19. Lennie
Lennie
W hy did I invite this sorry bastard to Isolde’s party?
All morning I waited for a text. For a phone call.
My phone lit up at one point and I jumped for it. Physically jumped toward the damn thing.
It was Roma. Roma of all people!
Roma: Just checking in. Are you okay?
I typed out ten different texts all along the lines of ‘Your brother is an asshole’ before settling on ‘Yes, thank you’.
It wasn’t until Ren called me about tonight that I remembered. And then I felt like shit for forgetting about my friend.
I used my lunch break to go to some fancy grocery store where I loaded up on British food brands, hoping it’d bring her some home comforts.
She’s horrible to shop for because she might talk about random stuff but I’m not truly sure what she likes.
Her hobbies are guns and I didn’t want to get her a gift related to work.
There’s no telling what the wrapped box in Elijah’s hands is.
“You look like fucking murder.” Isolde’s accent thickens when she drinks and there’s a warm glow to her. She laughs a lot more when she drinks which is a nice change from the blank, bored expression she tries to keep on her face.
“You look like fucking murder,” I reply.
She laughs and Abe comes over. “I told you to fucking eat,” he says directly into her face.
She holds up an arm. “Come on, Abel, sit down with us and have a drink.”
“My name isn’t Abel.”
“Well, then what’s it short for?” She scrunches her nose in confusion.
“God, you’re cute,” Bennie says, but he’s shaking his head.
He’s got on a button-down shirt which means he went to court today. I have no idea how it works, but sometimes he helps Ren and other times he works alone at his law office.
“I’m not cute.” Isolde blinks in a bid to sober up.
“Take the compliment, babe.” Bennie wraps an arm around Abe when he sits down. It won’t be for long since he can’t keep still.
There’s a good crowd of usuals, with an air of festiveness. I changed into a pair of jeans and a sweater. Elijah’s annoyingly good-looking in his typical button-down.
“You’re eye fucking him,” Abe says.
“I am not!”
Ben tries to discreetly check behind him.
“Don’t!” I order.
“You’re clearly mad, though,” Abe states. I never took him as a relationship expert but he’s spot on. “I sense a hate fucking coming on.”
Okay, not that spot on.
It’s times like these I wish I never stopped wearing my hair down. It’s easier to hide my red hot cheeks when it’s not in a ponytail.
“What happened?” Isolde asks.
I shrug the question off. “Nothing. He’s just annoying.”
I can’t exactly explain to them that I’m annoyed because I missed out on a perfectly good opportunity to have sex for the first time.
Abe wags his eyebrows. “He’s coming this way.”
I kick his chair. “Don’t you have something to go cook?”
He mockingly gasps. “I can have a night off, Lennie.”
Isolde stands up, slapping his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go get those shots.”
“Shots?” Ben looks up in concern.
“Come on,” she urges and I know why.
Elijah’s standing beside my chair. “Happy birthday.” He holds out the gift for Isolde.
“Thanks, mate.” She grabs it with a nod and walks off. “Ben!” She calls behind her.
He stumbles over his chair as he gets up, leaving the two of us behind.
Great, we’re now that pair that brings their emotional baggage to parties.
Elijah takes Isolde’s chair, leaning in for a kiss.
I dodge. “Absolutely not.”
“Leonora.” His voice is dangerously low. “Being mad at one another isn’t an excuse to stop kissing.”
“It’s the definition of?—”
His lips cut me off before I finish. He cups my cheek pulling me closer, biting my lower lip.
I feel my brow creasing, my irritation spiking.
He bites my lip again, but I don’t give in.
Pulling back, a shadow passes his face but too damn bad.
“I see you washed the blood off your face,” I say.
The shadow grows but then he grins. His chair is so close to mine that it’s easy for him to wrap his arm around the back of it. His fingers playfully tap my shoulder.
“I am sorry, Leonora.” The words are so soft I almost miss them.
“You didn’t reply to any of my texts.” I mentioned my worry several times in those messages.
“Yes,” he replies in that same soft tone. “How do you want me to make it up to you?”
There’s no teasing in his voice. He wants a genuine answer.
“By fucking texting me in the future or I’ll call your dad and have him find your sorry ass.”
There’s a spark of amusement, but he nods. “Did you talk to my dad?”
It was awkward as hell opening the door to find Lev there. But I had the rare fortune to see his startled face.
There’s a good chance he tells my father and then it gets back to my mother. Being pissed at Elijah for most of the day gave me an easy way to gloss over that fact.
“Did you?” I reply to his question. Despite our brief interaction, I could tell something heavy hung around Lev’s shoulders.
He nods and my shoulders sag.
“Is everything okay?”
His thumb traces along my neck and I hate how I soften into the touch. “Yelena shit. It’s fine.”
Yelena shit is never fine, but I don’t push it.
