Sex, Lies & Lace (Sex and Lies Book 4)

by Kris Calvert

  “Why? Because you think I feel guilty about my brother’s suicide?”

  “Survivor’s guilt is a real thing. Surely you’ve seen it in your own field.”

  I nodded. I’d felt the emptiness, the hole in my heart from losing Jacob.

  “Not to mention the circumstances surrounding his death,” Dr. Nabi said as he put his pen down to look at me squarely in the face.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? That I feel guilty because we fought that day? That I chose to go out on a date with a man I thought was interested in me instead of coming to his beck and call for the millionth time?” The hair on the back of my neck stood up and I could tell by my sweating palms that my face was red with agitation. “Is that what you mean?”

  “I think you need to work through some of those emotions, Indie.”

  “Why?”

  “Because your life is worth more than just caring for others. Eventually you need to take a good long look at yourself and decide why you feel empty.”

  “Don’t you think I do that?” I asked the question knowing I avoided looking at my life with every fiber of my being.

  “I think you focus on others so you don’t have to focus on yourself.”

  He was right. I knew he was right and he knew he was right. I’d be damned if I was going to admit it. Not today. Not with so much swirling through my head. I’d take what he said, write it down in my journal, and then carefully dissect my feelings and his statements in my own time.

  “What gives you joy, Indie?”

  I thought for a moment and suddenly realized that nothing really filled the void in my life. “Taking care of my patients.”

  “It gives you joy to be a hospice nurse?”

  “Yes… No… I don’t know.” I dropped my head into my hand and leaned into the arm of the chair with a sigh. “Who has joy in their life anyway?” I asked, looking up to him with only my eyes.

  Dr. Nabi stared at me without cracking so much as a smile. “People who look for it.”

  “What?”

  “Let’s pick this up next time,” he said as he sat back in his chair. “I’ll see you again next week?”

  I stood and moved toward him, still wanting guidance on taking care of the dying billionaire. “There’s something else.”

  “What’s that?” he asked with a sigh as he began jotting notes in my folder again.

  “There’s this guy.”

  “Yes?” Dr. Nabi took notice and peered at me over his reading glasses.

  “Not a guy like that.” I chuckled at my own words and wagged my hand at him.

  “Let’s save it for next week, shall we?”

  I scowled like a child. “But what if I’m not capable of making a big decision by myself?”

  “You are, Indie.” Dr. Nabi handed me the papers I’d need to check out and confirm my next appointment with the receptionist. “Is it something that can’t be undone?”

  “I don’t guess so,” I said as I looked to the papers sheepishly, embarrassed that I was taking more than my allotted forty-five minutes.

  “Then I absolutely think you’re fully capable of making a decision about your own life. After all, no one knows better than you what you can or cannot do.”

  “True.” I nodded and turned to leave. He gave me the kind of reassuring smile a father gives his daughter when he trusts her to make good choices. I hoped with everything I had inside me that I really could make a good decision with my head for once. I needed to pay my bills and live a little instead of letting my guilty heart rule what was left of my own life.

  I sat in my Honda Accord outside Dr. Nabi’s office and dropped my forehead to my hands as they clutched the steering wheel. It was six o’clock and the sun had begun to set on the horizon. Not enough to make it pretty, but just enough for the rays to hit me square in the eye, making driving anywhere at all hazardous. I needed to check on Aunt Sally at the assisted living center but I really didn’t want to go. Lewy body dementia complicated her Parkinson’s and she continued to get a little worse each day. As bad as I felt about her condition, it was more than I wanted to deal with today. I just wanted to go to my thinking spot—a large oak tree hidden on the back edge of the five-acre park that was the welcoming gem of the small community of Barlow. My selfish needs swayed me and I gave in, wanting to clear my own head before trying to understand what was going on inside Aunt Sally’s.

