Pretty Dirty Trick

by Tabatha Kiss

  Nora looks down, her eyes heavy with thought. “You… you were going to steal from me?”

  “But I couldn’t go through with it.” I step forward. “Nora—”

  “Don’t come near me.”

  I stop. “Please, hear me out. Okay?”

  “Clive, a data breach of that level would have destroyed me. I would have lost everything.”

  “I know.”

  “So, what? You just didn’t care?”

  “I didn’t know you,” I say.

  “Okay, so thievery is excusable when you don’t actually know the person?”

  I exhale. “I was in a bad place, Nora. I wasn’t thinking straight. You know. You weren’t born into wealth, either. Imagine someone dangling a million dollars in front of you when you weren’t even sure where your next meal would come from.”

  “So, when I walked in on you in my office, that’s what you were really doing?” she asks. “Trying to rip off my client list?”

  “Yes.” My voice breaks. “But I couldn’t get it because you… you take it home with you.”

  “Oh, my god.” She touches her stomach and recoils in disgust.

  “Nora, I—”

  “You violated me.”

  A tear rolls down her cheek, stabbing me in the heart.

  “No,” I whisper. “No, my feelings for you are real, Nora.”

  “Bullshit.”

  “It’s true. I got close to you at first to try and find that list, but I backed out of it when I fell for you. That’s the truth.” I touch my chest. “This is real. Last night was real.”

  She shakes her head and looks at the floor as more tears fall. “You’re a liar,” she says. “A filthy, lying hypocrite. You made me feel awful about trying to help you and give you a better life, when all this time—”

  “I know. And I’m sorry.”

  “I trusted you. I gave you every part of me.”

  She sobs into her hands, barely holding together.

  “I had the chance, Nora,” I say, grasping at anything I can. “I could have gone through with it but I didn’t. I got to know you and trust you. And love you. I saw a life with you. I should have told you what was going on. I’ll own up to that.”

  She looks up. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

  “Honestly, I hoped I would never have to,” I say. “I hoped Alex would move on. I really never thought he’d—”

  Nora turns away and walks to the other end of the room to pick up her clothes. She moves quickly, keeping her back to me while she steps into her dress and drops her robe.

  I shift towards her. “Nora?”

  “Your services will no longer be needed at Little Black Book.”

  She takes a wide step around me and gathers her shoes.

  My chest tightens. “Nora, don’t do this.”

  “Any due wages will be deposited into your account within the next twenty-four hours.”

  Her voice sounds so cold and repressed, like she’s seconds away from screaming.

  I step in front of her as she heads for the door.

  “Nora, please.”

  “Do not attempt to re-enter the building or you will be escorted out by security. Any personal belongings left behind will be mailed to your home address, or… dumped on the sidewalk, in your case.”

  “Stay here with me just a little bit longer and we’ll talk this out.”

  “Clive…” She looks up at me, her face wet and utterly broken. “Stop.”

  It crushes me. One word from her mouth ends it in an instant.

  Nora grabs her purse from the shelf and throws the door open, leaving me behind to fend for my own bleeding heart.

  No. No, I can’t let her go like this.

  I rush out into the hallway as she steps onto the elevator.

  “Nora!”

  She looks up but she doesn’t move other than to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

  I pick up my pace, breaking into a sprint to try and beat the doors before they close. If I can get to her, I can beg. I can drop to my knees and plead for forgiveness.

  The doors close on me.

  “Shit.”

  I tap the call button, hoping to stop the car from falling but the mechanical whirl starts up and the elevator starts downward.

  I hit the stairwell and charge down the twenty flights to the ground floor. I’m tired and sick and out of breath but I can’t let her leave. I can’t let Nora Payne walk away from me for good.

  I reach the lobby and bolt toward the elevator. It dings in front of me and the doors open.

  “Nora—”

  It’s empty.

  My eyes fall to the floor and my pounding heart breaks all over again.

  The black leather choker with the small, white pearl.

  I step on and pick it up. She tossed it away and took off. She tossed us away.

