Breaking Spades

by W. Ferraro

  Before his mind could even process his feet’s actions, he was out of the truck and jogging up the steps to the security door. This could pose a problem. A petite blonde came down the stairs and without even asking, held the door for Jarod. God must like me tonight. Taking the stairs two at a time, his thigh protested, but he didn’t care. He reached apartment 221 and pounded on the door then placed his hands on each side of the doorframe.

  He could hear CeCe cursing on the other side, just as he could hear her grumbles when she looked through the peephole. She opened the door, and his mouth went dry. There she stood, in nothing but an obscenely short lime green silk robe that hardly covered the black lace bra she was wearing.

  “Gates, I should have known. What do you want?” She leaned against the door, crossing her arms and exposing even more of her fantastic cleavage. The obvious expression of annoyance at his presence only fueled his own that much more.

  “Oh sorry, am I bothering you, Kitten? I’m hired to find out who the creep is sending you flowers, and here you are, putting on a show for the entire town of Appleton!” Even he could hear his own voice echoing down the hall.

  She fisted his t-shirt and yanked as hard as she could, causing him to fall into her apartment. She slammed the door and turned on him. He didn’t think anyone’s face could get that red without actually exploding.

  “Who the fuck do you think you are, and what the fuck are you talking about?”

  “I’m talking about the fucking strip show you just put on for everyone within eye shot.” Emphasizing his remark, he pointed toward her bedroom, when he saw the flowers.

  “Where’d those come from?” He asked as he strolled over to the boxed arrangement and searched its contents.

  “There isn’t a card. There never is.”

  “How many of these have you gotten here before?” He whirled around to face her, as he felt his fury build.

  “Four, this one makes five.”

  “Dylan told me all the deliveries to your home were left between the doors in the security hall,” he crossed his arms over his chest, as he clutched his fists tight and tried to remain calm.

  “Well, that’s because that’s what I told him.” She explained further, with her chin lifted defiantly.

  “And lying about this shit seemed like a good idea to you, why?” he seethed. Of all the stupid things for her to do! How the hell was he supposed to do his job if she wasn’t honest? Looking at her standing there, in minimal clothes, with that look of absolute disgust on her face and all Jarod could think was why was it when she was annoyed she looked so damn sexy? His hands itched to touch her. He would need to see a dentist soon if he kept up grinding his teeth at this rate.

  “I asked you a question, Cees!”

  “Because I knew if Dylan had known the truth he would have gone off the deep end. And what do you know; you’re here, so I guess I was right.” Walking back to the door, she opened it and motioned with her other hand for him to exit.

  With ease he reached over her head and closed the door again, “I’m not leaving until you tell me everything!”

  She suddenly looked so drained, but yet still so beautiful. She belonged in the finer things, like silk, and with that little bit of sparkle at her neck, she looked like a Hollywood housewife, and that thought infuriated him more. She should be treasured and spoiled, free to enjoy life, not have to constantly look over her shoulder. She shouldn’t be dealing with this kind of shit. Any man that did this kind of thing wasn’t right in the head. Yeah, it was just flowers now, but too many cases had Jarod seen where this kind of thing quickly escalated to something more, something sinister, something that could harm her. Over my cold dead body! Repeatedly he had to stop his hand from reaching out to touch her cheek. Just to have some sort of physical contact with her. So she would know, truly know, he would not allow anything to happen to her. She didn’t deserve this; she was being coveted by this asshole. Well if that isn’t just irony. Pot, kettle; kettle, pot!

  In a meek voice, as if all the fight rushed out of her, “What do you want me to say? Derrick walked me to my door; the box was leaning against it.”

  “And the turd, Lowell, just said, oh well…my date’s got flowers from some creep, but I got my rocks off, so see ya?”

  He watched as her hazel eyes filled red with emotion, “Leave Derrick out of this! This has nothing to do with him.” CeCe walked past him into her living room, where she looked out the window into the dark summer night.

