Barbara moved between them and shoved a key in the front door. “Now, I can’t guarantee the condition. We usually have a cleaning crew out before a move-in. However, you stressed your urgency to move in, so I apologize in advance if the place is unkempt.”
“We’ll be fine,” Simone assured the woman.
When they walked through the front door, Simone held her breath, suppressing a giggle. She watched Jess closely, noticing his hands balling into tight fists. His jaw worked the tension she knew was building deep inside of him. Good, you son-of-a-bitch. Suffer.
As they walked from room to room, Barbara chattered about the amenities. Simone walked slowly behind her, not wanting to miss a beat. She could almost smell Jess’s discomfort. Climbing the stairs, she could feel the energy emitting from his body. She savored the moment when they entered the master bedroom. Her room. She saw Jess inhale the remnants of another time, another place—memories bittersweet. When she caught him glancing at the waste basket, her curiosity got the best of her. She crossed the room to see what was so distracting.
“Oh,” she said innocently, “the trash hasn’t been emptied.” Her gaze caught Jess by surprise, and he flinched. “Darling, don’t worry, I can take care of the trash while you fetch our things from the car.” His eyes turned to pitch. His mouth drew into a grimace.
“I certainly don’t expect you to dirty your dainty little hands.” His eyes, deadly pools latched onto hers as he grabbed her hand and raised it to his lips. “Darling.”
Barbara handed Jess the keys and made her departure. The sky now black, reflected Jess’s mood. Never in his thirty-four years had he experienced the bevy of emotions he experienced now. How could she? He flashed on the fairy wings. Crushed memories of their special day were wasting in the basket. All I ever wanted to do was make her happy. She may as well have stabbed him in the heart.
* * *
Paul unloaded the last of Grace’s things from the truck and closed the garage door. When he stepped inside, Grace was waiting with two cups of hot cocoa laced with peppermint schnapps.
“Here, this will warm your bones,” she said sweetly.
“It’s a start.” He took a sip, his eyes sweeping her petite form. “I can think of something else that would warm my bones.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
“Why, Mr. Fortier, you wouldn’t have me believe you’re a wolf in sheep’s clothing now would you?”
“You’re the one who spiked the cocoa. Tell me, chér, what did you have in mind?”
She removed the cup from his hand and circled his arms around her waist. “The night is still young. We can do anything we want.” She stepped up on tip-toes and whispered in his ear, “Anything.”
Paul lifted her up, wrapping her legs around his waist. He kissed her all the way to the bedroom and laid her down on the bed. Her eyes burned with desire. She pulled her sweater over her head, shimmied out of her jeans, stripped out of her camisole and bra before pulling him down on top of her. As he wrestled free from clothing, she whispered his name, like a prayer.
Soon they were naked under the covers, touching and tasting like two lost souls reunited. He breathed in her scent, moving from her neck to her breasts, to her belly and below.
She groaned as he parted her legs and kissed the insides of her thighs. When he reached her sweet spot, she exploded into space. She never imagined feeling this carefree and wanton with anyone.
“I don’t want to move,” she said gasping for air. “My essence is floating in the ether. If I move, I might disturb the energy field and never return to my body!”
Paul laughed as he covered her body with his. “There, I’ve trapped your essence with my magnetic field. You’re safe.”
“I believe you possess a plug-in feature that will tether you to me.”
“Oh, chér, I love when you talk techie. It really turns me on.”
“And this?” She reached beneath the covers and guided him inside.
“Yeah, that works, too,” he said between ragged breaths.
Grace began to move her hips slowly, welcoming each thrust. When their rhythm worked into a heightened frenzy, they cried out to the heavens.
* * *
Jess fixed a stiff drink and paced from the living room to the kitchen and back.
“For God’s sake, Sheppard, you’re going to wear a path in the carpet. Don’t you like it here?”
“Fuck off, Simone. I’m adjusting.”
“Adjusting? You’re not happy here.”
“Don’t start pouting, Simone. I’m in no mood.”
