by P. Dangelico
We haven’t really spoken about what my next move is. I’ve been taking care of him. Going to Staten Island and making arrangements to start renovating my second income property. But I can’t do that much longer with no money. And I can’t stay on his payroll and be his girlfriend. That’s like…wrong in a million ways.
“I’m warning you now. My mother will be there.”
Great. This makes me all the more reluctant to go. “Do I really need to be there?”
He glances up from removing his pants and searches my face. Then he kicks his pants off and approaches the bed. Pushing me back, he gets on top of me and I immediately forget why I should be nervous.
“Yes. Because I need you there.”
“We need to discuss something,” I say as I feel him harden, brushing against me ready to enter. “I guess I should’ve brought this up before…” I pause to gather my courage. “We never use condoms…and you haven’t asked if I’m on the pill.”
“I can’t get you pregnant,” he says matter-of-factly.
I can’t hide my surprise. “What?”
“Chemo. Too much of it. But I froze my sperm…”
“You did?”
He nods. A small smile pulls up one side of his mouth, surprising me once again. “My mother insisted on it.”
There’s so much I want to ask, so much I want to know, but I keep the questions to myself. As much as I want from him, I’ll settle for what he’s willing to give.
“I should’ve told you…” His gaze holds mine. A little doubt there, a little hope. “Is it okay if we don’t use them?”
“It’s okay,” I whisper near his lips. “Now make love to me.”
There’s no more talk after that.
“I’m going to the Met ballet. Pick me out something to wear––nothing flashy,” I tell my best friend. Veronica’s entire face lights up like she just took a hit of the best drug on the planet.
“This is my favorite part of Billionaire and the Nanny. When the shopping spree starts. Sometimes I just skip all the other chapters and go straight to this one,” she says mounting the escalator going up. “Lingerie first.”
“What? No.”
“Hell yes.”
“Cersei will be there tonight.”
“Yo, stop teasing me like that.”
“Make me look sophisticated,” I say swallowing the ball of nerves stuck in my throat.
“I got you.”
And she does. She picked out a skinny suit in a dark crimson color with a neutral silk top to go underneath, black pumps I can barely walk in, and a long black maxi coat to go over it.
I nearly threw up when she rang up the one outfit. I could’ve bought a new pickup truck for my business with that kind of money.
The look on Jordan’s face when he came to fetch me at the apartment was worth every penny, however.
“You look stunning,” he tells me when we get out of the car. Jordan takes my hand while the driver holds the door open. Meanwhile he looks like his usual perfect self in a simple black suit, white dress shirt, and black tie.
“You look nice too,” I tell him.
Kissing my hand he pulls me toward the entrance. “Just nice? Can I get an extremely?”
“I can throw in a very for free?”
“I’ll take a very.”
The good time comes to a crashing halt when we run into Joan inside, turning the the fairy tale into a nightmare. I see her broad bleached smile literally die when she sees me.
“What is she doing here?” she says the moment we step up to greet her.
Nice.
“Don’t be rude. Riley’s my girlfriend. Why wouldn’t she be here?” Jordan squeezes my hand tighter.
While they discuss me, I pretend I’m not standing right there being insulted to my face. It is, however, the first time he’s called me his girlfriend to people we know, his mother no less––the real estate agent in Cape Cod was a stranger never to be seen again––so the night isn’t a complete soul crusher.
“The nanny? Really Jordan. What’s next a stripper? Or maybe a porn star?”
And just like that my sweet passionate lover disappears and the Grim Reaper is back. “Don’t call me again until you’re ready to apologize to both of us.”
He doesn’t give Joan a chance to respond. He drags me away. It doesn’t matter though. The night is ruined. Jordan doesn’t say another word for the rest of the night.
“Rie, I need to see you. Call me.”
It’s Tommy on my voicemail. He sounds slightly manic. This is not good. He’s capable of anything when he’s in this frantic state, operating on instinct and fear, on emotion he doesn’t know how to process. And it scares me.
Somewhat like Jordan. But where Jordan bottles it all up, Tommy cuts it loose.
T: need to c u. can u come to SI??
My gut tells me that if I don’t deal with him now, something bad is going to happen. I was planning on going home in a few days anyway, to give him Ivan’s last payment. Maybe this is for the best. Once Ivan is paid off I can worry about getting Tommy some help, maybe get him to go into a program.
I fire off a text to Jordan.
Me: Headed home. See you later.
Grim: Text me when you’re leaving to come back.
I’m about to step out the door when Kevin, the doorman, calls my cell.
“Hi Miss James, I have a Tom Marsden here to see you.”
“Uh, yeah…” Words fail me, trip me up. I’m surprised and worried. I don’t know how he found the address. I can’t remember ever mentioning where Jordan lives. “You can send him up, Kevin. Thank you.”
Lately he’s become so unpredictable that I don’t trust him anymore. Having him here, in Jordan’s house, makes me very uncomfortable.
“Hey, I was just coming to see you.”
He looks panicked when he steps off the elevator. He pushes past me, into the apartment. “Is he here? The guy?” he demands, glancing furtively around.
