“You are so stupid, Olive,” Owen says. “How can you be so smart and such an idiot at the same time?”
I purse my lips. Anger starts to rise from the pit of my stomach.
“Please don’t put me down, okay? I get enough of that from Mom.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” His tone changes immediately. “I am just so worried about you.”
“I’m going to be fine.”
“You keep saying that but it’s not going to make it anymore true. How about this? How about you just say you have to get back home for something and come back to Boston?”
“I thought you told me to get away from Boston?”
“That’s when I thought that’s where you both were. But I should’ve known that he was a coward who was going to be hiding out in some billionaire’s paradise while the rest of us rot in prison.”
This jealously gives me pause for concern.
“What did he do to you exactly?”
This catches Owen by surprise. He clears his throat and then mumbles, “No, nothing. He didn’t do anything to me…but the organization suffered and he killed his partner…”
I narrow my eyes and press the phone closer to my ear. Something doesn’t sound right. He’s hiding something, but why? Is he hiding it because he is being recorded and doesn’t want to admit to any more crimes? Or is he hiding it for some ulterior motive.
“I need you to come here, Olive,” Owen says after a moment. “I need to see you. I need to tell you something in person.”
“What?” I ask.
“It’s something I can’t say over the phone.”
“They record the in-person conversations as well,” I point out.
“I know, but—”
“Listen,” I interrupt him. “I know what you’re doing. It’s just a ploy to get me out of here.”
“I lied,” Owen says after a moment. I wait for an explanation.
“I don’t need to tell you something in person. I need you to come here and testify at my parole hearing.”
My mouth drops open.
“They just told me after I hung up with you. That’s why I called back.”
“Congratulations,” I say after a moment.
“Thank you.”
Getting parole is a long shot but, in prison, it’s important to celebrate every good thing that comes your way.
It doesn’t mean you’re jinxing yourself or setting yourself up for some disappointment, it’s about being in the present.
The Department of Corrections gave Owen’s case a once-over and he qualified for a hearing before the board.
Under any other circumstances, I would be jumping up and down and doing everything short of throwing him a party over the phone. But today…I can’t.
“I’m sorry,” I catch myself. “I didn’t mean to just gloss over it. It’s a really big deal, Owen. I’m really happy for you.”
“Thank you. I’m happy, too.”
“You should’ve led the conversation with that, though,” I point out. “You kind of buried the lead.”
We stay on the phone for a few minutes. I wish more than anything that we hadn’t talked about Nicholas and he hadn’t told me any of those things.
I don’t want to bring it up again and force another lecture.
I just want all of that stuff to disappear.
But that’s not what life is about, is it? No matter how much you want to wish something away, it doesn’t go away without you actually doing something about it.
“Please come,” Owen pleads.
“When is it?”
“Two days from now.”
“What?” I gasp.
“They had some sort of glitch in the system. They were supposed to notify me sooner but they didn’t. That’s all I know.”
“Are they even going to let me in?” I ask, thinking back to the one time when I drove all the way up to the prison, woke up in the dark, got in line to wait to come inside with the rest of the wives and girlfriends of the incarcerated only to be turned away for no reason.
They didn’t let Owen have visitors that week but no one cared to notify either Owen or myself, even though I had registered to come.
I have been to that prison a dozen times since but it still irks me the way the guards treat the visitors, as if we are the convicts as well, as if we had done something wrong.
“They said that they will take a statement from someone on my side. I’d like that person to be you,” Owen says.
“I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head. “I don’t know if I can get back in time.”
“Will you try?”
I nod.
“Olive? Will you try?”
18
When I run away…
This time, when I hang up, I put the phone on the table and leave it there. Rain which had been threatening to come down all morning finally lets loose.
Water falls in a loud steady stream, interrupted only by bolts of lightning and rolling waves of thunder.
I look at the way the rain pounds the big green bush, the name of which I don’t know, right on the porch. When I open the door, my senses are overwhelmed by an intoxicating aroma of hot, wet vegetation.
I put my foot out past the awning and it immediately becomes soaked. I put it back and then stick my hand out.
Droplets run off my fingertips as if they were rain gutters.
I take a few steps forward and open my face up to the sky.
I welcome the beads of water that smash into me and even stick my tongue out.
“What are you doing?” His voice sounds muffled and originates somewhere in the distance.
I stand up straight and spin on my heels to face him. Nicholas, dressed in a casual Hawaiian shirt and khaki pants, is holding a large umbrella over his head.
“Just enjoying the warm rain,” I say. “Haven’t you ever done this?”
“Not recently. C’mon,” he says, walking past me into my cottage. “I have to talk to you about something.”
The air-conditioning feels cool on my skin and goose bumps immediately cover my body.
My clothes are soaked.
