She crosses her arms. “Why won’t you tell me?”
“There’s nothing to tell.”
“Mm.” She studies me for a second and then says, “All right.”
All right? It’s not like Loretta to give in so easily.
“Shall we get back to our table before someone snatches it?” I motion inside. “The place is getting busy.”
We’re barely seated when she says, “We’re having a dinner party at our place next weekend. Francois and Debbie will be there.”
“Oh.”
“Why don’t you join us? You can bring your mystery man.”
Ah ha. This is her strategy. Instead of shifting the focus to my mystery man, I keep it on the real reason why I won’t accept the invitation. “Thanks, but I’m not ready to have dinner with Francois and Debbie.”
“You have to get over it, Janie.”
“I am over it. I’ve accepted it. Maybe it is for the best. I’m just not ready to socialize with them. Someday, but not next weekend.”
She blows out a puff of air that lifts her fringe. “Let me know when you’re ready. Until then, I’ll keep on pushing, because that’s what you need to heal.”
In time, I’ll be able to forgive.
Time is supposed to heal everything, but it didn’t heal the pain of Evan’s death. I give a mental start. Oh, my God. I haven’t thought about Evan for days, not until now, when he’s all I usually think about after the anniversary of his death. I’m not sure if I’m upset or relieved. The deep-seated pain is still there, but it’s more manageable. Is this the turning point in the lapse of time I needed to start healing, or is the tipping point meeting a certain person?
Loretta must’ve felt my mood shifting, because she places her hand on mine and says, “Did you confront Dorothy about Benjamin being in town?”
“She said she didn’t want to upset me.”
“Bullshit. She was too much of a coward to tell you. Have you considered speaking to Benjamin?”
Her question surprises me. “Of course not. Why would I do that?”
“To clear out the skeletons, give the closet a good old dusting.”
“Our history doesn’t need dusting. The only thing it needs is to be left in peace.”
“Peace?” She snorts. “That’s the last thing it’ll be if you keep on walking circles around it.”
I’m tired of talking about me. I’m tired of talking about my problems, because it’s talking that keeps them turning in this maelstrom of emotions. I’m good with them exactly where they are–buried beneath the dirt the years piled on.
“Can we please talk about something else?”
She mixes the slush in her glass with the straw. “Abby seems happy about the baby.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“Debs did.”
My voice comes out harsher than intended. “Debbie?”
She cocks a shoulder. “I can’t not talk to her when Francois brings her over.”
“Do you talk about me?”
“Janie.” She gives me her cut-it-out look.
“Do you?”
It’s an unreasonable situation to put Loretta in. Can she be friends with both of us if we’re not getting along?
She sighs. “She doesn’t want to become your best friend. She wants you to be friendly for Abby’s sake.”
I can’t help the anger that burns in my stomach. “It’s about Abby, is it?”
“Debs loves Francois. It’s only natural that she cares about his daughter.”
“I don’t trust her motives.”
“Are you saying she doesn’t really care?”
“I don’t know her well enough to be a good judge of her character.”
“Francois chose her. He’s not an idiot or a frivolous man. It has to count for something, right?”
“Right.” But men can also be led by their dicks. “Look, I’m being protective. Abby is my only child. I just need some time.”
“Oh, Janie.” She squeezes my hand. “Time is all you’ve been taking, and look where that’s gotten you.”
Tension aches between my shoulders. My temples start to throb. I feel a headache building. Plastering a smile on my face, I say, “Tell me about the new range. Is there anything pretty?”
She lets go of my hand, shaking her head. “I know what you’re doing, but I’ll play along for now.”
I raise my palms. “What?”
“I’ve put aside a business suit. I swear it was made for you. You must try it on.”
