by Allie Gail
“I’m sure they’ll let you make it up later. Won’t they?”
Another pause. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“Good. Now go take a nap or something. Relax. Don’t make me have to come over there and steal your car battery. ’Cause I’ll do it.”
She chokes on a croupy sound that could either be a cough or a laugh. “Fine. God, you’re so bossy.”
“Take care of yourself. If you need anything, give me a call.”
“’Kay.”
“Do you need anything?”
“No, thanks. I think I’m good.”
“Then why are you still talking to me? Take your sick ass on up to bed. Scoot.”
“You’re the one that’s still talking,” she points out.
“I’m hanging up now. Go to bed.”
“I’m going.”
“Right now.”
“I said I’m going!” Silence ensues for a moment. Then, “You’re still there, aren’t you?”
“Why aren’t you asleep yet?”
“Because some people don’t know how to end a conversation! Let me show you how it’s done. Are you ready? Bye, Felicia!” This time she does end the call, and I’m left standing there with the phone in my hand, staring out the window at Charlie as he trots across my front lawn, stopping just long enough to lift a leg and takes a piss on one of my car tires.
I swear to Christ, that dog knows exactly what he’s doing.
And who the hell is Felicia?
It’s Wednesday evening before I see Leah again. Apparently she took my advice and stayed home yesterday, but today her car has been gone all day long so she must have recuperated enough to go to work.
Dragging my attention away from the HTML I’m customizing for Vikki’s Victorian Boutique, I lean forward and peer out the window as the sunny yellow VW pulls into the driveway next door. I smile as Leah pops out, a McDonald’s cup in one hand and a bag of food in the other.
Yep. She’s made a miraculous recovery, all right.
Barely two minutes pass before my phone buzzes and vibrates its way across the desk. I’m absurdly pleased when I pick it up and see that it’s her.
“Bellamy’s Porn Palace, what’s your pleasure?”
“Yeah. Hey. Are you busy?” Her voice is no longer gravelly, but it’s definitely all business. Like she has no time to waste.
“Not doing anything that can’t wait. Whatcha need?”
“Can you come over here for a minute?”
A thousand dirty thoughts run through my head, settling heavily in my crotch. Even though I know it can’t possibly be that. Can it? Nah…she’s probably got a plumbing issue or locked her keys in her car or something.
“When? Now?”
“Yes, right now. Please.”
“Okay. I’ll be right over.”
“Um…you might want to hurry.”
What the hell is going on over there? Jumping up, I shove my feet into a pair of sneakers and sprint across the yard to her back door, where I let myself in without bothering to knock.
“Leah?”
“In here.”
I follow the sound of her voice into the kitchen, where she’s standing in front of the sink in a strangely frozen position, a peculiar look on her face. Dressed in a dark skirt and satiny beige blouse, her hair pulled back into a French braid, she looks stunningly beautiful but also oddly formal. I’m not a fan of her demure work outfits. I much prefer seeing her in shorts and t-shirts. Or little white bikinis.
“What’s wrong?”
“That!” Wrinkling her nose, she points to a spot underneath the kitchen table.
I look down to see what all the fuss is about, and instantly spot the eight-legged source of her alarm. “You called me over here to get rid of a spider?”
Without taking her eyes off it, she nods her head. “That’s not just any spider. I think he musta hijacked his way here from the Congo. Look how big he is!”
I can’t help but grin facetiously. “If you’ve got a problem with big, sweetheart, then you’ve probably called the wrong person.”
“If you don’t do something, I’m going to have to move! I mean it. I cannot live in this house knowing that thing is on the loose.”
“Got a touch of arachnophobia, do we?”
“No! I don’t mind spiders. As long as they’re not giant mutant spiders like this one.”
“He is a pretty big fellow,” I admit, inspecting it more closely. Then, because I can’t resist teasing her a bit, I ask, “Where’s Charlie? Are you sure it didn’t already eat him?”
