The P.U.R.E.

by Claire Gillian

  “Knock yourself out. I’m going to take a shower.” Jon hovered behind me as I searched for a reverse lookup site. His hand pushed my hair away from my neck, and a pair of warm lips began nuzzling the sensitive skin. “Want to join me, little blonde girl?”

  The seductive whispers in my ear nearly undid me. Mmm, Jon naked in the shower was too tempting to resist.

  “Go get the water going, big bad wolf, and I’ll join you in a second.” As distracting as he was, I wanted to find Jeff’s address first. I found a site and typed in the number but got no results.

  “The number must be too new to be in the database yet,” Jon said. He hadn’t budged from his spot behind me. “Come on, Gayle.” The voice he used dripped with sexy innuendo and conjured erotic images.

  Damn, he revs me up far too easily. “Okay, but can I check my work email real quick while I’m here? Sandy Gomez said she’d contact me after my meeting, and your computer isn’t tapped.”

  He let out a growl. “Sure, but don’t take too long, or I’ll come back out here and shake like a dog all over you. I’d rather get you wet in the shower.” He turned, snickering and headed off to his bathroom.

  After he left, I found and launched my favorite browser. The program loaded fine and self-updated. Puzzled over Jon’s reluctance to let me use it, I studied the three tabs containing the last web pages he had viewed and saved. He’d probably lied because he didn’t want me to discover where he’d been surfing. I never could resist a secret, even though it made me a lousy girlfriend.

  The first tab displayed a car enthusiast’s web forum for which he was logged in as ‘Porsche_Lvr’. The second was a gun dealer’s website, and the third was a search engine listing for Henry Lindley. “Googling my brother were you, Jon? Why ever for?” I muttered to myself.

  A wolf howl rose from the vicinity of Jon’s bathroom. “Oh, Gayle …”

  I abandoned my plan to check my email. Somewhat troubled, I went to join him.

  • • •

  Jon’s shower curtain displayed a map of the world on a transparent background. My gaze riveted to the area somewhere around the eastern coast of Brazil before travelling north of Greenland to meet a salacious smirk.

  “Well hello, little blonde girl.” He wiggled a dripping wet brow at me. “If you join me inside here, I promise not to eat you up.” Water streamed down his body from the dark hair plastered to the sides of his head, over well-defined shoulder and chest muscles, down over his flat stomach.

  Heaven on legs.

  Farther south, when I inched to my right, a fully formed erection sprang forth. My big bad wolf had been expecting me. Oh my!

  We could talk about why he’d googled my brother later, when I could think of an excuse to explain my snooping. Probably nothing at all.

  “Oh my, Grandma, how did you get to be so … tall?” I kicked off my shoes one by one.

  “Must be from the little blonde girl I feasted on last night.” He’d pitched his voice to falsetto.

  I laughed and peeled off my socks. “You’re awfully hairy, Grandma.” My finger pointed to his chest, following the line bisecting his abdomen like an arrow to my libido’s desire.

  “The better to keep us both warm on chilly winter nights, my darling girl.”

  I unbuttoned my jeans and slid them off my hips and down my legs. Jon’s eyes tracked and devoured my every move. “Oh, Grandma, what big muscles you have.”

  “The better to hold you in my arms as soon as you get your slow poke ass in the shower, my dear.” His falsetto fell away, and a deep, throaty chuckle emerged—savage and predatory.

  I gasped, covering my mouth with theatric flourish, and pointed to his attentive parts. “Grandma! What’s that?” Off went my T-shirt.

  “Why Red, that’s just my way of saying how happy I am to see you! Come give Grandma a kiss.”

  My knees weakened. I unhooked my bra, tossed it to the side and slipped off my underwear. Only my watch to go, and I’d offer myself as a sacrifice. “But Grandma, they don’t call me Little Red Riding Hood for nothing.”

  Jon winked and reached for a plastic-wrapped package on the soap rack. “Get in,” he growled.

  • • •

  We emerged cleaner in both body and mind, having acted on most of our dirty thoughts by the time we ran out of hot water.

