15. Chapter 15
Iwoke up to muted sunlight streaked across the ceiling.
At some point, Summoner must have closed the curtains.
Stretching my heavy muscles, I sank deeper under the ridiculously high thread count sheets.
Beside me, Summoner snored softly with his face partly buried in his pillow.
The softness of his face looked so relaxed.
He looked younger than his years. No heaviness or anxiety, just sleep.
The serenity of rest. A bubble of utter comfort and I didn’t want to get up.
But my bladder had other plans.
…Damn it!
Reluctantly, I crawled out of bed and tiptoed across the room to the ensuite.
I washed my hands after I glanced up at myself in the mirror.
Matted afro aside, I didn’t look any different.
I felt different. My pussy was sore, but that wasn’t going to stop me from asking for more.
But more importantly, my chest had questions burrowed into it.
Questions that the sex afterglow made easier to ignore.
Back in the bedroom, I glanced at the bedside clock and noted the time.
8:23 AM. Summoner still slept soundly. I knew he was usually an incredibly early riser, so sleeping in was a treat for him.
Smiling, I grabbed his shirt off the floor and pulled it on overhead.
My tongue licked the inside of my very dry mouth.
I headed downstairs in search of a drink.
Everything was so quiet and serene. I walked into the kitchen and blinked as the light from the floor to ceiling windows smacked me in the eyes.
I grabbed a glass from the cabinet and gulped down a large glass of cold, filtered water from the fridge.
I sipped a second glass and wandered over to the window.
A family of birds flew by and disappeared into the clouds.
In Summoner’s world, I was above it all.
Up here, I could pretend and rub shoulders with the clouds. A guest to the gods.
“Ah…”
The sudden interjection of a female voice spiked my heart rate.
Clutching my glass of water for dear life, I turned around to a woman standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
Straight blonde hair brushed the shoulders of her black pantsuit.
Her impressively tall, matching heels clicked on the tile as she crossed the kitchen.
She placed her expensive leather bag on the island and leaned forward, appraising me.
Burning tightness choked my throat. My spine straightened, and with my free hand I tugged on the hem of Summoner’s shirt. Not showing off my swollen and sore lady bits would be ideal. The bright red lipstick painted on the woman’s lips curved up into a knowing smirk.
“So, this is the reason Summoner didn’t show up for breakfast then?” Her lips smacked mockingly on the end of her non-question. My lips scrunched at her nasally valley girl voice. Every word she spoke came out like a damned screech.
When I didn’t answer, she tried a different approach.
“Where are my manners? Good morning, I’m Kay. Kay Elliott.”
Holy shit…
My stomach dropped. Kay. I didn’t place the name before.
I was a bad fangirl. The woman judging the hell out of me was Summoner’s ex-wife.
She was born into the type of California money that bought her into the circles Summoner used to run in.
They married in the early 80s and divorced a couple of years before he vanished from the public.
Kay was a B-list actress, mostly known for slasher flicks.
But in the last two decades, due mostly to her connection to Summoner, she made the switch behind the camera and became a semi-successful director.
Despite her milking her marriage to Summoner at every opportunity, she never spoke about what happened to him.
In that instance, she was a good person.
But it was hard to see the good person when she insisted on smirking at my half naked ass.
I didn’t know how long we stood there. Me gawking and her glaring like a hokey supervillain.
“Poppy?” Summoner’s voice called out from down the hall, breaking into this painfully awkward staring contest.
“We’re in here, love!” Kay smiled.
Summoner’s footsteps picked up the pace as he came vaulting into the kitchen. Dressed in a furry maroon bathrobe and nothing else, his chest heaved wildly as he caught his breath. Panicked, his eyes darted between Kay and I. Unable to do anything else, I offered him a small shrug.
“W-What the fuck is going?” he stammered.
Kay rolled her eyes. “You missed our breakfast date. I thought you were fucking dead!”
“I’m not dead. What have I said about you just showing up? Why didn’t you call first?”
“I did call,” she huffed. “You didn’t answer, asshole. Now I see why; you were just balls-deep in some slut over there.” Her finely-manicured nail pointed at me.
I swallowed.
“I forgot breakfast?” He blinked.
“Yeah, I always remind you to check your damn calendar and you never do. What’s the point of making a fucking date with you when you just forget about it?”
Summoner pinched his brow and sighed, “I’m sorry I forgot, but it was just breakfast. It wasn’t a date.”
