6
Jane
On Friday I get away from work to visit the place Brian told me about. He meets me there with the rental agent, an older man with a hole in his jersey and tobacco-stained teeth who introduces himself as Albert Prinsloo. The couple who owns the property is there, too. They live in the main house a small distance from the cottage.
“We travel a lot,” Hilda, the wife, says, “so you’ll often have the place to yourself.”
“What about security?” The serenity is beautiful, but the plot is remote.
“There’s a neighborhood watch,” Brian says, proving he’s one step ahead of me. “You have to call in every night at eight, no matter where you are. If you fail to make roll-call, armed reservists will drop by to check out the house.”
“There’s also the six-foot, electrified, barbwire fence,” her husband, Gustaf, says, “as well as our security company. There’s a panic button on the remote that opens the gate. Any problems and armed response will here in less than five minutes.”
“Five minutes?” I look around the stretch of nature. “We’re at least a fifteen-minute drive outside of the city.”
“We have a community security company a couple of miles from here, servicing only the farms in this area.”
Albert gives me a measuring look. From the way his face pulls into a scowl, I must be coming up short.
“Better get a gun,” the elderly man says, “just in case.”
“A gun?” I look back at Brian, but it’s Hilda who speaks.
“We’ve been living here for five years without any issues.”
She offers me a smile, but there’s something hesitant about it. Maybe she’s freaked out by Albert’s remark, although most farmers and plot owners have guns. I’m not sure she’d be shocked by that.
“What do you think?” Gustaf asks. “We’re traveling to Namibia next week, and we’d like to draw up the contract before we leave if you’re interested.”
I’d like to show the place to Abby, but I’m sure she’ll love it. What’s there not to like? It’s paradise. On top of that, the rent is much lower than what I budgeted for.
“Fine,” I say, feeling excited about a home for the first time since Francois dropped the bomb about the house. “I’ll take it.”
We shake hands on the deal. Gustaf agrees to finalize the contract with Albert in the next few days. Since the cottage is standing empty, the previous lessees having relocated to Cape Town, I can move in on the first of next month. That suits me. The sooner I can make a new start, the better.
Hilda and Gustaf walk us to our cars while we exchange telephone numbers and email addresses.
“Which removal company are you going to use?” Hilda asks.
Before I can formulate a reply, Brian answers. “I’ll take care of it.”
Hilda blinks. She looks between us. “I see.” When she speaks again, her voice is much cooler. “I just wanted to remind you to inform them the road here is gravel. It can be an issue for some of the bigger trucks.”
Brian’s look is level. “That’s considerate.” He moves to my side, leaving only an inch of space.
“Right, then.” Hilda’s gaze drops to our hips that are almost touching. “If there’s nothing else…”
Gustaf regards us with a curious light in his eyes. His attention, too, is drawn to our close stance. I cringe inwardly at the judgment that thickens the air. Albert seems smug. Only Brian acts unaffected.
“Nothing else for the moment,” he says, facing Hilda with a direct stare that makes her look away.
After an awkward greeting, Hilda and Gustaf excuse themselves. As they walk down the dirt road toward the main house, Albert chuckles.
He spits tobacco and opens his car door. Leaning his arms on the top, he studies me with a squinted eye. “What’s he to you?”
I straighten my spine. “Excuse me?”
“I’ll see you tonight,” Brian says in a clipped tone, rudely dismissing the agent.
Albert taps the door twice and gets inside with his smirk intact. Brian stares after him as he takes off, not turning back to me until there’s nothing but a trail of dust on the road.
When he finally looks at me, his face is tight. He advances, backing me up against my car door.
“What am I to you, princess?”
The sunbaked metal burns my skin through my dress. “What do you mean?”
“What would you have said if I’d given you the chance to answer?”
I regard him dumbly. I don’t have an answer. What are we? Acquaintances? Friends? I’d liked to say the latter, but our age gap doesn’t allow for platonic relations, not by public standard. He’s barely out of school. I could be his mother. No matter how I sugarcoat it, I’m an older woman fucking a much younger man. By social perception, I’m the one taking advantage. That’ll make him the victim.
“Say it,” he urges, parting my legs with his knee. “Tell me what I am.”
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
Brian is many things, but he’s not a victim. I have no idea how to introduce him to my family and friends without embarrassing him or myself.
He grinds his thigh on my sex. “Is this what I am?”
“What do you want from me, Brian? What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.” He cups my face, searching my eyes. “Always the truth.”
Taking a moment, I reflect on the truth.
“A secret,” I say after a while. “You’re my secret.”
I can’t help leaning forward, finding comfort in the broadness of his very hard, very young chest. Don’t think about his age. If I do, I’ll have to walk away, and I’m not sure I have the strength. Not now. For once, I want to be selfish, taking what I need. What Brian gives me is exactly what I need.
From the way he sighs as he pulls me tight against him, I gave the wrong answer. I strain my neck to look up at him. His expression is shuttered.
