Chapter 21
To take her mind off things, Jamie cooked dinner. A rare event, to be sure, since her interest in cooking was about as deep as her interest in Etta’s mycological fixations. But throwing together some easy spaghetti was not only a good plan but would make her fiancée the Italian-junkie happy too.
Sure enough, Etta came through the door at six, wearing one of many Armani suits. Had she driven herself, she probably would have taken the Maserati. She didn’t unleash her favorite language on Jamie very often, but she half-expected to hear Ciao when Etta arrived.
“Sorry about earlier…” That’s what Etta said instead, taking off her coat and pulling a scarf off her throat. Was it that cold earlier that morning? “Wait… did you cook?”
“I did.” Jamie was bringing things to the table. A pot full of cooked noodles drowning in sauce and vegetables graced Etta’s favorite dining spot. Eat it all up. I sweated over this. “You’re going to eat it.”
Etta went straight into the kitchen. “Let me get some wine.”
“I’ll assume that’s to complement my cooking, not to get drunk enough to eat it.”
“I’ve had your cooking before. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“It’s not fancy. Some extra seasoning on what was already in the cupboards.”
“Like I said, I’m sure it’s fine.” Etta brought a bottle and two glasses to the table. “I’m okay with nothing fancy. I had assumed you would order in anyway, so I suppose this is special in its way.”
“But…”
“Stop putting yourself down.” Etta intercepted her on the way out of the kitchen. “I’m starving. Is it time to eat yet?”
“Sure…”
Jamie listened to her go on about her day while they ate, Jamie drinking a lot more wine than Etta, who started with her business dealings that morning. Things Jamie used to care about when she took notes about them. Now? She vaguely paid attention.
Then Etta got to something juicier. Apparently, a meeting that afternoon went to hell because Adele showed up late, and wouldn’t tell anyone why.
Etta made Amanda reschedule the meeting for the end of the week, but not before she ripped Adele a new asshole about standing up an important investor. I wish I could see that.
“So… we’re fighting a bit right now.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It comes with the territory. Was only a matter of time before we had our first fight as business partners.” Etta shook her head. “It’s rather awkward given our pasts.”
Jamie twirled spaghetti on her fork but didn’t eat any more. “Still, not exactly good form to stand up a meeting, and not tell you why.”
“I’m sure she has her good reasons, but I can’t let her get away with it.”
Jamie bit back the words she wanted to say. Like you probably used to punish her for other things? Etta had punished Jamie for shit she had done at her office more than once. Her favorite form of punishment? Spanking, of course. Something Jamie doubted she could enjoy with anyone else.
“Did you two ever…”
“Ever what?”
Jamie’s fork shook between her fingers. Looking Etta in the eye was next to impossible right now. “You do the BDSM shit with her?”
Etta’s expression did not change as she went from gazing at her to the food still in front of them. She did, however, shift uncomfortably. “We did before I really got into that.”
Oh, boy, those are some implications. “Really got into it?”
“Naturally, I was interested long before that. She and I dabbled. That’s all I’ll say about it before things get awkward between you and me next.” Etta stabbed her food and drank more wine. “I can’t deal with two women feeling that way toward me right now.”
Jamie couldn’t blame her.
“That reminds me, though…” Etta leaned toward her, voice lowering to a seductive murmur.
“I wasn’t going to bring it up until later, but you and I should talk about…
us.” Her fiancée must have given her the most Now what’s the fucking problem?
face, because Etta was quick to explain.
“I’ve been thinking about a lot of things recently.
What with us getting married and all… there is still so much for us to do. As a couple, that is.”
“Yeah, and we’ll hopefully be together for an awfully long time.”
“I know that.” Etta polished off her wine and dropped her fork onto her plate. “Let’s discuss it after dinner.”
“All right.” Jamie leaped up and started grabbing dishes. “Dinner’s over.”
She asked her to put the leftovers away while she got started on the dishes.
Once upon a time, Etta used to say, “Don’t bother.
Why are you doing that? The cleaning lady will get it tomorrow.
” Then she realized there was no reasoning with Jamie when it came to dishes being left in the sink.
Like I’m going to make some woman do my dishes for me.
It was one thing for Beatrice to do it back home.
