Eleven #2
“I don’t give a shit, J. She’s been fuckin’ her husband’s best friend in my bed for who knows how long. She’s a goddamn whore!”
“Stop yelling.”
He glared at me, and I gave that look right back to him.
“You have no right to—”
“You’re being an ass.”
“Jory—”
“She’s your sister, and you’re being a real jerk right now instead of what she needs.”
“What?”
“You need to show a little compassion.”
“Compassion?” He was indignant.
“Yes. Compassion. Pass me the tin in the left cabinet.”
He moved right.
“Your other left.”
He gave me a scalding look and opened the next cabinet. After he passed me the tin he looked back at the shelves and the contents. “What the fuck is all this shit?”
“I went grocery shopping with your mother.”
“When?” He looked at me.
“After the bakery. We needed some more stuff.”
“You bought all this stuff?”
“Yes.”
“How can you afford—”
“I’m not some starving college student, Detective. I have a decent job, ya know.”
He moved to another cabinet and then the refrigerator. “There’s a lot of food in here.”
“Like you’d know.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You eat like a frat boy. I’m changing your diet.”
“Like hell you are.”
“Pass me the vanilla creamer out of the fridge.”
He yanked open the door, and everything that was glass inside jingled.
“Try not to break anything.”
“I don’t have any—oh,” he grumbled, and passed me the bottle.
I got out spoons and a dish towel from another drawer, some cinnamon, and a lemon. I wasn’t sure what his sister and her lover took in their tea.
“You moved all my shit around.”
“The way you had it set up made no sense,” I explained, getting out the small chopping board I had picked up at Crate and Barrel, along with a paring knife.
“I don’t care how you think I should—”
“Pots and pans go next to the stove because you cook with them,” I said, educating him. “Tupperware goes next to the fridge ’cause once it’s filled, that’s where it goes. Everything has a place, but apparently you never got that memo.”
“What are you doing?”
It was obvious that I was cutting up a lemon. “Am I really expected to answer that?”
He made a noise and muttered under his breath that his sister was not staying.
“Oh no?”
“No,” he assured me, his voice rising again.
I smiled lazily and finished cutting the lemon into quarters before getting out the teapot and filling the holder with leaves.
“What are you wearing?” he asked out of the blue.
I stopped and looked down at my jeans before I looked back at him. “I was wearing these when you left.”
“You were?”
“Yeah.” I chuckled.
“You don’t wear those things out, do ya?”
My jeans were faded, almost white, old and threadbare with more holes than fabric, but they fit like a soft second skin. “Sure,” I teased him, lying.
“You know, you should really be more careful of me. I could hurt you when she leaves.”
“Is that a promise?” I smiled at him, arching a brow for his benefit.
“Come here.”
And I would have if his sister’s voice hadn’t stopped me.
“Sammy.”
We both turned to her as she leaned on the counter.
“I just—”
“Tell me something.” Sam sighed deeply, raking his hands through his hair. “Tell me this is new, tell me this is the first fuckin’ time, and please tell me I haven’t been sleeping on the same sheets you guys have been fuckin’ on for, like, months now.”
I saw the guy standing in the background. He was unsure whether to go or stay.
“Sam, we—”
“You have kids, Jen,” he told his sister, his voice hollow. “So do you, Kurt,” he barked, looking at her lover. “What the fuck?”
“Sammy, we—” his sister began.
“Jesus Christ, Jen, you need to—”
“Can you reach those for me?” I interrupted him.
He looked at me and saw where I was pointing, up to the new teacups I had bought at the farmers’ market earlier in the day. They were hand-painted, the kind you used at a Chinese restaurant, with no handles, except they were larger. When he didn’t move, I asked again.
“Please.”
He rolled his eyes but got the cups down.
“I’m sorry, what did you say your name was?”
I looked at his sister and smiled. “Jory.”
She nodded. “Jory. It’s a real pleasure to meet you.”
I smiled at her and motioned Kurt over. “Take a seat.”
He gave Sam a tentative look before he moved to the counter and took a seat on one of the barstools.
We were all silent, and when the kettle whistled, Jen’s whole body jerked like she was startled.
I took her hand briefly before I filled the teapot with the boiling water.
I rattled on about how everyone liked something different.
I myself preferred oolong this late at night, but had gone with chamomile since it was universally liked. Both Jen and Kurt nodded.
“What do you like in it?” I asked her.
After several moments of her just staring at me, she asked me for the creamer, Kurt the cinnamon. I poured mine and added nothing. Sam just scowled at me when I asked him if he wanted any.
“You’re the guy my mom took to the bakery yesterday,” Jen said suddenly, really studying my face.
