What They Call Sin

by Philippa Grey-Gerou

  She had wept before, out of shame, out of hurt, but this was the first time she let the rage out. It filled her, red and swollen and angry, and she roared in fury even as she sobbed, a harsh, guttural gasping sound. Her hands clawed at the carpet, beat on her own body. She wanted to destroy the canvasses, wreak her vengeance on these two-dimensional representations of him, false, deceitful mockeries of his true face, surrogates for the real thing beyond her reach.

  His true face.

  Her cries slowly quieted as she stared at the images with new eyes. Art was a way to show truth, wasn't it? She rose slowly, never taking her eyes from the canvas as she crossed to the art carrel and took out a gum eraser and a pencil. She crouched in front of the angelic canvas and slowly, deliberately began erasing the face, redrawing it to fit her new image.

  She became obsessed with the work. Every day she spent hours in the studio until she was home as little as Gabriel. Days would go by with them spending no more than a few minutes in each other's company. When she finished the canvasses she had, she started new ones, pouring all her pain and rage into her artistry. But Rogue slowly stopped being the sole focus as she began dealing with her feelings about herself through the art as well. By the end of the day, she was emotionally wrung out and exhausted, often crashing in the studio for the night when she didn't have the energy to get home to sleep in her own bed.

  February started frigidly cold, the snow of three major storms iced over on the sidewalks to make walking treacherous. Another storm was due to begin after midnight, so Lindy pulled herself away from the studio early to make sure she could get home.

  The house was dark when the cab dropped her off. She let herself in, dropping her keys and purse negligently on the hall table, shrugging out of her coat to toss it over the back of the couch. Her shoes followed before she dragged herself up the stairs to bed.

  There were noises coming from the bedroom. Sounds of a struggle. Gabriel cried out.

  She raced down the hall to help him, flinging the door open as she threw on the lights.

  To reveal a lean, nude, tapered back topped by a long chestnut bob of hair sitting upright on the bed facing the headboard.

  Straddling Gabriel.

  With a squeal of surprise, the woman scrambled off to hide under the sheet, making Gabriel curse in surprise. “Dammit, Leah, that hurt!"

  "Oh my god."

  The woman hid behind Gabriel's back as he sat up. “Hey, baby. I didn't expect you home tonight."

  "Obviously.” Lindy felt sick, spurred on by his casualness.

  He looked puzzled. “What's the matter?"

  "What's the ... I just found you in bed with another woman!” She hesitated. “Leah? Leah York?"

  The woman moved out from behind Gabriel, resigned. “Hey, Lindy.” Neither of them looked at her. “Ooookay. Think I'll go get dressed, let you two talk.” She slipped out of the bed, indifferent to her nudity, and went into the bathroom, gathering up her clothes as she went.

  When the door shut, Gabriel finally replied. “I don't understand. I thought this was what you wanted."

  "What I wanted?” Her voice cracked with indignation. “Why would you think I would want to find you in our bed with that ... that bitch!"

  There was a muffled exclamation from the bathroom.

  "So the problem is Leah? I didn't know we had approval rights on each other's sex partners."

  "I didn't know we had partners! I thought we were the only two partners involved."

  "I just assumed when you started sleeping with Rogue that you were ready to move up to an open marriage."

  Lindy froze.

  "Frankly,” Gabriel continued, “when I gave Rogue permission to have sex with you, I was relieved. I thought you'd finally grown up enough to understand how marriage is supposed to work. Sharing the benefits without being tied down."

  "You knew I was sleeping with him? And you never said anything to me?"

  He shrugged. “Well, apparently neither did Rogue."

  "But you're my husband!"

  "So I shouldn't have to tell you, should I? Look, Lindy, you can't have it both ways. You can't whore yourself around and expect me to be waiting at home for you. I'm just a man, after all."

  It all became too much for her. With one last look, nauseated and heartbroken, she turned and left the room.

  "Lindy!” he called, but didn't try to follow her.

