Heart of Freeman.

Chapter 9

The notorious washing machine held Dean’s clothes hostage at the back of the laundromat. The man pointed innocently. 

    "Dean, I told you not to use that one,” said Allie. 

    "Agh, that washer gave me the hibbie-jibbies.” He fluttered his arms.

    Inside, she jerked a wicket made of rods on the wall, but it didn't open.

    "What is it?" he asked.

    "It's locked,” she said. “This is how people reset the washer. Maintenance usually leaves the gate open so that we can turn the main switches on or off."

    "How do you know all this stuff?"

    "It happened to me once. A compassionate neighbor told me about it."

    "This really sucks. I have nothing to wear." He plummeted on the machine. To avoid laughing, he had to squeeze his lips. 

    “We need a key or a stick long enough to reach the washer switch—”

    Allie explored her surroundings and found a metallic coat hanger on the floor. She untangled the wire making it somewhat straight, but keeping the hook. She hovered the object between the rods, hooked it to the switch, and pulled it down. The washer lights reset.

    "You did it," he said.

    "Awesome. I’ll have to go now,” she grinned. 

    "Wait.” He pulled her against his chest.

    Allie automatically melted, feeling his warm body through the cotton fabric, making her forget about her fiancé. 

    Right, Grayson. 

    She opened her eyes rapidly and let go of her roommate. 

    "I should get back."

    "I'll walk with you. It's late." Dean hadn't accomplished anything other than delay something she was going to do anyway.

    Walking through the parking lot, they saw a shadow coming from the condo's direction. Grayson buttoned the sleeves on his shirt in a humorless manner.

    "Sorry," said Allie. "That took longer than expected."

    "Well, that doesn't matter anymore because I'm leaving," replied Grayson.

    "Oh."

    Dean thought Allie would try to get her fiancé to stay, but she didn't. Instead, she said she understood and kissed him goodnight.

 ***

Dean couldn't stop smiling. He got what he wanted but Allie was quiet and crestfallen. He hated that she missed Grayson, but the roommate didn’t want to be selfish. He couldn't believe that he was about to cheer her up about her relationship.

    "I'm sorry your fiancé left. Blame it on me."

    "That’s not the primary reason he left.” She went to the kitchen and grabbed a water bottle from the refrigerator.

    "Are you sure? He looked pretty pissed at me."

    Allie sighed, staring into nothingness.

    "Can I ask you a question?" she sat on the living room couch.

    "Yeah, sure.” He sat beside her.

    “Are we friends?"

    "Of course. As a matter of fact, let's make it official. We're friends.” Friendzoned was better than nothing. This was progress. 

    "Great," she made a half-smile.

    Dean wondered if her question correlated with the situation. “Why do you ask?” He thought she might have been avoiding the issue.

    "I just need to talk to someone,” she anxiously took a sip of water.

    "Well, you talk to me about anything."

    "Anything?"

    He nodded in acknowledgement and removed the space between them until their knees were touching.

    "I think there's something wrong with me," she continued.

    "You look normal to me." He nudged her arm. 

    "Every time I'm with Grayson… when we are together alone, I feel—” she paused, rewording her thoughts. “Did you and Meryl ever, you know.” She rubbed her knuckles, looked down at her feet and whispered, “have a******x?”

    Allie's face glowed red. 

    Unintentionally, Dean’s jaw dropped and he raised his eyebrows. But he hastened to a more neutral semblance avoiding an expression of judgement.

    "Maybe once or twice.”

    “Grayson. He is really into that stuff.” She squeezed the bottle.

    “Are you into it?” Her worried expression spoke of her dislike. 

    Her neck shrank as her eyeballs seeked an answer from her brain. “I don’t know. Obviously, I want to please him. He’s going to be my husband.”

    Dean’s face hardened. 

    “I guess, I just want to know if the second time hurts less than the first time,” she added.

    His feet began to pulsate in anger while thinking about the bruises on her arms. “Sweetheart, it’s not supposed to hurt.”

    “Then there’s something wrong with me.” She hid her face in her hands, keeping her tears in place.

