“Jayson, David—whatever your name is! Please!” I just couldn’t take anymore. I needed to process and I needed to be alone to do it.
“Christina, I know you. If I leave without trying to fix this, you’ll never let me back in.”
“You don’t need to get back in here, you need to get back to your wife... and Dina and Daisy, was it? Whatever, I cannot believe this.”
He looked at me, face all pitiful, like I should be concerned about making him feel better.
I looked at him, mad as hell, wondering how this happened to me . . . again.
Steven took the last box off the dolly and turned toward the door with understandable haste. I lived here, and I was ready to be somewhere else my damn self.
Jay / David reached for my hand, only for me to yank it back. He reached again, encircling my wrist and tightening enough to hurt. “Jay, that hurts.”
“Just listen to me for just one second.” Meeting his eyes at that moment, I realized that I had no idea who he really was, and that made me panic.
Hissing at him, I tugged again. “Let me go.”
He pulled me toward him roughly. “I just need you to listen.”
“Please stop, you’re scaring me and I want you to go.”
Steven stopped dead in his tracks on his way to the door. He let the cart handle clatter to the floor, turned, and stepped to Jay / David all in one fast motion. “Hey, man, I think you oughta do what the lady says and just go.”
Jay / David looked incredulous. I was a little stunned myself. But Steven took a no-nonsense posture. Chest out, legs planted firmly, slightly apart. Looking back and forth between them, I noted the contrasts. Where Jay / David was broad and thick, Steven was all taut lines and sleek muscles. Jay / David had about twenty-five more pounds on his frame, but Steven was about two inches taller. While Jay / David looked like he’d seen military combat, I’d lay odds Steven had seen street combat. Personally, in a dark alley, I wouldn’t have wanted to battle with either one of them. They stood staring each other down like Serengeti lions from an Animal Planet documentary. Too much testosterone in the room.
Jay / David’s nostrils flared and he snarled, “Punk, don’t make me—”
“What?” Steven asked, raising his chin and flexing one hand.
Yanking my wrist away, I stepped in between the men. “Fellas. Separate corners. Both of you can go.” With my back to Jay / David I mouthed the words to Steven: “Thank you.”
They moved apart from each other a step at a time. Jay / David picked up his keys from the table. Steven lifted the dolly handle off the floor where he’d left it.
“I’ll be back,” Jay / David said before storming out the back door.
Steven reached past me before handing me something. Looking down, I realized it was a Kleenex. I tilted my head and looked at him. “Why—”
“You’re crying.” His voice was soft and gentle. He exited my front door, closing it with a quiet click behind him.
Reaching up to touch my face, I realized it was true. I had tears streaming down my face and I hadn’t even known. “Thanks again,” I said belatedly to the empty room before sinking into my easy chair to cry in earnest.
DAFINA BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2012 by Michele Grant
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ISBN: 978-0-7582-7933-0
Pretty Boy Problems Page 22