  After grabbing a couple of fast food tacos, we made our way to the office, where we’d sit tight until our target left.

  31

  At 7:45 p.m., Jeff pulled out of the parking garage, and Jon followed a few cars back. Jeff took Central instead of the tollway, which was a good sign he was headed to Richardson and not Addison. Traffic flowed like cooling lava, so we had no trouble sticking with him while remaining out of sight.

  Several miles later, Jeff exited.

  “Bingo!” Jon glanced my way, a smile on his face. “My parents live in Richardson, by the way. If we lose him, we can drop by and say hi.”

  I showed him my ‘you’ve got to be kidding’ face and said, “Please don’t lose him,” to which he burst out laughing.

  “Don’t worry. I haven’t told them about Thalia yet. It would probably be bad form to tell them she’s out and you’re in during the same visit.”

  “Ya think? I thought you said you and Thalia weren’t going to say anything until Thanksgiving.”

  “I don’t want to wait that long anymore. I want them to meet you sooner rather than later.”

  “I don’t think I’m quite ready yet, to be honest.”

  “Oh. Okay.” He sounded hurt, but the whole deal with my brother’s name being in his search engine still bothered me a little. That, and his lie to prevent me from using the browser he normally used. Other than being vocal about his feelings for me whenever we were in bed, and our foreplay conversations at his sister’s, he didn’t volunteer much of a personal nature unless pressed. The parents thing was an odd non sequitur.

  After a long silent stretch that underscored the awkwardness, he asked, “How about trying again with my sister?”

  “Sure. I can start with Jenny.”

  No matter what else happened with Jon’s and my relationship, I did want another chance with his sister. Jenny probably didn’t think much of me given the nature of our introduction. I cringed at the idea she might still think I was some bimbo Jon had been cheating on his fiancée with.

  “Good. I’ll set it up.” Jon’s hurt expression evaporated, replaced by a grin that reached his eyes. His mood improvement bumped mine up too.

  “I’ll be sure and dress more appropriately this time.”

  He laughed. “We both will.”

  Too late, I spotted Jeff making a turn as we passed. “Oh no! He went left into that gated community back there. Now what?”

  “Don’t worry, and watch the master.” Jon turned around, pulled up to the guard shack in front of the gate and stopped. “Hi, I’m here to visit Jeff Hardinger. He was having me follow him home, but I’ve lost sight of him. I’m sure he thinks I was in the car that just followed him in. Can you point me in the right direction to catch up to him again?”

  I leaned over, smiled broadly at the guard and gave him a fluttery wave.

  He smiled back at me and, after consulting his clipboard, said, “You bet. You’re going to want to take this next right, then the second left. One fourteen Greenshire. Even house numbers are on the south side of the street.” He addressed his remarks to me as if Jon were invisible.

  I arranged my face into an expression of utter delight. “Thanks so much, Roddy. You take it easy now. Don’t let any bad guys in, ’kay?”

  Roddy, according to his name badge anyway, chuckled and opened the gate for us.

  “Who’s the master now, Cripps?” I crowed.

  “You are, Lindley, you are.”

  We cruised past Jeff’s home first. He had parked his Range Rover in the driveway and was in the middle of collecting his mail. Thankfully, the route back to his house was in the opposite direction we were traveling
.

  Jon turned around on a side street and parked on the corner—a few houses down, but away from the streetlight. I jotted down Jeff’s address while we sat and waited for Bob.

  About fifteen minutes later, a silver Audi pulled into Jeff’s driveway and parked next to Jeff’s car. Bob got out and walked to the door empty-handed. Jeff answered, and the two men disappeared inside.

  “Now what?” Jon asked.

  “Let’s wait to see how long he stays or if they go somewhere.”

  “Okay,” he said, turning on the radio.

  It was in the middle of a sappy love song that was followed by another and another. I clicked it off because the whole haunted-car-Christine thing was beginning to creep me out a little. Plus, I didn’t need her playing matchmaker while we were on a stakeout.

  Jon snorted when the radio continued to play despite my having turned it off.