  Noticing she didn’t deny the ‘rocks off’ part, Jarod buried the unpleasant and internal rage the thought created and tried to move on. Knowing this couldn’t be easy for her, Jarod followed and stood behind her, fighting the temptation to reach out and have some sort of physical connection, “A guy that would leave like that, without even checking things out, is that really the kind of guy you want?” He held his breath against the possible answer.

  CeCe turned to face him, not realizing he was so close, her breasts grazed his chest and readiness rocketed through his body.

  CeCe’s vision remained downcast for multiple moments, before she turned her gaze upward, where it once again stalled at his lips. “Not that it is any of your business, but Derrick wanted to stay; hell, he insisted, but I told him I needed some space.” She swallowed hard, and finally raised her eyes until they connected with his. In a firmer, stronger voice, selling her own conviction to them both, “I was perfectly safe here. I promised him I would call the police.”

  “And did you?” he whispered.

  Her gaze never wavered, “I never said when I would call them.”

  He let out an ironic chuckle, before rubbing his hands over his face. “I don’t know who to be more pissed at, you for playing the stupid, coy, manipulating female, or Fucktard, for not realizing he has a set between his legs.” Trying to defuse the moment Jarod added, “Wait, he does have a pair, right?”

  “Still an asshole.” But this time, she could not keep the small smile from her lips.

  “Yeah, Kitten, but I’m your asshole.” Jarod’s own cocksure smile graced his face, and for once, he could appreciate and relish CeCe’s smile that was only for him.

  Breaking the visual connection, she took a step back and tried to get some physical space from the intensity and proximity of him. Cece walked around his towering form and headed to the door, “Okay so you know the story, now can you leave?”

  As much as he was enjoying the small amount of headway he was making in cracking her hard exterior toward him, he also could see the fatigue all over her face and in the lines of her fine body. Jarod knew he needed to give her a break.

  “Yeah, let me just check out the place, make sure there isn’t any boogeyman in the closet, and then I’ll head down to my truck.”

  “Don’t you mean home?” she asked, fingering the circle at her neck.

  Jarod let his eyes take in their fill again, perusing her body before he answered, “No, I mean down to my truck. I’m not going anywhere.” I’m here to stay, but you aren’t ready to hear that yet. “Look, it isn’t like it’s the first time I’ve slept in my truck and trust me, compared to some other places I’ve slept, my truck is like the Hilton.” The pain in his thigh screamed out at the mention of less than favorable memories. His hands flexed in reaction, but he refused to show her any weakness. He chose this moment to head to her bedroom and start his safety sweep.

  “That is ridiculous. Just go home,” she called out to him from where her feet were rooted by the door.

  “No can do, sistah!” he yelled back. She listened as he opened her closet doors, checked the spare room she used as a home office, as well as moved her shower curtain in the bath. He joined her a few minutes later, “All clear.”

  She stared at him while waging a decision making war in her mind. She did not look happy about the victor. “Now why did you have to be all nice and worried about me? You know, Gates, you are really screwing with my self-centered bitch beacon!” She turned away from his confuse
d face. A few moments later, he assumed when she felt she had control over herself, she turned back and said, “You can sleep here,” so softly, he thought he misheard her.

  Needing to know she was sure, as well as keep up the pretense he was a bastard, “Did CeCe Cervetti just invite me to spend the night? Now that’s what I’m talking about!”

  Letting out a huff, she pushed past him and disappeared down the hall, just to reappear moments later. She carried a pillow and blanket, “You are couch-bound, Slick!”

  Taking the bedding from her, he couldn’t help but goad her again, “Admit it, I make you feel all warm and fuzzy.”

  “Yeah, like an ugly Christmas sweater, but I won’t sleep knowing you are down there cramped in that shitbox you call a truck.”

  “I like my truck.” He answered, feigning outrage.

  She rolled her eyes, “Anyways…good night,” she turned walking back to her bedroom. When she reached the door, she stopped and turned to him, “And…thanks, Jarod.”

