Getting Tricky

by Scarlett Finn

  Twisting toward her, Trick bent over and touched his mouth to hers. “Come home,” he murmured and eased back a couple of inches to scrutinize her response to his request.

  “I want to,” she whispered.

  “Come back to my bed,” he said. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  His next kiss was softer, longer, and made a tear slip from her eye. But she kept them closed as his hand slipped out of hers. She didn’t want to watch him go. Couldn’t watch him leave her.

  This was just a glimpse of how he must have felt when he got back to his apartment and found the note on his fridge from her saying she was going back to her place. It must have seemed to him that she’d given up on them. She hadn’t. She just needed him to be hers… she didn’t want them to belong to the world.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Trick ordered another drink.

  Well, he had his answer.

  Lyla wasn’t coming.

  With both arms folded on the bar, he leaned over it waiting for the bartender to come back with the bottle he’d ordered. If there was ever a reason to get blitzed, being dumped by his wife was it.

  But he couldn’t blame her, not after the way the show had been cut on Wednesday. Turned out his fears were justified. The studio had cut the team-building break to look like Lyla was the jealous one, and Kira was the seductive goddess. So when they made it look like he and his ex had got it on in the forest, he couldn’t really blame Lyla for wanting rid of him.

  He actually hated himself for loving her so much. If he could just get her out of his system, she’d be so much better off without him. All along he’d known that she deserved more. But in that canteen when he’d given her the invitation to the party, he’d really expected her to come back to him.

  Seeing that tear on her cheek had made him want to hit something.

  Hard.

  The only reason he hadn’t harassed her every day after she moved back to her place was because he thought it was her choice to leave him. Because she’d figured out what he knew all along, she was a goddess who deserved more than he could give her.

  She’d said she was lost without him.

  Yet, here he was, eight days later, standing at the bar, at his own birthday party…

  Alone.

  Folks came over to pat his back and shake his hand, but he didn’t want to engage with anyone. Doing only what he had to, he dismissed them and turned his back as soon as he could. He’d told Green and Tate that he was going for a slash, that was ten minutes ago. He intended to go back to the top table and he would… soon. He’d turn it on… after a few more shots.

  “I’m not giving you your present until Sunday.”

  Turning to look over his shoulder, he was pissed off to see Sadie sliding onto a stool beside him. For some reason, his friend reminded him of Lyla. He didn’t blame them for what had happened, didn’t blame anyone, except Bunyan.

  “There’s a whole table of presents somewhere,” he said. “I don’t care about presents.”

  The blonde at the end of the bar made eye contact with him and he smiled. Maybe that was how he would get over his wife, and he’d give her a reason to hate him at the same time and then they’d all be happy.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Sadie said, snatching his chin to haul his gaze away from the blonde. “No. You hear me? No.”

  “What?” he asked, fixating on the blonde again. “Can’t do any harm.”

  “It can do a lot of harm and you know it. You’re not that guy anymore. Geez, Trick, it’s been, what? Four years? Five? Since you screwed anything with a pretty smile and nice tits.”

  “She has great tits,” he said, turning around to lean on one elbow as he winked at the blonde who looked away on a giggle. “Yep, I’m in.”

  “You’re always in,” Sadie said and put a hand on his chest to slide it up to his face in what was far too intimate a gesture for a friend to use.

  “What the hell?” he asked, grabbing her hand and tossing it away.

  Sadie grinned. “If you can’t handle me doing that, how are you going to handle that sucking your dick?” she asked, nodding backwards at the woman she hadn’t even looked at. Elevating her chin, Sadie leaned closer. “Are her tits nicer than Lyla’s?”

  Scowling, he twisted to drop both forearms back to the bar as he sought out the bartender. “Why did you do that? You ruined it.”

  But that was exactly what his friend wanted to do. “Why? Because thinking about Lyla activates your conscience?”

  “I’m always thinking about Lyla,” he muttered.