  She stepped back into her shoes, pulled on her coat and gathered up her purse and keys, closing the front door behind her without looking back.

  She dialed her cell phone mechanically. “Hey.” Her voice was wooden, dead. “I know it's late, but could one of you come pick me up? ... No, not at home. Where should I meet you? ... Okay. Thanks, Jade."

  She didn't notice the snow gently falling all around her.

  Chapter 40

  Rogue had been back in London for a week.

  One long, interminable week. Each day an eternity and each one its own hell.

  The soot-choked London of Dickens had never been completely cleaned away, and the invisible haze coated his throat and dulled his hair. New York was a city of opportunities, of chances. London was more about the status quo, of things that never changed. Generations, centuries and nothing changed.

  Just the place for him.

  He walked along the Thames on his lunch break, desperate to work off the nervous energy that built up whenever he sat behind a desk. Working gave him too much time to think, and the only thing he thought about was her.

  Of course, he thought about her when he walked as well. But if he was walking, he didn't have to keep jumping up to pace.

  He wondered if she had gone back to New York yet. And what Gabriel had told her. Had she confessed? Had he confronted her? Was she all right? All questions he would never have the answers to.

  She didn't want anything to do with him. She had made that abundantly clear. And he had to respect that. After everything he'd taken from her, all the pain he had caused, the least he could do was honor her wishes and leave her alone.

  But thoughts of her never left him alone, and he didn't want them to. The small photo album went into his pocket every morning as automatically as his wallet. And her sweater lived beneath his pillow.

  Diana must have packed it among his things when they checked him out of his hotel room. Rogue had left all of Lindy's clothes to be taken to the lost and found by the cleaning staff. Diana must have found the blue sweater on the floor and put it in his bag, thinking it was his. It still smelled of her, floral and spice and a hint of turpentine mingled with her natural essence. He went to sleep touching it every night, the soft cashmere reminiscent of her velvety skin against his hand.

  He had gone back to work as soon as he got back, hoping it would distract him from thoughts of her. But she was too much a part of him, and work just made him miss her companionship, the stories of his day filling him up and choking him with no one to share them with.

  But as he trudged back to the main entrance of the McDaniels Polk and Marks facility, he realized that this was all he had left.

  Jess handed him several pink phone slips when he came back in. “Boss wants to see you."

  "Trouble?"

  She shrugged her slight shoulders.

  He handed her back the messages and dropped his overcoat over her divider. “Best go see what he wants."

  The door was standing open, so Rogue stuck his head in as he knocked. “You wanted to see me?"

  "Come on in, Rogue. Shut the door.” The tall, spare black man rose from his chair and came around to lean on the front of the desk. “Have a seat."

  Kevin Farmer was the head of the International division of McDaniels Polk and Marks in the UK. He got that way by being fast, smart and sharp. Rogue respected the man. He always played it straight, and did his best to be upfront and aboveboard. Rogue didn't like him, but he respected him.

  Rogue unbuttoned his suit coat and sat. “What's up?"

  "I had a phone call f
rom New York today. Henry Masters. He wanted to bring me up to speed on how things went on the joint project. I was very surprised by some of his comments."

  Rogue didn't say anything.

  "He said your work was exemplary,” Kevin continued. “Which I wasn't surprised to hear. You've always been one of my best attorneys. But he added how surprised he was at the quality, considering how spotty your attendance was for the last month of the project. You never miss work, Rogue. So what's the story?"

  Rogue shrugged. “I had personal business."

  "Which is fine, but you have to arrange it. But you didn't talk to anyone. Not your supervisor, not your partner, not your team, not even your assistant."

  "Wasn't their business."

  "And we could have overlooked this, thanks to the quality of your work, if you hadn't beaten the crap out of Masters’ golden boy. In the office. In front of the whole staff."

  Rogue's fists clenched. “Bastard had it coming."

  "Look, we all know Stevens is the biggest prick in the firm,” Kevin said soothingly, “but you can't just take him out like that. You know better."