  Being sure his gaze never faltered he answered, “No need to thank me, Kitten, but I meant what I said, you really should draw the shades when you are in your bedroom.”

  “I like them open, it’s freeing.”

  “It’s asking for trouble.”

  “Dually noted. Well, anyways, thanks”

  “I’m just doing my job. Plus, it’s a gentleman thing.”

  “Gentleman? Who sees a gentleman? All I see is you,” she retorted.

  Enjoying the verbal sparring, Jarod placed his hand over his heart, simulating a direct hit, “You wound me.”

  All fun and airiness dropped from her face, “You’d have to have a heart to be hurt.”

  Jarod was afraid to consider what her words meant, and he hoped another jest would bring her back around, “In the last twenty-four hours you have accused me of having no heart and no dick, I can’t wait to see what you conclude I’m missing in the next twenty-four.”

  She answered by stepping into her room and closing the door.

  Well shit!

  CeCe woke to a strange sound. She listened in the darkness; just when she thought she imagined it, she heard it again. What is that? It sounds like a wounded animal. She got out of bed and walked to her window and looked out trying to see anything that could be making the noise. When nothing registered as out of the ordinary, she heard it again, but this time she was able to tell the cry wasn’t coming from outside; it was coming from her living room.

  She padded to the door, opened it and listened again. The yelp was now accompanied by mumbles. She moved down the hall, stopping when she reached the corner where the hall met the living room, remaining in the shadows. She could clearly see his large form on her couch. With the minimal amount of light coming through the window, she was able to tell he had taken off his shirt. The ridges of definition along his arms, chest and abs were captivating by themselves, but add in the provocativeness of the moonlight seeping through her blinds, and Jarod looked like the perfect cover model for one of those Mommy Porn Smut books.

  As if reacting to her silent thought, he called out in undistinguishable words before his body stretched out in the most grimacing of ways. CeCe had never seen anything like it; it looked like an electric current was stunning him. With his limbs curled inward and his head thrown back, there was no doubt he was experiencing physical pain, but then he woke, pulling himself out of whatever nightmare he was having. He sat up, thanks to his position his back was toward her, he looked around, cursing quietly before settling back down.

  CeCe tiptoed back down the hall and when she reached her bed, she decided this was his one free pass. Come morning, she needed to keep him at arm’s length. She couldn’t allow him to weave his way back into her life, in any form. If she gave him an inch, he would take a mile, and she just couldn’t go back to that vulnerable girl again. She hadn’t allowed anyone to alter her course, so why should the one man that made her choose it, be the one to implode it?

  The sound of the shower mixed with the smell of heavenly coffee roused Jarod. With a quick glance at his phone, he couldn’t believe the time. He very rarely sleeps this late, and 8AM is late for him, let alone the fact he very rarely sleeps. When he sleeps, he falls victim to the nightmares. The fact both occurred while he crashed on CeCe’s couch had him considering things that shouldn’t be considered.

  By the time she came out of the shower, hurried across the hall to her bedroom, and quickly closed the door, he had already folded the blankets and poured himself a cup of morning fuel. He walked to the closed door and lightly rapped his knuckles, “Mind if I take a quick shower?”

  “Go ahead. Towels are in the hall closet,” came back through the closed door.

  When Jarod closed the bathroom door behind him, he was surrounded by the smell of CeCe. The warm air, thick with moisture, filled the small space with the comforting aroma. A quick inspection of the room and cabinets confirmed another fact that Jarod had already concluded in the rest of her home—CeCe liked her space. There were no signs of any usual co-inhabitants, no male razors, shaving cream or even a toothbrush. The fact was not surprising to him, but still gave him a feeling of satisfaction. He stepped beneath the spray and enjoyed the knowledge this fact would not be a roadblock for his real intentions.

  Refreshed and alert, he pulled his jeans back on and exited the bathroom. CeCe was standing in the kitchen, rinsing out a coffee cup before she placed it in the dishwasher, then walked to the table and was rummaged in her bag.