“Brian…”
“Talk to me,” he encourages when I trail off.
“You had no right to make a decision on my behalf.”
His hands smooth down my arms. “What decision?”
“The move.”
He frowns. “What about the move?”
“You said you’d take care of it.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“We didn’t discuss it, and it could give people the wrong idea.”
“Are you worried about what people think?”
“Not particularly, but this…” I place my hand on his chest. “Our situation is delicate.”
His jaw clenches. “What’s delicate about it?”
Taking a deep breath, I fix my gaze on the thorn trees that mark the landscape. They’re stark and brutal in their beauty. Uncompromising. Unapologetic. With butter-green, new leaves unfolding, they’re inviting to the touch, but only a fool would risk it.
When I look back at Brian, I suck in a breath. Even the ghost of a smile on his lips, which is closer to sad than happy, shows off his dimple. He’s so beautiful it hurts to look at him. Desire takes up every square inch of the space between us, but I don’t want to look too deeply, because what I’ll see will hurt.
There’s a challenge in his voice. “What’s delicate, Jane?”
“How old are you?”
He stares at me unblinkingly. The beat of my heart marks the seconds that pass.
“Twenty?” I ask.
His voice is flat. “It’s irrelevant.”
“How can your age be irrelevant?”
“I’ve been old forever. It’s not the number of years that matter.”
“Please tell me you’re at least in your twenties.”
“Fine. I’m twenty. Since that issue is sorted, is there anything else you need to get off your chest? You better do so now, because I’m not going to run away because of a judgmental look from a couple of hypocrites.”
“You can’t take over aspects of my life, Brian.”
“You think m
aking this move easier on you is taking over your life?”
“That’s not the issue. It’s speaking on my behalf, without my consent.”
“Then give it to me.” His hands roam over my body, coming to a stop on my hips. “Say yes, because whether you want it or not, I’m taking care of moving your furniture.”
“Why?” I battle to understand his intention. I’m a temporary fuck. The acknowledgement hurts, but if I can’t examine what lies under the surface of our desire, the least I can do for my self-preservation is not bury my head in the sand. “You don’t have any obligations toward me.”
His gaze travels over my face. “I’ve got the time and means. It’ll save you the money, for one.”
“I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage.”
His fingers tighten on my skin. “The thought has never crossed my mind.”
“All right, then,” I say slowly, knowing when I’ve been beaten. “I gratefully accept the offer. Just don’t assume again.”
His smile is broader, his dimple deeper. “Believe me, I never assume when it comes to you.”
I check my watch. “I better get back to work.”
He holds onto me as if he wants to fight the fact, but after a moment, he sets me free. “You go ahead. I’ll follow so you don’t have to drive in my dust.”
He plants a chaste kiss on my lips, staring at my mouth for another second before walking off briskly and getting into his truck without looking back.
I’m not sure what just happened, but we’re not on the same square as yesterday. Whatever game we’re playing, our chips have moved. The stakes are higher.
Francois calls to ask if I can pick up Abby from school and drop her off at their place since he’ll be in a meeting all afternoon. I was planning on leaving the office at a decent time anyway to have cocktails with Loretta. Normally, with Abby at her dad’s, I would’ve worked late, but Loretta and I have both been too busy to reschedule our lunch date. If we don’t make an effort, we’ll never see each other.
We meet at a trendy bar in the financial district of Sandton where the yuppies hang out. It’s a place to network or get picked up. The décor strives for shabby chic, but turns out kitsch, instead. The cocktails are overpriced. I’m not crazy about the place, but I didn’t have a better suggestion.
“I ordered daiquiris,” Loretta says when I take a barstool at the cocktail table. “You look different.”
“I haven’t changed anything.”
“I’m not talking about your hair or clothes. You look less stressed. Happier.”
“Francois is taking back the house.”
“I know. He told us. I’m sorry, Janie. Letting go of your home must be a bitch. I know how much the place means to you.”
“I found a place to rent.”
“You did? Where?”
“Toward the Roodeplaat Dam.”
Her lips part. “That’s miles out of town.”
“There are smallholdings closer to Silverton.”
“I don’t see you on a smallholding. You’re a city girl, not a country woman.”
Actually, I prefer the countryside. “It’s better than any of the townhouses I’ve seen so far.”
Her phone vibrates on the table. For a change, she doesn’t look at it. “How did you find this place? You don’t know anyone out there.”
“A friend.”
“I’m your only friend.”
“That’s not true. I have friends at the office.”
“Who is it then?”
“You don’t know him.”
“Him? Was it Toby? Alex?”
“No.”
“Who then? I know everyone at your office.” She tilts her head, scrutinizing me. “You got laid.”
A waiter puts a frozen strawberry daiquiri in front of each of us.
“Stop it.” I grab my drink and take a big sip.
“Out with it.” She kicks my foot. “When? Where? Who? How?”
Loretta has been my confidant since university. I’ve never held anything from her, but I’m not keen on talking about Brian behind his back as if he’s a piece of meat. I’m not going to degrade him by discussing his sexual skills.