“Charlie is upstairs, hiding under the bed. He doesn’t like bugs.”
“Technically, it’s not a bug.”
“I don’t care if it’s a dinosaur brought back from stasis! Are you going to get rid of it or not?”
Shrugging, I lift a foot and prepare to stomp the offending creature.
“WAIT!” Leah shrieks, startling me so that I almost lose my balance.
“What?” I snap, annoyed.
“What are you doing? I didn’t want you to kill it!”
Is she fucking kidding me right now? I place my foot back down on the floor and quietly gather my patience. “What did you want me to do with it? Take it to a homeless shelter?”
“Set him loose out back in the woods.”
“Set him – what do I look like, capture and release? Do you want me to tag him, too?”
Planting her hands on her hips, she looks at me like I’m mentally defective. “Just because it’s all hideous and disgusting and has way too many legs doesn’t mean it deserves to die horribly!”
“You can’t be serious.”
She flutters a hand. “I don’t want that thing in my house, but I’m okay if he wants to go live in a tree or something. As long as he promises not to come back.”
“How, exactly, are you going to get him to promise that? Should we have him sign an agreement? Get it notarized so it’s legal?”
“Oh, he can understand us.” Scowling, she bends forward and glares sternly at the spider. “Now listen. We’re going to relocate you to a nice new home, but I have to warn you that if I catch you back in here we’re going to have to take drastic measures. And you won’t like it. So you be good and stay outside from now on. Deal?”
Is she sincere or is she screwing with me? I honestly can’t tell. “You know, this would be a lot easier if you’d just let me step on him.”
“How would you like it if someone squashed you with a giant shoe?”
I’m not even sure how to answer a question like that. “Well, what do you want me to pick him up with?”
“I don’t know. If we had a rope, you could lasso him,” she giggles.
“Do you have a jar or an empty container you don’t use?”
Still keeping a suspicious eye on the intruder, she reaches above her head into a cabinet and retrieves a glass jar. “Here. Will this work?”
“Perfect.” Leafing through a stack of mail on the counter, I pull out what appears to be a sales flyer. “Mind if I borrow this?”
“Be my guest.”
“Here.” Unscrewing the jar’s lid, I hand it back to her. “Hold this and give it to me when I tell you to.”
“Be careful. He might be poisonous.”
“I’m pretty sure he’s not poisonous.”
“Ha! Famous last words. Should we etch that on your tombstone?”
Rolling my eyes, I crouch down and gingerly use the flyer to nudge the stubborn spider into the jar. He seems reluctant to move. I guess he was content where he was, or maybe he’s as scared as Leah. “All right, let’s close him up.”
“He’ll suffocate,” she protests, passing me the lid.
“He won’t be in there long enough to run out of air,” I assure her, straightening. And then, for no discernable reason other than I’m a man and no male in the history of the world has ever figured out how to grow up, I deliberately drop the lid on the floor and pretend to panic. “Oh shit, he got out! Run for you
r life!”
The scream that escapes her as she streaks out of the kitchen is undoubtedly heard by everyone on this street. My ears are literally ringing. Doubled over with laughter, I screw the lid on the jar and follow her into the living room to find her standing on the couch, wide-eyed.
“THAT’S NOT FUNNY!” she yells in a screechy voice.
“Sorry,” I snicker, making my way closer to her. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Get that thing away from me!” She looks poised to leap over the back of the sofa and make a break for it. To add to the hilarity of the situation, Charlie is barking his head off from the top of the stairs. He seems to have no intention of budging from that spot, no matter what happens. Amazing – I’ve never seen a dog who is afraid of spiders. That’s a new one on me.
“I’m going, I’m going. Don’t have a conniption.” Still grinning, I head for the French doors that lead outside.
“Put him way out in the woods,” she instructs. “Far enough so he doesn’t come back.”
Incredibly, though I’m only gone for a few minutes, when I return I find her calmly watching TV and munching on french fries. Charlie has ventured downstairs and is seated beside her on the couch, patiently waiting for her to share her food.