    The man enveloped her in his arms and gave her a peck on her forehead.

    “Nothing’s wrong with you. He’s too rough.” 

    It was normal for couples to have specific preferences in bed as long as it was consensual. What she was describing sounded more than Grayson’s whim. 

    “You shouldn’t let anyone treat you like that. I know if you were mine, I’d treat you like a princess,” he said. Like a good friend, he wanted help the frustrated girl. Maybe do a few practice runs with his fingers. Grayson was a prick.

    “How do I make him understand? I had to beg multiple times before he stopped,” she said.

    Dean’s heartbeat accelerated. His arms tightened around her shoulders. He palpitated in anger and fear. His girl had gone through something and he wasn’t there to save her.

    “Allie, look at me,” he cupped her jaw. “Is that what the bruises are? He took you against your will, didn’t he?”

 ***

The girl shook her head with a frown and made distance between them. Grayson didn’t abuse her; he couldn’t have possibly done that. It’s not like he hit her or dragged her into the car or drugged her. He also apologized afterwards and told her he loved her.

    “No, no, it wasn’t like that. If I had more experience, it would have been more enjoyable, I’m sure. That’s why I’m saying there’s something wrong with me. I can’t even finish,” she whispered the last word. 

    "Have you ever given yourself an o****m?" Dean said in a s****l tone. 

    Allie felt her juices, soaking the inner layer of her shorts. His words were inappropriate, but they gave her confidence to say, "That's the only way I know how it feels."

    "Do you play with yourself a lot?" 

    The red glow returned to her face. "I don't know. Maybe." 

    He smirked, seeing her cheeks change colors. “You have nothing to worry about, sweetheart. Your boyfriend doesn't understand your cravings."

    "I should talk more with him about it. It’s hard to open up about these things.”

    Yet she was opening up to Dean in an oddly comfortable way. 

    “Maybe you need a new man,” he made her chuckle. They could not talk more about it as Mr. Pops required his owner’s attention. Despite Allie’s afflictions, Dean was beaming to know his competition was no match for him. 

 ***

A cul-de-sac had been turned into a basketball court. Jay ran with a brown ball, attempting a fast break. Before making the shot, he was blocked by one of his opponents. Predicting that move from the defensive, he spun around and passed the ball to Dean.

    "Come on, Dee! Make it into the basket," yelled one of the guys in his team.

    They capered impatiently with their arms open.

    Dean took three steps and leaped forward, aiming at the rim. The basketball slipped from his hands, hit the backboard, and bounced back down to the ground. This was met with a celebration by the opposing team.

    “What the hell, Dee?” his teammates dropped their arms.

    "I need water.”

    Dean wiped his sweat on his Yao Ming number eleven t-shirt. He sat on the front porch of one of the houses surrounding the cul-de-sac. Jay followed him. A pack of water bottles laid beside a bench. They popped off the caps and gulped like they had never drank water in their lives.

    "Not your day today, huh," said Jay. "You usually make it into the basket."

    Dean shrugged and huffed.

    "Is your dad okay?" frowned Jay.

    "Yeah, it's not that. Grayson has been visiting almost every night in the last two weeks," said Dean.

    "Grayson?"

    "Allie's dumbass boyfriend."

    "Oh, that guy. Is he being a d**k?"

    "Are you kidding me?” Dean clenched his teeth. “That dude’s a cunt face. Every time he’s in the apartment, he just wants to be in her bedroom. I get so angry, I want to storm out. Then I think that if she shouts for help, I won’t be there, so I end up staying and having to see him shove his tongue inside her mouth before he leaves.”

    "Do you hate seeing him or do you hate the fact that he is with Allie?” Jay squinted. 

    “Can she not see he’s a d**k?" Dean pointed as if Allie was in front of him. 

    "Dude, I've never seen you as the jealous type. Who cares if you can't have s*x with your roommate? Find another girl with nice cantaloupes.” Jay flattened the disposable bottle.

    "You think this is about s*x?"

    "Look, you break up with your girl while, at the same time, a goddess from Oregon enters your life. You can't touch her even though you've seen her naked. Diagnosis: you are having s*x withdrawal symptoms."

