by Jo Willow
He was watching me closely as I spoke, hanging on every word I said. When I stopped, I leaned over and began to brush my teeth.
“No wonder you’re a writer. That was a perfect description of exactly how things need to be. I’m with you one hundred percent babe. Where do you want to sequester ourselves?”
I spit and rinsed and then patted my mouth with my towel.
“Does anyone have a key to this place?”
“Just you. No one else.”
“Then here. Melody and my folks have keys to mine and come and go as they please. No one can get to us here. It’s better if they decide to plan a siege.”
He laughed and looked at me.
“A siege? You think they’ll try to find us?”
“You think they won’t? I’ll bet you fifty bucks right now that I’ve got at least ten messages on my voice mail from people wondering what happened last night. By now, my family knows about the scene on the dance floor, and I’ll bet another fifty that there are photos floating around of the whole damned thing.”
He wrapped the towel around his waist and turned to go into the bedroom.
“Hamm isn’t that important Dor’.”
“Hamm’s not, but you are.”
That stopped him. He turned slowly and tilted his head.
“Explain.”
“Let me make it simple. Does this headline sound plausible to you? ‘Millionaire Bad Boy Stakes Claim’. Or how about, ‘Lone Wolf CEO Fights For Mate’.”
“That’s just tacky.”
“Oh I agree, but I think it could be worse. The press were there covering the event last night and they can be brutal when they smell a story. We need newspapers and I need clothes for the week. How do you want to handle it?”
He thought for a minute and I saw “Eureka” when it hit.
“I’ll go to your place and pack a bag for you. If Mel’s there, she won’t mess with me and I won’t tell her anything. You head out for the paper and groceries. If we’re staying here, we’ll need food. I think I’ve got a can of spaghetti and some beer.”
I followed him into the bedroom and slipped back into my pajamas to wait for my clothes.
“Spaghetti and beer?”
He pulled on fresh boxers and reached into the closet for a pair of jeans.
“What can I say? I like spaghetti and I like beer.”
“I’m in charge of meals Deacon.”
“See? My evil plan has more than one pay-off.”
He pulled a t-shirt over his head and we made the bed together before walking into the living room.
D-Day wasn’t planned as well as our mission. Every possibility was covered, every chance encounter was choreographed. In a fit of overkill, we even synchronized our watches. Deacon had loaned me a pair of running shorts that had a draw string, and one of his band t-shirts. I cinched the shorts tight so they’d stay up and slid into the only pair of flip flops he owned. Not ideal, certainly not fashionable, but for a run to the corner market, it would do nicely. My original plan was to wait until he returned with my clothes, but leaving together seemed to be the better option. Safety in numbers and all that. Plus, we’d spend less time apart and after all, that was the objective.
He gave me a solid kiss and ushered me out the door. We joined hands at the elevator and he turned to me when the doors opened on my floor.
“Trust me to dress you for seven days?”
“As long as you don’t return with nothing but thongs and stilettos, I’m good. Grab my purse too. It’s on the kitchen counter.”
He grinned and kissed me again. I could get used to that. No one had ever kissed me like Deacon. He stepped out and before the elevator doors could slide shut once again, he turned back.
“Get some real spaghetti and stuff to make meatballs. Okay?”
I put my thumb and index finger together signaling “okay” and smiled.
“I’ll make it for you tonight.”
His face was deadly serious.
“Woman, I love you.”
“Love you too Deke. Meet you back at the bunker in an hour.”
The doors closed on his dimpled grin.
Deacon had given me three-hundred in cash since my purse was still at my place. I had no idea how much food he thought we’d consume in a week, but I planned to stock up on everything.
Since I knew I couldn’t carry that many grocery bags back to his apartment, I grabbed the keys to his jeep. It might take several trips to get everything upstairs, but he could help me with that bit. I wasn’t worried.
While I was driving around the parking lot looking for a vacant space, something occurred to me. I was wearing flip flops, driving without a license or identification, in a vehicle I didn’t own. I could picture the mugshot and the expression on Deacon’s face when he had to come bail me out of jail. I cringed and persevered.
I was almost to the finish line. My shopping cart was overflowing and I briefly considered wine, but I remembered I didn’t have my license so I took a pass. I had a smug but determined look on my face as I maneuvered the cart toward the nearest check-out lane. That’s when my luck gave out and Deacon’s kicked in. I knew he was alone in my apartment and he had the easy job.
“Dorothy?”
My toes curled (and not in a good way). I recognized the voice and tried to remember the script that was floating away like tissue on a breeze.
I stopped and turned slowly, a pained half grin on my face.
“Hi Mel’. Fancy meeting you here.”
My sister scanned my clothing selection as only a fashion maven can do. She, of course, was impeccably dressed in designer jeans and a tailored summer blouse.
She sidled up close to me and looked around as if she were ashamed of being seen with me. Something about that bothered me so I stood up straighter. She leaned over and hissed in my general direction.