“Well. I see someone’s feeling better.”
“Yup.” She smiles brightly. “Much better. Thanks for taking care of Charlotte.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Charlotte?”
“I figured that was the best name for her.”
“I thought it was a he.” She kept referring to it as him, after all.
“Well, I couldn’t think of any good names for a boy spider. So I’m just going to assume it was a girl. Either way, I don’t think it matters. Did she like her new home?”
This chick is certifiable. She’s nuts. I’m convinced. “I don’t know. I didn’t take the time to ask.”
“What did you do with the jar?”
“I threw it in the trash. Why? You didn’t want it back, did you?”
“God, no!” She shudders at the very idea. “It’s full of spider germs now.”
Spider germs?
“Want a french fry?” she asks while offering one to Charlie. He takes it politely from her hand, careful not to nip her fingers. “They’re still warm.”
“No, thanks.”
“You know, some women crave chocolate when it’s that time of the month,” she informs me cheerfully. “Personally, I always want something salty.”
I can’t help but wonder if that’s her subtle way of letting me know that there is no chance in hell of my chivalry being rewarded with a little hokey-pokey.
“Oh, crap!” she blurts, suddenly springing to her feet. “I forgot. I have to run across the street and catch Midge before she leaves for her yoga class.”
“Why do you have to catch Midge?” Actually, I think a more appropriate question would be, why am I even asking? I’m sure whatever her reasons are, they’re bound to involve something flighty and completely irrational.
“I was going to ask her if she’d keep Charlie this weekend. I have to go out of town.”
Oh. Well, that’s not so odd. What is odd is how disappointed I am to learn that she won’t be around over the weekend.
Apparently misinterpreting my blank look, she explains, “I’m going to Tennessee to see my brother and preggo sister-in-law. Normally I’d just take him with me, but I’m riding with my dad and stepmom, so…”
“You could leave him with me,” I suggest impulsively.
She blinks at me, surprised. “I didn’t think you were a dog person.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t have a problem with dogs. I love dogs.”
“Um. Since when?”
“Why would you think I don’t like dogs?”
Pursing her lips, she hitches her shoulders and then glances over at Charlie. “Well, he does seem to like you.”
“Of course he does. What’s not to like? I’m a great guy. Just ask Charlotte, she’ll vouch for me.”
This elicits a laugh from her. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I’m leaving Friday after work and I won’t be back until Sunday night. He shouldn’t be any trouble…”
“Of course he won’t be any trouble. He’s a dog, not an infant with colic.”
“True. Well, if it’s okay with you, I’ll bring him over Friday around twelve-thirty. If you’re really sure you don’t mind.”
“I’m sure.”
“Cool.” Kicking off her heels, she reclaims her place on the sofa and pops another fry in her mouth before handing one to Charlie. “So how are you feeling? I’m still afraid you’re going to wind up catching what I had.”
“I’m healthy as a horse,” I reassure her. Ah…interesting. From where I’m standing I can see straight down her blouse. At the moment I’m being treated to a picturesque view of lilac lace and rounded cleavage. Maybe her office clothes aren’t so drab, after all.
“Let me tell you – whatever that doctor gave me was amazing. I started feeling better last night and this morning my throat hardly hurt at all. I feel perfectly fine now. That stuff worked fast.”
“Uh-huh. Fast. Fast is good.”
“You sure you don’t want some? Mm, these are perfect. I hate it when they overcook ’em. These are just right, nice and soft.”
“Right. Absolutely.” Nice and soft. That they are.
She looks up then, and I snap my attention back to her face but not before she notices me ogling her.
“Just so you know…” Licking the salt off her fingers one by one, she eyes me with amusement. “…it’s a push-up bra. Trust me, there’s not an awful lot to see there.”
Au contraire.