  "I wasn't the only one there.” Rogue gingerly touched the sickly yellow and green bruise still lingering high on his cheekbone.

  "So you're going to tell me he threw the first punch?"

  "No."

  Kevin sighed. “Masters wanted your head. But I think I've salvaged the situation. I'm going to put a severe reprimand in your employment file, and you are going to apologize to Stevens. With any luck..."

  "No,” Rogue interrupted flatly.

  "No?” Kevin was surprised.

  "I won't apologize to that wanker."

  "Rogue, you understand that if you don't, it'll cost you your job. You're up for a partnership next year, and you should get it, even with this reprimand. I don't want to be the one who has to sack you..."

  "Let me save you the trouble then, mate.” Rogue rose smoothly out of the chair. “I quit. There's nothing you could possibly offer or threaten to make me apologize to that son of a bitch. I'm just sorry I didn't put him in hospital."

  "Rogue..."

  He turned and left the office, stopping by Jess’ desk to grab his coat. “Could you get me a box, pet? Gotta pack up."

  He didn't have much that was his. A handful of books. Some files. He threw a disk in the computer and downloaded his personal mail and files.

  Jess came in, two white bankers’ boxes in hand and a look of concern on her face. “You're quitting?"

  "Only choice, luv. Thanks.” He took the boxes.

  "But why?"

  He laughed at himself derisively. “For the honor of a lady."

  "Is she worth it?"

  He stopped. A vision of Lindy, happy and laughing, swam before him, and he closed his eyes to savor it. “Oh, yes."

  Jess started loading books into one of the boxes. “So what are you going to do now?"

  He picked through the contents of the desk. “Don't know. Find a job that doesn't make me snip off a piece of my soul with every assignment."

  Jess turned to him, sad amusement in her dark eyes. “Rogue, you're a lawyer. You don't have a soul."

  He turned and met her gaze. “Well, maybe it's time I got one."

  Chapter 41

  Warm arms enfolded her as she slept.

  With a soft smile, she burrowed deeper under the covers, snuggling back against the strong, hard body spooned up behind her. She was overwhelmed by a sense of contentment and comfort. The small niggling voice trying to tell her this was wrong was smothered beneath thick waves of satisfaction. Anything that felt this good had to be right.

  "Lindy.” His distinctive voice hummed in her ear, drawing a soft sigh from her.

  And he poked her.

  It took her a moment to realize that it wasn't the familiar prod of his insistent cock, trying to tease some attention from her. This was a sharp, hard poke in her shoulder.

  "Aun’ Lindy."

  His voice changed, rising up to a young soprano that Rogue could never manage.

  The poke came again.

  "Aun’ Lindy, you awake?"

  She pried one eye open to see a tiny little body sitting next to her, shaggy brown hair falling in his face, dressed in Pokemon pajamas with two fingers poised to nudge her again. “No more poking,” she grumbled, her voice still thick with sleep as she reached up to catch his hand and drag it down to a less threatening position. “Morning, Dylan."

  "Morning, Aun’ Lindy. Breakfast?"

  She rolled onto her back and stretched, glancing at the clock. Six forty-three. He'd let her sleep in this morning. “Yeah, baby. Let Aunt Lindy get dressed and I'll make you some cereal."

  "Pancakes?” he asked hopefully.

  "No way, Jose. You want something cooked, you have to ask Mommy."

  He thought about it for a minute. “Cereal's okay."

  She kissed him on the head and gave him a light swat on the behind to get him moving along out of the guest room.

  It only took her a few minutes to get dressed. She'd been staying with Jade and Dan for a week now. Instead of going back to the house, she had simply bought new things, nothing fancy. A couple pairs of slacks, some blouses, a nightshirt. Plain white underwear. But today was moving day. She was excited and scared in equal measure.

  Cereal attained, she settled on the couch with Dylan to watch his favorite video. She's seen it at least twice a day since she'd gotten there, but it was amusing, so she didn't feel fed up with it yet.

  It's a new day,

  Everybody sing

  It's a new day,

  Who knows what it will bring?

