The Sordid Promise

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The Sordid Promise Page 3

by Courtney Lane


  As soon as I got up, she moved to follow me downstairs.

  From the window of the front door, I watched Estelle, who was accompanied by a male partner, as they both exited an Ashton Martin. They had a screaming match that almost reached her front door. She screamed out, “Preston, get out of here, before I sic Eric on you.”

  He turned, got back in his car, and sped off.

  She stormed inside the house and slammed the door.

  The dog followed me without a lead as I walked to Eric’s house. Beyond the door, I could hear Eric and Estelle in the throes of a heated argument. Eric seemed to be the most irate one in the tiff. It seemed odd, considering the way she behaved with, whom I presumed to be, her other boyfriend. I didn’t buy the roommate explanation. There was something between them, couldn’t figure out what it was, but it was deeper than a simple living arrangement—it almost read as cohabitation.

  I pressed the button for the doorbell and waited patiently. It took a while before someone answered the door.

  The mahogany door swung open to reveal a very inappropriately dressed Eric. He looked furious, but suddenly softened his expression when he saw that I was at the door. He leaned into the doorway with his hands holding the top of the doorframe, leaving the screen door between us.

  His black fleece pants sat very low on his waist. He was without a shirt. The manner in which he held the doorframe made the muscle definition in his arms and chest very taut. He had barely a patch of hair on his chest or torso. It served as a stark contrast against the stubble on his jawline and chin. Moisture lightly misted his skin, giving it a fine sheen.

  I couldn’t help myself. He was obviously without underwear underneath his pants, and his size was easy to see, because it was impossible to miss.

  He cleared his throat to call my attention back to his face. He cocked his head to the side with an antagonizing grin. In his way, pushing me to state my purpose.

  I threw my shoulders back and cleared the thickness from my throat. “Is this your dog? She was wandering the streets yesterday morning.”

  “See you every day in the park, since I moved here,” he started steely. “During my runs, I’ve tried many times to strike up a conversation with you. You ignored me, pretending your music was too loud. Guessing you do that often as your ‘don’t fuck with me’ defense. That’s been about a week now. Second week in, I actually get a chance to talk to you, and you rudely blow me off. I met you again—tried to be a gentleman—and you broke my uncle’s camera. The camera I gifted to my roommate. Today, you tried—no did embarrass me at my place of employment, and now you’re at my door? So tell me…what the fuck is it that you could possibly want?”

  Roommate? So, Janet was correct in what she told me. I felt slightly relieved, then upset that I cared at all. “You run?”

  He bit into the corner of his bottom lip and furrowed his brows at me. “Is that a fucking joke?”

  I shrugged. “How would I notice you? You’ve only been here a few days.”

  “Been here for two weeks. My furniture just came in a few days ago. I stated that before. Have you been listening to me, Nikki?”

  I shrugged. “I have tunnel vision and even that isn’t 20/20.” I adjusted my glasses for effect, even though I didn’t need them. They were my mother’s prescription from back in the eighties, and I just liked the style. I also liked the way they made things slightly blurry. But Eric…forced me to look at him from over the frames.

  “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he sneered, “or I would sue you.”

  I closed my eyes, so he couldn’t see me roll them. “Can you take your dog, please? You should be more careful about her. The neighbors may lose their patience and call the pound. I think she’s bored and needs training.”

  He brought his arms down and slipped them into his pockets. The motion brought the waistband down just a little further, exposing his groin muscle. The muscles in his biceps seemed to grow, showing more of the intricate detail of the tattoo that extended across his shoulder.

  I shifted my weight, hating how humid the weather suddenly became.

  “I’ll make a deal with you. Since I work so much, and my roommate is irresponsible, why don’t you take care of her every now and again? Must be…” His eyes fell low underneath his dense lashes. He gazed down at the area of his body that I couldn’t stop giving my full attention. “…lonely in that big house with just you.”

  “I’m too busy to take care of a dog,” I shot back frenetically.