Suppressing a smile, I leisurely kneel down to her level and rest my arms across her knees. “You’re forgetting something, Lady Godiva,” I murmur softly. “I’ve already had the pleasure of seeing what you have to offer. So don’t bother selling yourself short on my account. You know it won’t work. One way or another – now it may not be today, or tomorrow, or even before the seasons change – but mark my words, kitten. At some point, you and I…well, we both know where this is going to end up. Now don’t we?”
She stares back at me in rapt fascination, her eyes locked on mine. “You’re awfully sure of that, aren’t you?”
“Tell me I’m wrong.”
“You’re wrong.”
Her feeble denial is laughable, but I manage to keep a straight face in spite of it. “And you…you’re a liar.”
“Oh really? What makes you think I’m lying?”
“Three nights ago you were practically begging me to fuck you.”
“I was not!” she protests indignantly.
“No?”
“No! I never–”
“Your eyes.” With one thumb, I trace a gentle path across her brow and down the side of her face. “Your eyes were begging me to fuck you. Your hands. Your body. Your tongue. Deny it if you want to, but you know what was about to happen. What would’ve happened if I hadn’t stopped it.”
“How do you know I wouldn’t have stopped it?”
“Considering you were the one who started it, I doubt very much your foot was anywhere near the brake.”
She bites her bottom lip, still staring at me uncertainly. “Haven’t you ever heard that it’s a woman’s prerogative to change her mind?”
“You know as well as I do, woman, that your mind is already made up. As far as I’m concerned, this is a done deal. It’s only a question of timing.” Catching her wrist in my hand, I suck her middle finger into my mouth and taste it. “Mm. You know, I think you’re right. Salty is definitely the way to go.”
“Like I said…I crave it,” she breathes huskily.
“I bet you do.”
“There’s only one problem.”
“And what would that be?”
“Too much salt is supposed to give you high blood pressure.”
Touché, my dear. But that isn't the only thing t
hat gets my blood pumping.
Smiling, I give her a benign pat on the knee before straightening. “Moderation, kitten. There’s a time and a place for everything.”
“So moderation’s the key, is it?” She returns my smile, and there’s little doubt in my mind that she’s thinking the same thing I am. Moderation, my ass. I know good and well that once we cross that line, there will be no satisfying me.
“In some things,” I amend, scratching Charlie’s head before turning to head out.
She seems surprised that I’m leaving. “Don’t you wanna stick around for a while? We could go for a bike ride or a walk or something. It's really nice out today. Not too hot.”
“Some other time. I promised a client I’d have her website up and running by this weekend. I better get back to it or I’ll never finish in time.” I'm also aching to release this pent-up tension. Again. Why is it every time I walk away from here it’s with a raging boner? “Besides, you should rest up. You may be feeling better, but there's no way you're completely recovered yet.”
Leah shoots me a guilty look. “Oh. Sorry...I didn’t realize I was taking you away from your work.”
“Hey, it's no problem at all.” I hesitate at the door, reluctant to leave. I’d love nothing more than to stay and hang out with her, but I can’t really spare the time to goof off right now. Vikki was referred to me by one of my preferred clients and it wouldn't be the brightest career move to disappoint either of them. “Don’t forget to take your antibiotic.”
“Took it this morning.”
“Then don’t forget to take it tomorrow.”
“Yes, doctor.” Smiling complacently, she pulls the rubber band loose from her braid and casually shakes her hair free.
As for me, I get the hell out of there before I have a chance to change my mind.
Chapter Thirteen
We all have our bad habits. Some people bite their fingernails; others find they can’t carry on a conversation without swearing like a sailor. I once knew this old lady who had an obsession with amassing the most worthless items you could imagine. Stuff nobody would ever use, like bread ties and broken rubber bands and those little plastic measuring cups that come on top of medicine bottles. Not to mention a drawer full of mayonnaise lids. She didn’t save the jars – just the lids. After she passed away, I was really angry at myself for never asking her about that. Because now I will never know why she saved all those lids, and it drives me crazy every time I think about it!