“I’m beginning to think you Americans are all mood!”
“No one tied an anchor to your ass.”
“You said you preferred living in a house. I thought I was doing a nice thing getting this place. I prefer plush hotels and room service. Do you cook? I’m hungry.”
“I saw a phone book on the kitchen counter. Can you navigate your way through the yellow pages?”
“I don’t know enough about the area to choose. You do it.”
“And what makes you think—”
Simone’s frigid stare stopped Jess in his tracks. Jess’s tone turned to sugar. “I’m sure we can find something suitable to your exquisite taste.”
“I gather that was a no regarding your cooking skills?” She placed her hands on her hips, her tone barbed. “I guess we’re fucked.”
“Don’t be a bitch. I know as much about the area as you do.”
He tossed Simone her coat. “Shall we explore?”
Jess and Simone hadn’t walked three blocks before they spotted neon lights and signs of a nightlife. When they reached the corner, Jess grabbed Simone’s hand to cross the street. Simone dragged behind him, still pouting. When they entered the Bistro her anger diminished. Smells of roasted meats whet their appetites.
When their food arrived, Simone sliced her pork off the bone with precision. Jess recalled dissecting the young redhead in the bathtub at the Argonaut Hotel and stifled a grin. As if picking up his vibe, she said, “I didn’t notice if there were extra bed linens, did you, Sheppard?”
Jess shook his head no, his mind wanting to revisit the two times he shared Grace’s bed. It seemed so long ago. Yet, he imagined her skin against his, her sweet scent lingering in his brain. He closed his eyes, visualizing their lovemaking and arousing his senses. He could smell her and feel her body next to his. When he opened his eyes, he caught Simone’s flat stare. She reminded him of a cat right before it was ready to pounce on its prey. If he were a betting man, he’d say she wanted to rip out his throat and gouge his eyes. He leaned back against the booth and stared right back. Two can play this game.
Just as Jess prepared himself for battle, Simone shifted gears. Her face softened, her lips parted, and her eyes twinkled as she proclaimed. “I don’t recall ever patronizing a dive like this, Sheppard! I love it! Let’s order another slab of ribs!”
Jess felt his stomach flip. He didn’t like unpredictability. She was sweet one moment, murderous the next. And how did he end up living in his beloved Grace’s house with this she-devil? Denim fabric stretched across his increasing excitement, and he scooted forward in his seat. He squeezed his knees together, relishing the itchy-tingling of a growing erection. His eyes blazed with a need to conquer, not desire. “Let’s get an order to go.”
Curiosity tinted Simone’s rosy response. “To go?”
“I just thought we’d take them home, maybe get a little dessert.”
“Dessert?”
“Why squelch possibilities with endless questioning?”
Simone scanned the room. “I see dessert,” she nodded, “over there—the trim brunette in the tight sweater.
Jess wanted to burst into laughter, shove a pork bone up her nose until it pierced her brain. “Christ, Simone, we just moved into the place. We don’t have maid service, no one to change those soiled sheets you hate to sleep on!”
“Oh, so am I to assume you want to play with me?”
“For
get, it.” He clapped his hands on his thighs, re-inflating the ache in his groin.
Simone waved to the waiter. “We’d like to order another slab of pork ribs and two slices of your German chocolate cake.”
The waiter scribbled the order on his pad and glanced up, “Would you like coffee?”
Simone’s gaze blistered Jess’s cool reserve. “No. Actually, I’ve changed my mind.”
The waiter poised his pen on his pad. “Do you want to scratch the whole order?”
“No,” she purred. “Make it to-go.”
* * *
Grace, still adjusting to unfamiliar territory, patted the empty space beside her. The clock beside the bed confirmed it was way too early to be left alone. “Paul?” She listened for an answer. Paul was talking, but not to her. He sounded far away. She gathered a blanket around her bare skin, slid into fluffy slippers, and stood at the top of the stairs. She opened her mouth to call out again but reconsidered when she heard the serious tone he used with the person on the phone. She retraced her steps to the bedroom and put on her sweats. The house was colder than she was accustomed to. She stood wondering how long it would take to acclimate to her new surroundings when Paul came up behind her, startling her, and making her jump.
