Eleven
Iwas lying on the couch the following evening answering Dane’s emails and building his schedule for the following week when Sam came out and sat behind me.
“J?”
I looked over my shoulder at him. “You all right? You got all quiet after the farmers’ market this afternoon.
” It had been weird. He was fine in the car on the way over, but while we were there he had slowly withdrawn until he finally went silent.
I had racked my brain thinking of what I could have done. “Did I do something?”
“No, sorry.”
“You don’t hafta be sorry. Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Yeah, I just have to meet my buddies, and there’s nothing I can do about it. We go every weekend.”
“That’s fine, I can entertain myself.” I yawned, going back to my Excel spreadsheet. “Besides, I got a ton of shit to do.”
“But I don’t want you out at some—”
“No.” I cut him off. “I’ll call a few friends and catch a movie or something if I get done.” I leaned back between his legs and kissed the inside of his thigh. “I’ll be good.”
“Okay,” he said, getting up. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” I yawned again and realized I had booked two appointments for the same day. “Crap.”
It had been a cold, wet, frigid day, and the night was no different. As I sat there on the thick rug with my hot cup of tea near the roaring fire, in a really old pair of jeans, socks, and a T-shirt, I was feeling very cozy. I was ordering Chinese when he walked back into the room.
“What’s going on? I thought you were going out.”
I shook my head as I hung up the phone. “Nah. I’m gonna have hot-and-sour soup and pork dumplings instead. I don’t feel like goin’ out at all.”
“You don’t?”
I looked up at him. “No. Hey, you look nice.”
“Oh yeah?”
The faded Levi’s 501s were hugging his legs like a second skin and the thick turtleneck was bulky, but still gave you the idea that the chest and shoulders underneath were massive. He pulled on his black leather jacket and adjusted it as he stared at me.
“Yeah. You look great.”
“Okay…so, you have a nice night, J. Don’t wait up.”
“Nope.” I smiled at him before returning my attention to my laptop. “See ya later.” I heard the door close, and I got up to lock it as I went to get a refill on my tea.
Dane’s schedule took forever, and by the time my food came, I still wasn’t even halfway through it.
The email he had sent me the day before also said he wanted me to work up the anticipated revenue for the coming quarter to send to the accounting department.
I could do it, but it always took me a little longer to do the formulas.
I took a break an hour later, did a bit of reorganizing in Sam’s kitchen, then got back to work.
The bump woke me, and I jerked to the left, hitting the floor so hard that I knocked the wind out of myself.
I had rolled off the couch and ended up more under it than beside it.
The TV was off, the room silent, bathed in blue shadows and moonlight.
The fire had died without attention, and it was really cold.
There was a scrape and the jingle of keys and the door opened.
I leaned sideways and saw a couple silhouetted in the hall light for a moment before the door was closed with a rattle of unhooked chain.
Wrapped in each other’s arms, kissing ferociously, neither of them taking a breath, together looking like the picture of raging passion.
There were grunts, moans, and whimpers, and then the woman’s coat hit the floor, followed by the high heel that came to rest inches from where I was hiding.
“I missed you.”
The sultry-voiced confession was low and husky, and I saw them again for a moment, shadows moving in the soft glow of the streetlight, man and woman tangled up in heat.
They were pulling and yanking at each other, spilling into the darkness before he suddenly threw her over his shoulder like firemen do and carried her off toward his bedroom, the giggling and squealing echoing down the short hallway.
I rolled out from where I was, stood up, and waited. Waited to see if I was wrong. Waited to wake up. Waited for something to tell me that this was not reality and I was only dreaming. Nothing happened except the slamming of the bedroom door.
When I moved, I realized that, unlike my place, his floorboards did not creak.
So I was able to walk in my socks on his hardwood floors and stand outside his door without making a sound.
Frozen there, feeling like a stalker, I listened outside his bedroom.
I heard the moaning and stood there, frozen, torn between throwing open the door and exposing his lie, cracking it just a sliver to see, to make sure and confirm what I knew anyway, or just walking away.
I had to know for sure, but at the same time my flight response was screaming in my head.
Stupid, but I had to see, to make sure, to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Sam Kage was screwing some woman in the same bed I had been in just that morning.
I shivered hard and reached for the door handle at the same time the lights went on in the living room.
I turned as Sam closed the front door, tossed his keys on the table beside the love seat, and dumped his jacket on the couch.
“Hey.” He yawned before he smiled at me. “You’re home.”