“What in the hell are you wearing?”
I looked down at myself and shrugged.
“Oh this? It’s from a new designer called House of Sloan. I kinda like it. It’s comfy.”
Melody was not amused.
“If you’re trying to be incognito, you’re succeeding.”
I moved up in line and turned back to her.
“Incognito? Why would I need to be incognito?”
She handed me a pair of sunglasses as if she was doing me a favor.
“You haven’t seen the papers?”
The papers. There they were, have hidden by the black plastic that was holding them them in place. I casually reached over and snagged one of each and placed all five of them into the basket.
“Not yet, why?”
“Oh my lord. If you haven’t seen the papers, then you haven’t been home.”
She narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice.
“Where did you sleep last night Dorothy?”
She looked just like my mother did when she used to to scold me. I almost recoiled, but then I remembered that I was twenty-six and didn’t have to answer to anyone. Especially my sister.
“I don’t like your tone Mel’. You don’t get to use it on me either. If you want to interrogate and criticize, have a baby.”
She blinked in response and leaned back, no doubt regrouping for the sneak attack.
It was my turn to check out and I began unloading the groceries. Mel’s eyes bugged out at the volume of food I was placing on the conveyor belt.
“What are you feeding, an army?”
I kept unloading as I answered her.
“I won’t be visible for the next week. Supplies were in order.”
“You won’t eat that much in a month. Who are you feeding?”
That was it, I’d had enough.
“Mel’, why don’t you come right out and ask what you really want to know? I’m not dressed for dancing and you’re doing my head in.”
“Did you spend the night with Deacon last night?”
At that the cashier’s head snapped up and she scrutinized me, looking for s
omething. Deacon Sloan was well known in these parts and if the shit in the papers was as bad as I’d imagined, she’d peg me in no time. I slipped on the sunglasses, suddenly feeling like a bug under a microscope. Did that clue my sister in? Of course not. She was onto something and she knew it.
“Answer the question. You told me to ask it, so answer it.”
I paid the cashier and thanked her, then began to wheel my cart towards the door. Melody was hot on my heels. When I approached Deacon’s jeep, her suspicions were confirmed.
“You DID sleep with Deacon!”
I turned on with my hands on my hips, the cargo door almost hitting me in the head.
“If you spent half as much time on YOUR love life as you do on mine, you’d be married with kids and a dog by now! We’re working on this Mel’ and we don’t need you or anyone else, butting in with an opinion. This is ours and we’re trying to keep it. Back off and leave us alone. Please.”
She looked crushed and I felt bad so I hugged her. She hugged me back, but I knew my words stung. She’d always been there for me and for me to shut her out now was inexcusable. I had to soften the blow.
I pulled back and sighed.
“Mel’, we’re spending a week in his apartment alone with no interruptions. We’ve got a lot of ground to break and a lot of talking to do. We’re both used to doing things separately and in our own way. Compromise is going to be tough if we want to keep this.”
“So you want to keep him?”
“Yeah Sis’. I do.”
She started helping me load the groceries into the back of the jeep.
“You must really love him. More than you loved Hamm even.”
“I think he’s the one.”
She stopped and looked at me, gauging my sincerity.
“OMG, you mean it. You’re about to get stupid over a guy!”
“Quit talking in text-speak, you know it makes me mental. And yes, I’ve probably already gone stupid over him.”
“Is he, you know, good?”
I knew what she meant and I was embarrassed to answer her.
“I wouldn’t know. We haven’t gotten that far yet and if I DID know, I wouldn’t tell you. It’s unseemly.”
“Unseemly? What are you Emily Post? I want the details. Wait a minute. You spent the night with him last night and you didn’t...”
“No, we didn’t. We’re not ready. We slept together and that was it. Now enough questions, I’ve got ice cream that’s melting and meatballs to make. I gotta run.”
I opened the driver’s side door and she touched my hand before I could close it.
“Keep in touch this week. I’ll worry if you don’t.”
I smiled because I loved my sister and it was times like this that I knew she loved me just as much.
“I will, but not a word to mom and dad. We’ll make an announcement if there’s one to be made.”
She made the sign of a zipper across her lips and I grinned.
“My lips are sealed. You both need to take a look at the papers though. Damage control is in order.”
“Shit. Gotta go. Later.”
She stepped back and I pulled away, dreading what I knew I’d find between the pages of the local rags.
Chapter Thirteen
Text between myself and Deacon:
Me: I’m in the garage with a buttload of groceries. Come down and help.
Deacon: Are there meatballs?
Me: I’ll make meatballs. There’s ice cream.
Deacon: And meatballs?
Me: You’re gonna think meatballs if you don’t get your ass down here.
Forty minutes and four trips later, plastic shopping bags littered the counters and the kitchen floor. Deacon looked at my procurement of half the grocery store and grinned.
“Tell me there’s booze in there somewhere.”
“I didn’t have my purse so I didn’t have my I.D.. Sorry, no booze.”
