by Lola StVil
“Nice,” I reply with a smile. A smile he can’t see. “Gage, look at me.”
He thinks about it before he does. Something tells me that Gage is used to doing what he wants when he wants. And maybe right now, he wants to walk away from this whole thing. But he doesn’t. He turns to face me.
“I am afraid of you,” I admit as butterflies take flight in the pit of my belly.
“Okay, I’ll stay away.”
“No, it’s not that kind of fear,” I reply as I take a step towards him.
“Then what the hell is it, Shelby?” he demands, growing impatient.
“My husband took a lot of things away from me. More than I can ever say. And for a long time, I thought he took away my ability to be happy. And when I came out here and saw you…I was happy. And that is what I fear. I fear that there’s a chance I could actually like someone.”
“This has never happened to me either. I’ve never told anyone about Rose or…this is kind of nuts for me too. I’d like to figure it out. But if you’re married…”
“I left him.”
“When?”
“Three months ago.”
“Why?”
“Don’t ask me that, please.” I inhale deeply; he hangs his head and rests his hand on his hip. When he looks back up at me, he’s pensive.
“Do you still love him?” he questions.
“No, not even a little.”
“Why don’t you divorce him?”
“It’s complicated. But I can tell you that we are no longer living together. He wants me back, but I would rather die than go back.”
“Is he that bad?”
“Yes, Gage, he is.”
He takes a step towards me, and this time, I will myself to stand where I am. I like the feeling I get when he’s close to me; I just wish being happy didn’t scare me so damn much.
“Shelby, I don’t know why it matters so much to me, but I need to know that you are really okay.”
“I’m not. But I’m working on it.”
“How can I help?”
“Do you know how to make brains?”
“What?”
I laugh at his confusion. “Never mind, I’ll teach you.”
***
Shelby won’t tell me what she means by that. She says I will see later and that I have to trust her. I agree to go along because I’m actually curious and also because I just don’t want to spend any more time away from her.
I check in with Bot and he says he’s working on something, but it will take a few hours to narrow his search. That actually gives me time to get Lawson home before I let Wonder explain what she meant by brains. She agrees to come with me as I drop Lawson off. I did that mostly because I fear that if given time to think things over, she’s likely to cancel on me.
I’m not okay with seeing a married woman, as I said before, but this woman is unlike anyone I have ever met. It helps that she left him already. But I’d like to know more, a lot more. However, that will have to wait until she’s willing to talk to me. For now, it’s enough that I get to be with her.
“You know what?” Lawson asks from the backseat of the car. He’s so high off the meds, he’s not even in the same world as we are.
“What is it?” I reply.
“Not you, man. I’m talking to the pretty lady.”
Shelby shakes her head and turns towards him. “Yes, Lawson?”
“I tell people that I had a pit bull growing up, but I didn’t. I had a teacup pig. I told people he belonged to my mom, but nope, he was mine. His name was Peppercorn. Hello, Pep! I’m sorry I didn’t claim you. I’m so sorry.”
Shelby and I laugh so much we are forced to pull over and catch our breath. It doesn’t help that Lawson keeps going on and admits these insane secrets. By the time we get Lawson home, we know way more than anyone should about one man. Wonder helps me get him out of the car and into his wife’s capable hands. She thanks us and we get back in the car.
“Do you want to tell me why he hit the wall with his hand?” she asks.
“Plead the fifth.”
“Fine—for now,” she says. “Do you mind if I drive?”
“I don’t normally let anyone drive my car.”
“Oh, honey, I’m not just anyone,” she reminds me.
Damn it; she’s so sexy when she’s being cocky. And the more I’m with her, the more I want her. It’s one thing to have my cock harden at the mere thought of her, but to have my heart jump out of my damn chest, that’s new.
I have so many questions to ask her, and I know she has questions for me. But for right now, fuck it; we’re just going to enjoy this. We are just going to make brains and have fun.
Make brains and have fun? Christ, who am I now?
I throw her the keys, and she takes the wheel. And before she starts the car, she says, “Are you ready?”
Hell yeah!
***
So when Wonder said that thing about making brains, she later explained that she’s sponsoring a group of foster kids and that tonight they’re having their very first “Haunted House,” and she somehow got roped into helping them set up the Halloween haunted house decorations. And yes, among the many items she has to help them prepare is a tub of “brains,” and the tub will be labeled “Former residents.”
We enter the house located somewhere in Brooklyn, and we are immediately greeted by a gang of loud, excited kids ranging from five to fourteen years old. It’s a modest two-floor home, and I swear kids are coming out of every window. They rush to embrace Shelby, and before she can say anything, we are bombarded by questions.
“Mrs. Shelby, who’s that guy?”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
“Can he lift me really high?”
“Mister, are you and Mrs. Shelby doing it?”
“Alright, enough. All of you,” she says, unable to hide her amusement. “I know Mr. Parker has lots of work for you guys if you want the haunted house to go well. So, let’s go.”
“But wait, who is he? He’s not wearing a wedding ring. So he’s not married,” one little girl says. I turn towards her; she’s about five or so. She’s small, but her facial expression tells me she’s a force to be reckoned with.