“Yes.”
“She had a great time.”
“I did too.”
She nodded slowly, and I reached out for her hand again. “Are you okay?”
Another nod as her eyes filled with tears.
I came around the counter quickly, and she reached for me as I opened my arms.
“For crissakes, J,” Sam groaned. “Can’t they just get the fuck out?”
“I could—” Kurt began.
“Never mind him,” I soothed Kurt, clutching Jen tight as she buried her face in my shoulder and sobbed. “You guys need to talk to somebody. Carrying this around has gotta be just awful.”
Jen pulled back to look up into my face. “How do you know?”
“’Cause keeping secrets is a killer, and guilt is even worse.”
“Yes, it is.”
“So tell me,” I urged, my voice soft as I wiped away her tears, my fingers featherlight on her cheeks.
Her smile through the tears was breathtaking. “Okay.”
Jennifer Levine was madly in love with Kurt Pratt, and he with her.
They had known each other for seventeen years but had just discovered that their friendly banter and constant chemistry was rooted in more than the fact that she was the wife of Kurt’s best friend.
They were more than simply extensions of Mitch Levine; they were two people crazy about each other.
Between them they had seven kids and spouses who loved them.
They had decided to just leave it as a fling so that no one got hurt, but it had quickly taken a turn from passion to affection to love.
“People are gonna be hurt, Jen,” Sam assured her as he paced back and forth through the living room. “Mitch is gonna be crushed, and I know Rita,” he told Kurt. “Man, she’ll lose her mind.”
Kurt nodded, sipping the tea I had put in front of him. “I know.”
“What’s your plan?” he asked his sister, his attention back on her.
“I have no idea.” She laughed hollowly. “This was the plan. Every Saturday night, because I know you go out, but…” She looked at Kurt. “I find myself living for this day, waiting all week. I’m useless except for this.”
I watched Kurt’s eyes, saw the same misery there.
“We usually just talk.” His smile was bittersweet as his hand tangled with hers. “Don’t we, baby?”
She nodded. “And sometimes we don’t.”
“Did you use Mom’s key to get in here?” Sam asked her.
“Yeah. She’s going to wonder where her spare is, since I guess she gave the one off her key chain to Jory yesterday.” Her eyes were locked on him.
“I’ll give her back the one you borrowed and say I didn’t realize she’d already given one to Jory,” he told her.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “I left it on the nightstand.”
He nodded.
“What’re you guys gonna do?” I asked her.
“I have no idea.” She smiled at me through her tears.
She had the same beautiful eyes as her brother, the same mouth with the full lips, but his nose was long and straight and his profile belonged on coins.
In comparison, her nose was small, and upturned at the end.
They had the same golden-brown hair, the same bronze, copper, and auburn highlights in it, thick and wavy.
She was the kind of woman men would watch walk by on the street, with her hourglass figure, flawless skin, and flashing eyes.
I appreciated her beauty even though Sam was the one who had me mesmerized.
“Hey,” I said softly. Sam looked at me. “Could you get the fire going again? It’s getting cold in here.”
“The radiator’s on.”
“Like I said.” I smiled at him. “It’s cold. Make it happen, Kage.”
Exasperated sigh as he crossed the room to the fireplace.
“Jory.”
I looked back at Jennifer.
“Who are you again?”
“Just a friend.”
She nodded, glanced over at Sam and then back at me. “Will I see you at the house tomorrow for Sunday dinner?” Her eyes were absorbing me, and I had no idea why.
“I dunno.”
“You should come. You really should.”
“We’ll see.” I reached for her hand. “What can I do right now?”
She shook her head. “Nothing. We’re gonna leave, and you and Sam are going to keep our secret.”
Sam stayed busy with the fire and didn’t turn around to look at her.
“Okay, Sammy?”
“Whatever you say.”
I hugged her tight, and then she walked over to Sam and put her hand on his back. Because he didn’t move, I cleared my throat. His exhale was loud; I heard it across the room before he rose and stood in front of her.
“I’m sorry, Sammy.”
He nodded, just staring into her eyes. I watched her tremble, knew what she needed.
I coughed, and he looked over at me, and I widened my eyes and saw the muscle in his jaw working before he suddenly grabbed his sister into a bone-crushing hug. Instantly, she was clutching him just as tight, burying her face in his shoulder, sobbing.
“I’m so glad you were here,” Kurt whispered, hand on my shoulder from behind, gently squeezing.
I looked over my shoulder at him, and he nodded at me, smiling just slightly. My heart went out to him, and to her, to both of them, because it had to just be miserable where they were.