Benny was staring at me. “Are you alright, man?”
I’d told myself I’d accepted the breakup. But this was the first moment I truly realized I must have been holding out hope that we’d get back together someday. It was the first time I really understood that wasn’t going to happen. It felt like a death in a way, perhaps one I needed to experience to fully get over her.
My chest felt raw. “Yeah. I’m good.” When the waiter came back around, I said, “Can I have another Macallan?”
He nodded and went to fetch my drink.
Benny broke off a piece of bread and stuffed it into his mouth. “Hope you don’t mind, I invited that girl Shera I’m seeing and her friend to join us for lunch.”
My brow lifted. “Her friend?” That could only mean one thing.
“Yeah. She wanted to meet you. She’s not an actress. I don’t think she wants any favors like that. I think she just wants to fuck you, to be honest, so she can tell people she slept with Ryder McNamara.”
“Great.”
When I stared off, he slammed his hand down on the table, causing some of the silverware to go flying.
Jesus.
“You still down about the Mallory thing? Man, fuck her! Forget about it. She friggin’ dumped you. It’s been two years. Now she’s with some…nobody. Move on from that shit.”
I couldn’t blame Benny for trying to rationalize with me. He’d never known the full story of what went down between Mal and me—why I took most of the blame for what happened between us, even though she was the one who ended it. I’d never shared the full story with anyone. He might have felt differently if he knew the truth.
The waiter brought my whiskey, and I downed it.
Two girls approached our table.
A tall redhead waved. “Hey. Sorry we’re late.”
Benny placed his hand around the redhead’s waist. “Ryder, this is Shera. And this is her friend—what’s your name again?”
She answered him but looked right at me. “Ainsley.”
Ainsley.
As the third Macallan hit me, I suddenly felt very self-destructive.
Ainsley, I think you’re gonna get lucky today.
***
I came home that night feeling like I needed a shower.
I’d ended up going to Ainsley’s apartment and angry-fucking her while imagining she was Mallory. She had the same black hair, so it was easy to visualize. I was a sick fuck. I regretted it but couldn’t take it back.
She didn’t seem to mind a minute of it, though. We both came hard, and she had a huge smile on her face. Then, per usual, I immediately just wanted to go home. Fucking-and-running had never felt good to me, but the sex only felt great in the moment. When it was over, the immediate need to flee always set in.
Fortunately, this girl had no expectations, so I didn’t even have to pretend. Easy in, easy out. Still, the older I got, the crappier that scenario felt. At twenty-eight, I had started to want more than just a quick fuck. I just didn’t think I was going to find the right person out here.
Anyway, my shower was a walk-in. It was more like a wet room with elaborate glass tile that changed colors depending on the level of heat. It was my favorite part of the house.
As the water poured down on me, I started to think again about the bomb Benny had dropped on me earlier today. My relationship with Mallory flashed before my eyes like a movie on fast forward. Then a tear fell from my eye.
Fuck.
Throughout the entire breakup, and everything that had gone on before, I’d never once cried—until now. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d cried at all—probably my mother’s funeral. Granted, this was only one tear, but it was one freaking tear too many.
I scrubbed over my face and vowed to let this be it—let this be the end of my guilt and the end of my dwelling on what happened with Mallory. It needed to end. I needed to move on as much as she needed her fresh start. She deserved that. I had to get over it.
Shutting off the water, I blew out a long breath before drying off.
Still wrapped only in my towel, I lay in bed and grabbed my laptop. A stream of water dripped down my abs.
I’d told myself I wasn’t going to go back on that cam-girl site. But nevertheless, my fingers clicked away, and I somehow ended up in Montana Lane’s chat room. I used the excuse that I was just going to see what she was up to.
There she was, looking as cheerful as ever. How she was able to sit in that room, talk to all these people, and look like she actually gave a shit was beyond me. She had these guys wrapped around her finger, though. I caught myself smiling at her and literally slapped my own face.
The bedroom behind Montana was always very cluttered, with various props lying around. Today I noticed her violin in the background, along with a feather boa and some dildos. She had white Christmas lights hanging on the walls and had made a canopy out of sheer curtains. She situated herself on the bed with her legs crossed. Her boobs bounced as she moved around.
The cha-ching sound of men throwing tokens into the pot rang out.
Thirty tokens: James450 wants to see Montana Lane show her tits.
They were all in cahoots, trying to throw in enough money together to get her to take her shirt off. The token sounds were on fire tonight.
Cha-ching. Cha-ching. Cha-ching.
It didn’t take long to total the magic number.
She was mid-conversation when she must have noticed that the threshold had been hit. Montana lifted her shirt over her head, letting her beautiful, natural tits spring free. She’d handled that so casually, as if she’d done it hundreds of times before.
But this wasn’t just any time for me. It was my first time seeing her topless. Jesus. More of a warning would have been nice. I swallowed hard, ill-prepared for how amazing her body was. Her breasts were like none I had ever seen, so full—with a slight drop but not droopy. Her nipples were a medium pink color and the size of half-dollars. This girl was the epitome of natural beauty.