“Sorry,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you like that.”
“I’m freezing,” she said, cuddling him close. “Who were you talking to?”
He peered down at her suspiciously. “Were you eavesdropping?”
She backed away from his embrace. “Not exactly. I woke up and called to you. I started downstairs when I heard you talking.”
“I was talking to a buddy of mine. He lives in his own time zone. He doesn’t have any qualms about waking me up when he wants to talk.”
“You sounded serious.” She searched his eyes for the avoidance she expected to come next.
“Nothing to concern yourself with, chér.”
“If we’re going to be married Paul, I need complete honesty from you. That means no pink ponies, no fluff. I’m the real deal, and I expect to be treated as such. I promise to tell you what’s on my mind and in my heart. If what I say ever hurts you, I will apologize and beg for your forgiveness, but don’t ask me to lie, and please, Paul, don’t lie to me. Love can’t survive on lies, and I plan to love you the rest of my life.”
“It was Skip.”
“And?”
“He had some information on Jess.”
“Thank you, that’s a great start to our happily-ever-after.”
“Ah, chér, how did I get so lucky?” He gathered her close, squeezed her tight, and let her go. “Come,” he said, taking her hand. “I made coffee and cinnamon rolls.”
Eyes wide, she gasped, “You bake?”
He placed a hand on his chest and gave her his best, wounded look. “I’m not just a pretty face you know.”
“I think your face is beautiful, but baking may earn you special privileges.”
He pulled out her chair and pressed her into her seat. Next, he poured two cups of coffee and placed them on the table along with two warm rolls. He turned his chair around and straddled it, facing her. “I want to leave Sacramento as soon as possible.”
“What? Why?”
“Jess may be here after all.”
“I knew it!” She plopped the roll on the plate and wrapped her hands around her mug, more to steady her shaking than to enjoy the warmth of the hot liquid inside. “I refuse to run. I’ll be careful and take every precaution, but don’t ask me to hide.” Her eyes pleaded for understanding. “That’s not living.”
“Just until we find him, chér.”
“What about my clients? What am I supposed to do about them? They’re counting on me!” She slammed her fist on the table. “That son-of-a-bitch is not going to dictate my life!”
Paul gently lifted her chin with his fingertips until their eyes met. “You could go to the beach house and Skype your clients. I’m sure they’d understand.”
“What am I supposed to tell them? Oops, sorry, my friend- slash-college-crush turned out to be a serial killer, and I have to hide so he doesn’t kill me.”
“No! You could be stubborn and put everyone’s life in danger!”
“Ouch.”
“You said to be truthful. If you don’t care about yourself, Grace, care about those around you.”
Grace rose and started upstairs without another word. Paul didn’t follow.
An hour had passed before Grace came downstairs, her suitcase packed. Paul’s jaw worked his back molars. His heart thumped a techno beat in his chest. His throat felt stuck in swallow mode. “Going somewhere?”
“I thought I’d take your advice—get out of Dodge for a while.”
“Need a hand with that?” He reached for the handle of the suitcase.
She relented. Her fingertips brushed the top of his hand. “I’m not used to having a strong man around. What if I like it?”
“I hope you adjust quickly because I plan to be around for a looong time.” His eyes met hers and lingered there.
“Good,” she said, unwavering. “I packed for two. Your suitcase is at the top of the stairs.”
“Touché.”
“I’ll give it a week. If Jess is not in custody by then, I’m coming back.”
“A week?”
“One week. After that, he’ll just have to kill me.”
Paul grabbed her arm harder than he intended to, making her flinch and Sneaky bark. “Don’t ever say that! Not even in jest.”
Grace’s eyes filled with tears. “Find him, then. Find him and kill him. Or I will.”
* * *
“What’s on your agenda today?” Simone set a cup of coffee in front of Jess and returned to the pot to pour a cup for herself.
