“Wow, Ang, I had no idea you felt the same way, I'm sorry I -,” she started.
“No! Fuck that! I was fucking lying through my teeth! That fucking bitch! Used me!? Came between you and I? Shit, Tate, what if that's what this has been about this whole time, her just pissing on you!?” Ang snapped.
“I don't think it was. Really. I think something happened between you two, she liked it, she kept it going, then it got out of hand and she didn't have the balls to back off. She could never be like us,” Tate said quickly. He shook his head.
“I'm so pissed. Do you know how many women I could have been having sex with? This whole time?”
“I'm sorry, Ang,” Tate said softly, rubbing her hand against his leg. He sighed.
“I was stupid. You O'Shea girls, I swear,” he grumbled. She nodded.
“I know. Who ever raised us, that was Satan,” she joked.
“Totally. God. I could really use that revenge fuck now,” he groaned. She laughed.
“You had your chance. Should've taken it.”
“I mean ..., just ..., what the fuck!? I haven't had a legit girlfriend in like six years, since I was nineteen. I haven't had sex with one single other woman since I got with her!” he snapped.
“Such a waste. The world is missing out.”
“I know! Fuck. Fucking bitch,” he growled.
“I know.”
“I thought ..., I thought she liked me,” he mumbled, running his hand through his hair. Tate frowned.
“If it makes you feel better, I don't think she knows how to like people. Not for real. She was still talking shit about me stealing Jameson. It's insane. She's sleeping with you and pregnant with another guy's baby, and she's still obsessed with him. Half the time, I feel like I can't get rid of him, and here she is, wanting him,” Tate laughed.
“Kitty cat?”
“Hmmm?”
“Could we, just this once, not talk about the goddamn devil?”
“Of course.”
Ang suddenly scrambled to get off the bed, almost knocking her over in the process. She ducked under his legs and stared as he hurried to pull clothing out of a hamper. He changed into a pair of expensive looking jeans, dug a little more, then pulled out a really nice, slim fitting, button up shirt. He rolled the sleeves up to his elbows then bent to look in a mirror, raking his fingers through his hair.
“How do I look?” he asked, hopping into a pair of shoes. Tate blinked up at him.
“Uh, really good, actually,” she replied. He held out his arms.
“Like how good? Fuckable good?” he asked.
She let her eyes wander over him. She had always thought Ang was sexy, since the first time she'd ever met him. In a completely different way from Jameson, Ang wasn't predatory at all. He was more subtle. Like the guy who would've snuck in her bedroom window and stolen her virginity, right before her prom date was supposed to pick her up. He had a naughty-fun smile and his hair always looked like some woman had just clawed her hands through it, not to mention that his lean body just looked built for fast times. Tate nodded.
“Very fuckable. Why?” she asked. He grabbed her hand and pulled her up, practically dragging her out of his bedroom.
“I just can't believe her,” Ang grumbled, letting go of Tate's hand and stalking around the apartment. She watched as he undid the bolt lock and chain lock from the door. Then he ducked down to stare out the peephole.
“Ang. What the fuck are you doing?” she asked. He waved an arm at her.
“Shut up. She's gonna be here any second,” he mumbled, leaning to the side, obviously trying to look down the hall.
“What?” Tate was a little shocked. “Ang, maybe I should go. It's, like, between you two, and I don't want to get arrested for beating up a pregnant woman.”
“You won't beat her up, I just want to -, shit! She's here! She's here!” he hissed, and hightailed it back to her side. Tate could hear the sound of a key in the lock.
“Good god, Ang, you gave her a key!? I didn't even -,”
She couldn't finish her sentence, however, because his tongue was suddenly in her mouth. She gasped as his mouth completely enveloped her own. She was vaguely aware that the door was swinging open and then Ang was dipping her slightly, raking his fingers down her back before grabbing onto her butt. She squealed against his mouth and pushed at his shoulders.
“What the hell is going on!?” Ellie's voice squeaked from the doorway.
I have no fucking clue.