  With a heavy sigh I turned the ignition of the Accord and said a prayer. The fifteen-year-old car hadn’t failed me yet, but I knew the two hundred thousand plus miles I’d racked up over the years would soon begin to show themselves in unpleasant ways. It was time for a new car, but coming up with the cash to make it happen wasn’t in the cards. My credit was so low I actually wished someone would steal my identity so I could blame my misfortune on that instead of my brother Jacob.

  The car started with a cough and as I shifted into drive I replayed the day in my head. So far I had one really sick child who was holding onto this world for a mother who wasn’t ready to let her go, a nasty phone call from Visa, a text from AT&T letting me know I was late with my payment and an outrageous offer to care for a billionaire if I would give up my patients. It should’ve been an easy decision. It would be an easy decision for anyone—anyone but me.

  The car’s tires crunched as I pulled into the gravel lot attached to the park. I grabbed my phone, headphones and journal leaving everything else, including my anxiety, behind in the car. This was my time. I’d trained myself long ago when I began seeing Spirit to make time for meditation and reflection. It was something my grandmother, the original Indriel, had taught me.

  Seeing Spirit was something I shared with my grandmother, but we only spoke of it on three occasions in my lifetime. The first time I saw something I was with her when a man at the bank had a heart attack; the second when Grandma and I were alone crouched in the bathroom holding on for dear life as a tornado ripped through the neighborhood and finally, the day before she crossed over.

  Of all the Spirit I’d encountered over my short lifetime I’d never seen my grandmother. It was somewhat upsetting to me especially since I really wanted to see her after Jacob’s death, and yet at the same time, I’d just as soon not see Spirit at all.

  As I neared my favorite spot I spied a man lying in the shade of the tree—my tree. His head was propped on his backpack and a tan and white pit bull mix stood guard at his side.

  “Dammit,” I said under my breath as I walked closer to the one place I considered sacred. I plugged my ears with the white buds of my taped up iPhone and chose my classical playlist, finding an alternate grassy spot on the opposite side of the tree. This was the place where I made plans for my life and somehow someone else had found it. Leaning back against the huge trunk, I hugged the leather journal to my chest, closed my eyes and breathed in the early evening air. Finally I felt solace.

  Less than one minute into my tranquil meditation I felt the grainy stroke of what could only be a dog’s tongue on my hand. I was used to dogs finding me and wanting to be friends. Even in the homes of patients where they warned strangers of their pets, the dogs, cats and even a hedgehog had all taken up with me immediately.

  “Hey there,” I said without opening my eyes or turning down my music. “I don’t think you’re supposed to be over here.”

  “Frank.”

  The voice was soft and low, and yet even through the harpsichord concerto ringing in my ears I heard the word loud and clear. I pulled the buds out and listened for the voice again. Instead I blinked hard, trying my best to focus as he came into view.

  Backlit from the brightness of the sun, I shielded my eyes with my hand and did my best to make out the silhouette in front of me.

  “Frank,” he repeated.

  I waited for him to say he was sorry or that Frank didn’t usually act that way, but he didn’t even acknowledge my presence, only that the dog wasn’t where he was supposed to be.

  “I guess Frank wanted to say hi,”
I said as I scratched behind the dog’s ears and listened to him whimper in delight. “Hey, you have a chunk missing from your ear, Frank.”

  I looked up to the man with a smile as he stepped into my view. Sweet Lord, he was beautiful—handsome in a way I’d never experienced before. It wasn’t that he was Hollywood knock-down-drag-out gorgeous. He was rugged. Worn. Sexy.

  “Dog fight.” He said the two words without expression or intent.

  I looked back to the adorable pooch and rubbed his head. “Were you in a fight?” I asked in a baby voice.

  The man stepped closer and I felt a wave of inexplicable warmth embrace my body. I knew I was blushing. “Raised to fight,” he said.

  He was tall and muscular and his left arm was covered in tattoos, most of which I couldn’t make out at first glance. His blond crew cut, fatigues and boots gave me the distinct feeling he was a soldier. But he wasn’t like any other soldier I’d ever seen before.

