Chapter 30 #2
He talked to his men several times, but he sat at the bar for most of the time, alone, barely touching his drink.
When my job was done, I received my pay and went to the back, where I showered––something I would have never done if the boss was in the club––and put my clothes on.
We just walked out of the club, looking like two people who came together for some fun and were about to go home.
He hasn’t touched me this evening, and now I’m thinking, we’re probably going home, he’ll drop me off, and that will be it.
The car engine purrs as he steers his ride out of the parking lot.
“Motel again?” he asks unexpectedly, displaying absolute control over his emotions, not looking at me.
I study his profile.
“Are you in the mood for some anonymous filthy sex?” I ask, and a smile tugs at his lips.
“I’m in the mood for sex with you. Bonus points if it’s filthy and anonymous.”
I laugh.
And he turns right at an intersection.
“I have a better motel in mind,” he says.
“By better you mean...?”
“We can fuck in the shower,” he says, and I lean back in my seat with my cheeks burning and a tinge of pleasure swirling between my thighs.
“Aren’t you hungry?” I ask, looking out the window.
“We’ll order food,” he says. “They have a diner nearby. What are you in the mood for?”
“French fries and steak. You?”
“Same.”
He takes another turn, and we soon enter a parking lot. The motel looks like a cabin and it’s prettily decorated with lights and Christmas wreaths.
“It looks nice,” I said.
He says nothing, only pulls his car to a stop, and fishes out his phone. Ordering the food, he climbs out before vanishing inside the main building.
I stare at the lit windows, waiting for him to return, when my phone hums.
My eyes tilt down, and my mouth falls open.
“What is wrong with her?” I mutter to myself, taking the call. “Yes, Mrs. Eisenhower. Is everything all right?” I ask, tense.
My neighbor has never called me without a reason. These calls have always been reserved for emergencies.
She knows that, so this must be something important.
“Listen…” she starts, all important. “I’d never call you at this time of night, but your ex is pounding on your door, and I think he’s drunk.
Um, what?
“My ex. You mean Joachim?”
“Yes.”
“What makes you think he’s drunk?”
“He fell when he climbed out of the car.”
“Was he driving?”
“A cab dropped him off. And now he’s in front of the house howling like a wolf in need of a root canal. I don’t know what his problem is, but he’s loud.”
What the fuck?
“Can you talk to him?”
“I did, and he started to cry. I think the other woman broke up with him.”
Ugh. Fury rams through me.
“Can you ask him to go home?”
“I did that too, and he said he’d sleep on the threshold until you get back home. He’s there, curled up, groaning and crying. He needs help.
My hand sweats around my phone as my teeth grit.
I can’t believe him.
What is wrong with this guy? And when has he become the gift that keeps on giving?
I though we were done.
He was such a dick when he came to my house, and now he wants to make a fool of himself and drag me into his drama again for whatever reason.
I can’t go home to deal with him.
And if Ewan deals with him again, he might be fished out of the water tomorrow morning if they ever find his body.
“Can you put him on the phone?” I ask, frantically looking at the motel entrance, expecting Ewan to show up at any moment now.
“Sure. That’s what good neighbors are for,” she mumbles, and I make a mental note to buy her something nice for Christmas.
I count the seconds, listening to the sounds coming from the other end of the line.
A door opens and closes before steps move from her place to mine.
“She’s on the phone,” Mrs. Eisenhower says to him. “Talk to her.”
She must hand him her phone as I hear him on the line.
“Joachim? What happened?”
“I need to talk to you,” he says, his voice hoarse.
“No, you don’t. Please go home. We’re not together anymore.”
A few moments pass, and I hope he’s reconsidering making an ass of himself in front of my place.
“Who was that man?” he asks.
Oh, please don’t tell me I’m suddenly interesting because I have someone else in my life.
“No one.”
“He was at your place.”
“He’s a student’s father,” I make up. “He thought I was in danger when you showed up.”
That’s not exactly accurate, but I rely on his lack of awareness and willingness to let this slide.
I try not to remind him how he behaved, and how arrogant and condescending he was toward me.
How he forgot his manners.
“Look,” I say. “I don’t know what’s going on in your life, and I’d rather not know. We’re no longer friends, or best buddies. You need to go home, or my neighbor will call the police.”
“I’ll wait for you. She can’t call the cops on me.”
I bite my lip, beyond annoyed.
My eyes flick to the entrance of the motel, and the door cracks open. I can’t tell whether it’s Ewan, but it might as well be him.
If he learns about this story, Joachim will have a bigger problem than not being able to talk to me.
“She can, and she will,” I say. “Besides, I’m not coming home tonight, so call a cab and go home. We can’t talk right now,” I say, rushing and hoping he gets the message.
A few moments pass as he struggles to process the information.
“Scarlett?”
“Go home, Joachim. It’s better that way. And do not come back, unless you talk to me first. You’re not safe there. Bye.”
The last words fly from my mouth as Ewan exits the motel and glances in my direction.
I don’t know if he saw me talk on the phone, but I slide my hand down like I never had it pressed to my ear and get ready to climb out.
He opens the door for me and holds it, a curious look on his face. Nothing can get past him.
“Is everything all right?” he asks, and something in his voice makes my hair stand on end.
“Yes. Everything is fine.”
My feet touch the ground before he clicks the key fob to lock his truck and shows me to our room.