For the next hour, I let her lull me with fashion talk. When the waiter comes around, I refuse the second round. I have to drive, and the alcohol isn’t helping my headache. Instead, I ask for a glass of water and gulp down a Triptan. I don’t get migraines often, but when I do, it’s better to kick them in the butt before they get so out of hand the only cure is a dark room and several hours of sleep. It’s almost midnight before the thumping behind my left eye subsides and Loretta asks for the bill. The pill wakes me up. There’ll be no sleeping for me, but friend or not, I’ve had as much of Loretta as I can take in one night. I prefer to relax in the solitude of my home with a book or movie, trying not to think about how much I miss Abby.
Brian
It’s late. Playback is already full when I arrive. Eugene and Clive are at the pool tables, waiting their turn. I grab a beer at the bar and join them.
“Where the hell have you been?” Eugene says, eyeing me as if he’s looking for clues about my whereabouts.
“I had to see Tron about watching out for my mom and Sam.”
“My old man says the place you were looking for is for a woman.”
“So?”
“Got something to tell us?” Clive asks.
I take a swig of my beer. “Nope.”
“Good,” Eugene says, “because I’d like to remind you that you’re spoken for.”
Clive looks between us. “By who?”
Eugene points his beer bottle toward a table at the back. Four girls are squeezed in on the bench, Lindy in the middle.
“Wait a minute.” Clive grabs my beer. “What did I miss?”
I let him get away with it. I owe him at least a case for the babysitting.
“Monkey came around,” Eugene says.
I punch him on the bicep. “Zip it, asshole.”
He grunts, holding his arm. “Said Lindy gets what Lindy wants, and what she wants is douchebag over here.” He throws a thumb in my direction.
News sure travels. He’d been out of earshot when Monkey delivered his speech. “Who told you?”
“Lindy’s mom told my mom. Apparently, she went crying to her daddy after you gave her the cold shoulder last week.”
“Fuck.” Clive stares at me with something between envy and pity. “That’s rough, man.”
He doesn’t have to say more. Whether I fancy Lindy or not, I don’t have a choice. You don’t say no to Monkey. Not if you value your bones and your life. Lindy chooses that moment to look up. Our eyes meet.
“You’ve been spotted.” Eugene gives me a sympathetic pat on the back. “Looks like you’ve got your job cut out for you.”
“Yeah,” I say, not moving my gaze from the girls’ table.
Lindy and I need to talk, and I’ll have to be very tactful if I’m to wake up with ten fingers and toes tomorrow. Lindy turns pink under my blatant stare, another sign she’s no match for me.
More pats from my friends send me on my way like a soldier embarking for battle. I get another two beers and carry them over to Lindy. The group falls quiet when I approach.
“Hi, Lindy. Can we talk?”
She sweeps her hair behind her ear. Her cheeks turn a darker shade of red. “Sure.”
Her friends all but fall over themselves to move away. In a second, we have the table all to ourselves.
I place a beer in front of her and take the opposite bench. “Will that do or do you prefer something else?”
“A beer’s perfect.” She cups the bottl
e. “Thanks.”
Taking a deep breath, I drag my hands over my face. I tried to give her the easy way out with her pride intact, but no matter how I say it, she’s going to feel rejected.
“You look tired,” she says, mistaking my gesture.
“I’ve been working a lot.”
“How’s it going with the job?”
I shrug. “It pays.”
“I see Mike a lot in here. He looks like a nice guy.”
“He’s okay.”
“I mean, he looks like someone who’ll understand if you need to take a couple of days off to catch up with your studies or rest.”
I smile. Lindy will never understand that I don’t have the luxury of taking a couple of days off. Not if I want to pay the bills.
Encouraged by my smile, she launches into a conversation. “What are you doing for the holiday? I’m going to Margate during the December break with a few friends. We’re renting a flat. Dad said I can go if I’m back for Christmas.” She traces a circle around the beer bottle on the table. “We have a spare space.” She meets my eyes fleetingly. “You should come. It’s already paid for, so it won’t cost you a cent. It’s right on the beach. Rachel was supposed to come–You know Rachel, my roommate at the dorm before I moved back to my parents’ house?–but we had a huge fallout.” She lifts her head and flicks her hair back. “I can’t believe how nasty she’s turned. She’s going around campus spreading all this bullshit about me, would you believe it? I mean, how’s that for friendship? Even if she’s mad at me, she shouldn’t be petty, right?”