“What’s this about, T? You’re scaring me.” Because he is. He’s making me regret helping him…enabling him. He’s making me regret not having come clean about this mess with Jordan a lot sooner. About everything––Tommy, the money. Even what happened all those years ago.
“Is he here?”
“No. He works Tommy. You know work.”
Eyes cast down, he looks strikingly remorseful for a minute. Then, “We need to leave. We need to get outta here.”
What? “Leave? What the hell is going on?”
“Let’s leave. Me and you. Let’s start over in California. It’ll be awesome.”
He takes my wrist and I rip it out of his hand. “I’m not leaving. You’re acting crazy.”
“If you cared about me––”
“I have a mother who needs me!” The anger breaks loose. It’s been building for a while now and here it is. With it, my voice gets louder. “I have a business I’m trying to save. I’m not on my own like you, responsible to nothing and no one. Not even yourself!”
I have a man I love…and I haven’t even told him yet.
But I don’t say that part out loud. I keep that to myself. I don’t want to hurt him. Most of all, though, I don’t want him to hurt himself.
He brushes his hands over his face. They slide down and come to rest over his mouth. He’s freaking out about something. He’s hiding something and I just can’t do it anymore. Adapt or die, Dom’s words keep coming back to me. I need to put some distance between us. For a little while at least.
“They’re going to get me if don’t leave,” he mumbles.
Another gut punch. I can always count on him to make me physically ill when we argue. I can feel the separation happening already, our friendship a vestigial limb being severed. An umbilical cord stretched beyond its limits until it snaps. I know it’s going to be painful, but the reality is that it’s already too painful to bear.
“Who’s after you?” Frustration pushes tears up. They pool in my eyes. “Who is it?�
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He shakes his head. He won’t tell me. He comes here asking me to abandon my life––what’s left of it after I put everything on the line for him––but he won’t tell me who or what he’s running from.
“Stay here for a minute,” I order.
I leave him to go get the last of the cash out from my dresser drawer. The last two thousand dollars of a forty thousand dollar gambling debt––including the vig––I owe Ivan DeloRusso.
By the time I come back out, to the front of the apartment where I specifically asked him to wait, he’s gone. The front door is wide open and Tommy is nowhere to be found.
I’ve never aspired to much other than to build a sustainable business I can be proud of and take care of the guys who work for me. You know––pay it forward and all that. That’s not a lot to ask for, I don’t think.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t begrudge anyone great success or wealth. Veronica has those kinds of aspirations and she’s the best person I know. What I mean to say is I’ve never wanted to have one foot in each world for this exact same reason––because it feels like I don’t really belong anywhere now.
I don’t belong in Jordan’s world of wealth and status. Even though he cares less about it than I do. But I also don’t belong in Staten Island. I’m not that girl from the block anymore, hanging out on the stoop watching life go by.
After Tommy takes off, I lock the door and head for Jordan’s bathroom. Right now, I need to wash the entire situation off of me. Tomorrow I’ll regroup, go see Dom. He might have an idea how to handle Tommy’s problem.
I run the shower, peel my clothes off, step in. I like to use his because I like the British bath gel he uses. I love how it smells like him. It’s comfort, and home, and everything that’s good in my life right now. When I’m with Jordan, it’s the only time I’m not dreading what new crisis I’m going to have to resolve, what fire to put out…what life needs saving.
The shower door swings open and the man I love stands there in all his wonderful naked glory. This man who was once a boy on the outskirts of life, barely holding on himself. Ironic that we come from two different worlds and yet we both had to fight our way out of our childhood.
He’s beautiful. A work of art. His chest sculpted naturally, muscles honed through combat and discipline. Eyes blazing with passion. That’s never in doubt––he’s so hard right now it looks painful.
“Come in. It’s getting cold.”
He doesn’t need to be asked twice. Taking my face in his hands, he kisses me like he hasn’t seen me in ages instead of ten hours ago. Like I’m the center of his world.
That I found him apathetic before is just plain dumb now that I know him. Jordan he has such a deep, explosive reserve of emotion that he needs to control it.
“You’re so fucking sexy. You drive me crazy,” he showers me with compliments between kisses. His hands sliding down my breasts, fingers tugging at my nipples while the others work down below, getting me ready for him.
He picks me up and pushes me against the gray slate wall, wraps my leg around his waist. There’s nothing gentle about the way Jordan makes love. There’s a primal quality to it––he moves on instinct. I don’t know how other men are––Jimmy was nice, sweet, and never once rocked my world––but this one is very dominant in bed. Like he stores it all up for me.
“If I could stay inside of you for the rest of my life I would.”
This declaration is made in all seriousness. I giggle and he bites down on the side of my neck, thrusts his hips and buries himself inside of me. A punishment and a gift. A blessing and a curse. It’s too much, too intense between us.
“Fuck, baby, you feel good.”
“Don’t stop,” I beg, pushing my face into the slope of his neck and shoulder.
He pumps into me until I’m almost there, just on the edge of coming. Wound so tight I don’t think I’m ever going to come harder. I lose myself for a moment, ready to spill every secret, confess to every lie. Because I love him. I love him so much I can’t ever lose him. He’s the one I’ve been waiting for all my life. But my mother’s words keep ringing like a death knell in my head.