  I’m not her Dom anymore.

  I scan the lobby for her but she’s gone.

  Thirty-Five

  Nora

  It hurts.

  I thought ditching him in another city would be satisfying. But it’s not.

  I thought pressing charges against the prick who invaded my home would feel like justice. But it doesn’t.

  I thought letting my guard down with someone for one goddamn hour a day would take the stress out of my life but it sure as shit didn’t work.

  This just fucking hurts.

  There’s a knock on my door. I don’t move from my chair.

  “Nora? Nora, honey. It’s us.”

  “Our keys don’t work anymore.”

  Trix and Melanie. I wasn’t very specific in my text message.

  Fuck Clive.

  I roll off the armchair and used tissues tumble off me. I wrap my blanket around my shoulders as I drag my feet to the door to open it.

  Trix holds two bottles of wine and Melanie carries pizza boxes.

  Melanie’s face twists with sympathy the moment she sees me. “Oh, honey…”

  “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  I turn away and march back to my chair.

  “Okay,” Trix says. “We won’t talk about it. We’ll just hang out. Okay? No talk necessary…”

  “Right,” Melanie adds. She sets the boxes down on the coffee table while Trix retreats to the kitchen for glasses. “Talking is for losers.”

  I yank out a fresh tissue and rest my head on the chair’s arm. “Thank you. ‘Cuz I don’t wanna talk.”

  Melanie sits on the loveseat across from me. “What do you wanna do, Nor?” she asks, her voice quiet and soothing.

  “Cry,” I answer.

  “Okay.” She looks down. “Looks like you’ve been doing a lot of that already.”

  “You are correct.”

  “Are you hungry?”

  “No.”

  She raises her hands. “Okay. We have pizza for when you are.” Her eyes flick to the wall beside me. “Nora…”

  “What?” I murmur.

  “Is that a shotgun?”

  I don’t look. “Yes.”

  “Why do you have a shotgun?”

  “Because this is my house.” I sniff. “I have to defend it.”

  “Good lord…” she whispers.

  Trix returns with three wineglasses and my corkscrew. She sits down next to Melanie, who promptly nudges her leg and points at the wall.

  Trix stands right back up. “Hey, Nora, honey… how about we put this someplace safer, okay?”

  I roll my eyes. “I wasn’t gonna use it, guys. It’s not loaded.”

  Trix picks up the gun and turns it over in her hands, expertly popping the stock open to confirm it’s not loaded. “Is this the one my dad gave you?” she asks.

  I nod. “For my housewarming party. He didn’t like the idea of me living alone on Michigan Avenue.” I scoff. “He was right.”

  She sets it on the mantel above the fireplace and sits down next to Melanie again.

  “Nora,” Melanie yanks the cork out of one of the bottles. “W
ouldn’t you be more comfortable upstairs? Instead of all curled up on the chair?”

  “No.” I sniff. “I can’t even look at the bed. It still smells like him…”

  “Clive?”

  “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  “Okay. Okay.” She picks up a glass. “No talking. Do you wanna maybe come over here with us?”

  I eye the couch. “No. He touched that, too. He touched everything except this chair so I’m going to sit in this chair because he never touched it.”

  Trix looks from me to the mantel. “He didn’t touch you, did he?”

  I sit up, kicking a few more tissues to the floor. “No,” I answer. They visibly sigh with relief. “No. He just tricked me into trusting him but I don’t wanna talk about it.”

  “Is that why you had your locks changed?” Melanie asks.

  “No, I had my locks changed because he broke them busting through my damn door while he and I were away last night.”

  “In New York?”

  I blow my nose. “He got arrested while he was telling me he loved me.”

  “Clive got arrested?”

  “No. He did.”

  Trix tilts her head. “Honey, you’re using a lot of pronouns here.”

  I point at them. “I know what you guys are doing. You came here with the booze and the food and the quiet, motherly voices to get me to talk but I don’t wanna.”

  “We just want to make sure you’re okay, Nor,” Melanie says. “That’s all.”