Tate finally managed to shove Ang off, breaking the kiss. But he kept his arms around her, swinging her around so his back was to Ellie, Tate almost bending in half backwards. She glared at him, shoving at his hand as it worked its way over her breasts.
“What are you doing!? Jameson is gonna kill you!” Tate hissed, all while Ellie shouted behind them.
“Just go with it!” Ang growled, then kissed her again.
“Angier!” Ellie shrieked.
Tate shoved him hard, finally gaining arm distance between them. She glared at him, wiping at her mouth. He smirked back. Ellie fumed in front of him. How come when Tate wanted to break them up by having dirty, nasty, fun time with Ang, it wasn't okay – but suddenly he wants to suck her face off to make Ellie mad, and it's fine!?
“What's up?” he asked casually, turning to face Ellie.
“Are you kidding me!?” she demanded before turning towards Tate. “And you! I thought this was, like, against the rules or something! You're such a slut!”
“Hey!” Tate snapped. “Technically, what I do is none of your business. And second of all, pretending to like some guy just to fuck him is pretty goddamn slutty!”
“It becomes my business when you make out with my ...,” Ellie's voice trailed off, her face turning red.
“Your what, Ellie? You just explained to me how I'm nothing more than sex to you,” Ang pointed out.
“No! We just said that's all we are, to each other,” she stressed, waving her purse between them.
“Yeah. So, I think that means I can make out with whoever I want,” he replied, coiling his arm around Tate's waist. She began smacking him in the chest.
“This is sick. You two are sick. I'm getting out of here. I hope you're happy together, you ..., sluts,” Ellie cursed, then stomped out of the apartment, slamming the door behind her.
“That was pretty awesome,” Ang laughed, still holding onto Tate. She shoved at him.
“No it wasn't! A little warning, maybe, next time you feel like shoving your tongue clear down to my stomach!” she snapped at him.
“Oh c'mon, you always loved lots of tongue,” he reminded her. She snorted, trying to pull free from him.
“Shut up. This is so fucked, you know that, right? I try to sex you up to piss Ellie off and I'm a bad person, but you get to do it and it's no big deal!?” she pointed out.
“It's completely different. You and I are a team – you can't make plays against me.”
“You're retarded.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up!”
He grabbed her then, pulled her into a hug. Tate was a little shocked at first, then she wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. Ang sighed into her hair. He had really liked Ellie. Shocking. No one seemed to like Ellie, and Tate's best friend had gone and fallen in total-like with her. She was a little miffed at being used, but her heart hurt a little for him.
“Oh, Angy wangy,” she sighed.
“Tater tot,” he mumbled back.
“That was very bad. You shouldn't have done that. We're bad people,” she whispered to him. He shook his head.
“No we're not. We're not very good, but we're not bad. She's a bitch and we're spiteful. Everyone wins,” he replied.
“I don't know if I agree with you. But it was fun,” she chuckled, combing her hand through his hair.
“Yes, it was. God, we used to have so much fun. Do you ever think about it?” Ang asked. Tate nodded, pressing her cheek against his chest.
> “All the time. Every time I saw you with her,” she replied.
“Jealous?”
“Of course. Part of you belongs to me. I never wanted to share that with her.”
“I gotta say, Tate, it feels fucking awesome to hear that,” he groaned. She wiggled against him, trying to pull free. His arms stayed locked around her.
“Good. Cause I think now we are finally, officially, completely, even. For everything. No more being mad at each other? Or weird?” she asked. He nodded.
“No more.”
“Ang?”
“Yeah?”
“Let go of me. Your hard on is digging into my stomach.”
He burst out laughing.
“Now there's something I never thought I'd hear you complain about.”
“Shut up. Makes having a heart to heart kinda awkward.”
“You love it.”
Ang let go of her and groaned, stretching and lifting his arms over his head. Tate dug her cell phone out of her pocket and winced. A missed phone call. She could guess who it was from; he was already mad at her for missing his calls the day before, he would not be happy about her missing them for Ang. She still had only ever called him once, just one time ever. When he had been in Berlin. He hadn't answered. She had resisted doing it again, ever since then. She debated whether or not to take the leap.