I step out of my soggy flip-flops. Nicholas gets a towel in the bathroom and hands it to me. I use it to wipe my face and dry my hair. The towel is too fat to pile on top of my head.
“Do you want to change?” he asks, sitting down on the couch in the living room. “I’ll wait.”
It’s a request that’s in the form of a question. Not long ago, I found this to be incredibly charming and not at all threatening. But knowing what I know now…I am not so sure.
I go to the other room and change into another long sleeve shirt and a cropped pair of yoga pants.
When I come out, I see Nicholas at my computer. My account has logged out but the screen is still up.
“Who do you know in prison?” he asks.
I crack my knuckles.
“Why are you looking through my stuff?” I ask.
“I wanted to check what the weather will be tomorrow. I forgot my phone back at the house.”
His explanation is plausible enough the way that good explanations typically go.
I consider lying, pretending that it’s someone else I know who is in prison but what if I told him truth? Would that turn the tables? Would it catch him off guard?
“My brother, Owen, is doing a stretch for an armed robbery charge,” I say.
My chest swells with pride using the right lingo just like the incarcerated do.
“Do you know him?” I ask.
The question slips out before I have a chance to really consider it. His eyes snap back and focus on mine. His face remains blank, devoid of all expression.
“Your brother?” he asks, buying more time. I nod and wait.
“Same last name? Owen Kernes?”
Again, I nod and wait.
“No.” He shakes his head. “I don’t think I do.”
Our eyes remain locked on each other. He lies so
effortlessly it makes my skin crawl.
“Why, did he say something?”
“No, not at all.” I shake my head trying to be as nonchalant as he is.
Nicholas invites me back to his house for some dinner and I feel compelled to go. I don’t have any plans with Sydney and he knows full well that I have nothing else to do. We both have to eat. Plus, I don’t want to raise any suspicion.
As we devour the meal that his chef has prepared, we don’t speak.
My thoughts focus on the way his body tensed up just a bit when I asked about Owen. I don’t know if that means anything, or if I’m just reading too much into everything. Still I can’t shake this feeling that he’s lying.
There isn’t another Nicholas Crawford from that area of Boston. And there’s definitely not one who steals valuables by making replicas first. Owen knew his original last name. He knew too much about him for this to not be the same person. Then there’s the flinch.
When I asked him if he knew him, his shoulders tightened. He tried to cover it up. He took his time answering me. Those were all signs of deception.
“I have to go back to Boston tomorrow,” I say, biting into the end of an asparagus spear.
“Tomorrow? Why?”
“I’m going to be a character witness for Owen at his parole hearing.”
“Did you know about this before?” he asks, taking his time chewing every last bit of his arugula before bringing his fork up to his mouth with another bite.
“No, I just talked to him today. He didn’t know before either. They were supposed to notify him but apparently he never got the message.”
Nicholas takes a sip of his whiskey.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?” I ask after a moment.
“Just trying to give you the opportunity to reach your own conclusion.”
“About this,” he says, taking another sip. I furrow my brow.
“I don’t know understand what you don’t understand,” I say, taking a more stern approach. “I am not asking your permission. I am just notifying you about what I’m going to do.”
Nicholas takes another bite. And then another. Then he finishes his drink and pours himself another. Still, he doesn’t talk.
I put my plate in the sink and head toward the door.
“How are you going to get back to Boston?” he asks. “On what money?”
“I have enough for a ticket, don’t worry about it.”
“And what about our…arrangement? You promised to be at my disposal.”
I slip into my flip-flops by the entrance and turn around to face him.
“I don’t understand why you are making this so difficult,” I say. “Don’t you get what’s going on here? My brother who has served years in prison finally has a chance to get out.”
“Most inmates don’t get parole during their first hearing,” he points out.
I want to smack him across the face for saying that but instead I just ball up my fists.
“You’re an asshole for saying that.”
He shrugs.
“You know what, I can’t talk to you when you have that smug expression on your face. Why don’t you find me when you aren’t so closed off.”
I swing the front door open and step onto the porch. Water is falling in sheets but I have made too much of a scene to not leave.
“You’re going to get soaked!” he yells so that I will hear him over the rain.
“I’m not made of sugar!” I scream back.
19
When we play a game…
I’m about halfway down toward my cottage when he catches up to me. He grabs me by my arms from behind.
I fight to break free, but he holds me tightly. At first, I’m incensed.
Upset.
But the more we struggle, the more aroused I get.
He towers over me, clasps me firmly. I have nowhere to go and that’s the way I want it.
When he spins me around, I stand on my tiptoes and press my lips to his. The kiss catches him by surprise, but it only takes a moment for him to respond in kind. His mouth opens wide, welcoming me in.
His arms release their grasp. But instead of pushing me away from him, they now pull me close.