  I looked back to the dog as I continued to rub his head and tried not to stare at the man. “You seem more like a lover than a fighter.” I took the dog’s face in both hands and gave him a smile. Frank happily gave me a lick to the cheek in return.

  “Frank.”

  The dog whimpered and pulled away slowly to walk back to his owner’s side and sat.

  “Wow,” I said, raising my eyebrows. “Frank is really well trained.”

  The sun sank lower in the sky and hot tattoo guy moved in closer. Frank matched his every step and sat again.

  I stood, mindlessly allowing my blue-spiral notebook to drop to the ground along with my phone and attached ear buds. “I’m Indie.” My pale hand lingered in the air. He didn’t make a move but I held my ground. I wouldn’t be rebuffed.

  “Mike.”

  He raised his eyebrow to me and I knew if I wanted to shake his hand I was going to have to make a bigger effort. I turned my palm up and extended my hand even closer to the center of the tight grey t-shirt that covered his muscular frame. “Nice to meet you…Mike.”

  I watched him closely and waited patiently. Frank whimpered as Mike gave him a glance and came in for a quick but firm shake.

  The feeling of otherness overtook me. It freaked me out and I immediately dropped his rough calloused hand to look over my shoulder for Spirit. There was nothing. “I’m sorry,” I said as I gripped the back of my neck and began to rub it. Embarrassed, I looked to my feet. “I don’t know what came over me.”

  “We were just leaving.”

  “Wait.” The word was out of my mouth before I had a chance to understand why I’d even said it.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said that.”

  He nodded in my direction and I suddenly felt as if he were taking pity on me and my socially awkward soul. “It’s just,” I said with a nervous pause, “I’ve never seen you here before. I mean, I come here all the time—all the time. It’s kinda my special place to relax and honestly it’s so off the beaten path I’m surprised to find someone else…you know…here.”

  “Maybe you’re not the only one who likes privacy.”

  I bit my lip and gave him a twisted smile. I wondered if he was being funny or painfully honest. I stared at him, captivated by his presence.

  He pulled mirrored sunglasses from the pocket of his pants and slowly slid them onto his rugged face. I couldn’t contain my smile. The look accentuated his square jaw and made him seem more badass than I’d previously given him credit for. His backpack looked like it contained everything he’d need if he were going to live in the woods a few months. I didn’t know if that made him self-sufficient or homeless. He gave me no expression and yet for the first time in a long time, I found a man to be sexy—dead sexy. Mostly because he clearly wanted nothing to do with me.

  “Wait,” I said again, taking a step forward and holding up my hand.

  He paused, said nothing but put his hands on his hips, obviously tired of my blundering antics.

  “I’m sorry. It’s just…” I paused and bent down to pick up my notebook, keys and phone, trying to hide my embarrassment. “Well, it’s just…you look like…well, like maybe you could use a friend. I mean, are you…hungry? Do you have somewhere to go? You and Frank?” I asked as I stepped in closer.

  His face didn’t falter from his stoic expression but I thought for a millisecond I saw one corner of his mouth turn up in the tiniest of smiles. “I do in fact have a home,” he replied.

  Because of the mirrored glasses I couldn’t ascertain if he was looking or rolling his eyes at me.

  “Well then,” I said as I stumbled through my words and tripped on an old root of the tree, falling toward him and dropping my phone yet again. I caught my balance just in time and tried hard to play it off. “So there’s no need to make sure you and Frank get a hot meal tonight?”

  “Not tonight.”

  I tucked my lips completely inside my mouth and gave him an embarrassing nod.

  With a tip of his finger to his head he commandingly strolled away, Frank matching his every step. I waited for him walk out of my view before reacting.

  “Good job, Indie,” I said quietly as I leaned down to pick up my phone. “Way to embarrass yourself and a perfectly hot guy. Are you hungry?” I repeated in a snarky voice, chastising myself in humiliation. “Could I be any more awkward?”