I don’t give a fuck about her disagreement with her friend, but I make an effort at being polite. “What did you fight over?”
“She said I flirted with her boyfriend.” She gets real animated, gesturing with her arms. “Patrick. That scumbag. Just because all the girls think he’s handsome doesn’t mean he can hit on everyone wearing a dress. You know Patrick from Economics, right?”
Actually, I don’t.
“He cornered me one night outside the toilets.” She makes doe-like eyes. “He said there was a spark between us. Urgh. Disgusting. I wish there’d been someone like you to rescue me.”
Inwardly, I smile at her attempt to make me jealous. It might work on Clive or Eugene, or any other guy in the bar, but not on me. My feelings only stir for Ms. Logan. As Lindy drones on, I tune her out, my thoughts drifting to green underwear and a white dress. I hadn’t noticed how hard I’d fallen, because I’d already fallen the day the prick in the bar had showed me her photo. I touch the shirt pocket where I keep it. I look at it during all hours of the day–while I work, eat, piss, and jack off. The image of Jane burns a hole through the fabric of my shirt, the acid of its lie eating through my skin and seeping into my heart. I can’t tell Jane. I can never let her see the photo. If she knows why or how we met, she’ll send me packing with a well-deserved kick on the ass, and I’m not planning on going anywhere. Jane is mine.
Lindy’s giggle draws my attention back to her. “The October Beer Festival is so much fun. You should come with me. There’s an oompah band and blah blah blah…”
Her beauty is young. Developing. Her skin is flawed with a few pimples that come with puberty. It misses the character of laugh lines and mature silkiness that speak of experience.
No, I don’t want to drink cheap beer with her in a tent in the middle of a mud-drenched sports field. I don’t want to have an immature conversation about her grades and teachers and how much her ex-roommate irritates her. I don’t want to look at her legs, still unshaped, or the soft tube of skin around her young girl waist. It’s not her fault. It’s not that’s she’s unattractive or unkind. She’s everything a young student can ask for. I’m just not interested in young girls. I’m interested in no one else except Jane. Ms. Logan spoiled me for other women, and I’m a lucky bastard that she gives me the time of day.
“…as I was saying, if I get the internship with Daddy’s connections–”
“Lindy.”
She snaps her mouth shut at my interruption.
I lean across the table, lowering my voice. “I need you to understand something.”
Her newfound self-confidence takes a dive. She’s back to being shy. “Yes?”
“I’m seeing someone.”
I’m trying to be gentle, but there’s no easy way of saying this. The blood drains from her face. She drops her arms on the table, clutching the beer like it’s a lifeline.
Her voice is a whisper. “Who?”
“It doesn’t matter. You don’t know her. What matters is that you speak to your dad.” I keep my voice soft. “You have to tell him you’re not interested in me any longer.”
Her expression grows hard. “I don’t believe you. You’re always here alone.”
“Not by choice, believe me.” If I had my way, I’d have Jane by my side every minute of every hour.
She jumps to her feet. “How dare you insult me? Who do you think you are?”
“Insulting you was the last thing on my mind, but you left me no choice when you went to your dad. You have to tell him you’ve changed your mind. Do you understand?”
“I don’t have to do anything,” she hisses.
She jumps over the bench and heads for the exit. She’s already outside when I catch up with her. Tears streak her cheeks.
“Lindy, I’m sorry.”
I grab her arm when she tries to run.
“Let go of me!”
“Just listen. You know what your father will do if you don’t get your way. He’ll have me beaten into obedience.”
She gives me a horrified look. “Daddy’s not like that.”