  “Good morning, Kitten,” he said as he walked back to the sofa where his shirt, socks and boots were.

  “I’ve asked you repeatedly not to call me that. I know it is hard for you to be decent, other than what I’m sure are rare moments, but could you at least be courteous enough to abide by that one wish. It creeps me out.” She never looked towards him or up from looking for something in her handbag.

  That wasn’t the response he was expecting. He finished tying his boots, stood and walked to where she stood. He let his eyes take in their fill of her beautiful form. She wore a black and white second skin style dress. The three quarters sleeve showed off her choice of tropical colored bangles, which were echoed at her ears. The keyhole cutout at her breasts had a magnetic effect on his eyeballs. The skirt hit just above the knee, and her feet wore those kinky-fuckery ankle wrap shoes she wore the night Dylan reintroduced them. Her hair was pulled up in a classy ponytail and her makeup was flawless. She was armed with the weaponry that all women had: the ability to make a man lose his mind. When she still didn’t look in his direction he knew something was up. The question was what?

  “Looking for something?”

  The rummaging was now getting harsher as she snapped, “Obviously, Slick.”

  Guess all advancement from last night was gone.

  “Who put sand in your vagina?”

  “Excuse me?” she gawked at him.

  That got her attention.

  “I asked, who put sand in your vagina? Only reason I can come up with for why you’re being such a bitch.”

  She turned to face him, and he confirmed his thought from moments ago. Her arsenal was full, and ready to make mincemeat out of him. “You have some nerve. You are the one that accused me of being a whore for a nice meal, and I’m the one being a bitch?”

  Purposely, he dragged out his raking gaze from head to toe, stopping at her feet where he pointed, “If the fuck-me-shoe fits.”

  Forgetting her bag, she slowly and methodically took the four steps that separated them. She carefully placed her hand on his chest, and ran her fingertips down over his abs, further down past the buttons of his jeans, over the hidden zipper until she cradled his hidden member, all the while never breaking eye contact from him. When his nostrils flared waiting for her next move, she began to squeeze.

  “Take a good, long look at these shoes because as far as a fuck me invitation goes, this is as close as you will ever get to one.” She released him, turned on said heels, grabbed her
bag and walked out the door.

  That sounds like a challenge, and I just so happen to have time for a challenge in my life, Kitten. When I am done, the shoes won’t be the only things asking to be fucked.

  Today had been a revolving door, so to speak, at CeCe’s. Already today, Fucktard-Derrick had been by when she had opened to deliver coffee. His stay was longer than Jarod thought was necessary to deliver coffee, but given the look of disappointment on his face when he left, Jarod was willing to give him a pass on the time thing.

  Jarod had just gotten off the phone with a friend of his who was helping him with prints on the florist box, when there was a rap on his truck’s door.

  “Yo,” he answered to the two rent-a-cops trying to be authorities, that couldn’t be old enough to wipe their own asses.

  “We’ve received a call that you’ve been loitering, sir. What is your business here?” the one on the left asked, as he held onto his belt buckle, in more of a holding it up sense than one of intimidation.

  Jarod looked from one to the other and answered the only way he could, dryly, “Well, kid, my business is my business. I’m not breaking any laws. I am a sufficient distance away from the storefronts, and I’ve had no contact with any of the patrons. So thanks for swinging by and saying hi, but it’s time you go ride your Security Segways elsewhere.”

  “Sir, you are going to have to tell us your business, or you will leave us no choice but to escort you to our security office while we call the police.”

  “Well, as fun as that sounds, I think I’ll pass.”

  “Sir, you are leaving us no choice.”

  Jarod rubbed his hands over his face—it was too hot for this shit. He leaned over, pulled the glove compartment open pulling out his license. The action was obviously questionable to the guards, since they both grabbed for their radios. When Jarod straightened he said, “Now come on fellas, let’s not get itchy with those radios. No need for them.”