  “And that should tell you something.”

  Looking up and down the bar, he was searching for the bartender he’d ordered with. “Where is my drink?”

  Sadie took a big breath. “It’s not coming.”

  Flipping around, he got more pissed at the woman who couldn’t pull off innocent. “What the hell?”

  “I don’t want you getting drunk tonight,” Sadie said.

  “It’s my birthday, I’m allowed to get drunk…” He glanced up to see the blonde still watching him. “And laid.”

  “It’s not your birthday until Sunday,” Sadie said. “Hence what I said about my gift to you. However…”

  She made a show of opening her purse and pulling out a small gift-wrapped box to place it on the bar. With a finger on the top of it, she pushed it toward him.

  Why would she say she wasn’t giving him a gift and then put a gift on the bar? “What is that?” he asked.

  “It’s a keychain,” Sadie said.

  He hadn’t actually expected her to tell him what it was. “Why do I need a keychain from you?”

  “It’s not from me.”

  “Then how do you know what’s in it?”

  “Because Lyla wanted to know if it was too cheesy… I think she was worried that you might make fun of her. I told her it was sweet and if you didn’t think so then you didn’t deserve her.”

  Letting his eyes fall to the small black box with its gold bow, he was curious, but sort of afraid too. “She gave you a gift to give to me, but she didn’t show up?”

  Sadie shifted in her seat, twisting her crossed legs toward the bar as she took her eyes away from him. “Well, she was supposed to give it to you herself. But… she couldn’t be here. I said I would pass it on. Open it.”

  He didn’t want to. But if he made a big deal of it then he would draw attention to his crappy mood. Pulling off the lid, Trick tried to huff like this was just inconvenient. It was a keychain, he saw it as he unwrapped the black tissue folded over the top, it was a heavy one, in the shape of a key, the top was a heart with words inscribed. “Nairn, the key to my heart belongs to you” it read on the front and when he turned it over the words were larger. “Always, your love, Malloy.”

  Curling his fingers around the token, he clenched his teeth. “Damn,” he hissed.

  When he noticed the blonde at the end of the bar still checking him out, he dropped his gaze and bowed his head. Had he really thought about touching any other woman? Being honest with himself, Trick had to admit that acting like he was thinking about it didn’t mean he’d ever have let his feet move.

  Sadie put a hand on his arm and got closer. “Her faith in you hasn’t wavered,” she murmured. “Every interview, they push her, they ask if she thinks you’re cheating. Every time she smiles. She smiles, Trick, like they’re making a joke. Last time they asked she said there wasn’t an atom in her body that could believe for a nanosecond that you’d even think about being with another woman. She loves you. Don’t forget that when peppy little blondes are making eyes at you thinking about their five minutes in the limelight.”

  Sadie spun her stool away, and was about to leave when he lunged around to grab her arm. “Then, where is she?” he asked. “We could be together, right now. I told her to come back to me and she hasn’t even called me.” When her eyes dropped again, he got worried. “Say?”

  “I’m not allowed to tell you,” Sadie said.


  “She told you not to tell me?” he asked, his mind racing with ideas.

  Where could she be that he couldn’t know? Could she be with another guy? If she was, why would she give him this key?

  “Not her,” Sadie said. “The studio.”

  Tightening his fist around the key, Trick felt the need to break something, preferably Bunyan’s face. “I don’t give a crap about the studio!”

  “Shh,” she said, closing the last of the space between them. “Her dad died.”

  Panic and worry slapped him hard. “What?”

  “She got a call on Sunday night. Her dad was rushed to hospital with chest pain. They kept him overnight, said it was fine and let him out. Lyla stayed with her parents, and thank God she did… on Wednesday he dropped dead, right there in the kitchen, right in front of her… She did CPR for twenty minutes until the paramedics showed up… but he was gone.”

