Not Single For Long
Not Single For Long
Faleena Hopkins
Contents
Tuck Yes Series
1. Zia
2. Nax
3. Zia
4. Nax
5. Zia
6. Nax
7. Nax
8. Zia
9. Zia
10. Nax
11. Nax
12. Zia
13. Nax
14. Zia
15. Zia
16. Nax
17. Zia
18. Nax
19. Zia
20. Nax
21. Epilogue
22. Every Single Thing About You - 1st Chapter
Tuck Yes
Cocker Brothers
Werewolves of New York
Werewolves of Chicago
About the Author
Tuck Yes Series
Zia
Nearly thirty people hailing from all over the Earth are standing in a large group, staring right at me.
Silent.
Waiting.
Listening.
Yet I haven’t said a word.
All I have done so far is walked up, and I’ve got their full attention.
This is my life.
"Hello everyone, I'm Zia and I will be your guide today. Welcome to The American Museum of Natural History. By a show of hands, who is here for the first time?"
I scan raised palms hailing from countless countries, my welcoming gaze hesitating on three handsome men — a ginger wrapped in a finely tailored suit, a dark-chocolate-haired model in current New York fashion, and one very casual tall and toned dirty-blonde in jeans and a t-shirt with an easy smile and a glint of a secret in sea-blue eyes.
Notable in itself is that I don’t often get the pleasure of three hotties in one tour group. However, what especially sets them apart from the norm is that each stands with one son who matches him in style and essence, all around the same age — somewhere between nine and twelve I would guess.
The ginger boy is wearing a suit and glasses, too. The dirty-blonde boy is just as casual and easy-smiling as his father. And while the model’s son has light brown hair and blue eyes rather than the dark and brooding attributes of his dad, his clothes are very New York, and half his head is fashionably shaved. He raises his hand.
“You’ve been here before?”
He jogs a small thumb to the model. “My dad and I live here.”
As I guessed.
The little ginger raises his still high-pitched voice to inform me with all the sobriety of one who might work here in our offices, “We live in Manhattan, too, but my dad has never taken me here. He’s been before though. With his friends.”
Father Ginger grunts, “We’re here now.”
My eyes lock with the tall drink of get-in-my-bed since he hasn’t spoken yet. Because of his happy expression I’m expecting him to say something, but the secret glint remains enigmatic, his smile silent.
“Welcome back.” I direct my attention to the whole of the group once more. “And welcome everyone. Established in 1869, The American Museum of Natural History contains over thirty-four million specimens of plants, animals, minerals, rocks, fossils, meteorites, cultural artifacts, and even,” I lock eyes with quite a few of the many children present for a dramatic pause that holds their attention, “…human remains.”
A little girl asks, “What are ‘human remains,’ Mommy?”
I smile, “Bones. Dead bodies. People of the past. And we have cave men!”
The children react because they love to be scared. Well, almost all do. Give them drama and gore and they whisper to each other in excitement. It also builds suspense. I will be asked several times, “When are we going to see dead bodies?” Happens every tour.
Leading the way with countless hours of training at my disposal, I spend little time on the less impressive exhibits and more on the astounding, like our Tyrannosaurus rex, a favorite for all ages. “These bones, nearly all of them, are real, found and excavated in Montana in 1902. What few were missing were constructed using moldings and fiberglass to give you the Tyrannosaurus Rex you see today in all its imposing glory. Can you imagine turning a corner and finding that in Times Square?”
The small ginger asks, “Do you think he ate any vegetables?”
“The T-Rex was strictly a carnivore.”
“But how do you know?”
The model’s boy teases, “You think he asked for a side of salad with his elk, Elliot?”
Glasses reflect the dinosaur as Elliot stares up at the beast’s skeleton. “We can hypothesize, Will, but unless we were there, we can’t truly be sure.”
I smile, “I’d like to see that side order.”
Will laughs, “Maybe he ordered dessert, too, then, huh?”
The dirty-blonde’s son laughs, “Can you imagine him eating cookies?!”
Will laughs, “Yeah Joe! Hungrier than the cookie monster.”
The three of them — who I now know are Joe, Will, and Elliot — act it out, “Nom nom nom. Mmmmm,” and for a moment the ginger child loses the seriousness he so clearly inherited.
I educate, and field more questions, throughout The Gem and Mineral Hall, Age of Mammals, Hall of Birds, and our many other exhibit halls until we arrive at a guest favorite — our Titanosaur. You cannot see a dinosaur’s skeleton that stretches nearly half the size of a football field without being duly impressed.
“This Titanosaur is one hundred and twenty-two feet in length and was created from molds made of fossils found on a family ranch in Patagonia. Can you imagine digging in your own backyard and discovering this, the find of centuries?” Extending my arm as I walk beside the towering relic, I continue, “How did it get so big, you might ask. Its bones were not dense. They were riddled with air pockets. Think of styrofoam, how light it is despite how large it can be constructed. That is how the Titanosaur was able to grow this enormous yet still be mobile.”