“I should head home,” she mumbled, staring at Jameson's contact info.
“No, stay here tonight,” Ang said quickly. She looked at him with her eyebrows raised.
“I'm not fucking you, Angier,” she stated. He laughed.
“Thank you for that. No, you cow, just hang out. I feel like shit. Cheer me up. You owe me,” he told her.
“We just got finished saying we're even, and you're already -,” Tate started to complain when he clamped his hand over her mouth.
“Just shut up and hang out with me. Satan can miss you for one night. Please, honey-pot? I could really use some cuddles tonight,” Ang begged, pouting out his lower lip.
Tate groaned. She was a sucker where he was concerned. Geez, sleep with someone a couple dozen – or maybe hundred? – times, and suddenly she's over a barrel, emotionally. She glared at him, then an idea struck her. She held out her cell phone.
“You get to call Satan and tell him I'm staying here,” she told Ang. He glanced at the phone and grumbled.
“God, he's gonna be such a dick. Does he own a gun?” Ang asked, taking the phone.
“Several. Be nice. Sometimes it works with him.”
“Does it really?”
“No. Good luck.”
“Fuuuuck.”
She dragged him to sit on the couch, then yanked him down to her height so she could listen to the phone call. It rang three times before the line connected.
“You better not be calling to ask for bail money,” Jameson's voice barked. “I don't care if you're in prison – if you ever ignore one of my phone calls again, I swear to fucking god, I'll -,”
“This isn't Tate, so please keep your weird style of flirting to yourself,” Ang snapped. Tate reached up and yanked on a lock of his hair. There was a pause for a long moment.
“Angier. Why are you calling me? What did she do?” Jameson demanded. Ang glared down at Tate.
“Do you always assume she's done something wrong when she calls?” Ang demanded in return. Jameson laughed.
“She never calls.”
Ang raised his eyebrows at Tate, and she just waved him away.
“So you're saying your girlfriend calls me more than she calls you?” Ang asked, his smile audible. Tate pulled away enough to slap at his arms.
“As lovely as it is to hear from you, what the fuck do you want?” Jameson asked. He sounded bored.
“Look. We don't like each other. But I needed some help with something, so I need you to be understanding. You know, not an asshole. Just this once,” Ang stressed.
“I make no promises.”
“I needed to borrow your girlfriend, for like two minutes, to piss Ellie off,” Ang said it quickly. It was the second time he had referred to Tate as Jameson's “girlfriend”; she was waiting for Jameson to correct him.
“Oh jesus. I don't want to know.”
“Mostly tongue, not a big deal, I promise. She absolutely refused to fuck me,” Ang said assuredly. Tate slapped him across the back of the head.
“She kissed you?”
“More like I kissed her. Totally rape-y. She was very respectful of you, I promise.”
“You're both insane. I don't know why I bother. Tell her she needs to come home, now,” Jameson growled.
“I need her for a little longer,” Ang said. Jameson laughed, but it was evil sounding. Satan was on the phone.
“I don't give a fuck, Angier.”
“Hey, she was my friend long before she was ever with you,” Ang reminded him. “Just let me borrow her for the night. It's been a shitty day. I promise, nothing bad will happen. I won't touch your girlfriend 'inappropriately'.”
“You won't be touching her at all. I want her home.”
Tate didn't hear the next part of the conversation. She was shell shocked. Jameson hadn't corrected him. Had actually fed the assumption that she was his proper-girlfriend. It was almost as if he had said the words out loud. She shook her head. Didn't mean anything. Jameson didn't believe in titles.
“... fine. Fine, anything, as long as you never fucking call me again, understood? Tell her to be at my office tomorrow, noon. Sharp,” Jameson's voice was hissing when Tate dove back into the conversation. Punishment sounded imminent. She shivered at the thought.
“Of course, of course, whatever,” Ang was grumbling.