“Thanks. Didn’t know the place came with room service.” His eyes roamed her body freely. He loved that she became flustered at his lascivious behavior. If she only knew how much he wanted to crush her skull, she wouldn’t act so coy. Their bounce in the hay the night before left her moody. She liked to play rough when she was the aggressor. He witnessed her bite and squeeze her sex mates. Then why is she being so touchy? As if on cue, she gave him a hateful look. “I thought I’d do a little canvasing. My work has suffered enormously since I met you.
“Don’t let me stop you.”
“What about you?”
He reached for her hand but managed a handful of satin instead. He gathered the fabric in his fist and yanked her close.
“Don’t be a—”
“A what?” he teased, reining her in until she was in his lap.
“Sheppard, you think you can play with me, don’t you?”
“You mean like this?” He slipped his hand beneath her robe and helped himself to her warm flesh.
She stood up and slapped his face so hard spittle flew from the corner of his mouth. He sprang from the chair, sending it crashing to the floor. “Who the hell do you think—” but before he could finish his sentence, Simone drew a knife from the kitchen sink and gripped it tight. Jess froze, his hand raised, ready to strike.
“Go ahead, you prissy little bore. Show me what a big man you are!”
Jess raised both hands above his head and backed away slowly. “Simone, babe, put the knife down. We can settle this in bed.”
“Go fuck yourself, Sheppard. I’m not interested in your pathetic rubbery ducky. Any female can fuck better than you do.”
“Maybe you should‘ve poured yourself the first cup of coffee, darling. You’re behaving like a cranky bitch.” He set the chair on all fours. “You can put the knife away, honey,” he offered as if commenting on the weather. “I’m off to the shower.”
Simone remained calm. She placed the knife in the sink, took her coffee to the table, and sat down. Suddenly something across the room caught her attention. She rose to investigate. A small calendar hung on the wall near the phone. Only one number was circled and marked for the month of January, yeste
rday’s date: “Moving.” Curious, Simone flipped through the pages. She read penciled appointments, phone numbers, and dates—all from the previous month. One square, in particular, raised her curiosity. In tiny print beneath December 23 was written, beach house. Simone’s heart beat with excitement. Beneath “beach house,” Grace had written an address and four digits: 3214. Another date? She couldn’t be sure. They could be nothing. Simone removed the calendar from the wall and stuck in her bag. For later.
* * *
The freeway heading west, congested with morning traffic, kept Grace on edge. Cars maneuvering in and out of their lane causing near misses amped her anxiety to a new level. “Why can’t people just stay put?” Her tone pulled Paul’s attention away from his driving, and he reached for her hand.
“Traffic will lighten up once we’re over the causeway. You okay?” His eyes searched hers momentarily and returned to the road ahead.
She leaned against his shoulder and wrapped her arm around his waist. “I can’t give you the answer you want to hear.”
“I didn’t ask to be patronized. I love you. I’m concerned.” Sneaky whined from the back seat as if agreeing with Paul’s sentiments.
Grace twisted in her seat, consoling the dog with a stroking motion that put the dog at ease. She turned back to Paul and sighed, “No, I’m not okay. I can get through today and tomorrow, but I am not okay. I am so filled with loathing for someone I thought I knew and loved. How can anyone expect to be okay feeling like that?”
“I can only imagine what you’re going through, chér. But trust me when I say, no wants that son-of-a-bitch put down more than I do.”
“Plus I’m worried about Sal. I haven’t been a very good friend lately. She needs to lighten her load. She’s kept this cancer thing so bottled up inside her that it’s created its own symptoms. John is a rock, but geez, every time he looks at her, it seems like he’s going to crumble.”
“Has she decided on what she wants to do?”
“A double-mastectomy and radiation are her only options.” Grace slapped her palm on the dash. “She’s been in remission for six years. Why didn’t the damn cancer stay gone? Why didn’t Jess?” Traffic blurred in her vision as she fought back tears. “When we get to closer to the house, let’s stop at a bakery. I need cake.”
The Black Dress Page 22