  I dropped my shoulders as I looked to the sky. The purple clouds were beautiful and as I breathed in the gentle breeze that blew my hair from my shoulders I turned back to my tree and walked to my usual spot—the place Mike had laid his body out for a nap. Closing my eyes, I could still feel his warmth in the grass. I went back to listening to Bach and my original plan: rethink life and decide if there’s room for billionaire Lewis Thornbury.

  I pulled the duct-tape-covered phone from the pocket of my well-fitting black polyester slacks. They were ugly, as was the rest of my poly-cotton suit, but it was what I could afford, what I could wash easily and what wouldn’t wrinkle.

  I grazed my finger across the cracked screen and touched the name of Jonathan Raye, waiting for the ring. It was nearly dawn and I’d decided to get a head start on my day. Sergeant George Curtis, my retired Marine and Hodgkin’s patient had had a rough night. My early visit was not only expected but welcomed. I checked on him more than usual as he lived right in Barlow and not far from my own house. Shoving my Bluetooth headset into my ear, I opened the rusty door of my car, wincing as it creaked. Tossing my old worn out messenger bag filled with the day’s assignments into the passenger seat, I waited patiently for Jonathan to answer his phone.

  “What, bitch? It’s damn early,” he said with a smile in his voice.

  “Sorry.”

  “You know how I hate to talk before sex or coffee.”

  “Am I interrupting something?” I asked with a laugh.

  “Dear God, I wish. I need to get laid. There’s only one person I know in this world who needs to get laid more than I do. Do you know who that is?”

  “I have a feeling you’re going to tell me even if I don’t guess.”

  “It’s you. You need some heels in the air, yes-shouting, boning until you’re half dead and can’t walk sex.”

  “Wow. You make it sound so appealing.”

  “Honey, there’s nothing more appealing than a fabulous dick.”

  “There’s the Jonathan I know and love. Where the hell was he yesterday?”

  “I was there, honey-bunny. I needed to be serious with you on such a serious matter.”

  “I’ve made a decision,” I said as I started the car and quickly turned down AC/DC’s The Girl’s Got Rhythm.

  “And?”

  “I’ll meet with him.”

  “Indie.” Jonathan’s exasperated sigh told me everything I needed to know.

  “Hear me out, Jonathan.”

  The silence on the other end was my cue to say what I needed to. “I want to finish with the two families I have currently. But I will take him on as a patient as well. If he
wants to wait until I am solely focused on him to pay me through the contract I understand. But I wouldn’t leave him to take care of another dying person and I won’t leave my current patients to take care of him.”

  Jonathan said nothing and I looked to my phone to check the signal. “Jonathan?”

  “I’m here.”

  “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “Will you set up the meeting? Or do I need to call him myself?” I asked. “Because I will. I’m not afraid to lay down my conditions.”

  “I’ll text you the number to call. He will answer so be prepared.”

  “Wait. What?”

  “I’m giving you the super-secret direct line. It will change in a few days.”

  “The man has a randomly oscillating phone number? Who does that kind of stuff?”

  “Motherfuckers who don’t want to be found.”

  “People who are hiding something,” I said with an anxious sigh.

  “The only thing he’s hiding, honey, is the salami with any woman he wants and a few billion dollars.”

  “You say that,” I said with a giggle. “But I don’t know about these kind of people.”

  “What kind of people are we speaking of? The rich kind?”

  “I just get the feeling he’s the type of guy who works to get clean water to the people of the Sudan but has a dead hooker in the freezer.”

  “Get that shit out of your head. Okay?”

  I turned down the street and came to a halt in front of George Curtis’ ranch style home. The seventy-two year old widower had called his daughter in from New Jersey to live with him after his cancer escalated to a bedridden state.

  “Just send me the number,” I said as I put the car in park and listened to it sputter to a stop. “I’ve got a couple minutes before I need to go inside the Curtis’ house. I’m feeling frisky this morning.”

  “Clearly,” Jonathan said with a snark.

  “Seriously, I’ve got a couple of cups of strong coffee on board and I’m ready to take on anything—including Lewis Thornbury.”

  As the words left my lips I heard the chime in my ear and saw the contact pop up on my phone. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Indie.”