“I want to have a baby with you,” he whispers.
He comes so hard it tips me right over the edge. Right into despair.
We sleep. We make love. We sleep. In the middle of the night I feel him enter me from behind, one arm wrapped around my chest, his fingers gently holding my throat. I can feel his pulse on the pad of his thumb, his heart beat against the one on my neck. His other hand slides between my legs, trapping me against him. All I can do is surrender as he slowly pumps in and out of me.
“Let go. Let me do it,” he tells me. “I promise I’m gonna make you feel so good.”
And he does. Jordan always delivers. He gives it everything he has.
Hours later, I enter the kitchen, to grab a bottle of water, and come to an abrupt halt when I see him staring into the cash drawer. It’s four a.m and I’m officially dead on my feet, exhausted from too much great sex.
He’s so absorbed in whatever he’s looking at that he doesn’t hear me come in.
“Jordan?”
His head comes up, brow furrowed, confusion swimming in his eyes.
“The cash is gone.” It’s a bland statement, his expression neutral. But my stomach bottoms out. Because I know. I immediately know what happened to it. I know that it’s my fault.
“Are you sure?” I ask, desperately hoping there’s a mistake. That maybe I heard him wrong.
“Yes, I’m sure.”
My heart starts to beat fast, the rush of adrenaline making my knees shaky. It takes me less than a split second to figure out what happened to the money. No one else was here. The cleaning crew comes every other day of the week and it’s a Sunday.
“There was a little over ten thousand in here.” Jordan is genuinely puzzled. He trusts me so implicitly that he doesn’t even consider I might be the one who took it.
I never thought to count it. It never even occurred to me. I can’t even think of a reason to justify needing the money and not telling him.
He looks up at me, his face blanked. “Where’s the money?”
I can’t tell him it was Tommy. Ten thousand is classified as grand theft––a felony. Tommy would go to jail and he would never recover. He’s too soft for a life of crime.
“Did you take it?” he tries again, inching closer to the truth.
All I can do is nod, shame turning my face a deep crimson red. There’s no other way.
“What for?” He’s not mad yet but he’s curious enough to pursue it. He won’t let it go and it’s about to get ugly.
Palms sweating and knees shaking, I step closer, to get a better view of his face across the kitchen island. “I can’t tell you.”
His expression shifts from curious to suspicious. “You can’t tell me?”
“I’m sorry…I can’t.”
He exhales, frustrated. He’s holding back but he won’t be able to for very long. I also can’t bring myself to outright lie to him. In a roundabout way, I am responsible. Tommy was here because of me.
“Riley, what did you need ten thousand dollars in cash for that you can’t tell me?” The frustration is turning into anger. It’s written all over his face, it’s in his voice.
“I can’t tell you,” I repeat with tears stinging my eyes.
“I told you never to lie to me.”
“I’m not.”
“By omission you are.”
“I’m sorry.” Because I am. I’m so sorry. I’m going to lose him because I can’t send my friend to jail. “Can’t you just trust that I have a good reason?”
“Ever hear the saying, trust but verify?” I wipe the tears running down my cheek away, nod. “I can’t ever trust you again. Do you understand that? It’s not the money. This has nothing to do with the money. It’s that you won’t tell me why you took it.”
What do I say to that? There is no defense. With tears funnelin
g down my cheeks, I nod. Because he’s such a good man. He gives everything of himself. And all he ever asked of me is to be honest. And I can’t do even that for him. “I understand.”
“That’s it? That’s all you have to say to me?” He looks beyond bewildered and I don’t blame him. I know how hurt I would be if I were in his shoes right now.
“I’m sorry,” I keep repeating. It’s all I’ve got.
He shakes his head, his jaw tight. “Not good enough.” Then he breaks the stare, exhales roughly. The end is near. I can see it written on his face. He thinks I’m lying to him, the one thing he can’t abide.
“I guess I was wrong about you. You can’t be trusted…I’m going for a run. I want you gone by the time I get back.”
18
Chapter Eighteen
Riley
Broken and in despair, I gather my personal belongings as quickly as possible, stuffing them in a duffle bag. The process takes a lot longer than I want it to because my hands are shaking so hard stuff keeps falling. I’m careful not to take anything that may belong to him, even the toothpaste just in case.
The iPhone and credit card Jordan gave me to use gets placed on the kitchen counter. I take the two thousand dollars that I was supposed to give Tommy before he decided to steal the ten thousand and leave the cash with the credit card. That should go some way to paying off the stolen money.
Then I bid goodbye to the place that has been my home for the last three months. The same place where I’ve made so many great memories. Where I fell in love for the first time. Where I discovered that I want kids of my own one day. The same home where I thought I found my one true soul mate…the one for me.
I take an Uber back to Staten Island. I can’t afford it but it’s the dead of night and I’m not risking some junkie pushing me into an oncoming train. It’s been happening more and more lately. By the time I’m turning the lock at my house, it’s five a.m. and dawn is peeking just in time to see my new life, one I was loving, come to an end.