And the irony is that he was deadly serious. Hadn’t even had a drop to drink, because I made sure to ask him as soon as the proposition left his lips.
But then, I get the feeling that Zane is very rarely anything but serious.
Flickering my gaze over to his side of the car, I study him in silence. In the light of the streetlamps, I can see a lot, but not perfectly. I watch the easy rhythm of his driving. Note the slow, measured movements of a man in control. He’s a superb specimen of manhood and if wishes were horses, then I’d be riding him right this second.
But I can’t go against my principles.
I can’t.
Can I?
Will principles keep me warm, when I’m in bed? Will they shoot me from zero to one-twenty in two seconds flat and make me feel hot and bothered in even less time?
The answer is most definitely no.
But it’s hardly me, is it?
This afternoon, Eddie was obviously disturbed by the idea of me being a wallflower. It was sweet of her to say that I’m not, but in comparison to my two best friends, I’m just that. I don’t stand out from the crowd. And even though the role of mistress is discreet, the women themselves aren’t, are they? They’re beautiful and mysterious and seductive.
They wear silks and furs, pearls and diamonds. Not polyester pinafores and gold-plated studs that have seen better days.
Now Eddie, she’s perfect mistress material. Cleopatra, eat your heart out. Although, I sincerely hope any relationship of hers doesn’t end in a double suicide.
Marina is a bit too outspoken to be a mistress. She would never be content to be second best.
And that’s what I would be, wouldn’t I? Second best to a husband.
Now there’s a thought process that doesn’t pass through my brain every day.
Christ, when did things get so complicated?
BZ, or before Zane, all I had to worry about was paying my bills. And while they were and still are a huge concern, they didn’t get my head in a muddle and my panties in a knot like Zane does.
And the sickest part is that for the first time in a long while, I’m full to the brim with vitality.
My sigh has the man himself turning to look at me, his eyes flashing from me to the road again. We’re stuck behind a yellow cab whose passengers are making out so voraciously that I seriously doubt there’s much oxygen remaining in their lungs.
Rather unfortunate, actually.
I can remember when Zane kissed me like that and God help me, I wish he could just take my mouth and then proceed to take me right this very minute. Traffic jam and pedestrians be damned.
Why does he have to be married?
The lament is heartfelt.
Why does he have to be gay?
Complications, complications... they suck.
“You okay?”
“I’m as well as I can be.” The answer might be a slight reprimand but in truth, my voice is anything but punitive. I sound like a porn star gone wrong. All breathy and expectant. Hardly a suitable tone of voice when trying to tell someone to fuck off out of your life.
But I haven’t exactly said that, have I?
I haven’t told him no, just thrown him a spiel along the lines of, ‘I’m not that sort of girl.’
I’m pathetic.
Who in their right mind would turn this guy down?
Rather than lie, I whisper, “Why did you have to be married?”
That one question is imbued with longing. No other man has affected me the way this one has. Within a short period of time, he’s imprinted something upon me. Something that will make him unforgettable. Something that made me keep on looking on the net for more information, something that would exonerate him, even though I knew he was a liar, cheat, and gay to boot.
“Because I am, sweetheart. That’s just the way it goes, sometimes.”
Oh God, what a depressing answer. At least he seems to be as depressed as I feel.
Am I being too rigid? Or am I being strong and sensible?
After all, what has he offered me? A future together, yes. But I wouldn’t be a partner or a girlfriend, I’d be a financial burden.
That isn’t my idea of a relationship.
The roar of a fire engine surges behind us and Zane jerks his late-model sedan out of the way to let it pass. The move forces us into the other lane and he has to swing back to bring us to safety. With the glare of headlights moving toward us, my heart almost stops, but Zane’s cool and calm. He returns us to the safe if still-congested road, and silence settles between us again.
As my fingers pick at a loose strand on my pinafore, my mind blank save for the glumness of my mood, a thought occurs to me.