    "I'm not having—" Dean frowned at Jay, then thought about it. There was not a minute with Allie when he wasn’t horny. "Okay, what do I do?"

    "Easy. I know you don’t like getting shitfaced, so I won’t make you drink, but just come to the club with me. I'll have some tequila shots. You'll have your usual water shots. Meet some girls and drive your drunk friend back home after that."

    Dean nodded slowly, thinking about his symptoms.

    A dark-skinned woman wearing an apron came out to the porch.

    "Jay, the food's getting cold. You boys come eat," she said. "Oh, Dean, when Jay said he'd have some friends over I didn't know you were one of them. I would have made you some aloo puffs."

    "Hi, Mrs. Jain," replied Dean.

    "I haven’t seen your parents in ages,” said Jay’s mother. “How’s your dad?”

    "He's okay. It depends on the day."

    "Jay’s grandfather had the same thing. Anyway, you boys come inside."

    Jay whistled at the six other guys in the cul-de-sac and they all walked through the front door.

 ***

The two friends walked through the entrance of The Roaring Twenties Club after having to park across the street because of the cramped parking lot. The massive crowd pushing through the double doors blocked their view. Dean's gaze followed a group of middle-aged women leaving the club.

    "I'm not sure about these roaring Twenties," said Dean.

    "Best club in North Houston. Trust me, my friend," Jay patted Dean's shoulder. "This is where fancy people have a good time. I know the chicks are a bit older but they are decent. Plus, you don't want to nail some college girl, right?"

    "What's wrong with college girls? They're our age."

    "Bro, when you are having withdrawal symptoms, you need an experienced thirty-five year old to show you the way. Also, college is the new high school. Do you want a childish high school girl in your bed, or recently divorced Julia from accounting?" Jay whispered as a group of women walked around them. 

    "Ew, definitely, Julia from accounting," Dean winced. 

    "And if you get lucky, she might do your taxes STD free."

    Dean nodded, approving of his friend's statement.

 ***

Clubbing night was turning uneventful. Dean and Jay had found a group of thirty year old bridesmaids who bought them drinks. The best part was that they didn't have to make an effort to impress them. These drama free women knew what they wanted and when they wanted it.

    The group laughed at Jay, who kept trying not to appear drunk by making a fool of himself. He stumbled, hugging his friend every once in a while. The overall ambiance was a controlled chaos of adults enjoying the dancing lights. In the middle of the floor, a three-sixty bar served food and beverages.

    "Hopefully, I can work in the oil industry when I graduate or somewhere designing automated machinery," Dean yelled over the music.

    "Oh like, designing pipes and stuff?" replied a tipsy girl.

    "Um, sort of, yeah."

    "I like that. Can I see your pipe now?"

    Dean's facial muscles stretched and his ears went up like radars.

    "Sorry, what?" he wanted to make sure his hearing wasn’t failing.

    "I said, I want your pipe in my mouth." She drifted her fist toward her mouth. 

    He did not react as his attention was drawn to a couple, sitting at the bar, not too far from him.

    The bridesmaid clutched Dean's groin. Dean gasped, and moved his hip away with a quick “sorry.” That was his unconscious apology for not allowing the woman to molest him. He dragged Jay to the opposite side of the bar.

    "Hey, man," Jay protested. He held his third Long Island tea.

    "Jay, check out the people sitting across the bar."

    "Yeah, okay, what about them?" Jay squinted, making an effort to stare in front of him.

    "Look again." Dean cupped the back of his friend’s skull, redirecting him.

    A man in a short beard and a business suit pulled a woman’s neck and searched for her lips.

    "Oh! It's Allie's boyfriend—and Allie?–kissing. Did she change her hair?"

    "No, Jay, she didn't change her hair. That's not Allie." Dean remembered how much he hated Drunk Jay.

    “Why would Grayskunk kiss another woman?" Jay stumbled in his words as well as his legs.

    Dean waved his hands in front of his drunk friend.

    "Oh," Jay gaped and raised his index finger.