“Angier, if I find out you so much as looked at her while she was sleeping, I will cut your nuts off. Understood?” Jameson said in a cool voice. Ang laughed.
“You do realize I have seen her naked. Like a million times. I can shut my eyes, and see her naked right now,” Ang pointed out.
“Stop.”
“Too late. Doing it right now. Naked Tatum, all up in my brain,” Ang rubbed it in.
“The idea of strangling you and dumping you in the harbor is suddenly becoming very appealing to me.”
Ang stopped laughed.
“I'm not gonna try anything. She only has eyes for you anyway, she's mental for you. Believe me, once upon a time, I tried to talk her out of it. I've given up. So don't worry,” Ang told him.
“I never do.”
Then the line went dead.
“What the fuck is your problem!?” Tate shrieked, slapping at Ang. He finally sat upright, almost out of reach.
“What!? What!?” he exclaimed, batting her hands away.
“Why do you have to piss him off like that!?” she demanded.
“Uh ..., because it's, like, my purpose in life?” he offered.
“You're such a dick. He wouldn't be half as bad, if you weren't always provoking him,” Tate pointed out. Ang rolled his eyes and handed her cell phone over.
“Just because you're butt-crazy in love with him, doesn't mean the rest of us are – I'll probably still be making fun of him when you're both old and gray,” he laughed. She gasped.
“I am not butt-crazy in love with him!” she yelled, then pushed away from him, getting up off the couch.
“It's okay, Tate,” Ang said, getting up as well.
“I know it is, but I'm not.”
“Stop. It's okay. Like I said to Satan, I'm over it. If there's anything this whole fucked up situation has taught me, it's you can't choose who you like, who you love. It's okay that you love him. I'm not mad,” Ang assured her. She stomped into the bathroom.
“But I don't. Till a couple days ago, I was planning on ripping his heart out and eating it for breakfast,” she pointed out, grabbing a rubberband out of his medicine cabinet and using it to put her hair up. She finally turned to face him and he was smirking at her.
“Yeah. Seems to me you'd only be that angry at him if you were in
love with him. Why else would you go through all this shit together?” he asked.
The breath flew out of her body and Tate slumped against the sink. Ang asked if she was okay, dipping his knees so he could look her in the face. If she had been shell shocked earlier, she was blasted now. Obliterated.
She didn't love Jameson. Couldn't love him. Sometimes, she was pretty sure he didn't even like her. How could she be in love with someone like that? Sure, she was growing more accustomed to the idea of just being with him, in whatever capacity she could, just like old times. But love!? No. No, she refused to believe it.
“I can't love him, Ang,” she said softly.
“Huh?” he asked, his hands gripping her shoulders.
“He'll never love me back. I can't ..., that would be it. Game over. He would own me,” she whispered. Ang smiled.
“I think he already does,” he pointed out. She closed her eyes.
“I didn't want to like him. When this all started, remember? I just wanted to play. You told me not to lose my heart. What happened?” she asked.
“He's a lot better at whatever game it was you were playing.”
“Too good. I thought we were only playing for sex,” Tate laughed, looking up at Ang. “I didn't realize we were playing for hearts.”
“Pity he doesn't have one.”
She cried then. She hated crying.
Goddamn Jameson Kane, you make me cry even when you're not around.
~6~
They stayed up and ate pizza and ice cream. Talked about boys and girls. A good old fashioned slumber party. Ang admitted that part of what had drawn him to Ellie had been her good girl-richie varnish. But he had liked her. He was so chaotic and crazy and over-sexed. She was so structured and crazy in her own way and repressed. It had worked. Or at least, he thought it had worked.
Tate admitted she felt guilty for wanting to be with Jameson. He had treated her like garbage, had hurt her so badly. What if he did it again? It was her constant fear. What was wrong with her, wanting to be with a person like that? Ang pointed out that all of that just came with the territory of being in love. She tried to make him eat a pillow.
Reparation (The Kane Trilogy Book 3) Page 10