedding?” Maria knew her mother. Amy’s greatest ambition for her was to walk down the altar, even if it was with a “slutty party guy” like Michael.
“No. She was trying to set a date, though. Age twenty-two-ish, alright?”
“Alright.” She shook her head as her laughter trailed off. “Oh, I’m so sorry. Is she crazier than me?”
He shook his head. “No one’s crazier than you.”
“Good to know.” She smiled.
“Yeah. You know, even though she’s crazy, she may have a point.”
And her smile quickly dissipated into a frown. “What do you mean?”
Michael shuffled from side to side on his feet and picked up his brush again. “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. Come on, tell me,” she urged.
“It’s just . . .” He set his brush back down again. “Your mom wants you to study and get a job and . . . you know, fall in love. What’s so bad about that?”
“Nothing. It’s just not
me,” she attempted to explain.
“It could be. You might be surprised how good it feels to study for a test and get a good grade on it.”
“And
you might be surprised how good it feels to loosen up and dance at a party,” she retorted.
“I danced,” he reminded her, “with Liz.”
She grunted, not able to classify that as real dancing. “Yeah, mechanically, like, middle school style, a total arm’s length apart, her leading you, so awkward . . .”
“Fine, but this isn’t about me, alright? It’s about you.”
“Hmm, always is.”
“I’m serious.”
She pouted. “You’re always serious. Lighten up. Come on, Michael, admit that smokescreening my mom today was totally hilarious.”
He considered it for a moment, then confessed, “It was kinda funny.”
“You enjoyed yourself, even though she’s a non-enjoyable person. And you saved my ass. You shall be rewarded.”
He grinned. “I shall?”
“Yes. I’m thinking . . . strip-tease?”
He shook his head and laughed. “No.”
“No?” She made a face and playfully punched his arm. “You fool. You’re denying me the chance to show off one of my greatest talents.”
He stared at her, right in her eyes, and his expression became a serious one again. “You really don’t even know who you are, do you?”
She was taken aback by that. “What?” She knew who she was. She was Maria DeLuca, hottest girl on campus, life of the party, the envy and desire of virtually everyone who was anyone.
“You got any tests comin’ up?” he asked randomly.
“What?” She was more confused than ever. “I don’t know. Macroeconomics, I think.” She really didn’t keep track.
“Great. Study for that,” he suggested. “Study hard for that test. Get an A or a B. That’s reward enough for me.”
She furrowed her brow in confusion, not understanding. “Are you sure you don’t just want the strip-tease?”
“I just want you to try something new.”
She stuck her chest out and proclaimed, “Well, I’m brave. I’m adventurous. I’m up to any challenge.”
“Are you?”
“Yeah. Are you challenging me?”
“Yeah, I’m challenging you, but I’m also really hoping you’ll succeed.”
“Well, I will,” she vowed. “If it’s
really gonna reward you for your blatant lies today, I’ll study my sexy ass off for that test, and I’ll get an A or a B. Let’s be real here: I’ll get a B.”
“Aim for an A,” he suggested.
“Aim for an A but expect a B,” she decided.
“Expect an A.” He picked up his brush again, and began to mix some blue and black together to create a perfect shade for the night sky in his painting. She watched him for a moment, thinking about what she was getting herself into.
“I’ve never gotten an A on a college exam before,” she mumbled to herself. “I’ve never gotten an A on
any exam.”
He swiped the paint-covered brush against a blank spot on his canvas and said, “First time for everything.”
She smiled, appreciating his stubbornness. “You never give up, do you?”
He looked her over for a moment and replied, “Not on you.”
That . . . felt so nice to hear. No one had ever said that to her before.
Suddenly, he reached out and brushed a line of navy blue paint on her cheek.
“Hey!” she shrieked, trying to seize his paintbrush from him and do the same to him.
“Watch the painting! Watch the painting!” He took a step back and laughed.
“Jerk!” she exclaimed, unable to keep from smiling. Because it
so wasn’t true. Michael Guerin was not a jerk. In fact, she was beginning to think he was one of the nicest people she knew.
TBC . . .
-April