It was quite another for a woman Jamie barely knew to waltz in three times a week and shake her head at the ant colonies growing in Etta’s penthouse kitchen due to neglect.
She’s got me to do them, and I’ve got shame. That was a powerful impetus.
Etta surprised her by appearing next to her at the sink, grabbing dishes she had rinsed off and putting them into the dishwasher. Even though the woman grew up poor and probably had her share of chores, it had been a long time since anyone handed her dishes to load in a dishwasher.
“How was your day? Trusting you didn’t have to chew anyone out. Unless it was your cat. I know how you two get.”
It was the sort of evening Jamie should have appreciated.
Etta was conversational, helpful, and probably on the verge of seriously flirting with her.
Yet Jamie was less than impressed with the world, in part because what happened at the restaurant kept surfacing in her memory.
Etta wanted to know how her day was? She would tell her.
In great detail. Including the rumor possibly going around that she was blackmailing Etta, and that was why they were getting married so quickly. Also: magical pussy.
“Well,” Etta said, the corner of her mouth twitching as she slammed the dishwasher door shut. Jamie dried off her hands while her fiancée pushed some of her hair away and touched the bottom of her earlobe. Stop those tingles right now. “You do have a pretty great…”
“Don’t.” Jamie smacked her shoulder, meeting the unsuspecting strength beneath.
Oh, the woman could cut a shirt. She did right now.
Always screwing with my libido whenever she walked around without her jacket on…
at least she knows how to get me wet. Not that she wanted to be right now, mind. “Or do. I don’t care.”
Etta zoomed in on her mood like a mosquito would single her out in a crowd.
“Don’t get involved with that shit, Jamie,” she said, demeanor suddenly serious.
“I know you know that.” She turned her head away, still gripping the sink.
“But I also know I need to tell you that. Those people are toxic. They go after you because they think they can get away with it. You know what? A lot of them will, unfortunately. Yet you should know that nothing they say is true. I will always defend you.”
Why the fuck am I trying not to cry? Jamie grunted in defense. “I know you will. You punched your ex-business partner in the face for me.”
“I would do it again.”
She sounded so fervent that Jamie couldn’t help but smile.
She always knows how to make me feel protected.
Ridiculous to think – let alone assume – Etta could protect her from everything.
She had a lot of money and a good deal of power, but at the end of the day she was still a mortal woman…
but she was the mortal in her corner. Jamie knew it was love when Etta burst into Jacqueline Love’s huge mansion determined to save Jamie and anyone else caught up in that hell.
We had broken up before that. She did it because, at the very least, she knew she couldn’t leave me to that monster.
“It doesn’t matter how much you say it, though. It will still hurt to hear that shit and know that people think I’m stupid or your future trophy wife. If they even think I’m worth that.”
“First of all, I would never think of you like that.” Etta turned her waist, so at the very least Jamie’s chest faced her. Her head was slower to follow. “Second of all, if I had to have a trophy wife, I’d pick you over anyone else. Because you’re hot.”
Etta squeezed her waist to reiterate this point. This woman is halfway to motorboating me, too. Jamie cracked a smile. “You would fuck anything that moves. Shut up.”
“Just because I could, doesn’t mean I would. You know me. Ms. Serial Monogamy.”
“At least you’ve had a consistent type.” Jamie reached behind Etta and started the dishwasher. Etta stepped with a start at the sound commencing in the kitchen. “Only one blonde in the mix that I know of.”
“Are you trying to tell me I have a type, Miss Joy?”
“It’s obvious. You like your pale-skinned brunettes. The darker the hair, the better.”
“You got two out of three yet. If we’re talking purely about the physical…”
“Oh, we are.” Jamie allowed herself to be swallowed up by Etta’s arms.
“Then you forgot a great ass and great tits.”
“Only great, huh?”
“When it comes to tits and ass, I’m a woman of few words. I prefer to show my appreciation through how quickly I can get all over them.”
“Uh-huh.” Jamie rubbed her forehead against Etta’s chin. “You wanted to talk about something?”
Etta lightened her grip on her. “Not here. Let’s talk in the bedroom.”
Jamie followed her lead, turning off the lights behind her. It was still brightly lit in there, however, thanks to the twinkling city lights outside the window. Unless she was going to sleep out there, though, Jamie was not wont to close the curtains.