I run my fingers up his neck and bury them in his hair. It is thick and soft even though it is completely waterlogged.
His hands get lost in my own mane. They go in circles and then pull down just as his tongue rushes into my mouth craving to intertwine with mine.
Wrapped in each other’s arms, we let the rain fall onto us. To move or go back to a drier place would be to break the spell. Neither of us is ready for that yet.
His fingers grab my shoulders and then sweep down my arms. Another move and they are on the small of my back. I press my mouth harder against his. With our chests together, I can hear the thunder of our combined heartbeats.
Nicholas leads me back to my cottage. As soon as we are somewhere dry, he pushes me against the nearest wall.
His body is solid and defined. Muscles protrude against his shirt, which he quickly peels off.
I run my fingers down his six pack, as he flexes and gives me a wink.
Licking his lips, he pushes me into the wall again. It’s cold and smooth against my back. Then he starts to undress me.
A moment later, I’m in nothing but my bra and panties. He takes a step back to get a good look at me.
He objectifies me and it feels damn good. He wants me and he wants my body. As much as I want his.
I grab onto his belt and unbuckle it.
His pants fall to the floor and he tosses them to one side.
I look down at his substantial package. It’s throbbing through his boxer briefs, which are so tight that I can see the vein running down it.
He’s the biggest man I’ve ever been with. It’s the size of the ones I’ve only seen in porn.
“You like?” he asks.
I nod.
My tongue finds the corner of my mouth and slowly slides along the bottom lip.
“I like, too,” he says, grabbing the front of my bra and unclasping it with one quick move.
My breasts fall open for him. My nipples stand up erect, waiting for him to devour them.
He takes one in his mouth.
I press my head to the wall, enjoying the sensation.
His tongue is hard but his mouth is soft, filling the space between my legs with heat.
After pulling down my panties, he takes my hand and leads me to the bed.
This is it.
No more foreplay.
No more games.
Just thrust yourself in me and fill me up like no man has ever filled me up before.
I lie down on my back.
He climbs on top of me. He’s naked now, too.
When his body touches mine, I run my fingers down his muscular back and then toward his butt.
I take two big handfuls of his glutes and squeeze hard.
My legs open for him and wait.
Hovering slightly above me, he doesn’t make a move to get any closer. I open my eyes.
“What are you waiting for?” I ask.
“You,” he says without missing a beat.
“What do you mean?”
“If you want me to fuck you, you have to beg,” he says, with a smug crooked smile on his face.
I furrow my brows and cock my head.
“Are you serious?” I ask.
Pulling himself away, he lies down next to me and props up his head. “I’ll accept a please, or a pretty please. But you have to ask for it. Demand it even.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head.
“A promise is a promise,” Nicholas says, his eyes lighting up. “You don’t beg. You don’t get this.”
I grab the sheet and cover myself up.
“Get over yourself,” I say, twisting away from him and turning off the lights.
20
When he makes me cry…
I wrap my sheet around my chest and pro
p up my head. My eyelids feel heavy, but I try to keep them open. Waves of emotion are no longer taking me on a rollercoaster ride. I look at him, but really somewhere past him in the distance.
Nicholas is just as relaxed. He lies flat on his back with his arm tucked behind his head. His hair is infused with body but not a mess. He stares at the ceiling. His chin is tilted upward, away from his body, as his chest moves up and down with each deep breath.
I have met my match. He wants me as much as I want him. We lust after each other, and yet, neither of us can give up the game. I will not beg and he will not give in until I do.
“So, are we actually ever going to do it?” I ask, teasing him.
“That’s up to you,” he says without moving a muscle.
“Oh, is it?”
“You ask me to, I comply and send you to the moon.”
“Or the next time, you can just not stop,” I suggest.
He turns to his side. His eyes focus on mine. After a bit, I’m the one who blinks first.
“So, there will be a next time?” he jokes.
“Maybe. Maybe not,” I say smugly.
But if we keep talking like this, I can’t be too sure that it won’t happen again really soon.
I’ve never thought of myself as a competitive person but Nicholas seems to bring out that side of me.
Especially when it comes to this. He had set up the rules. When I agreed, the rules made me feel safe.
But now, I feel anything but that. Every time I touch his arm, every time he brushes up against me, the bolt of electricity that surges through me makes me weak in the knees.
It’s almost as if my body aches for his and there’s nothing I can do to keep that sensation at bay.
I lie back and look up at the ceiling tiles, which have thick crown molding around each one.
I’ve never seen anything like this except in magazines. As much as I want to keep them out, Owen’s warnings about Nicholas and his true identity creep back in. He lied to me about not knowing my brother, and Owen wouldn’t have any reason to lie.
But does knowing that change anything about our deal? I’d suspected that he had a past, with his skills, it would’ve been ignorant not to.
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