My attention drifts to the six, but this time the boys don’t ask questions as they have done in every other room. This time they’re finding it more fascinating to circle the magnificent skeleton, loudly discussing as children do how it might have spent its time while alive.
The ginger dad checks his phone and steps aside, tapping away with both thumbs. The model stares up at the bones with a darkness behind his eyes, his mind possibly somewhere else. I can’t tell.
But scanning the room for the handsome and tall drink of get-in-my-bed, I come up empty.
“Did you say your name was Zia?”
Gasping at the surprise of hearing him right behind me, I turn around. “Yes, I did.”
He’s giving this dinosaur a run for its money. “I like listening to you talk.”
My eyebrows twitch with interest. "Thank you."
The secret-glint mesmerizes me as he holds my gaze a moment then dips his head and walks away, calling out, “Joe, you believe the size of this thing?”
Stretching out his arms in measurement, Joe calls back, “Think we can fit it on the plane, Dad?”
“I’m in. So…how do we get it past those cameras?" Pointing to our surveillance system, the father locks eyes with me one more time. “They might recognize us."
My smile grows as his son says, “Then stop looking right at the camera, Dad!"
He smacks his own head, “Can’t believe I looked at the camera,” spinning around, “Now what are we gonna do?”
My gaze drops to memorize that cute ass and confident stride for when I’m alone later, back home in my bed. A guest clears her throat and I look to where she’s standing beside her husband with a smirk that says she gets it, but I should know I’m being obvious.
Lifting my neck I stammer, "Okay everyone, I think we've seen enough in this room,” cheeks hot.
Between my legs, even hotter.
Yes, we’ve seen enough.
Our final destination is my favorite exhibit: The Milstein Family Hall of Ocean Life. It spans two floors with a female blue whale hanging from a blue glass ceiling, making you feel as if you’re floating in the ocean itself. It leaves tours on a high note. And me, too.
After stating facts that can’t be read on the placards, I free my current group with the standard, “Thank you for allowing me to be your tour guide today and to open your minds to the great world around you, both past and present. We rely on donations to continue to teach, study, and conserve the Earth, so please consider donating if you’re able. And please enjoy the documentary that will be shown on the screen there. It will begin again shortly. Does anyone have any questions before we say goodbye?"
My favorite dad raises his hand, stopping my breathing.
When do you get off work, Zia?
What’s your number?
Ever thought of being a step-mom?
My professional manner remains intact — I hope — as I smile, “Yes?”
“Where’s the best place to grab lunch?"
I pause and adjust my smile to include the whole group, and save myself from embarrassment. “That’s a wonderful question. If you’re looking for a quick cafeteria vibe, downstairs by the subway entrance. But Cafe on 4 is more charming if you have some time.”
He winks, “Then that’s where we’ll go,” and the six walk away.
In fact, the entire group disperses with many thanking me.
But my gaze is on just one man I’ll never see again.
As it is for all tour guides who spend a mere hour or two with people from all over the world, just to soon
say goodbye and say it forever.
This is my life.
Nax
On the subway home our sons take three seats diagonal from ours arranged in an L-shape with standing passengers between us, as they animatedly discuss which toy dinosaur is better.
My son Joe demonstrates how the T-Rex I bought him is clearly the coolest, while Elliot argues that herbivores were more forward thinking and Earth-sustaining, so his Titanosaur is clearly superior. Will watches on, amused and fiddling with a football-sized blue whale Josh got him. He’s eleven where Joe and Elliot are ten, but their sizes don’t show the difference. Maybe one day.
I’ve been in New York City just over a month, my son and I staying with Joshua and Will because Bennett called me and said our friend needed help — the grief too much for him to snap out on his own. Bennett had done his best but he’s not good at lightening a mood, having had a rough road when he was a boy.
It’s been great to see our sons get to know each other and become friends like we are. I hope it lasts long after we fly back to Los Angeles. Benny, Josh and I went to college together at N.Y.U., and they stayed in the city after we graduated and married wives none of us have anymore. I sort of do, but the divorce is imminent, so that doesn’t count.
Bennett’s face is buried in his phone, reading up on the stock market. It’s closed today, a Saturday, but he’s researching the latest news on corporations he follows and invests in. The screen lights up stoic hazel eyes under furrowed red brows that twitch as I kick his expensive shoe, “Bennett, your kid is amazing.”
Without looking up, he smirks, “My son is messing with your boy.”
I glance to our sons, and lock eyes with Josh who’s sitting beside me. He shrugs, in the dark as I am.
“What do you mean?”
With a voice distracted by what he’s trying to read, Bennett mutters, “He knows the T-Rex is cooler. Just didn’t want to get the same dinosaur. Now he’s trying to change their minds. You should’ve asked her out.”
At his characteristically blunt change of subject, I chuckle, knowing who he’s talking about. Zia was something else. I had a few fantasies about a female Indiana Jones of my very own, running through my mind during that tour.