  His eyes lifted at me as his cocky grin deepened. “Seems like you hardly, if ever, leave your house other than to see your mother. You’re definitely not too busy.”

  “You’ve been…watching me?”

  He shrugged in a flippant manner.

  “That’s very sinister. You’re not going to get me to invite you into my bedroom that way. Not that you ever had a chance.”

  That enduring grin, increased even more. “Look, I didn’t say I wanted to fuck you. But the way you keep mouthing off to me—” He stopped short, bit his tongue, and shook his head.

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “Continue.”

  “Would just make me something other than a gentleman.”

  “You were never a gentleman in the first place.”

  “Is that so?” He opened the screen door and moved down the step to meet me. His close contact made his familiar scent permeate my nose. “I was thinking—” His eyes wildly searched mine as his bottom lip disappeared between his teeth for a moment. “—I’d like to fuck that smart mouth of yours and make you swallow my cum.”

  I dropped my eye contact and my jaw. “C-can you please take your dog b-back?” My voice lightly wavered. What he said to me was just as unexpected as my reaction.

  “What?” His posture pressed forward, nearly pressing against me. His body temperature radiated a stifling heat. “You’re not going to slap me? Throw a snappy comeback? Nothing?” His lids fell lower, as did his tone. “Is that how you like it, Nikki? Do I have to be a shit-talking asshole to get your attention?”

  Every time he mentioned my name, he growled it in a sexually suggestive way. “T-take your dog,” I implored softly.

  “You owe me ten thousand dollars.”

  “Do you want that in cash...or check?” I asked.

  “You’re not serious.”

  “I’m very serious about clearing my debts.”

  He examined me for a few minutes of silence. “I’m having a low-key housewarming party on Saturday.”

  “Seems all you do is party.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with wanting to celebrate on my downtime.”

  “Only if it’s all the time.”

  “Which it’s not. Stop making statements like we’re best buds who’ve known each other forever. More to the point, watch that mouth around me.”

  I cleared my throat, hoping to regain control of the antagonistic tone he nearly succeeded in eliminating. “Are you going to invite me to this party? Because I don’t do social gatherings.”

  “Nikki. I get it. I know what you’re going through. The way you’re behaving isn’t going to serve you well. You can’t close yourself off from everyone. Janet told me that you have no other family or friends to be found anywhere. I’m trying to be friendly here. I really don’t want to continuously pull the asshole card to get you out of your bitch mode.”

  “Isn’t that a conflict of interest?”

  “Your mother isn’t my patient. I’m…doing her a favor.”

  “Whatever that means. The answer is no.”

  “I just shot out a number. The camera was worth more than that. How are you going to pay off a priceless debt?”

  “You overpaid.”

  “Are you always such a bitch? Or am I the lone recipient of this attitude?”

  “Are you always a cocky ingrate who answers the door to strangers half-dressed?”

  “I’m the ungrateful one?” he asked through an incredulous laughter. “Really, Nikki?” Slowly l
icking his lips, he stepped forward. His feverish form pressed against me as he looked down at me. “I see the way your eyes are glued to what I worked my ass off to achieve. See the way you’re drooling at the big gift between my legs, too. I know it doesn’t bother you. I think you’re only pissed that I’m not completely naked right now.” He added in a sexually charged drawl, “I know I’m making your pussy the wettest it’s ever been. Just wait. I’ll get you wetter than a banana in a women's prison.”

  “Oh…my…god,” I muttered into my chest. I sucked in a breath, as I felt suddenly deprived of adequate oxygen. “I-I’ll think about the get-together, if you take your dog and take better care of her.”

  “No, you won’t think about it. You’ll be here at six o’clock. Earlier, if you want to get to know me without my friends around.” A slow, mischievous smile spread across his face. “By the way, that isn’t my dog. It belongs to the guy across the street. To be honest, she would be better off with you. It was his wife’s dog. Since she left him—well, do what you want, Nikki.” He turned around and closed the door before I had a chance to rebuttal.

