Black Lies
Page 38
I released a bit of anxiety. “And call me when your investigators see him head that way. I want to be there.”
“You’re the boss.”
“Thanks.” I slid the paper into a paper bag, carefully closed it. Ended the call and walked to the pantry. Put the evidence of our deceit into the trash compactor, then headed to the shower.
A week later, I watched Molly’s apartment, a Mediterranean-style orange townhome with window boxes full of hot pink hibiscus. His jeep sat there, a mud-spattered box of American masculinity in a sea of foreign cars. It’d been twenty-two minutes since he walked in, his hands dipped into jean pockets, his head down, steps walking without thought, as if he had walked the path a hundred times.
I tapped my nude nails against the gearshift. Closed my eyes briefly and let the air conditioner breeze wash over me. I had a massage scheduled in an hour, so this situation needed to resolve itself soon or I’d be late for my date with Roberta’s hands.
Movement, upper right apartment. Hers. A door flew open, Lee’s head moving quickly down the open hall, a blonde head close behind, tugging on his shirt, arms gesturing wildly. I could imagine the words flying out of her mouth. Lee, don’t go. Lee, it isn’t what you think! I wondered if the word ‘love’ left her mouth, if their relationship had progressed to that point.
He disappeared into the stairwell. I leaned forward, wished I had a drink, something to crack open and enjoy while my hard work came to fruition. This had to work; this had to happen. She couldn’t have him; he was mine.
His head bobbed between the cars, his face coming into view as he walked up to his jeep. Face set, features hard, a look I hadn’t seen on his face before but knew well. Resolute. Decisive. I clenched my hands in excitement, watching as her face came into view, blotchy and wide-eyed, her mouth moving rapidly, giant br**sts heaving as she yelled something and grabbed at his shoulders. I wanted to roll my window down, just a peek, enough to hear this exchange, enough to savor this moment just a little bit longer.
That’s right. Turn and walk your pretty self away from this man. He will no longer touch your face. He will no longer make love to your body. He is mine. I will take your place.
I watched him get in, the door slamming hard enough to make her jump. And then, with the screech of tires—the best sound in the world, better than my fantasies—a sound of finality that left her standing in the empty parking spot, black mascara tears staining her cheeks, her scream loud enough to pass through my tinted windows.
Victory is mine. I grinned, giving myself a virtual high five, and put my Mercedes into drive. Pulling into the street, I headed south. Maybe after my massage I’d swing by Brant’s office. Drop off a sandwich for him. Plan a dinner to celebrate my victory with the other man in my life.
Chapter 35
By the time I got to the office, Brant wasn’t there, a fact that didn’t really surprise me. I stuck his sandwich into the office fridge and scribbled a note for him. Then I headed back, away from Palo Alto, up the winding highway that took me home. I ran errands along the way, taking my time, taking a drive through Lee’s part of the world, in a slim hope that fate might put us together. Nothing. I got back on the interstate and drove into the setting sun.
I pulled into my driveway, my mouth curving into a grin at the sight of Lee’s truck, parked on the right side of the drive, his tall build leaning against the door, his head coming up, legs stepping away from the truck as I came to a stop. That didn’t take long. I got out. Rested my hand on the top of the car and met his look, his hands tucked into his front pockets, his shoulders hunched but his eyes steady, playful, the cool air whipping through us both.
“You lost?” I called out.
“Figured I had to leave the slums every once in a while.” He waved a piece of paper, one I had scribbled down my address on a good two months ago. He glanced toward the house.
“You look dirty.” I raised my eyebrows. He did. Bits of sand in his hair, like he’d driven the jeep, top down, through the desert. “Sure you aren’t just using me for a hot shower?”
He stepped closer, his hands leaving his pockets, resting lightly on my roof. “Sounds like an attempt to get me naked.”
I met his cocky smile. “I don’t need hot water for that.” I shut the car door, walked around, his steps following me up the steps. “Where’s the girlfriend?” The words came out right. Casual. Innocent.
“She’s gone.” He shrugged, but my sideways glance saw the hurt. The way his eyes lowered, the scratch in his throat, the attempt to hide the catch with a short cough.
I unlocked the door. Swung it open and waited for him to pass by. Took my time shutting the door behind me, knowing that—as soon as it shut—the dynamic in this situation would change.
Click. I turned, Lee standing close. So close that when he took a step forward it put me flat against the door, my keys dropping to the floor, my breath catching somewhere in the space between us. He moved forward, the warmth of his body fully against me, one leg sliding in between mine, the hard press of him pleasing, in small part, the ache in my core. He let out a shuddering breath against my neck, his hands dragging down the side of my body and cupping the curve of my ass. Pulling me even tighter to his as he ground even tighter against me.
“I don’t want to be your rebound,” I whispered.
“I don’t want to be your side piece.” He bit the words against my neck. “But tonight, I need a f**king rebound. I need to bury myself inside of you and feel whole. And tonight, I am your side piece. So both of us can f**k like adults and both of us can get our brains f**ked out and feel like shit about it.” He squeezed my ass so hard it hurt, the hitch in my breath bringing his head up, until his mouth was even with mine, the hard breath of him hot in the brief moment before he pressed his lips against mine. Took a deep taste as he ground against my thigh. “You feel that, Lucky?” He grabbed my hand. Put it on his zipper. Held it there until my fingers moved. Outlined him. “That’s the level of my need right now. Now, be a good slut.”
