Chapter Seventeen
Spencer
Just because he hasn’t called in four days, doesn’t mean it’s over and you’ll never hear from him again. Because, honestly, have you called him? Thanked him for fucking you repeatedly and being willing to share a small bed with both you and your damn cat?
Short answer?
No.
Saturday morning, I sat in my office and stewed. Today was the end of the month, and I had a last few things to resolve before I sent all the paperwork off to our accountant. The task could’ve waited until Monday, but I didn’t have anything else to do. Didn’t have anywhere else to be.
Moses certainly wasn’t going to miss me.
Malik had been radio silent.
I hadn’t contacted him, though. So that niggled.
My cell phone buzzed with an incoming text.
Malik.
We’d exchanged numbers, and I tried to tamp down my excitement at seeing his name. I tapped on the message.
—What if we rent a plane with a message at the back shaming politicians who support Big Oil? —
What the hell? —No. Too expensive. Naming and shaming don’t always work. —
I waited.
—What if we do a sit-in protest at the provincial legislature? —
—No. And get arrested? Just no. —
—What if we picket Member of Parliament’s constituency offices? —
I bit my lip. —No. Not very effective as they’re never there and we’d irritate the staff. —
—Are you a stick-in-the-mud? —
—No. My floor is pristine. There is no mud. —
—Are you mad at me? —
That comment gave me pause. When he’d been inside me? No. Right now? Sort of. —Yes. —
A long silence.
My phone buzzed with an incoming call.
Malik.
Again, my heart rate kicked up. I swiped and casually said, “Hello?”
“You’re such a spoilsport.”
“Well, I wouldn’t go that far. I’m practical and—”
“What are you doing?”
I blinked. “What?”
“Right now. What are you doing?”
“I’m finishing off month-end paperwork for our accountant. Then I’m working on my presentation to my local Member of Parliament. She says she’s pro-environmentalism. I want to take her at her word, but I also think it’s important for her to know what her constituents think. I have a petition—”
“And you think that blasting a presentation to your MP is going to stop them?”
I wasn’t certain I liked his tone of disbelief. “Yes. Now go away.”
“Where are you?”
I sighed. “At my office. Where else would I be?”
“The nice house in Strathcona?”
“Well…yes. You were here on Tuesday.” When you fucked me on the sofa I’m seriously thinking about replacing because of all the memories.
He chuckled. “Yeah, I remember. So you’re there now?”
“I’m no longer standing behind that statement because I don’t like your tone.
” Teasing? Lascivious? Promising a repeat?
Making fun of me? I just couldn’t be certain.
Then I noticed the silence was far too long.
“Malik? Malik? Malik?” Each time I said his voice, I injected urgency—because that reflected my growing panic.
“Shit. What are you doing? I can feel in my bones that you’re about to do something stupid.
” I drew air into my lungs. “Answer me.”
Another chuckle. “I’m out front. Can you come here? I need to show you something.”
I eyed my paperwork, decided Monday morning was just fine, swept it into a folder to put in my desk, locked the desk, locked the laptop in the safe, and then hotfooted it out of the office. I set the alarm, closed and locked the front door, then headed down the walkway to Malik.
Who leaned against his SUV as if he didn’t have a care in the world. His clear nonchalance caught me off guard. “What do you want?”
“Can you get into the car? I need to show you something. Just around the corner. It’ll take, like, two minutes.”
With some trepidation—as well as intense curiosity—I got into his SUV.
He shut my door, winked, then rounded the hood and hopped in his side. After securing his seatbelt, we took off.
And four minutes later, arrived at MacLean Park.
The streets were lined with vehicles, but someone was pulling out just as Malik drove up.
“You must have a horseshoe up your ass. I never find a parking space that easily when things are busy.” Brushing aside my pique, I said, “What’s going on? Why are things so busy?”
He backed into the parking space with practiced ease, put the SUV in Park, cut the engine, and grinned. “Just a day at the park.” He exited his vehicle.
I did the same. The sound of music filtered through as I gazed over to the park and got my first good look.
I noted about twenty-five motorcycles along Heatley Avenue.
Then we headed into the park. The splash pad was closed, obviously, what with it being the first of November.
But the rest of the area was filled with food tents and people milling about—mainly kids and families.
Well, and a bunch of burly men and interesting women clad in leather.
Safe to assume at least some of them were bikers.
“Uh, what’s going on?” I looked for a sign but didn’t see one.
“This is a fundraiser. For Movember. You know, for prostate cancer.”
I’d heard of Movember, of course. When men grew their mustaches to raise money for prostate cancer. My problem was my mustache always came in patchy and I looked like I had a mouse pelt over my lip. To save everyone from staring at me and pitying me, I just made a donation and kept shaving.
“So why are we here?”
Malik grabbed my hand as if this was the most natural thing in the world to do. “We’re going to eat hot dogs and cotton candy and drink too much soda. We’re going to smile at the families, and we’re going to listen to the great indie band who are playing. In other words—we’re going to have fun.”
I had my doubts. But Malik had chosen to invite me…so how was I to turn this opportunity down?