I stared at him, at the door, and back at him. “I never left.”
“Yeah, I know you said that but… C’mere.”
I was rooted to the spot. I had to get my brain around him not being in the bedroom.
He scowled at me. “What’s wrong with you?”
I pointed at the bedroom door. “There are two people screwing in your bed.” Which wasn’t as eloquent an explanation as it could have been, but it did make my point.
“What?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I thought it was you.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“I thought you brought some woman home and took her to bed.”
The look was dark—half scowl, half anger. “You had my word on that.”
“I don’t know you. What’s your word worth to me?”
“My word is good. If I say it, I mean it.”
I shrugged. “Okay. I didn’t know; now I do.”
“If you don’t believe me or what I say, maybe you should go.”
“Maybe I should.”
We stared at each other a long time before he suddenly barked at me, “I’m not even in there and I’m in fuckin’ trouble. How is that fuckin’ fair?” He had become exasperated in seconds. It was almost funny.
“I dunno, but could you stop swearing, please?”
He growled at me as he crossed the room, stopping close enough that I had to step back and tilt my head up to meet his gaze. He was so much taller than me, the top of my head coming only to his shoulder.
“Am I staying or am I going?” I asked him softly, trembling suddenly.
“This isn’t working,” he muttered, sounding miserable.
“What? Me?” I asked, staring up into his eyes. “Do you want me to go?”
“No, me. I gotta go.”
That made no sense at all. “What are you talking about? Do you even know?”
His eyes were locked on mine. “You live here, J. You’re comfortable in my place, in your skin… I’m the one having a goddamn mental breakdown.”
I smiled suddenly and leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his waist, squeezing tight. “It’s good you’re home. I missed you.” My voice was husky, and it cracked on the last word. “And I’m so glad you’re not in bed with some woman.”
He stroked my hair, and I heard the deep sigh as he tilted my head back so he could see my eyes. “I didn’t wanna go. I wanted to sit on the couch and watch you do your computer shit.”
“Then you should’ve stayed home with me,” I said, wetting my lips, drawing his attention there. “’Cause I missed you.”
Slowly he bent forward…and we both heard the giggle from the other side of the door. “What the hell?” he said before he grabbed the handle and threw open the door. There was a quick scream from the darkness as he flipped on the lights. “Oh fuck me,” he groaned loudly.
I peeked around the corner, and there was a man who actually looked nothing like Detective Kage sitting in bed beside a woman who kind of did. She was clutching my comforter to her chest. When she saw me, her eyes got even bigger.
“What the fuck is going on?” Sam roared at them.
“Sammy, it’s not what ya think,” the woman said gently.
“Oh no? Well, I think that my married sister is screwing her husband’s best friend in my bed. That’s what I fuckin’ think. Tell me if I’m missing something, Jen.”
She bit her bottom lip, and I went from curious and confused to nurturing and concerned. She looked so sad sitting there with tears in her eyes, trembling, that I slipped into the room, grabbed the box of tissues off the chest of drawers, and walked it over to her.
Her eyes flicked up to mine. “Thank you.”
I smiled gently, and she shivered hard.
“Who’re you?” she asked.
“I’m Jory,” I said, and when she reached for my hand, I gave it to her, squeezing back. “I’ll make you some tea.”
“No tea!” Sam yelled again. “Just get the fuck out of my bed! Get outta my house!”
I patted her hand when she tried to pull it away. “It’s okay,” I soothed her. “He’s just loud. You must know that by now.”
“I don’t know what to—”
“It’s okay,” I soothed, squeezing her hand again gently.
“J,” Sam began, the warning there in his voice. “Don’t start with me or—”
I shot him a look.
“You and your goddamn tea!” he snapped at me. “You know you—”
“Stop screaming like an idiot. We can all hear you.”
“I want them—”
“Just stop,” I ordered quietly, staring at him. “This is not what we need right now.”
“Jory.” She breathed out my name.
I looked back at her and saw her mouth open, eyes huge as she stared up at me.
“Tea good?”
She nodded slowly, uncertain.
I turned and left the room, scowling at Sam as I passed him.
“Why are you lookin’ at me like that?”
I went to the kitchen and filled the kettle before I put it on the stove to boil.
“What the fuck are you doing?” he roared at me as he walked into the kitchen.
“I’m making tea.”
“I know you’re making fuckin’ tea. Why?”
“Because your sister needs to talk, Sam. She’s really hurting; can’t you tell?”