Oh, fuck. She really is innocent. She doesn’t know half of it. “Trust me. If you like me, even just a little as a friend, tell him you’ve changed your mind.”
She frees her arm from my grip, but she’s not running any longer. Eyes downcast, she asks, “Are you really seeing someone?”
“Yes.”
When she lifts her gaze back to me, there’s no compassion or understanding. There’s only determination. “Maybe that will change.”
She storms to her car, leaving me with her words.
Never.
That will never change.
Jane
It’s after one in the morning when I get home. No truck in the driveway. I laugh out loud at the disappointment that drops in my belly. Did I really expect Brian to be waiting for hours? I’m behaving like a horny teenager.
Thankfully, my headache is gone, but I’m on a buzz from the pill. All I want to do is kick off my shoes and cuddle up in bed, maybe with a movie. I doubt I’ll concentrate on a book.
After pulling into the garage, I use the connecting door to enter the kitchen. I left the lights on so I didn’t have to fumble around in the dark when I got back, but the setting is brighter than I remember. An uneasy feeling settles over me. My senses go on high alert. There can’t be someone in the house. The alarm would’ve tripped. It’s probably the medication messing with my mind. Just as I adjust the dim switch, a shadow falls through the scullery door.
7
Jane
A cold sweat breaks out over my skin. Flinging around to assess the danger, my gaze falls on the profile of a man. My body jerks. I barely contain a scream before I recognize him. Brian. He’s shirtless, wearing torn jeans that hugs his body as if it was designed to make him look like a sex god. A sheen of perspiration emphasizes the well-cut muscles of his torso. A dishcloth is thrown over one shoulder.
Leaning back against the sink, he runs his gaze over me. “Hello, princess.”
“Shit.” I place a palm over my heart. “You scared me.”
“I didn’t mean to.”
I have more to say, but it takes a moment to regain my composure. Something is different. The mess I left before going out is gone. The dirty dishes and table have been cleared, and the counters wiped down.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. “How did you get in?”
; “I fixed a few things while I waited.” He throws a thumb toward the sink. “Dripping tap. Hook coming out of the wall. And I got in using a key.”
“A key?”
Warning bells go off in my mind. He’s acting like a stalker. I don’t like it, and I do. The latter confuses me.
“I took the key number when I installed the security equipment and had one made.”
“You can’t do that.” I close the door to the garage, making sure to lock it. “This is an invasion of my privacy.”
“Ask me to leave, and I will.”
I part my lips, but I can’t form the words. It’s wrong to let him stay. It’s unwise. Yet, I’ve never wanted something–or someone–more in my life.
He straightens, a small smile bringing out his dimple. “Shall I take that as an invitation?”
His tone is soft. Soothing. I can’t make myself throw him out. My body starts to buzz with something more than the side-effect of the pill. Excitement. Anticipation. A little bit of fear. It’s the good kind, the kind I discovered with Evan.
“You can’t come and go as you please,” I say in an effort to salvage what I can of my common sense.
“I’m careful.” He takes a few steps forward. “That’s why my truck is parked around the corner, and I knew Abby wouldn’t be here.”
After wiping his hands on the dishcloth, he hangs it neatly on the hook. I’m speechless, unable to formulate anything cognitive. My body is drawn to him like a vampire to blood. If I send him away, I’ll miss out on a night filled with endless possibilities. Who knows how long what we have will last? Can I throw away this chance for the sake of sane and wise?
I already know the answer before he’s leaning on the counter with his palms, studying me with his unique kind of unwavering attention, and so does he. As always with us, words fall to the wayside. I’m utterly and completely caught in his web. He can be a venomous spider, ready to devour his prey, or a praying mantis about to eat its mate. I’m entranced. Hypnotized. I can’t move from my spot by the door. While he’s at ease with the silence, happy to just stand there and watch me like I’m prey, I need to find something to say.
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