Chapter 22
CHAPTER 22
VULTURES AND CANARIES
Jules
“I’m home!”
“In the kitchen,” Omar calls out, and I crack the first smile I’ve managed in days just at the sound of his voice.
I toe my trainers off, roll my suitcase to the foot of the stairs, and take a quick peek at my face in the mirror. I look exactly how I feel: exhausted. But dinner with my man is going to be just what the doctor ordered.
I follow the heady aroma of garlic and olive oil and fresh baked bread to the kitchen. “I’m so sorry I’m late, and of course my battery was dead when I?—”
My feet and heart stop dead in their tracks, and I blink hard to make sure I’m not just tired and seeing things. Because there’s absolutely no way that Conrad should be sitting at the counter, resting his elbow on the same surface that Omar and I eat and fuck on.
Conrad picks up a tumbler of amber-colored liquid, leans back in his seat, and smiles. “You’re right on time, Jewel. I was just about to tell a story you haven’t heard before.”
I try to pick my chin up off the floor before I turn to Omar with a “what the fuck is going on here” look on my face. “I didn’t realize Conrad was joining us. I must have missed your text about that.”
He’s at the stove, head bent over the pot he’s stirring. He doesn’t look up, but the muscle in his jaw twitches.
“Omar?” I walk closer to him, my imagination running nearly as fast as my pulse. “Did you hear me?”
He nods but keeps his eyes on whatever he’s stirring. “I ran into him at the market and figured since your fridge was empty, it was only hospitable of us to include him. I figured you wouldn’t mind.”
He lifts his head to cast me a sidelong glance. His eyes aren’t furious, but he’s pissed. “Conrad’s correct. You’re right on time. Dinner’s ready. Let’s eat.”
I want to refuse, and as if he can tell, the irritation turns into a raised eyebrow, head-cocked challenge. I try to meet his stare, but then his eyes narrow, his chin quivers, and he lets me see that’s not just pissed, he’s hurt.
Shit.
This is a classic case of the student outpacing the teacher. This is an ambush. I’m sick to my stomach with regret, but it’s too late for that. I’ve been caught.
I nod. “Okay, let me go wash up and I’ll join you. Please don’t wait for me to start.”
“We wouldn’t dream of starting without you,” he says. I nod and give a tight smile that I know isn’t fooling anyone and do my best not to run out of the room.
I text Omar as I hurry up the stairs. “Come up, please. We need to talk.” I pace for a solid two minutes, staring at the phone, waiting for him to respond.
It takes a few more minutes for me to accept that either he didn’t see my text or decided to ignore it. I just have to pray like hell that Conrad wants the payday I promised more than he wants to fuck up my life and hasn’t said more than he should.
I didn’t imagine I could hide him being here from Omar and was planning on telling him that Conrad was staying at my flat for a few days. I just wanted a night where I could forget he exists. I should have known better than to think I could keep my head buried in the sand without choking on it.
Omar set this up because he doesn’t trust me to tell him the truth and wanted to catch me off guard so he could see it for himself.
Oh God . When I imagine how he felt finding out that Conrad was at my place, I hurt. Because his pain is mine, and I know in that moment, he must have felt sucker punched. For that, I deserve his ire, but I hope he’ll give me a chance to explain myself. I gather my courage and head downstairs to face my reckoning.
“I hate to break up this party, but I’ve got an early start.” I stand and grab their plates without asking if they’re done. Because after two hours of Conrad’s verbal diarrhea and Omar pretending to laugh at his lewd jokes and the stories of his criminal exploits that he wears like a badge of honor, I’m past caring about keeping up appearances. I want him out of here so Omar and I can have this out.
“Oh shit, is that the time?” Conrad says. “How it flies when you’re having fun.”
“It does,” Omar agrees. I turn quickly and walk to the sink. I’ve been fighting my tears all night, and I just can’t anymore. But I don’t want Conrad to see me cry.
He didn’t spill any secrets about me. He talked about himself and the bloke he met in Spain that he couldn’t wait to get back to. Every so often, he dropped an innuendo that only I would understand. But the sinister glances that accompanied them needed no translation, and Omar got tenser each time it happened.
“Conrad, I’ll walk you out,” I say without any pretense of warmth. I want him out of here so Omar and I can have it out. Whatever it may be.
He throws back the rest of his drink and sticks his hand out to Omar. “Mastermind, I’ll be honest and say I hated your guts when you played for Chelsea. But I like you now.”
“How funny. When I played for Chelsea I had no idea you existed. And now I hate your guts,” Omar deadpans. Conrad looks confused but then laughs as if he’s in on the joke. “Jules, he’s a riot.” He throws a hand over my shoulder, pulls me into a side hug, and jostles me.
“You’ve got yourself a good girl, here,” he says to Omar. “She and I used to be birds of a feather.”
“A canary and vulture may both have wings, but they aren’t the same type of bird,” Omar says with a smile that makes me feel afraid for Conrad and sorry for myself.
“I see you got yourself a smart one too, Jules.”
“I’ll walk you out now.”
Omar stands. “I’m nowhere near as smart as she is. We’ll both walk you out.”
We walk in a strange single file to the door with Conrad in between us. I can feel Omar’s eyes burning holes into the back of my head. I open the door and step aside so Conrad can pass. “Walk safely,” I say when he’s on the doorstep.
“Oh, I will. I promise. I’ll see you soon, Jules.” The bile in his voice is sugarcoated, but just as bitter as he tips his imaginary hat at me.
“I can explain,” I say, my back still to the silent tower of furious man behind me.
“I hope so. But first, I gotta piss. I’ve been holding it for hours because I wasn’t leaving him alone with you for a minute. I’ll meet you upstairs in the sitting room.”