  “Now that is just wrong and manipulative, Christine,” I said.

  The music stopped.

  “Door’s opening,” Jon said.

  Bob emerged, a folder in hand, got in his car and left. We followed him.

  He headed south on Central expressway but skipped the exit that would have taken him home to Turtle Creek. He exited at Deep Ellum, just east of downtown, parked on the street and entered a bar.

  “Come on,” Jon said.

  “Really?” I was a little surprised he wanted to make such a bold move.

  “I know this bar, and there’s a side entrance near the restrooms we can use.”

  We slipped inside and moved near the barmaid’s pick-up station.

  Bob sat at a table in the front corner with a man I didn’t recognize.

  Jon took out his cell phone and, to my surprise, snapped a picture, though I doubted it would turn out due to the low lighting.

  We sat at the bar and ordered a beer to split. Bob’s table lay in a straight line from our location, but the bar traffic near us offered excellent cover.

  The two men chatted a few minutes before Bob pulled out a folder and slid it across the table. He pushed over an envelope, too.

  “What do you suppose they’re doing?” I asked Jon.

  Bob’s companion opened the envelope and flipped through the contents that appeared to be cash.

  “Transacting something.”

  “I wish I knew what was in the folder.”

  Bob got up and left through the front door, leaving his companion behind, still drinking his beer. Jon turned and looked at me. “Let’s stick with Bob’s buddy.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  ‘Buddy’ rose from his table and headed toward us. I seized my chance. “Play along,” I said to Jon.

  Sliding off the barstool, I threw the remains of someone’s drink in Jon’s face and yelled, “You son of a bitch! How dare you talk to me that way! You’re the lying cheat, not me!” I spun on my heel and staggered toward the ladies’ room, cutting off Buddy’s path. I fell into him as if I’d lost my balance.

  “Whoops!” I grabbed his arms to steady myself. “I’m so sorry.” I gazed up at him and smiled. “Hi. What’s your name? Never mind—better not tell me.” I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Jon understood his role.

  A split second later, he shoved the guy away from me. “Who the fuck are you? Git yer hands offa her!” He used a drunken voice, his Texas accent exaggerated.

  I moved over to Buddy, who stared, stunned. “I’m so sorry. He gets crazy jealous sometimes.”

  “Doug, what the hell’s your problem?” I yelled. I tried to smooth down Buddy’s jacket, feeling for where he’d stashed Bob’s folder.

  Jon moved in again. “You’re my fuckin’ problem, Tina! What are you lookin’ at, scumbag? I thought I told you to git away from ’er.” Jon pulled me to his side. He grabbed the man by the lapels and hauled his face inches from his own.

  “Dude, you got the wrong guy,” Buddy said. “Leave me out of whatever issue you got with your girlfriend.”

  Jon held Buddy up and sank a fist into the man’s belly, a much ballsier move than I would have expected from him.

  I ran over to help ease our mark down to the floor and out of sight from most of the patrons. I fussed at Jon in a low, hoarse voice, for the man’s benefit. “Doug! What are you doing? You asshole!” In a louder voice, I said, “Mister, are you okay? Here, lie down for a second while you catch your breath.” I flipped out the edges of his jacket.

  The folder stuck out from the side waistband of his pants. As I reached in to steal the papers, Jon bent over to help Buddy to his feet.

  “Hey dude, I’m sorry. I thought you was tryin’ to hit on my woman.” Jon smoothed down our mark’s coat. Buddy continued to cough and tried to catch his breath. “She really ain’t worth me goin’ all crazy over, but I cain’t help it sometimes. You ever love a woman so much like that?” he said, slurring.

  Jon had his arm around Buddy’s shoulders and led him toward the restrooms. I followed close enough to hear Jon say, “But if I ever catch you touchin’ her again, I’ll kill ya.” He slapped Buddy on the back and turned on me, bellowing, “Get yer bag, woman! We’re goin’ home! You caused too much trouble fer one night already.”