“Her name is Gracie. And believe me, she’s the boss. She is the ‘grapevine’ of this house. If you need to know anything, Gracie is your girl,” Shelby informs me. Gracie has a round face, big glasses, and a keen eye for detail.
“He’s cute,” Gracie tells her friends. They all start to giggle, and Shelby saves me by taking my hand and directing me towards the kitchen. It’s there that work is being done to assemble horror-themed snacks. She introduces me to the small group of volunteers as her friend; I’m good with that. She then introduces me to Mr. Parker. He and his husband are the ones who run the foster home.
“Matt and Dave keep everything running smoothly,” she says. I greet the couple and they look me over.
“We’ve never heard of you. Who are you? What do you do? And what is your intention with our Shelby?” Matt Parker asks.
“Don’t listen to Matt. He’s just teasing. Now, here’s what we need help with…”
I look over at Matt, and he’s not kidding. He is suspicious of me. Something in the way he looks after Shelby tells me he really cares about her. Good. I’m glad someone is there for her. And yeah, I’m glad it’s a gay guy because I’m not good with a straight guy looking out for her.
Damn, I’m in so deep, it’s mind-blowing.
I would like to say that I helped, but in truth, I sucked at most of the snack prep. And my brains came out too watery. But I did help clean up, wrangle the kids when the guests arrived, and put up the fake spider webs. Wonder convinced me to wear a creepy clown mask. So, I got in the closet and scared the guests when they came by. And for the record, I am the best fucking evil clown there is; Pennywise can suck it.
When things start to wind down, the hosts assure us that they have things under control and we can leave. We thank them, s
ay goodbye to the kids, and start heading for the car.
“You were such a good ‘evil clown,’ I think you deserve dinner—on me,” she says.
“Oh really? It’s nice to have my talents recognized. Where to?” I ask as we get inside the car.
“Well, I think you earned a hot dog,” she says, barely holding back her smile.
“What? I’m offended. I have earned at least a double cheeseburger,” I counter.
“What? No way, maybe a hot dog and a small fry,” she teases.
“Hey, I sat in that closet, and when it was time to spring out, I put my all into it. I, dear madam, am a professional!” I reply with the worst English accent in the history of the world. She throws her head back and laughs.
God, that’s all I want—to hear her laugh like that for the rest of our lives…
Our lives…?
“You’re right. You deserve an actual meal with utensils and everything. There’s a nice bistro around the corner from my place, are you up for it?” she asks, practically holding her breath.
“Yeah, that sounds good,” I assure her.
During the drive back to Manhattan, we don’t talk much because there’s no need to. It’s a comfy silence, followed by fits of laughter as we recall whatever silliness occurred at the haunted house.
“I swear when I saw the worms in the bowls moving, I almost had a heart attack. Who told Jake it was okay to put actual worms in there?” she wonders.
“According to some show he watched, worms contain protein and are eatable in other parts of the world.” I laugh as I pull up to her block.
“Well, that’s it, no more National Geographic for that kid,” she jokes. We get out of the car and walk down to the bistro she suggested. But just as we are about to order, I get a text from Bot. He found something, and I have to go.
“I’m sorry. It’s work,” I reply.
“Oh, I get it. It’s okay,” she says simply. I can’t help but detect a note of disappointment. That makes me feel good—not in an asshole kind of way; I’m just glad she is enjoying this as much as I am. We head back out of the restaurant.
“I feel something in my pocket,” she says as we near her building. And before she can say anything else, she pulls out a worm from her jacket. She squeals and practically leaps into my lap. We both laugh when we realize it’s not a worm. Well, it is, but it’s the kind made of candy.
She was so caught up in the moment she didn’t even realize she was in my arms with her hands wrapped around my neck. But now she does. Now she sees that she’s in my embrace. She can step back. Or she can lean into me. Time stands still. She can still step back. She can still walk away. And that shit scares me. It scares me to think she may break away.
Our eyes lock.
I hear my heart pounding in my ears. No moment has ever felt this suspenseful in my life, and as an agent, that’s saying a lot.
She gets on the tips of her toes.
I frame her waist with my hands and bring her closer to me.
God, if she steps away, I think I will fucking die.
Just as our lips are about to touch, she pulls away and says, “Good night, Gage.”
Everything in me is deflated. Hollow.
“Good night, Wonder,” I reply. She steps away and starts to go up the steps. I can’t measure how awful I feel, but I know that it’s wrong to push her. I get in the car and start it up, and suddenly she runs out and places herself in front of the car.
What the hell?
I get out of the car and go over to her.
“Do evil clowns give ‘do-overs’?” she asks.
“Yeah, yeah we do.”
“Good, I’d like to try that goodbye again. Is that okay?”
“Damn right, it’s okay,” I reply as I take her into my arms and hungrily part her lips with mine. The sensation of her lips on mine, combined with her agile tongue, drives me fucking crazy. A moan escapes her lips as our tongues collide. I catch her lower lip between my lips and drink from her. More. That’s all I want: more. Our bodies press against each other. I feel her nipples harden through her clothes. My cock turns to granite. I growl with anticipation.