“Like hell it wasn’t a date. Was this a date? Did you get her something to eat first, or did you throw the cash right on the table and get straight to the fucking?” She laughed.
“What the fuck, Kay,” he groaned.
“Don’t you swear at me, Summoner!” Kay shrieked at full volume.
I blinked at the scene unfolding in front of me.
Summoner grabbed Kay’s shoulder and was attempting to reassure her over her high pitch hysterics.
Despite the volatile tones, their conversation flowed with the ease that came from years together.
She was comfortable with him, and he knew what to expect from her.
I wasn’t even dressed yet and had already been accused of being a harlot, jezebel, and whore.
Bile sloshed in my empty stomach. Jaw clamped tight, I stubbornly refused to vomit in front of these rich people.
I carefully sidestepped out of the kitchen and into the formal dining room.
From there, I broke out into a run, down the hall, and upstairs.
Back in Summoner’s bedroom, I abandoned my glass on his end table, stumbled into my leggings, and grabbed my bra and shirt.
Where the fuck are my underwear?!
After a haggard, halfhearted attempt at looking for my underwear was unsuccessful, I headed back downstairs, more or less dressed.
Summoner and Kay’s voices echoed down the hall.
The pair were still in the middle of a spirited conversation.
I was very much an afterthought. The weight of that fact felt like a heavy anchor dragging down my heart.
I thought we shared something. A moment seared in time that had meaning for both of us. I was clearly wrong. It was just a pleasure exchange. A swap of bodily fluids.
I shuffled down the hall, stopped in my tracks by the front door swinging open.
Dumbfounded at the sudden influx of visitors, I managed to shove my bra into the waistband of my leggings and pull my shirt down over it.
A tall black woman in gray leggings and a chunky knit pullover walked into the apartment beside a white guy with feathered dark brown hair.
The woman’s eyes widened at the sight of me.
A smattering of freckles peppered her cheeks.
Her finely coiffed curls were pulled back on her head.
The man turned toward me, his piercing gaze meeting mine.
In that moment, I instantly knew who he was—Evan Elliot, every bit his father’s son.
He inherited most of his father’s features, but was taller with an upright walk.
Anxiety and age kept Summoner’s shoulders slightly hunched; Evan carried himself with an air of confidence.
What is going on?!
“Your mom wasn’t lying in her text, then.” The woman shrugged.
“Who the hell are you?!” Evan shrieked in a parroted male version of his mom.
“…Poppy…”
“Hello, Poppy! I’m Lynn. This is my husband, Evan, and this is just all types of awkward, isn’t it?!” Her uncomfortable smile exposed her gumline.
“Christ!” Evan squeezed his eyes closed. “Are you two fucking?! You’re fucking my Dad?!”
We fucked once. That technicality wasn’t a subject I wanted to correct Evan on.
“Calm down, love. We’re all grownups here.” Lynn patted him on the shoulder, doing her best to soothe the enraged man.
Evan threw his head back and let out a loud groan. My imagination had painted him in the role of a dragon; I pictured smoke rising above his head. He ran a hand down his face before blinking back to himself, face suddenly resigned.
“…Poppy, did you say? Come on, let’s sit down, let’s talk.”
I blinked, unsure of how to react to this about-face.
As expected, I followed the pair with shaky steps into the living room.
We settled onto the couch, and I was very aware of my fingers aimlessly tapping my thighs as I racked my brain trying to think of anything to say or the right emotion to feel.
Kay and Summoner’s argument reached a deafening timbre, where clearly-projected, colorful words bounced off the walls.
I winced while Lynn and Evan exchanged glances.
Lynn clapped her hands together. “Weeellll, I’m going to go play referee. Nice to meet you, Poppy.”
She gave Evan’s shoulder another reassuring squeeze for good measure before leaving.
I shifted on the couch cushion as Evan turned to me.
He stared at me with narrowed eyes. His sneer crested his nose pointedly.
It telegraphed well. I was above my station.
Well above my pay grade. Out of my place.
I swallowed as daggers pierced my chest.
“Let’s cut the bullshit, Poppy.” His voice, although low and quiet, possessed the bluntest edge.
My throat was suddenly dry. My mouth twisted comically as I forced words out. “What do you mean?”
He leaned back against the couch cushions. “You know damn well what I’m talking about.”