  Trick didn’t even think; he had to get to her now. Except Sadie grabbed him. “You can’t go to her,” she said. “The only reason the studio are keeping this quiet and giving her a break is because of this, your birthday. Haven’t you noticed that they’ve been all over you with events this week?”

  He had, and he hadn’t liked it, but he didn’t mind if it took pressure from Lyla who struggled with being the center of attention. “Sadie,” he said, “I told her this was for real… I love her. I don’t give a damn about the show or the studio. My wife is in pain. Where should I be?”

  The whole thing felt shallow. It always had felt frivolous, but now he felt like a prize prick. He was standing here at a party while the woman he loved was going through one of the most traumatic things she’d ever endure. That didn’t scream “real” relationship.

  Sadie’s hand fell from his arm and she stepped back. “I’ll text you her parents address… I’ll cover as long as I can.”

  “Thank you,” he mouthed, backing away from her and taking his fist to his chest.

  Everything in his world made sense as he paced out of that hotel ballroom.

  Everything.

  He ignored every person who tried to come near him and kept his focus on one thing.

  His wife.

  She needed him and they’d been apart for too long.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Lyla dried her hands and hung the towel over the long handle of the oven. The kitchen was at the back of her parents’ house. She walked past the breakfast table, under the large arch, and into the living room where her aunt was sitting on the couch.

  “Go on up to bed, Auntie Ann,” she said, watching how the woman struggled to keep her eyes open.

  “No, it’s fine. I have to read these,” Ann said.

  It was almost impossible to believe that there was so much paperwork involved after someone passed away. But it wasn’t right that her aunt was trying to be so strong when this had to be difficult for her.

  A knock on the front door made Lyla exhale.

  Damn.

  It was late.

  She didn’t want the kids to be woken up. Ann turned to look over the back of the couch, probably thinking the same thing, but Lyla smiled. “It’s ok, I’ve got it.”

  People had been coming all day, yesterday too. Her father had been a popular guy in the neighborhood because he was always helping someone out. Now the family had so much food that there was nowhere left to store it. The freezer was full. They’d never have to make another dinner again. If there was just one more casserole—

  Lyla opened the front door and her thoughts halted when she saw Trick there, on her parents’ porch. Her hand shot to the left to immediately turned off the porch light that was above him.

  Going outside, she pulled the door closed behind herself. “Trick,” she whispered. “What are you doing here?”

  “Sadie told me.”

  Her heart sank. “Oh,” she sighed. “You weren’t supposed to find out.” Trying to see around him, she wondered how he’d got here. “Thank you for coming, but the cameras—my mom—”

  “It’s just me, baby,” he said, taking her hand. “Just me. For real.”

  How she’d needed him. How she’d missed him. But she’d deliberately done her best to hold her tears inside, and couldn’t let them come now. “Like I said, thank you for coming.” His tender smile fell. As soon as she said it, she’d wanted to take it back. “That was cold,” she whispered and sagged. Her eyes dropped. “Oh, God, Nairn, I don’t know what I’m doing… what am I doing?”

  “You’re doing what you always do. You’re putting everyone else first and trying to keep it together,” he said.

  When his hand moved onto her face, she closed her eyes and turned her cheek against it. “God, I’ve needed you so much.”

  “You’ll never be without me again,” he said.

  When her eyes opened a tear fell, but he smiled, a small but real expression of his devotion to her. “Promise me something. Promise me anything,” she said, in need of an anchor, or at least a glimmer of hope. “You said you never make promises that you won’t keep. Make me a promise, Nairn. Right now, make me a promise that you’ll never ever break.”

  “I promise that I love you,” he said and opened her hand to press it against his chest. “And I promise that this will always belong to you.”