“I can take care of that.”
I began putting meat in the freezer, leaving out the ground beef, veal, and Italian sausage.
“You’re going out again?”
“Nope. I’ll have it delivered.”
I looked at him as if he’d offered to have the Statue of Liberty moved for my viewing pleasure.
“You can’t have alcohol delivered.”
“Oh yeah? What do I get if I prove you wrong?”
Cocky Deacon was almost as hot as possessive Deacon.
“What do you want?”
“Twenty minutes of complete control. You can’t stop me or say anything.”
Interesting. He wore a placid expression, giving nothing away. Well he gave one thing away. He wanted complete control. Like I said. Interesting.
“It’s a bet. But if they refuse, I get twenty minutes of asking you anything I want and you have to answer honestly.”
He looked far more uncomfortable with that idea than I did with his. Finally, he nodded in agreement.
“Deal.”
“Deacon, I have yet to find a liquor store that will deliver.”
Cocky Deacon picked up the phone.
“Then you’re not shopping in the right places. Watch and learn.”
He hit a contact button on his phone and I knew that I’d been hustled. He recited a list to the person that answered and I glanced around the kitchen wondering where we were gonna put all the food plus the added booze.
He hung up the phone and smirked.
“There. Done.”
I pointed at a bag of canned goods and spices and tilted my head towards the pantry. My hands were full of produce as I continued to stock the fridge.
“Are we having a party?”
“No smart ass, I’ve had an epiphany.”
“Is this where a choir of angels start singing Hallelujah?”
“Not that kind of epiphany, I’m talking about the useful kind.”
“Do tell.”
“We’ve got a lot of talking to do. If it gets heated, alcohol should make it easier.”
“Or we’ll get so drunk we’ll pass out and won’t remember what we discussed.”
“I’ve got that covered too. You’re gonna take notes.”
“Notes? We’re putting our relationship ground rules in writing?”
“Yep. We’re both gonna sign them too, and we’ll each receive a copy. That way if things get confused later on, we can refer back to our agreement.”
I put away the eggs and milk and closed the refrigerator door.
“Deacon, a relationship isn’t a business arrangement. There are no binding contracts in a normal relationship.”
“Not yet there aren’t, but until we get to that stage, I think we should improvise.”
“Improvise?”
“Yes. We’re both honorable people. If it’s written and signed, we’ll honor the agreement.”
He grinned a self-satisfied grin and tipped his nose slightly into the air.
“Ingenious. Right?”
“You seriously need a hobby. How long did it take you to come up with this?”
He finished with the canned goods and turned to me.
“I told you. I had an epiphany. When I have them, the dot com world trembles and my empire grows.”
“Sure Spartacus. Hand me the bacon.”
He passed me the bacon and whispered in my ear.
“Spartacus. I like that. We should name our first son that.”
I laughed and spun on him.
“Our FIRST son? How many do you think we’ll need?”
He nibbled my earlobe and growled when I shivered.
“I’m thinking four children. Two boys, two girls. We can loan one of each to each set of grandparents when we need a getaway.”
“You’ve clearly thought this out.”
“Clearly. My ability to see the future is uncanny babe. It’s made me the man I am today.”
“A man hiding out with his girlfriend in his own home so that his brothers can’t find him?”
“Th
at too.”
He kissed me quickly and we finished stashing the food. The buzzer rang and he reached for his wallet before turning back to me.
“You owe me twenty minutes wench. Get naked.”
My eyes almost popped out of my head and he was barking with laughter as he answered the doorman and went to greet the delivery guy. He came back followed by a young man with a two-wheeled dollie loaded with three cases of what I presumed was alcohol. I said nothing as they placed them all on the now empty kitchen counters. Deacon paid the man and thanked him as he and his dollie left the way they came.
I began pulling bottles of red and white wine from the first case.
“Deacon, are you a closet alcoholic? We’ll never drink this much!”
“Sure we will. We’ll just have to give it the old college try.”
“What in the hell did you order exactly?”
He pulled out two fancy bottles and grinned.
“Twelve bottles of wine, a case of imported beer, two bottles of Tequila, and ten bottles of their finest champagne.”
“Champagne? Why champagne?”
He slipped his arms around me and kissed me soundly.
“Because baby, by the end of the week we’re gonna have something to celebrate and we’re bringing everyone here to celebrate with us.”
I swallowed the softball that was lodged in my throat and studied his expression. He wasn’t kidding. His faith in our ability to work out our differences was humbling, and my own natural skepticism crumbled in it’s wake. We could do this. If for no other reason, we could do it because Deacon knew we could do it.
Once the liquor was put away, he collapsed on the sofa. I grabbed the newspapers from the counter and sat down beside him. He patted my thigh and left his hand resting there.
“Domestic bliss is exhausting. We should hire someone to do this.”
“Agreed. Can that be the first item in the agreement?”
“Done.”
He looked at my short stack of newsprint and furrowed his brow.