I felt wrong gawking at her, like I was invading her privacy. That didn’t keep me from staring. My dick swelled as I watched her rub her nipples with her fingertips. She started to slowly massage her breasts. My mouth watered.
Et tu, Ryder?
Yes. Fuck yes.
She lay down and continued rubbing her tits. Everything went quiet. Mesmerized, I tilted my head to get a better view. I refused to succumb to the urge to jerk off.
Creeper.
I chuckled at how pathetically entranced I was. I bet she tastes as good as she looks.
Some minutes later, Montana sat up and offered a teasing look at the camera before she pulled her shirt back over her head.
A mix of disappointment and relief hit me. On one hand, I was sorely bummed that my free peep show had ended. On the other hand, I wondered what right I had to be getting off on this anyway. Feeling protective, I was sort of happy she’d finished putting herself on display, even though I was certain she’d done far worse things than that.
I threw in more than the required tokens to request a song.
ScreenGod90: I need to sleep tonight. Can you sing me a lullaby?
She looked at the camera. “You again, ScreenGod?” It was like she was smiling right at me. “Any requests?”
There was that giddy feeling I got whenever she spoke directly to me. What was it about this girl? Or was it me? Was I just fucked-up in the head?
ScreenGod90: I want you to choose.
Montana closed her eyes for several seconds before she started singing a song I didn’t recognize. It was beautiful, though.
When she finished, I typed.
ScreenGod90: What’s the name of that song?
“It’s called “Fly Away” by Poe. It’s close to my heart. Did you like it?”
I wondered what she meant by that, why was it meaningful to her.
ScreenGod90: I loved it. Thank you.
I immediately knew I would be looking it up later.
&nbs
p; As she moved on, interacting with the other men, I couldn’t help wondering who this chick really was, how she’d ended up doing the webcam thing. Just based on her taste in music, I figured there was a lot more to her than this.
The cha-ching chimes kept sounding, and I saw that someone had put in enough tokens for a private chat. She apologized to all the other viewers for having to leave temporarily, and the screen went black as she disappeared.
Well, ain’t that a bitch.
I put my laptop aside and scrolled through my phone as I waited for her to return. I looked up the lyrics of the song she’d sung. It seemed to be about loss. She’d said it was close to her heart. So that made me wonder more about Montana’s story.
Fifteen minutes later, when she finally came back on, she seemed…different. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was. She just didn’t seem like her normal, smiling self.
“Alright, guys, I have to cut things short tonight,” she said.
That’s it? She came back to say she had to go? It seemed early.
Disappointment set in as I realized I wasn’t ready to be alone with my thoughts tonight. I much preferred watching this beautiful woman and forgetting everything.
“I’ll be back at the same time tomorrow night, around nine. Hope to see you all again.” She blew a kiss to the camera.
It looked like she reached up to hit a button that was supposed to cancel her live video. But she was still there. Then she seemed to move away.
This was weird, something didn’t seem right.
It didn’t feel like she knew the camera was still on.
My pulse raced as I continued to watch her.
Montana curled up in a ball on the mattress and buried her face in her hands. I watched, horrified, as I realized she was crying. And then it hit me—she had no idea we could still see her. No freaking clue.
“You’re on camera!” I stupidly shouted, as if she could hear me.
I decided to tip her some tokens, hoping the cha-ching sound would alert her to the fact that people were still watching.
It worked. She suddenly looked up and rushed over to the computer before everything went to black.
Holy shit.
I sat speechless. This girl had been smiling, laughing, playing around for hours, seemingly happy. But the second she thought the camera was off, all of that changed, like night and day.
It hurt me in a way I couldn’t even describe, as if I was unknowingly contributing to her sadness.
Fuck.
Were we really so stupid we couldn’t see it was all a show? I shut my laptop.
As I lay in bed, thoughts of Montana haunted me. What had happened during that private chat? Was that what had upset her?
I got up, reopened my laptop, and went to her page, even though I knew she wasn’t active.
There was an email address where clients could contact her offline to arrange for private chats.
What are you doing, Ryder?
I logged into an email account I barely used, one that was not connected to my name in any way. I kept it to sign up for shit through sites I knew would spam me later. Despite feeling like it might not have been my place, I typed.
Hey Montana,
It’s ScreenGod90—the music nerd dude. I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds in writing to you like this. I debated whether to reach out. I just want to make sure you’re alright. I know you accidentally left the camera on tonight after your show. I saw you crying, and you looked really upset. So, you’ve been on my mind. The purpose of this message is just to make sure you’re okay.
Sincerely,
ScreenGod90
I let out a breath, figuring the chances of her writing back were slim to none. But emailing her eased my conscience a bit, and my fatigue from the day eventually won out as I drifted off to sleep.
***
The next morning, bright sunshine streamed through my kitchen windows as I sat down at the table with my coffee and checked my phone.
It shocked me to find an email response from Montana Lane.