  Who knows what it will bring?

  Everybody sing

  It's a new day!

  "So, today's the day, huh?"

  Lindy looked up in surprise to see Jade standing in the doorway, echoing the song's sentiment. She got up off the couch, bowl in hand, and followed her friend into the kitchen.

  "Thanks for starting the coffee,” Jade said, pulling the carafe off the coffee maker. “I'm sorry Dylan keeps getting you up. Normally Dan is his favorite target, but you're new."

  "It's all right,” Lindy replied as Jade filled two mugs. “The least I can do is play buffer, considering you guys took me in in the middle of the night."

  "It really wasn't a problem.” She pushed one mug over to Lindy. “Are you ready for today?"

  Lindy sighed, toying with the cup. “I don't know. But it's for the best, isn't it? I can't be the kind of wife he wanted me to be. We'll both be ... happier apart."

  Jade scowled and looked like she wanted to respond, but held her tongue. “So, what's the schedule for today?"

  "Well, Gabriel usually leaves the house by eight thirty, so by nine thirty the coast should be clear. It shouldn't take more than two or three hours to pack up, so we'll be back to the studio by early afternoon."

  Jade dropped bagel halves in the toaster. “Why don't you give me the studio keys? I can head down there after I drop Dylan off at the sitter's and get started on things there."

  "I really appreciate both of you taking time off from work to help me. I don't know how I can ever repay you."

  "Oh, I'm sure there will be lots of babysitting involved."

  She smiled. “Well, I'm in need of a new man in my life. Dylan's as good as any of them.” Lindy took a sip of coffee and winced. “At least he hasn't learned how to lie yet."

  * * * *

  She unlocked the door to the brownstone and pushed it open hesitantly, listening for any sound.

  Dan nudged her gently. “Alarm code?"

  "Oh, right.” She stepped into the hallway and tapped the seven-digit code into the security pad. All the lights switched to green.

  Still she hesitated.

  "Don't worry,” Dan encouraged her, a warm hand on her shoulder. “He won't do anything around me. I'm a client."

  She took a deep calming breath. “You're right. Let's do this."

  Dan brought bo
xes in from the van, and slowly they began emptying the house of anything that was hers. A box of books. Some Asian sculptures that had been a gift from her mother. Her grandmother's silver. A photo album of their trips. She might be leaving him, but she had to believe they had been happy once.

  It didn't take long for them to gather up everything from the first floor that she wanted. The bedroom was next.

  "I'm not going to have enough room for everything in the studio,” she said, looking around the room critically. “Why don't you pack up the dresser, and I'll pick and choose through the stuff in the closet.” She hesitated. “You okay with packing my underwear?"

  He smiled in gentle amusement. “I'm sure it's more tasteful than what most of my clients wear onstage."

  She didn't quite smirk. “You might be surprised."

  "Then I won't look,” he deadpanned.

  She stood in front of the long rack of clothes, uncertain what to take. Slacks and blouses mostly. A couple of dresses. Two suits. The black crepe for formal wear, should she ever have the opportunity again. She didn't care about the hats. Would three purses be enough?

  She had just started sorting through the shoes when she heard Dan call her from the other room. “Do you want to take this?"

  The bottom drawer of the dresser was open, and he held in his hands the red and black silk box.

  She took it from him silently, all the memories flooding back. It felt full, heavy with remembrances despite having little more than five books and a couple of scraps of paper in it. The weight of nostalgia gave it heft.

  What surprised her was that it didn't feel like a burden anymore.

  "Yeah. I definitely want to keep this."

  * * * *

  They dragged the first load upstairs when they got back to the studio.

  "Is it sad that my entire life fits into six boxes and three suitcases?” she asked as they finally mounted the last landing.

  He shrugged. “Leaves you more room for the new stuff."

  Her arms full of box, she kicked the door for Jade to open. A moment later the door swung wide and Jade greeted her with an excited smile. She took the box and moved aside. “Welcome home, Lindy!"