  I threw my arm about Jon’s waist and led him staggering out of the bar, cooing loudly enough for the other patrons to hear as we left. “You stupid son of a bitch. Why you get drunk and pull this shit every time we go out?” He gave my bottom a light smack and kissed my cheek, growling before we broke into a race for his car.

  “For the record, I detest the name Tina,” I said.

  “Well, I don’t appreciate Doug all that much. Skip the drink in the face next time too, if you please.”

  We burst out laughing as we zipped back north, toward home, to check out what we’d lifted from Bob’s companion.

  32

  Jon drove. I unfolded pages.

  The first was a profile of Marilyn Driver—her picture, address and phone number, the make, model and license number of her car, and where she worked—all itemized. Under her picture was a brief narrative outlining her physical description—five foot nine inches, brown hair, brown eyes, one hundred sixty pounds, thirty-five years old, corrective lenses, athletic build, tattoo of a crucifix on her right shoulder, right-handed.

  The next page was a list of places and people Marilyn apparently visited—Dallas YMCA downtown, the Tom Thumb on Greenville, girlfriend Alice Monroe and fiancé Tom Grabowsky and their addresses, auto makes and models, and even their employers’ addresses.

  Most chilling of all was the handwritten notation ‘November 14’. Two days away.

  “I think this is a contract for a hit on Marilyn.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “There’s a detailed physical description of her, a list of places she goes, the names and addresses of her girlfriend and fiancé. Did you know she had a fiancé?”

  “Actually, I did,” he said, his gaze fixed on the road. “She is gay like you thought, and so is he.”

  “Since when, and how did you know this?”

  He paused. “I’m guessing their whole lives.”

  “Ha ha. I meant, how did you find out, and why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Idle office gossip I overheard. Sorry.”

  “Gossip? Ugh, men! You confirm one of my theories, and you forget to mention it? We should warn her, don’t you think?”

  “What else is there? You’ve not mentioned enough for me to agree it’s a contract.”

  “Well, it’s not like I’m going to find a legal agreement spelling out all the terms and conditions, you know, just this bio of her with a picture, and the list of her friends and hangouts, coupled with a wad of cash handed over with the information. You don’t think all this adds up to a road map to find and take her out?”

  “I’ll read the pages when I drop you off at your apartment.”

  “Drop me off?”

  “Yeah. Listen, I’m sorry. I should have said something earlier, especially with it b
eing a Friday night and all. I promised Jenny I’d swing by to check out this odd noise in her car.”

  “At ten o’clock at night?”

  “She’s expecting me and is probably pissed I’m so late but not nearly as pissed as she’d be if I blew her off altogether. I, uh, sort of owe her one after the other night. I’m going to call her on my way over.” He glanced at me, but I stared out the front windshield, trying to bite back my disappointment. “I’m sorry, Gayle. I’d like to take you somewhere fancy tomorrow night, if you’re free, of course.”

  When had I become his mistress? “Oh. Sure. I’m sorry. I just showed up at your apartment after work uninvited. I guess I shouldn’t have assumed—”

  “You had every right to assume. I’m the one who screwed up. I don’t think I’ve asked you out on a real date yet, have I?”

  “I guess that depends on how you define a date. By traditional standards, no, but I’ve already slept with you, so I didn’t exactly set the bar too high, did I? Talk about easy.” I tried to laugh at myself, but the sounds came from a stranger, who, unlike me, wasn’t disappointed with herself or with Jon.

  “You’re anything but easy.” He patted my knee. The mixed message and friendly gesture made me that much more anxious about him—about us.

  Was he tired of me already? What happened between inviting me to meet his parents and ditching me to work on his sister’s car?

  I consoled myself with a plan to call Marilyn and warn her. At least Jon’s abandoning me made keeping her confidence easier. I shook off my misgivings. “I would like to read those copies I got from Jeff’s office. Could we get them from your apartment before you drop me off?”

  “No need. You still have your originals. I made my own set before I left your apartment this morning. I hope that was okay.”

  “Yeah, sure. No problem.”

  He exited the expressway. A few turns later, he pulled into my parking lot and stopped, the car still idling.