“You’re the boss.”
“Thanks.” I slid the paper into a paper bag, carefully closed it. Ended the call and walked to the pantry. Put the evidence of our deceit into the trash compactor, then headed to the shower.
A week later, I watched Molly’s apartment, a Mediterranean-style orange townhome with window boxes full of hot pink hibiscus. His jeep sat there, a mud-spattered box of American masculinity in a sea of foreign cars. It’d been twenty-two minutes since he walked in, his hands dipped into jean pockets, his head down, steps walking without thought, as if he had walked the path a hundred times.
I tapped my nude nails against the gearshift. Closed my eyes briefly and let the air conditioner breeze wash over me. I had a massage scheduled in an hour, so this situation needed to resolve itself soon or I’d be late for my date with Roberta’s hands.
Movement, upper right apartment. Hers. A door flew open, Lee’s head moving quickly down the open hall, a blonde head close behind, tugging on his shirt, arms gesturing wildly. I could imagine the words flying out of her mouth. Lee, don’t go. Lee, it isn’t what you think! I wondered if the word ‘love’ left her mouth, if their relationship had progressed to that point.
He disappeared into the stairwell. I leaned forward, wished I had a drink, something to crack open and enjoy while my hard work came to fruition. This had to work; this had to happen. She couldn’t have him; he was mine.
His head bobbed between the cars, his face coming into view as he walked up to his jeep. Face set, features hard, a look I hadn’t seen on his face before but knew well. Resolute. Decisive. I clenched my hands in excitement, watching as her face came into view, blotchy and wide-eyed, her mouth moving rapidly, giant br**sts heaving as she yelled something and grabbed at his shoulders. I wanted to roll my window down, just a peek, enough to hear this exchange, enough to savor this moment just a little bit longer.
That’s right. Turn and walk your pretty self away from this man. He will no longer touch your face. He will no longer make love to your body. He is mine. I will take your place.
I watched him get in, the door slamming hard enough to make her jump. And then, with the screech of tires—the best sound in the world, better than my fantasies—a sound of finality that left her standing in the empty parking spot, black mascara tears staining her cheeks, her scream loud enough to pass through my tinted windows.
Victory is mine. I grinned, giving myself a virtual high five, and put my Mercedes into drive. Pulling into the street, I headed south. Maybe after my massage I’d swing by Brant’s office. Drop off a sandwich for him. Plan a dinner to celebrate my victory with the other man in my life.
Chapter 35
By the time I got to the office, Brant wasn’t there, a fact that didn’t really surprise me. I stuck his sandwich into the office fridge and scribbled a note for him. Then I headed back, away from Palo Alto, up the winding highway that took me home. I ran errands along the way, taking my time, taking a drive through Lee’s part of the world, in a slim hope that fate might put us together. Nothing. I got back on the interstate and drove into the setting sun.
I pulled into my driveway, my mouth curving into a grin at the sight of Lee’s truck, parked on the right side of the drive, his tall build leaning against the door, his head coming up, legs stepping away from the truck as I came to a stop. That didn’t take long. I got out. Rested my hand on the top of the car and met his look, his hands tucked into his front pockets, his shoulders hunched but his eyes steady, playful, the cool air whipping through us both.
“You lost?” I called out.
“Figured I had to leave the slums every once in a while.” He waved a piece of paper, one I had scribbled down my address on a good two months ago. He glanced toward the house.
“You look dirty.” I raised my eyebrows. He did. Bits of sand in his hair, like he’d driven the jeep, top down, through the desert. “Sure you aren’t just using me for a hot shower?”
He stepped closer, his hands leaving his pockets, resting lightly on my roof. “Sounds like an attempt to get me naked.”
I met his cocky smile. “I don’t need hot water for that.” I shut the car door, walked around, his steps following me up the steps. “Where’s the girlfriend?” The words came out right. Casual. Innocent.
“She’s gone.” He shrugged, but my sideways glance saw the hurt. The way his eyes lowered, the scratch in his throat, the attempt to hide the catch with a short cough.
I unlocked the door. Swung it open and waited for him to pass by. Took my time shutting the door behind me, knowing that—as soon as it shut—the dynamic in this situation would change.
Click. I turned, Lee standing close. So close that when he took a step forward it put me flat against the door, my keys dropping to the floor, my breath catching somewhere in the space between us. He moved forward, the warmth of his body fully against me, one leg sliding in between mine, the hard press of him pleasing, in small part, the ache in my core. He let out a shuddering breath against my neck, his hands dragging down the side of my body and cupping the curve of my ass. Pulling me even tighter to his as he ground even tighter against me.
“I don’t want to be your rebound,” I whispered.
“I don’t want to be your side piece.” He bit the words against my neck. “But tonight, I need a f**king rebound. I need to bury myself inside of you and feel whole. And tonight, I am your side piece. So both of us can f**k like adults and both of us can get our brains f**ked out and feel like shit about it.” He squeezed my ass so hard it hurt, the hitch in my breath bringing his head up, until his mouth was even with mine, the hard breath of him hot in the brief moment before he pressed his lips against mine. Took a deep taste as he ground against my thigh. “You feel that, Lucky?” He grabbed my hand. Put it on his zipper. Held it there until my fingers moved. Outlined him. “That’s the level of my need right now. Now, be a good slut.”