Hi ScreenGod,
I really appreciate you reaching out to me. Yeah, that was unfortunate. I didn’t realize I was still on. It was a moment. And it passed. I’d just been feeling really crappy all day, and so, I broke down. It had nothing to do with the chat. I don’t want you to think that. Anyway, I obviously didn’t mean for people to see me cry. I’m sorry for worrying you. I feel much better today.
P.S. I really love your musical requests. Thank you for wanting to hear me sing.
xoxo
Montana
I sat there debating what to write back, if anything, for the longest time. I finally settled on:
Dear Montana,
Really happy to hear you’re feeling better.
And as long as you keep singing, I’ll keep requesting. Your voice is as beautiful as you are.
Regards,
ScreenGod
I immediately second-guessed my words. Really? Your voice is as beautiful as you are? With all of the men who hit on her on a daily basis, did I really think that was original? Even though that was how I felt, maybe I should’ve kept that to myself.
Just be a good, quiet stalker, Ryder.
I laughed to myself. This was some crazy shit—the lengths I would go to lately for a distraction.
It suddenly smelled like laundry detergent. Lorena, my housekeeper, walked into the kitchen with a bunch of clothes in a basket. She must have noticed my expression. “What’s so funny?”
I shook my head. “You don’t even want to know.”
She kept squinting her eyes and looking at me as she folded. I decided to tell her the truth about my cam-girl obsession. Lorena could pretty much handle anything, even though she was fairly conservative. I loved shocking her.
After I spent about five minutes telling her the whole story, she said, “So she’s, like, a nudie model?”
I chuckled. “Yes. A nudie model. She takes her clothes off from time to time. Even though you might not believe me, that’s not why I watch her.”
“Why are you bothering with that?”
I rubbed my eyes and chuckled. “I have no idea. Boredom, I guess?”
Lorena pointed at me. “That’s the problem. You have all these putas throwing themselves at you all of the time. Nothing interests you anymore. Now you’ll move to porn and hookers.”
I lifted my index finger. “Hey, I’ll have you know, I’ve never once gone to a hooker. Don’t plan to, either. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. But I don’t have to pay for it, if you know what I mean.”
“You’re paying with this cam girl, aren’t you?”
Good point.
“Yeah, but this is different…I guess. It’s just innocent fun. And I only pay her to sing to me.” I laughed, realizing how crazy that sounded—paying some chick to sing for me.
“She sings?”
“Among other special talents, yes. The first night I met her, she was singing “Blue Skies.” Mom used to sing that song. So it freaked me out. That’s how she initially got my attention.”
“That and her big tetas.”
I nearly spit out my coffee. “Yeah. Those are nice, too. Really nice.” I cleared my throat. “Anyway, it was like I was meant to hear that song or something. And in the process of that…I discovered I like watching her.”
She stopped folding for a moment. “Mijo, you need to go in the opposite direction of what you’re doing. Stop going with the sluts and this porn and find someone who’s a good person, who you can settle down with. Someone who is gonna take care of you—like one of my nieces.”
Oh boy. Here we go.
I cringed. “No offense, but I’m pretty sure the last niece you wanted to set me up with had more facial hair than I do. Nice girl, but she legit had stubble.”
Lorena was laughing, because she knew about that shit when she set me up with her.
“Okay, maybe not Adriana,” she said. “But I have lots more. Twenty nieces.
Lots to choose from. I know you like the pretty ones.”
“Well, it helps if I don’t have the urge to pull over on our date and buy a BiC razor to shave her face, yeah.”
She laughed, even at the expense of her niece, because she knew it was true. The chick had whiskers.
“What about my other niece, Larisa? She’s always asking for you ever since I brought you to church that one time. Such a pretty face on that one.”
Larisa had tried to go down on me in a church hall coat closet within thirty minutes of meeting me. I hated to ruin Lorena’s perfect image of her niece, so I’d never divulged that piece of information. I enjoyed aggressive women—but not that aggressive.
“She definitely gives good face,” I joked, unsure if she’d get it.
She threw a dishtowel she was folding at me. “You know, I told your mother before she died that I would look out for you.”
Wow.
“I never knew that, Lorena. She asked you to do that?”
“Well, no, but I told her I would, and that made her very happy. So, I feel a responsibility. You know?” She looked like she was tearing up.
Lorena had been my parents’ housekeeper. She was always like part of the family. When I moved out on my own at eighteen, my mother sent her to come work for me, knowing Lorena would keep me in line. I wasn’t happy about it at first; I didn’t want to be under anyone’s watchful eye. But as I’d gotten older, I’d come to appreciate having someone around who had my back, especially after my mom died.
At the same time, Lorena knew I had her back, too. She never asked me for help or for extra money, but there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t do for her. I truly considered her a second mother and was grateful that she looked out for me and cared about my well-being. My father, who meant well, had always been oblivious to what was happening in my life—and he became even more so after my mother’s death. He’d ended up throwing himself more into work than ever. I couldn’t say I blamed him.