Frowning, I halt my fidgeting fingers and ask, “How the hell did you figure out where I worked?”
A quick grin crosses his lips and he twists in his seat to look at me. “You’re not the only one with internet access.”
For a moment, that flash of humor stuns me. If this man were to smile more often, he’d have women dropping at his feet. That isn’t to say that he doesn’t already, but he’s a bit forbidding. Unapproachable.
Then, I realize what he said. “Bull. And what about where I live? My address isn’t online. And apparently, you seem to know where to go.”
“No, it isn’t. But I still have contacts that owe me a few favors.”
“You had me investigated?” My voice has reached screeching pitch. I’d thought cyber stalking was creepy, but that’s nothing compared to this.
He shrugs, as though having someone rifle through my past was a perfectly natural thing to do. “Yes. In my world, it’s not that unusual.” He grimaces and I notice his fingers grip the steering wheel so tightly that even in the darkness, I can see the gleam of bone at his knuckles. “Or should I say that it didn’t used to be an unusual thing to do.”
The amendment doesn’t soothe my irritation. But then I get the feeling it doesn’t make Zane feel that much better.
“And is that supposed to make it okay?” My voice isn’t filled with the ire it should contain. My anger is justified, but I just don’t have it in me to go atomic over this. I’m four blocks away from my building and this is going to be the last time I’m with this man. I’ll probably never see him again, unless I accept his proposition.
Is that a big enough motivation?
Despite myself, despite all my principles, it’s starting to feel that way.
This evening, when Eddie said that she’d never seen me ask any man for a drink, that’s because I’ve never wanted to. My four-year-long apathy was out of an unhappiness with my state of affairs. Adding a man to the mixture would have only made me feel worse. No matter what the romantics say, simply having a man in your life does not make everything okay. More often than not it can make a shitty situation a million times worse.
I learnt that lesson during the mistake that was my marriage.
My apathy has disintegrated into a very physical longing for a man I can’t have but still want.
Why me? And damn, I hate how self-pitying that sounds.
The rich, gorgeous war hero wants little, old Mona. Poor me.
“No, it doesn’t make it okay. But I couldn’t just let it go, Mona.” He sighs and I can tell he’s feeling as crappy as I am. “Won’t you reconsider? I can’t offer you any more than what I already have.”
“The leftovers,” I spit bitterly. “I deserve more than that.”
I really do. I don’t want a half-there, half-not-there boyfriend. I want to share the highs and lows with somebody.
A cynical thought drifts through my mind. Like you did with Dan?
I shared nothing with Dan, and he shared nothing with me. We were married, we lived in the same house and shared the same bed but I might as well have been alone.
“You do. But we could have something special together. If we were together and I wasn’t married, I’d still have to travel. I wouldn’t be with you all the time, I have responsibilities. I have to s
plit my time in many different ways.”
“So, I’d be a chore?”
“Stop it, Mona. Stop taking everything I say the wrong way. I’ve felt this way once before and even though it meant destroying my family and rupturing my life, accepting that this person I loved wasn’t a woman, I did it. Sometimes you have to fight and change to take hold of something that was given to you. Something you’re lucky enough to be given. Don’t you think I asked myself, why does Jake have to be a guy? Don’t you think I was confused as hell?
“I make it sound easy now. Oh, I’m not gay, not bi, I just love one man. Nobody and I mean nobody, not even Jake, understands. We’re all typecast, we all have our role and if we deviate from that, then God look after the poor schmuck in the middle of it all.
“I’m not saying I love you. Because I don’t. But what I feel could develop into that and to lose that kind of potential, simply because what I’m offering isn’t the norm, would mean us losing out on something pretty unique. But if I can’t change your mind, then I can’t. It’s up to you.”
His anger doesn’t cow me as Dan’s once did, and he is angry. He’s breathing heavily and he keeps tightening his grip on the wheel. But Zane, even in a snit, is fully in control. He’d never hurt me, like I feared Dan might have done, like my father did—and probably still does—my mother.