“Out with it. Where did you meet?”
My phone rings, saving me from an answer. I wouldn’t normally take a call when I’m out with a friend, but it could be Abby.
“Excuse me.” I take the phone from my purse and check the screen. Brian.
Rejecting the call, I slip the phone back into my purse. “How did the Christmas decorations go?”
Before she can answer, the ringtone sounds again.
“I’m sorry, but I have to take this. I’ll be right back.” Hopping from the barstool, I walk out onto the balcony and find a quieter corner.
“Where are you?” Brian asks when I answer.
“Out.”
“I know. Out where?”
He can’t know unless… “Are you at my house?”
“Yes.”
Despite myself, a shiver like a ghost sensation of the pleasure he’s capable of delivering runs over my skin.
“Where are you?” he repeats.
Glancing over my shoulder, I meet Loretta’s curious eyes through the glass. I lower my voice. “Brian, that’s none of your business.”
A moment of silence passes. Even if he says nothing, his disagreement is palpable.
“I want to make sure you’re safe,” he finally says.
“I am. I appreciate your concern, but I’ve been taking care of myself for a long time.”
“You haven’t.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re not taking care of yourself.”
Leaning my arms on the rail, I lower my head to hush our conversation. I doubt the people at the nearest table can hear with the background chatter, but I’m not taking any chances.
“I don’t have time for this conversation. I have to get back to my friend.”
“Friend?” He doesn’t even try to sound nonchalant. His tone is uneasy. “You’re out with one someone?”
I bite back a smile. “Are you jealous, Brian Michaels?”
“As hell.”
My heart softens at his admittance. I should tell him who I’m out with isn’t his concern, but I feel a need to soothe him. “It’s a she.”
“What’s her name?”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“I do. I just want to know everything there is to know about you.”
“Like who I spend my Friday evenings with?”
“Yeah, and everything else, down to the color of your panties.”
“I’m being rude to my friend. I have to go.”
“Then hurry up and tell me.”
I’m smiling so hard my face muscles ache. It’s been a while since anyone has been this invested in me.
“Loretta, and it’s green.” Somehow, relenting with Brian always feels good.
“What are you and Loretta doing?”
“Having cocktails. Catching up.”
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he coos.
“Goodbye, Brian.”
“I’m not done, yet.”
“Don’t make me hang up on you. I don’t want to be that woman.”
“Loretta has all night with you. I’m just asking for one more minute.”
Relenting is also easy with Brian. “What else do you want to know?”
“Describe your underwear.”
I look over my shoulder. Loretta is typing on her phone. “It’s chiffon with a lace trimming.”
“Chiffon,” he muses. “Is that see-through?”
“Yes.”
“Do your nipples and pussy hair show?”
My cheeks heat. I lower my voice another octave. “Yes.”
“Don’t ever shave. I love the hair between your legs.”
“Brian.” It’s meant to be a reprimand, but it sounds more like a breathless gasp.
“What are you wearing on top of that sinful underwear?”
“A dress.”
“Describe it.”
“It’s white and sleeveless.”
“Does your underwear show?”
“No.”
“Good.”
“Can I go now?”
“Yes, I’ll let you go.”
I imagine him sitting in his truck in the dark outside my gate. “What about you? What are your plans for tonight?”
“My plans are wearing fuck-me underwear and drinking cocktails with Loretta.”
A laugh bubbles from my throat. “You’re impossible.”
He groans. “I bet my plans are turning every male head in the room, even as we speak.”
I chuckle. “Is that a compliment?”
“No. The hard-on in my pants is.”
A full-body flush warms my insides. “You haven’t answered my question. Are you spending the night in your truck on my pavement? The neighbors may get suspicious.”
I’m not even half joking. It won’t be long before someone questions the presence of the truck parked frequently in front of the house. Maybe it’s a good thing I’m moving to the middle of nowhere.
“Since you’re taken,” he says, “I’ll meet up with some friends at a bar in Hatfield. Call me if you get bored and want to join us.”
“I won’t.”
“Of course you won’t.”
There’s a smile in his voice but a bite in his words I don’t get. When I glance back, I’m just in time to see Loretta leave our table and make her way to the door.
“I’m hanging up now, Brian.”
“Later, princess.”
The line goes dead. I straighten, taking a big breath of night air to clear my head and cool my body.
“What’s going on?” Loretta asks. “Is there a problem at home? Is it Abby?”
Turning, I smooth back my hair. “Everything’s fine. Sorry about that.” I don’t offer an explanation. I may not feel like sharing intimate information with my friend, but I don’t like lying to her.
She narrows her eyes. “You did get laid. It was him.”
“Whatever has gotten into you?”
I try to sidestep her, but she reaches for my phone. “Give it here.”
“No.” I drop the phone in my purse and zip up the bag.
She tries to snatch the purse from me, but I’m quicker and taller, holding it out of her reach. Our exchange attracts attention. A few heads turn our way.
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