  “Well, I’m fine,” I say, my nose stuffed up. “Don’t I look fine?”

  “No,” Trix answers bluntly. “You don’t look fine. You look like something very bad happened to you and I wanna know what it was because Papa ‘Gento got more where that came from.” She points at the gun on the mantel.

  I bite my lip, tasting tears on it. “He was my Dom and I trusted him,” I say. “He made me feel so good and then…” A sob rises from my chest but I force it back down. “Clive got the job at Black Book to steal my client list.”

  Melanie’s eyes widen. “Did he?”

  I shake my head. “He said he couldn’t. He said he fell for me and he couldn’t go through with it but I can’t shake this awful sick feeling that he lied about that, too, but I want to trust him. My body wants him so badly. I want to forgive and forget because I love him.” The sob takes over. “And I know how stupid that sounds. I hear the thoughts in my head but it doesn’t sound like me. It doesn’t feel like me. It feels bruised and broken and the only thing that can make me feel whole again is the one person I can’t trust anymore.”

  They stand up quickly and move to either side of my chair.

  I crumble even more, dropping my head into my hands as their arms wrap around me. “And I…”

  “Shh,” Melanie says. “You don’t have to talk.”

  “Just cry,” Trix adds. “Crying is good.”

  “Well, I don’t wanna cry! I want…” I sniff loudly. “I want him, but…”

  Melanie pushes my hair back. “But what, honey?”

  I bite my lip. “I left him in New York.”

  They silently stare at each other for a moment. Melanie breaks first with a soft snort that quickly grows into a hard laugh. Trix cracks as well, slapping a hand over her mouth until her face turns red.

  I look at them and their hyena smiles, slowly letting the contagious laugh take me, too.

  Thirty-Six

  Clive

  If I ever find myself in a situation where I’m allowed to choose the fate of my worst enemy, spending twenty hours on a bus might be somewhere near the top of my list of punishments.

  Nora abandoned me in New York and I had to get back home to Chicago somehow. I don’t blame her, obviously. The punishment matches the crime.

  It gave me a chance to think. To plan what the hell I’ll do next. My life-saving, salaried position at Black Book isn’t an option anymore. I’m lucky if I still have my job at the gym after no-showing my shift yesterday. If word of this gets back to Judy, I might lose my job at Red Brick, too. There’s certainly an argument to be made for me mistreating my sub. Instant blacklist.

  So, it’s back to square one. Whatever that is.

  At least I still have my car.

  And a few extra dollars in my pocket so I can get a cup of coffee.

  The barista eyes me with suspicion. Either that or the scent of coffee beans doesn’t quite mask the stench of bus on my suit. I don’t really care, in the end.

  I sit down in a booth and watch the city rush by through the window for who knows how long.

  “Wow. You look like shit.”

  I look up to find a man standing over me in thick, black sunglasses and a leather jacket. He slides the glasses off with his non-bandaged hand and I recognize him as Nora’s friend’s ex-husband.

  “Thanks,” I mutter.

  “Robbie,” he reminds me.

  I nod, not really caring.

  He raises his drink — a large frappe with a hot pink straw sticking out the top — and takes a long sip. He swallows it down and stares at me for another awkward moment before nodding.

  “Sure, thanks. I’d love to sit down,” he says.

  He lowers onto the bench across from me.

  “No,” I say. “I’d like to be alone right now, if you don’t mind.”

  “I do mind, actually. I mind very much.”

  I exhale. “Why?”

  Robbie pockets his sunglasses and sits back, easing into a more comfortable position. “You’ve stumbled into a very interesting family here, Clyde.”

  “Clive,” I correct.

  “Yeah, whatever,” he says, shrugging. “I really don’t care. I care about Nora and when it comes to Nora, Trix, and Melanie, Clive, you are vastly unprepared for what you’ve signed up for.”

  I glance around. “Well, I don’t mean to interrupt this speech you’re clearly proud of, but Nora and I are over.”

  “No, you’re not. And here’s why.” He sits up and takes a quick sip from his pink straw. “What you’re experiencing right now is a phenomenon I like to call The Gray Zone.”