  I looked down at the dog. She gave me a sad look and tucked her tail.

  I rolled my eyes to the sky and headed home with the dog following close behind.

  Finished with the logo for a screen print company, I uploaded it to the client’s file share network, and began a project for another client. I looked down at my feet, contemplating the dog I didn’t own. I planned to keep her, unless the owner came looking for her. I leaned down, allowing my fingers to curl and wind in her short black mane as she snored. I went through names in my head and settled on Maisha, the word for “life” in Swahili.

  With my work for the day complete, I perused the internet and typed in the name Eric Brenton. I found his bio on a website for a hospital located in Ohio and a public profile on a social media site.

  Looking through his bio, I gathered that his parents were married for going on forty-five years. There weren’t any pictures of him with or without his family. Most of the pictures were of friends—female friends. From his social media profile, it was clear he was quite the social butterfly. The male to female ratio of followers was disproportionate. Given the tone of many of the correspondences with him and the pictures, I surmised that he was a manwhore.

  I looked back at the camera sitting on the dining room table. There was a camera shop in town that could possibly fix it. I still had time to get there before it closed.

  “Morning, Mom.” I felt a little better that she was awake this time. There was an additional line added to her free arm. An oxygen mask covered nearly half of her face.

  She gave me a faint smile. “Janet told me you blew it with a handsome young man.” She breathed out the words like it severely labored her to talk.

  “Did they up your meds?”

  “Don’t avoid my topic of discussion.”

  “He doesn’t like me,” I said quickly to make her move on.

  “My greatest regret? I’ll never be able to see you get married or have children.”

  “Maybe I can hire someone. We can have a wedding right here, and I can pretend like I’m really in love. We can steal a baby from the maternity ward and pretend it’s ours.”

  “That would work, if you hadn’t told me your plan.” Her hand moved, but it didn’t seem to go where she wanted it to go. I quickly slipped my hand in hers. “I want you to be happy, Nikki. Genuinely. Like I thought your father and I once were. Say whatever you would like, but we all need someone in our lives. Someone needs to bring some life into the houses I’m leaving you. Just imagine the winter vacations you’ll have with your husband and your children at the cabin in Aspen.”

  “I stole the neighbor’s dog. She brings quite a bit a life into the house. I can vacation with her. Think it’ll be fun,” I deadpanned.

  “Nikki, I’m serious. I want you to be happy.”

  I propped my elbows on her bed as I fingered her thin, feeble hand. She had no idea. It was so easy to want it. It was so easy to think I could have it. The things I needed in order to feel it; protected, loved, safe, and controlled. To have someone understand that pain breeds my pleasure. To have someone who knew about my darkness and didn’t see fault in it. It was better to be alone without those things, than to be with someone who couldn’t give them to me. Besides the fact, I didn’t have the energy or the mental strength to be in a relationship.

  “I never will be, Mom.”

  She strategically touched the thick leather bands that I wore on my wrists. She was doing it for a pointed reason, and as she did, her eyes began to water.

  My bottom lip quivered as I tried to fight back the emotion. “Please, don’t do that,” I quavered.

  “I’m so scared you’re going to do something to yourself when I’m gone,” she sobbed lightly. “Can’t you see why I would want a companion for you? Don’t sell a connection short. There is a perfect someone for everyone out there. Everyone.”

  “Medicine fixes me just enough to get me out of bed. What makes you think anything, or anyone could do and be the impossible? Would it be so bad if we were together in that big cloudy castle in the sky? Me. You. Dad. Together.”

  “These aren’t thoughts I want to have on my deathbed.” She removed her oxygen mask. “Don’t negate how well your mother knows you. No matter how twisted and damaged we are, there’s always someone out there who will love us as we are.” Her eyes erratically searched around the room as she grew disquiet. “I want to return to my home.”

  “You say that a lot,” I sighed, “but when I make plans, you change your mind.”