  She wanted to believe him, wanted to fall into his arms and let him hold her because in his arms, her world would make sense again. But Lyla shook her head and took a backward step. “No, you have to be at your party. Your birthday. Your friends… the studio and Bunyan—”

  “I belong to you, Lyla. And I don’t care if I have to camp on this damn porch to prove it to you. I’m not going anywhere. I’m your husband.” Holding up his hand, he showed her his wedding ring. “If this family faces tragedy, I face it too. I’m not interested in being around part-time. I don’t want all the good times and none of the bad. I want all of you, Lyla. I want you at your highest and at your lowest. Your father gave you to me, Lyla.” Her eyes blurred. “He put your hand in mine and he told me to look after you… and I fell in love with you, baby. All the way, over the top, forever love that I’ll give everything up for if I have to. I love you and you either understand that and want it or you question me and doubt me every day. Either way, I’m here. I’ll always be right here… with you. All I want you to do is use me. Take advantage. Lean on me, baby. You need someone. I want that someone to be me. I want to be special to you. Remember, just like you said? I’m just asking for the same thing. Let me be special to you. Lean on me, baby, and know it will always be ok. Just lean.”

  “Trick,” she whispered, her voice cracking at the end of the word. “Nairn.”

  “I’m here, baby,” he murmured and moved in to take her hand again.

  “He… he died… right there and I… I couldn’t do anything,” she sobbed and sucked in a long breath. “I couldn’t do anything.”

  “Shh,” he said and pulled her forward into his arms.

  Letting out her emotion, Lyla sobbed and wailed, burying the sound in his solid chest that gave her comfort and security. He made it ok to be broken. Made it ok to hurt and to show how she felt. Trick held her so tight that she could believe he was capable of fending off every hurt.

  Even as her knees buckled and she screamed into him, he held her up. Squeezing her body to his, he picked her up and carried her inside. Lyla didn’t know how he found the basement or how he got her into bed. All she remembered was lying in his arms, crying and listening to his words of comfort for the rest of the night.

  Lyla woke up with a killer headache.

  She was in her white nightdress and she was alone.

  It took her a minute to remember that she was in her bedroom in her parents’ basement.

  After her good for nothing Uncle Earl cut out on Ann and the kids, the trio had moved in here. The three bedrooms upstairs in the house were taken up by Ann, and her thirteen-year-old twins, Avril and Todd.

  Lyla’s mom and dad had converted the basement so it had two be
drooms and a bathroom. Even after she’d moved out they wanted Lyla to know that she had somewhere to come home to, so one of the bedrooms was dubbed hers.

  Stretching, she blinked up to the blinds that covered the narrow windows that ran along the wall up at the ceiling above the head of the bed.

  Trick.

  Sitting up, she looked around the room and was so disappointed to find that he wasn’t there. But she shouldn’t be surprised. He had to carry the show single-handedly while she was hiding here. He must have gone back to the city to appease the studio.

  Lyla hadn’t slept this late all week and so kept her shower fast and dressed even faster. Her mom would need her to make breakfast and keep answering the door to the well-meaning neighbors; she shouldn’t be loitering in bed.

  But as she ascended the stairs a sound stalled her. What was that? Was that…? Laughing?

  Hurrying upward, Lyla rushed through the kitchen and stopped dead in the archway that led to the living room. There was Trick, in front of the fireplace juggling what looked to be four balls while balancing a skittle on his head. All around him were kids. Pre-teen through teen. They were all transfixed, cheering and clapping for the man who was showing off like an endearing idiot.

  Lyla grinned. She had no idea that he could do that. Turning her back to the frame of the archway, she folded her hands and leaned against them to watch him move with such impressive skill.

  “Someone ask me a question,” he said, confident in his rhythm and from what she could see, he had every reason to be.

  “Why?” one of the kids laughed as everyone kept cheering him on.

  “The point is to put me off,” Trick said. “Come on, ask me something, anything…”

  Lyla would put good money on him learning to do this while drunk, so doing it sober would be a breeze. “What’s two plus two?” someone called out.

  “Oh, come on, challenge me,” Trick said, but quickly followed up. “But not with math… don’t challenge my math, I’ll only make you feel inferior.”