  I raise a brow. “The what?”

  “You woke up this morning, looked around, and the bright, colorful world you went to sleep in was gone,” he says. “The grass isn’t green. The sky isn’t blue. Everything is just drab and shitty. You have a job but — screw it — you called in sick. They’ll manage without you for one damn day. You’re in need of a shower but — fuck that. Why bother? You’re hungry but — whatever — you’re gonna die eventually anyway. Why not speed it along? Are you with me so far?”

  “… Yeah, sure.” I nod.

  He smiles. “The Gray Zone. Guys like you and me spend a lot of time here, so we learn really quickly the various ways to inject a little color into our lives; Drugs, sex, alcohol.” He raises his coffee. “Caffeine, or as I like to call it: All of the above.” He takes another long sip from his pink straw and admires the cup. “Damn, that’s good caramel.”

  “Look, Robbie, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but I’m no stranger to drab and shitty. All right? My life has had its fair share of ups and downs.”

  “You misunderstand,” he says, staring at me. “The Gray Zone isn’t for people who have fucked-up shit happen to them. That’s just The Real World. No, The Gray Zone is for people like us who bring it on themselves. You’re here because you fucked up and lost the girl. There is no one to blame but yourself. Now, luckily for you, you’ve got Big Brother Robbie here to tell you exactly what to do to win her back.”

  I laugh. “And what’s the catch?”

  “The catch?” His face screws up. “The catch is a lifetime of bliss. Take it or leave it, buddy.”

  “A lifetime of bliss?” I point at him. “I’m sorry, but aren’t you still hung up on your ex-wife who left your sorry ass?”

  “Hey…” He gestures at his face and grins. “Do I look sad to you?”

  I don’t answer. It’s rhetorical anyway.

&nbs
p; He relaxes his cheeks. “But yeah. To answer the question, plainly. I am. Melanie’s a work-in-progress. Do you have a slow-cooker, Clive?” he asks.

  I blink, caught off-guard. “No.”

  “She’s like that,” he says. “Mel’s standing in the middle of the pot. Heat’s turned on, slowly rising, just a little at a time so she won’t notice. Every once in a while, I drop in a new ingredient, mix it up, and walk away. Eventually, she’ll be ready. In the meantime, I’ll set the table.”

  “Is that what I have to do?” I ask. “Set the table?”

  “For Nora?” He laughs. “Oh, hell no. She’s not a slow-cooker. Nora Payne is the head table at a five-star restaurant with no prices on the menu and a celebrity chef. She’s got a reservation for two and you better show up on-time, dressed to the nines, with an empty stomach and a can-do attitude — or not at all.”

  “Sounds like more trouble than it’s worth,” I say.

  Robbie tilts his head in disbelief. “If that’s how you really feel, then that’s cool. I’ll just take my wisdom elsewhere…”

  He moves to stand up.

  “Wait.” I sigh at his smug expression. “Sit down.”

  His lips curl to one side and he lowers into the chair again. “Melanie needs to be coddled. And swooned. And surprised. But Nora…” He shakes his head. “Nora needs a challenge. She’s easily bored and more than a little paranoid. If things go too well for too long, she gets suspicious and starts to doubt. So, what you have to do is eliminate her need to doubt.”

  “How do I do that?” I ask.

  Robbie squints. “You show up to the damn restaurant, Clive.”

  I exhale in frustration. “Can we drop the cute food metaphors, please?”

  “Okay, then.” He leans forward. “Nora Payne needs someone she can depend on. Not for money, mind you. She already has more than enough means to survive but there’s a big difference between being alive and having a life.”

  “I get that, but…” I pause. “She trusted me. I betrayed her.”

  He smiles. “Sounds exactly like the kind of challenge she needs. If you do nothing, you’ll only prove every horrible thing she’s thought about you and you’ll become nothing but a footnote in her black book she’ll joke about with her friends at brunch. But if you do something and prove her just a little bit wrong, well…” He raises his brow. “You just have to be the guy who actually showed up.”