My cell buzzes. I know it’s Bot texting me again. He’s waiting for me. I need to go.
Fuck it. I quit the CIA.
The more we taste each other, the more we want. I can’t stop. She pulls away. I look down at her, wondering why she’d ever do a thing like that. She can tell what I’m thinking.
“Gage, more to come. Later, go. Work calls.”
“Okay. But I’m not done with you,” I warn her.
“Good, Mr. Hunter, ’cause I’m not done with you either…”
I wake up with Gage’s kiss still on my lips. I’ve never been kissed like that. He made me feel lighter than air. My body became weightless and was able to let go of all the stress I was carrying. I can still feel his hand on the small of my back, his tongue sweeping across my lips, igniting embers I thought died long ago. It’s surprising enough that I kissed him, but what really gets to me is how much I ache to do it again.
“Shelby, Janet’s ready for you,” the receptionist says as she signals for me to enter her boss’s office. I don’t look forward to going to see my divorce lawyer, but thanks to last night, I’m not as tense as I normally am when I’m here.
I enter Janet Dean’s office. Janet and I have been friends for years. We went to the same private schools and ran around in the same circles. But unlike the others in our group, she was kind and decent. In fact, she advised me not to marry my husband, but I didn’t listen. She said she had a feeling about him. So, when I finally decided to end it, I thought she’d say “I told you so.” But, instead, all she said was, “How can I help?” I will always love her for that.
Janet has warm blonde hair, green eyes that never miss anything, and legs that go on forever. She also happens to be one of the best divorce attorneys in the state of New York. We’ve become close friends in the last few months. She’s been in my corner and has made a world of difference in going forward. She embraces me as soon as I enter. I hug her back, and when we pull away, I find her studying my face.
“Oh. My. God,” she says as her eyes widen with glee.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Who is he?” she pushes.
I laugh and shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Janet.”
“Hang on,” she says. She walks over to her desk and taps on her cellphone.
“Okay, now we are officially off the clock, and I am not billing you for this part. So we have a few minutes. Now spill it!” she says, practically dragging me to the sofa.
“Seriously, there’s nothing…going on,” I reply, trying to contain my smile.
“Bullshit! Shell, spill it! I mean it. I have a day of nothing but depositions and bullshit grievances ahead of me. I need something juicy. I mean it!”
I inhaled deeply and look back at her, still trying to act as if everything is normal. She’s not buying it.
“Okay, okay, something did happen…”
“I knew it! Spill it, bitch! I need all the details. Are there pictures? God, let there be pictures.”
“You know you could have your own juicy details to spill if you actually took a day off and had a social life,” I point out.
“Don’t you dare try to turn it on me,” she demands as she sits across from me.
“There’s a guy—”
“OHMYGOD!” she says, beside herself. “I thought you were going to say you had a quick fling with the pizza guy or something. But there’s a guy? There’s a guy?” she says.
“Shhh.”
“Oh no, this calls for drinks.”
“Janet, it’s one in the afternoon,” I remind her. She tinkers on her cell and then shows it to me. She has changed the time; it’s now six in the afternoon.
“Wow, time flies,” I tease.
“Okay, grab your stuff, we’re going for drinks.”
She’s not asking, she’s
telling me. And I know the best way to get her back on track is to give in and go along. Plus, I really would like to talk to someone about this. So I agree, and we head out to lunch. Janet knows I don’t want to be seen by anyone from our circle, so she picks the Bon Temps café uptown. Once we have ordered and have our glasses of wine in hand, she begs me for details.
I tell her all about Gage, and it feels good to share it with someone. She listens closely and orders a second glass of wine. When I’m done, she is beaming.
“I’m so happy for you, Shelly; I really am.”
“Thanks, but it’s only been a few days. I mean, things could go south at any time,” I remind her.
“Oh honey, after that kiss?!”
“It was a pretty great kiss,” I reply mostly to myself.
“So, how are you feeling about it, overall? Does this feel like something you want to fall into or what?” she pushes.
“Ah…I don’t know.”
She tilts her head, unconvinced.
“Okay, okay. It would be…nice if there were more where that kiss came from,” I confess.
“I bet. Damn, he sounds hot.”
“Yeah, he is. I mean the kind of sexy you’d buy in bulk if they sold it. But that’s the last thing on the list of why I like him. He’s considerate. He’s protective but doesn’t try to suffocate me like my ex. And Janet, when I’m in his arms I feel something, something I didn’t think I would ever feel so long as I lived—safe. Janet, I feel safe with him.”
Oh shit! Who the hell just said that? Is that really what I feel? Oh no, that’s bad, right? You feel safe, and then you start to trust and then…Oh God, Oh God!
“Shelly! Shelly!” she shouts at me. I can’t talk. My throat feels like it’s constricting. I can’t get enough air in my lungs. The world around me starts to shrink.
“I can’t…breathe.”
“Bullshit, Shelly! You can. Hold my hand. Together, okay?” I listen to her, and together we start to take deep long breaths. It takes a few minutes, but soon my breathing goes back to normal.
“That’s it, honey; you got it,” Janet says.
I burst into tears. Shit! The harder I try not to cry, the worse it gets.