Instead, I feel guilty for riling him to the point that he’s actually raised his voice. I can only imagine how agitated he is to do something as normal as that. Hell, it’s not even a shout, but that makes his anger all the more powerful. All the more meaningful.
Am I being stupid by throwing away a gift from… I don’t know, fate?
“Give me time to think about it.”
The slow, hissing release of his breath is an indication of his relief. That slight noise makes me feel infinitely better. He doesn’t want this to end. And God help me, neither do I.
“Thank you.”
He really means it. This guy, who could probably have any woman he wants, is thanking me for considering his proposal. And I’m sitting here looking like a Victorian schoolgirl sans the plaited pigtails.
The remainder of the drive passed in silence. The traffic abated, the cars slipping away on to side roads paving the way for us. Although, the number of fire trucks driving alongside is slightly concerning.
“There must be one hell of a fire blazing,” I whisper, as the sixth hurries past us.
As soon as I say the words, a nasty thought pops into my head.
That smell.
That odd, strong odor that has gradually devoured each of my rooms.
I can remember my father knocking my mother against the stove, accidentally jostling one of the pans as he hit her for breaking the yolks on his daily duo of sunny side up eggs. She’d rushed off to get a bag of frozen peas to try and attempt some form of damage control, and the stench of burning plastic as the heat bit into the pan handle… It’s a similar smell as the one permeating my rooms.
My stomach begins to roil and grind away with nerves as, slowly but surely, my worst fears come true. The closer our approach to my building, smoke begins to impede Zane’s view of the road. The crowd around us is large. I recognize Mrs. Danver from the floor below my apartment staring at our home as flames tear into it. Standing in a ratty dressing gown and with a red, standard paramedic issue blanket wrapped around her shoulders, she looks every single one of her seventy-four years.
My eyes dart from her and to the faces in the crowd I recognize, before eventually staring at the building.
This is no small fire. Someone didn’t leave the iron or their hair-straighteners on. Whatever it was that triggered it, the flames have gutted the top ten floors of the building.
The bright orange glow highlights the damage, and my shitty building, as old and decrepit as it was, is no more. My home has gone, and with it every single memory I’ve ever retained. Gone are the photos and the memoirs that I took from home, knowing that as soon as I left, my father would throw them and any other memento of mine into the trash. I’d taken as much as I could carry all those years ago and trawled them around the city whenever I had to move. From Betsy, a doll I’d had since childhood, to my yearbooks and the scrapbooks of my grandfather’s life during the war. All of it is no more.
As I watch the fire take more and more of my home, my ears hurt with the sound of the flames spitting and hissing.
It’s only then that I remember my laptop. And the many poems I’ve written over the years stored on there. The poems that not even Marina or Eddie know about, and that are my sole conduit for all the pent-up emotions and rage I’ve felt all these years.
I’d intended to send them to a publisher. Eventually.
And now, that is no longer possible. The sound of another dream of mine biting the dust screeches through my ears, as the heat has the windows and all the glass within the shell exploding, sending shockwaves of noise around the area.
I don’t even realize that I’m crying, or that Zane has unfastened my seat belt, until he’s grabbed me from my seat and tugged me on to his lap. Wrapping me in his arms, he presses my head against his chest to stop me from looking.
For a few seconds, I try to fight his hold. At the backs of my eyes, the glaring white heat of the fire burns my retinas until they almost hurt with the sear, but I still want to look. He’s stronger than me and keeps me tucked against him so that I can’t watch everything I own, everything I care about from my past, disintegrate into ashes.
It’s hard to believe that three hours ago, my place was fine. Stinking, but fine. Now, everything has gone and as poor as I was before, my situation has not improved.