“I don’t live in New York, remember?”
Aware that this topic is sensitive to younger ears who’ve only recently learned his mom and I are getting a divorce, Josh whispers, “You could always try long distance.” He finds space to stretch his leg. “Lots of time to get to know each other.”
Bennett’s head jerks up, volume just beneath the din of conversations and grinding train wheels, “Since when did this need to be a relationship? What about some hard-core fucking for a change?”
Josh and I glance to the boys, grateful they couldn’t hear that. They’d definitely have reacted, had they. We exchange a look and my grin flashes. “Benny makes it sound so easy.”
“Sound?” Red eyebrows hike up. “No sound. Reality. I know from experience. With Christina.”
Josh rolls his eyes. “Who you’re in a relationship with.”
“Didn’t start out that way.” Bennett points his phone at us. “And that’s not going to stop, I might add.”
With my own personal history impossible not to learn from, I burst his bubble. “Yeah but you’re new. Let’s see how long that lasts.”
Bennett stares at me like I just tried to steal his cookie. “I’d bet money it will. What Christina and I have is nothing like what Joy and I had. I’ve never been with anyone like her. We’re very different yet we…fit.”
Josh watches people getting on and off the train on 42nd Street, a bustle of bodies rushing in two directions before branching off into more. “I couldn’t jump into anything fast like that.”
An uncommon thing happens — Bennett’s face softens. “Josh, I wouldn’t expect you to.” But the tough glint reappears as he looks at me, and whispers so Joe can’t possibly hear, “You on the other hand! How long has it been since you enjoyed sex.” His hazel eyes are on fire, because he never liked Liz and can’t imagine our sex life being any good.
It was, in the beginning. Then when we grew apart it was just…habit.
I lean back a little, knocking knees with Josh, because it’s not easy to admit this considering we all know how I was in college. I majored in film and women. “Things get stale over time.”
“Doesn’t always,” argues Josh. “Didn’t with us.”
I give him a sideways glance to find that he’s very serious. Which makes his tragedy even greater, if you ask me. I knew he and Leah had something special right from the start. A kind of magic I didn’t find for myself. Instead I chose my long-term girlfriend who had the same goals as I did. It just seemed time to get married. She wanted kids. So did I. We were both headed for Hollywood, why not go together? Have someone to support such a huge change of life?
“We went a long time without. Before she called it quits, it had been eight months.”
Bennett explodes, “Eight months?!” making our boys look over. “Not eight days but eight months?!!!”
Josh whispers, “Holy shit.”
I call over to our boys, “He just read some bad stock market news.” This revelation is plausible so they go back to what they were doing while I tell Bennett. “Watch your volume.”
He shuffles his weight, turning in his seat to face me and Josh, blocking sound from traveling and keeping his voice low again. “Nax, when I talked to you on the phone before you got here, you told me you didn’t know things had gone bad between you. How could you not notice when you’re waiting eight months for food.”
On a shrug I remind him, “You know me. I focus on the bright side of life.”
“How is anything bright when you’re starving?”
I jog my chin toward my boy. “I also told you during that phone call that I would have stuck it out for Joe. When you love your job as much as I do, and you’ve got a kid as cool as he is, you’re not lacking for anything. You’ve got no time when you’re working in the film industry. Days on set are often twelve-to-fourteen, and since I’m a producer, the clock doesn’t end there for me.”
He drags freckled fingers down his face. “You should’ve asked for her number.”
I throw my arm around Josh. “I’m here for other reasons.”
Josh barks, “I’m not your project!”
We ignore him.
Bennett sneers, “I knew I never liked her!”
Laughter breaks free from my chest. “Yes you did. In the beginning. But then you got on each other’s nerves because you’re both driven and have a hard time laughing.”
His eyes glitter, “I don’t like her now.”
Retrieving my arm, I pull out my phone and see no service. I’m awaiting Liz’s daily call to Joe. “Fine. All I care about is for this to go smoothly. No custody battles in my future, thanks.”
Bennett sighs, gaze drifting to his son. “That’s the only thing Joy and I did right by each other — no court time.”
Josh swings our heads by whispering, “I caught our guide checking out your ass.”
“What?!”
“Couple of times. I was thinking, with those long fingernails she could scratch you up pretty good, Nax.” He gives me a wink and smirks, “Allllllll over.”
Bennett and I lose it in laughter. What would normally be mildly funny has turned into a release of tension we both needed from Josh. His grief is why I’m here, and to have him joking about light-hearted things like a beautiful woman tearing me up in the bedroom, feels like the good old days.
As the train comes to a stop at 14th Street, Josh exhales, “I missed this.” and we nod, silently agreeing, eyes shining.
Doors give way to a tidalwave of strangers whose personal space disintegrates. It’s standing room only now, seats filled before a woman in her eighties walks on, her gait more shuffle than stride.