He guided me to the first vendor, where we bought hot dogs and colas.
I was able to get a veggie dog, so I was grateful.
As adamant as I was about being vegetarian, sometimes that rigidity put me in a tight spot.
Sometimes I chose to be polite over stubborn.
Rarely. Today, if I’d only had a meat option, I might’ve made an exception. That was how much I liked Malik.
Wait. I thought he irritated the shit out of you. Now you like him?
I rolled my eyes at my inner voice.
I don’t exactly make it a habit of letting people I dislike fuck me.
Repeatedly.
The voice huffed, then went into the corner to pout.
Ha.
What I’d won, I wasn’t certain. Because this argument could go on forever. We had a love/hate relationship. Sometimes he had good advice. Other times, he drove me nuts.
“You look very pensive.” Malik pointed to my hot dog. “Regretting the relish and mustard?”
I shook my head. “Two of my favorite garnishes.”
He wrinkled his nose. “Yeah, I’m ketchup all the way.”
“Bland.” I smiled, then bit into my hot dog.
“Each to their own.” He bit into his.
We consumed them in silence, standing near a tree. A cool breeze came off the water, but nothing uncomfortable. I think November is a crazy time to do this. What with the weather being so unpredictable. Still, this is an amazing turnout.
Families as far as I could see. And lots of bikers in leather. I swallowed the last of my dog, scrunched up the paper wrapper, and tossed it into a recycling bin. “Do you come every year?”
Malik shook his head. “First time.”
I eyed him. “So you had no idea how this would turn out.”
“What’s not to love? Junk food, rock band, and raising money. This is how to make a difference.”
He wasn’t wrong. A percentage of everything we bought would go to the charity, and I also planned to make a decent-sized donation tonight when I was on my computer. “That’s a fair assessment.” I sipped my cola. “But I’d say Razor Made—” I glanced around to ensure we were alone.
Relatively, we were. No one within hearing range.
“—are better than these guys.” I pointed to the four men on the makeshift stage.
Malik grinned. “Ah, so you’ve listened to my music.”
I rolled my eyes. “You think I wasn’t going to investigate the troublemaker?”
He did a casual shrug. “Some people would’ve just told me to fuck off.”
“Tempting.”
His eyes widened.
I nudge his biceps with mine. “I’m here, aren’t I? You slept in my bed.”
“First guy to do that in your place, right?” He had a little self-satisfied, smug grin on his face.
Lying felt wrong. “You know you were. And definitely the first to hunker down with both Moses and me.” Because I’d rescued the cat after the falling-out with Paul. Well, getting dumped.
“A threesome I will never forget.” He grabbed my now-empty cola can and dropped it, along with his, into the appropriate recycling bin. Then he linked arms with me. “I want to try to win a stuffed animal for you.”
“That’s not really—”
“I’m certain Moses would love a furry friend. Shall I try for a squirrel?”
I laughed. I’d told him about Moses’s penchant for sitting at the sliding glass door and chirping at any and all birds and squirrels who appeared either on the balcony or on the trees just behind the condo.
“Yes, he’d love a furry friend.” I couldn’t be certain.
What I knew about Moses was his love of feather dusters and laser pointers.
Everything else was a crapshoot. Oh, and catnip. He adored catnip.
“Great.” Malik led me over to a ring toss.
Eight minutes later, I carried a giant stuffed squirrel over to the cotton-candy stand.
He bought us a swirl of blue-and-pink sugary goodness along with two bottles of water.
We wandered close to the bandstand and listened as the group played another song which, although good, wasn’t great.
Half the time, I didn’t understand the lyrics.
Malik whispered in my ear. “I have a song for you.”
My stomach did a little flip-flop.
“Well, for TLIO.”
I tamped down the disappointment. Of course he didn’t write a song for you.
You’re just one in a long line of people he’s taken to his bed.
Damn, my inner voice was probably right.
Although I’d shared my dearth of partners with him, he’d never reciprocated.
I decided I probably didn’t want to know. “Really? I can’t wait to hear it.”
“Conveniently, I have my acoustic guitar in my trunk. I’m happy to give you a private show. Your house or mine?”
I blinked as he met my gaze. The one thing he’d made clear was he never brought his hookups back to his place.
He didn’t want them getting ideas about his wealth.
From what he’d said, much of it was tied in the real estate.
He worked part-time to cover many of his expenses.
I hadn’t asked if record sales were great because, truly, none of my business.
“Moses will be upset. He’ll be expecting dinner.”
“We could feed him and then head to my place. He’d be okay for a few hours, right?” His eyes darkened. “Or a night?” Apparently with desire.
This is a big step. It’s one thing to listen to his song. It’s another entirely to go to his house.
I shoved my doubts aside. “Sure, we can do that. I’ll need to be home early in the morning, though.”
“No worries.” He pecked my lips.
I tasted the gritty sugar. I also loved that we could do this in public. Vancouver was an accepting city—for the most part. I’d certainly never experienced overt bigotry. That said, I didn’t tend to do PDA. For Malik, I’d make an exception. “Shall we head out?”
He grinned. “Yeah. Let’s.”
So we did.