“Leonora.” He drags my attention to him. “I’m sorry.”
He kisses the back of my hand.
There’s lots I could say but the only thing that comes out is, “Just text next time.”
After a few more minutes, I get up wanting a chance to catch my breath. Ben sees me, silently asking if I’m okay. I nod and I’m thankful when he goes to sit down near Elijah, helping to distract him.
“What’s going on?” I ask Ren and Isolde. They’re holed up in the kitchen. Abe’s dad isn’t even here, so it’s strangely quiet.
“Hmmm?” Ren asks, unaware of my entrance. She’s wearing a stellar suit like always, but there’s a beer bottle in her hand.
“Ren wants to go to a sex club,” Isolde announces.
“Right now?” How much beer has she had?
“No, not right now,” Ren huffs.
“Tomorrow,” Isolde informs.
“Could you not,” Ren says, tapping her bottle against Isolde’s arm.
“What?” she asks oblivious.
“Are you guys really going to go?” I ask.
Isolde drank a lot earlier, but she’s stone-cold sober now. “She’s adamant about going.”
“Okay?” I don’t follow.
“She says she’s got a meeting.”
“A business meeting?” Everyone knows she only conducts business at Fujimori’s.
“A personal meeting,” Ren corrects. After a second of boggling at her, she further clarifies, “Not like that. I mean. . . not all my meetings are business. This is a. . .”
I lift a brow. “You never ramble.”
She rolls her eyes and one of her heels digs into the black and white linoleum flooring. “I’m not going there for sex.”
“But you need to meet someone there?” I ask.
She nods.
“And I told her I was going,” Isolde says.
“That’s really not necessary.”
“I’m not letting you roll up to a meeting by yourself.”
“Are you expecting trouble at this meeting?” I ask.
What the fuck is happening at these sex clubs?
“No.” Ren shoots a pointed look at her friend. “Which is why I’m saying, I don’t need back up.”
“Well, no matter what you’re going to need some kinda protection in there.”
Ren stares at Isolde for a second before clapping a hand over her mouth and laughing.
I still have questions, though. “Why do you have to meet at a sex club?”
Ren tips her bottle to her lips. “I didn’t set the meeting spot.”
A meeting spot in a sex club? Ren lives a much more adventurous life than mine.
“Can I go?”
They stare at me.
“You?” Ren asks.
“Well. . . yeah.”
“To a sex club?”
“Well. . . yeah.”
Isolde’s face creases. “What about your boyfriend?”
“My fake boyfriend.” There’s nothing stopping me from visiting a sex club and I want to go. I don’t think it’s my vibe, but it’s time to add to my experiences.
“You honestly think Elijah’s going to be okay with that?” Ren asks, leaning a hand on a steel worktable.
“It doesn’t matter.” He made it very obvious we’re not attached at the hip and it’ll be nice to have Saturday night plans for once.
Ren doesn’t look so sure about it, though.
Luckily Isoldes all for it. “Come on.” Her hands are in her hoodie pockets, but she lifts her elbows up to further emphasize her willingness. “Let’s all go with you. Better safe than sorry.”
“Better safe than sorry? Who the hell are you meeting?” I ask Ren.
“That’s part of the problem,” Isolde says. “She won’t say.”
“You sure this isn’t just about a hookup?” I ask.
“I’m positive.” Ren’s face implies there will be no further questions. “But fine you two nosy motherfuckers are welcome to come. You’ve got a black dress?”
I straighten. “Is it one of those fancy sex clubs?”
Elijah wasn’t happy when I went home after Isolde’s party. I didn’t care.
I got in a black SUV and zoned out during the drive back home. Instead of fixating on the disaster from the night before, I had my upcoming adventure to focus on.
I’m in a pair of jeans when I arrive at Isolde’s the next night. I couldn’t exactly walk out of my house in a ballgown without fielding at least a few questions.
Isolde’s got a big apartment that’s surprisingly airy and light considering how down-to-earth she is. She opens the front door with a welcoming smile.
“You’re wearing a tux?” She looks fucking good and I’m not surprised. Now that I think about it, I can’t imagine her in a dress.
Ren on the other hand makes me gasp.
“Holy fuck.”
She blushes. Actually blushes.
“Your hair!” It’s down like normal, but instead of straight, there’s a gorgeous 1960s bombshell wave to it. One side is pinned back with a decorative jewel but the real stunner is the dress.
It’s skintight, the scoop neck showing a tasteful amount of décolletage and the back dips to a scandalous degree.
“You’re fucking hot,” I tell her.
“That’s what I keep saying.” Isolde smirks. “But I keep telling her that’s going to be hard to bunch around the waist.”
“Well obviously her date will take his time, taking it off her,” I reply.
“I’m not going there for sex.” Ren annunciates each word.
“Good thing, there’s no shame in going to watch others have sex,” Isolde says.