The tears really begin to flow now. With my life in tatters, the only real thing I have to hold on to, both physically and mentally, is the man holding on to me. My eyes burn with the cleansing wash of moisture and the sobs hacking their way through my chest cease to hurt as his embrace soothes all ills.
Okay, that’s an exaggeration. Not even this man could have a hug good enough to make me forget I’ve just lost everything. But he’s trying his best and I appreciate it.
Hours or minutes might have passed by the time he lets me up. Every bit of me feels red raw with the tangled web of my emotions, and that doesn’t improve when I lift my head and stare at the burnt shell of my old home.
“You’re going to come and stay with me tonight, or for as long you need.”
Dumbly, I shake my head, his words only just penetrating the fog surrounding my brain. “That isn’t necessary. I can stay at either Marina’s or Eddie’s place. They’re my best friends.”
“Why bother them? I have plenty of room and you can stay with me until you’re back on your feet. You don’t have to be a burden to them.”
The words cause a sting similar to the harsh tang of the smoke hitting the back of my nose. “I would never be a burden to my friends.” I snap, glaring at him for even daring to make such a suggestion.
“I didn’t mean it that way. Calm down, Mona. I simply meant that you could move in with me without any fuss or without causing any disruption to their lives. It could take a while to get everything in order and you can do it all from my place.”
A wedge of emotion lodges itself in my throat at his words and when I next speak, my voice gives it away. I’m about an inch from hysteria and it won’t take much to push me over the edge.
“Did you do this? Did you start the fire?”
The thought would never have crossed my mind if he didn’t have a place to stash me away, convenient or what? His casting a slur on my friends, as he tries to push me into this love nest of his and knowing his past as I do, this man is capable of anything to get what he wants.
Zane’s frown is back in place. For some reason that reassures me, although his lack of an answer, be it yay or nay, has me backing away from him and against the door.
“Did you? You found out where I worked. And where I live. The wiring has to be faulty in a place that old. And it’s rat-
infested too. It could be staged to look like one of them chewed through the wires and started an electrical fire. Is that what you did?” I suck in a huge breath, but it’s swift and doesn’t give him enough time to butt in. “I read about some of your missions in Iraq. You were renowned for always getting the job done, it’s why you shot so high so fast. Was this your way of forcing me into being your goddamned mistress?”
The last word is a screech and before I can do anything, move an inch to either slap him or scrabble at the door handle and try to escape, he grabs me by the forearms and drags me against him. This time there’s no affection, only aggression in his touch. He nearly lifts me upwards as he brings me close enough to stare him in the eye.
“I want you, but not enough to destroy a building and countless homes. You’re hysterical and you’re not thinking right. If you’re going to concoct this kind of bullshit, then you need to sleep it off.” That being said, he releases me. Flung against my seat, I realize how high he lifted me. The landing isn’t pleasant, and I’m winded for the amount of time it takes for him to start the engine and for the wheels to screech as he takes us away from the still-sizzling apartment block.
I don’t even bother looking at the door or think of trying to escape. I know it’s locked. He secured the doors within a second of us climbing into the car, however long ago that was. Disinterestedly, my eyes wander to the dash and I blink at the realization that nearly two hours have passed since that moment.
We sat outside the building for that length of time.
Shaking my head at the thought, I instantly feel guilty at my accusation. Of course, he didn’t set my building on fire. This man is an All-American hero. A shoe-in for G.I Zane. Those kinds of men aren’t arsonists.
Biting my lip, I try to excuse my poor manners. The remnants of hysteria are still in my system. It wouldn’t take much to trigger it off again. Combined with grief, loss, and his words about my burdening Marina and Eddie, it made a volatile mixture. One that blew up in his face.
I know I should apologize, but I’m still smarting about those comments of his.
Marina and Eddie are my best friends, if anything like this ever happened to them, I’d do everything within my power to ensure that they were comfortable at my place. I’d do everything I could to help them.
Sinfully Theirs: Naughty Nookie Part I Page 8