  “I didn’t want to be a burden to you. I need to access a wheelchair in order to find the handsome man you turned down and implore him to give you another chance.”

  “Mom,” I whined.

  “Promise, you’ll give him a shot? He seems like such a compatible match; good job, good teeth, and good looking amongst other things. Did he invite you to dinner?”

  “How did you know that?”

  “Janet, of course.”

  “Janet,” I mumbled, annoyed.

  “She was invited as well. If I must, I’ll tell her to drag you to his home.”

  “Okay,” I relented, throwing my arms up in the air. “I’ll go.”

  “I think he would be more open to chat about some of the things we’ve discussed, if you were nice to him. Let that be your motivation. Guilt.”

  “Nice to him?” I nearly croaked. Her words had a double meaning, reminding me of something we'd discussed months ago. In her way, she was telling me he was the one to do what we needed him to do. “Why? He has yet to do anything to warrant that. Besides, he said some pretty vulgar things to me.”

  “Gah!” She waved me off. “I’m sure it made your temperature rise.”

  “A little awkward, Mother,” I said sardonically. “Why are you so impatient with your disease? Why can’t nature do its thing? I’m starting to think you’re in a rush to leave me.”

  “Diouana, you haven’t the slightest idea. All I want to do is stay and be here for you in ways I failed to do for much too long. I allowed my career to become number one. My, how I regret that now. Unfortunately, nature is seeing fit to rip my body apart as she takes her precious time. Some pain is just too much to endure for too long.” She shot her eyes up at me. “So, yes, if you won’t do it for your wilting flower, do it for your dying mother.”

  I raised a brow. “Wilting…flower?”

  “You know how I abhor the word pussy,” she complained. “My childhood kitten Wiggles was a pussy. The life giving flower between my legs is not a pussy.”

  I chuckled a little, making her laugh weakly as well. “Okay. You guilted me. I’ll go to the idiotic dinner that I will probably hate and bitch about the whole time.”

  She put up a smile. “Make sure you look cute. Make him weep, like you know you can.”

  I dug deep inside the back of my closet—beyond the T-shirts and jeans to a time
period in which I use to care. I settled on a navy striped pencil skirt, chiffon spaghetti strapped blouse, and my t-strap brown stilettos. My makeup was done with bronzy hues and neutral glossed lips. I parted my hair off-center, added large curls, and gathered it to one shoulder.

  It was a quarter to five, but I hoped by being early, I could pretend to help him cook. In truth, I needed to speak to him before the crowd showed up, then leave before the get-together started.

  Before I could knock on the door, it swung open

  Eric immediately regarded me from head-to-toe and tried (unsuccessfully) to hide his smile. “You’re early. Guess you took my invitation to get to know me to heart. I knew I’d chip that ice somehow.” He was simply dressed in a pair of dark denims and a T-shirt, but still managed to look expensive and stylish all the same. The scent of his cologne whirled around my nose. That very scent made me delay until the very last minute to wash his sweater. I think I spent a good day, wearing his sweater around the house, so I could take in the fragrance every now and then.

  I took a bated breath. “I didn’t bring a dish. I didn’t know if I was supposed to. I think I read somewhere that I was supposed to bring a dessert. I didn't have time to get one. I can make something here—or not. Anyways….” I held up a medium sized box.

  He looked speculatively at the box. “What’s that about?”

  “Your camera—or your uncle’s camera. I fixed it.”

  His jaw dropped. “You’re kidding?” I shook my head. He took the box from me and opened it on the steps. As he clutched the camera, he checked out all the features, ensuring it worked properly. He moved to take a picture of me.

  “There’s no film.”

  “Can’t believe you fixed it,” he remarked with slight awe.

  “When I said I fixed it, I meant that I took it to a repair shop, who tried to fix it, but screwed up the shutter. I finished the job with some parts I had around the house. I’m just really good with mechanical things.” I fiddled awkwardly with my hands. “I’m really sorry about my behavior that night. I have a phobia of having my picture taken.”

 

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