Twenty-Four #2
I stepped back, and Susan Reid was suddenly on me, grabbing me tight, startling me a little with the ferocity and quickness of her movement. I was good and creeped out; there was no denying it.
“You’ve been better to me than my own son.”
But that wasn’t true. Dane had saved the business that she still owned half of, that would take care of her ex-husband and all her children, even Caleb.
Dane had made that happen. But I couldn’t caution her that she was not allowed to be critical of Dane—my voice was gone.
This was more draining than I’d thought it would be.
Pulling free, I stepped back beyond her reach. “I’ll call you.”
“Please do,” she said with a longing that made me cringe. Because we both knew I wouldn’t. This was the end of the road for Susan Reid and me.
I turned and went to the door. What made me look back was beyond me, but I did. I shouldn’t have. I told myself I would be back to see Caleb, sit with him, bring him books or paints—whatever you took to a hospital, whatever they would allow. When my eyes flicked to his, I froze where I was.
Caleb’s eyes, which seconds before had been liquid with tears, were now narrow slits of ice.
His head was tipped forward just slightly so that he was looking up at me from where he was across the room, and his jaw was clenched, his face a study of rage.
The hatred was etched in every line, in the slightest quiver of his upper lip, like he was ready to snarl or bite.
I had no doubt that if the medication had allowed him to rise, he would have closed the distance between us and strangled me to death right there in that room.
I reached out and grabbed the doorframe.
“Jory?”
I couldn’t even turn to look at Susan. I was suddenly terrified that every time I closed my eyes for the rest of my life, I would see Caleb’s eyes at that moment.
See him rising at the foot of my bed every night, remembering him saying that he had watched me sleep.
He would become my own personal bogeyman if I let him.
I bolted from the room, not caring whether it was weak or not.
I went to the front desk, collected my things, and walked with the orderly, even though I wanted to run and scream to be let out.
I kept my emotions in check, outwardly calm and unaffected, inside just churning as the door was opened and I was released, going from the padded side of the door that kept people in to the hard metal side that kept people out.
I didn’t stop until I was outside under the awning, watching the rain come down in streams. I took deep, gulping breaths of air, calming slowly, joyful with the knowledge that I could go and never return. I was free.
When I was young, there would be those nights when I was scared.
Things that went bump in the night, I was sure were coming for me.
My imagination was boundless, and I was able to make even the most ridiculous terrors seem plausible.
On those occasions, I was certain that I wouldn’t live to see the dawn, but then into the nightmare would come some seemingly mundane noise—the cycling of the refrigerator, a barking dog, the flushing of a toilet—just something that would remind me that there was a world outside my paranoia.
It was comforting, and I appreciated it, so when Sam called to remind me that I was running very late for his captain’s wife’s birthday party downtown, the note of irritation in his voice soothed me. He was annoyed, and that grounded me.
I felt even better when I got to the enormous hotel ballroom where the party was being held.
There were lots of people, so I could blend easily into the crowd.
I looked for anyone I knew, and when I spotted Pat at the bar, I knew Sam had to be close.
I leaned in on the very end and was rewarded with a view of my man. I was not the only one looking.
There was a cluster of women looking over both him and Pat. I would have waved to Sam to get his attention, but the hand on my back took precedence.
“Hi, Jory.” Ersi Cantwell, Pat’s wife, smiled at me when I turned my head.
“Hi there.” I smiled back, leaning in to kiss her.
She gave me a peck on the cheek before sighing heavily. “My God, every time we come to one of these things, it’s the same. Do you see the vultures checking out my man?”
“Yes, ma’am, I do.” I chuckled. “They seem interested in Sam as well.”
She let out a long sigh. “Always,” she told me. “Both of them. Chaz too.”
I squinted at her.
“What?”
I gestured at the sparkling red dress that hugged her hourglass shape. “Sweetheart, in that dress, why on earth would you be worried?”
With her hair up in a ponytail, wearing sweats and doing the laundry, she was gorgeous. And now she was worried about someone snatching her man when she was all dressed up, looking like a million bucks? I didn’t understand women at all.
“Ersi, are you kidding? Did you look at yourself before you left the house?”
“You are so good for my ego.” She chuckled, and it was a good husky sound. “Oh dear God,” she groaned a moment later. “Look.”
Two women had stepped up to Pat and Sam, and that quickly, both men were being led to the dance floor. I was surprised. I’d never seen Sam dance.
Ersi and I leaned on the bar as Stephanie Diaz, Chaz’s wife, walked up beside us. She looked confused.
“What?” I asked her.
“Are those your men out there?”
Ersi grunted.
“Why aren’t you two… Ohhh,” she said, drawing out the word, eyes wide in horror. After a minute of watching Sam and Pat on the dance floor, her face scrunched up like she’d tasted a lemon. “Never mind.”
Ersi snorted. I couldn’t hold back the grin.
“Wow.” Stephanie whistled. “That is some seriously bad dancing.”
“Is Pat having a stroke?” I asked.
“Please,” she said dismissively. “Sam looks like he’s being electrocuted.”
I pointed over at Chaz, who was dancing with some other woman I didn’t know. “Who’s that with your husband?”
“His ex-partner’s wife.”
I tipped my head. “She’s cute. She seems to like Chaz.”
She pinched me, hard.
“Owww.” I chuckled, turning to her as she leaned into me, her arm around my shoulders.
“She more than likes him, she always has.”
I turned to look at her face. “What do you wanna do?”
“Kick the crap outta her, but Chaz would be mad.”
We were silent for a few minutes, all three of us.
“You know, Jory,” Ersi said distractedly. “Sam told us that you were worried we didn’t like you.”
I turned and looked at her.
“It’s not true.” She sighed. “We both like you a lot. You act like us…you act married…and we both think that’s wonderful.
I just wanted to tell you that. I know a couple of the girls think it’s just a phase, Sam being with you and all, but me and Steph, we know it’s the real deal. We can tell the difference.”
I stared into her eyes, and she smiled. When I looked at Stephanie, she had the same soft expression in her eyes. They both actually liked me—how had I missed that? My gaze returned to Ersi.
“Just so you know, okay? So we’re all clear,” she said.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” She sighed, looking back at her man. “God, I hate these things.”
But they’d never had me along before.
“Move,” I ordered her, standing up and shedding my trench coat, suit jacket, and tie.
I unbuttoned my dress shirt and took it off, as well as the cotton T-shirt underneath.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the floor show,” Ersi teased me, arching one eyebrow, “but, honey, what—”
“Just”—I gestured for the iridescent red satin shirt she was wearing to cover the plunging V neckline of her dress—“gimme that.”
“Jory, I’ll look like a whore without the shirt on.”
“You’ll look hot,” Stephanie assured her. “You’ve got perfect boobs, girl—show ’em off.”
Ersi blushed and took the shirt off, giving it to me. It fit tight, but that was okay. It was supposed to be open low, to show off my skin.
“Okay, girls, let’s hit the floor.”
Stephanie gasped, digging in her heels when I tried to pull her along with Ersi and me.
“No.” She shook her head. “I don’t look as good as you guys. I’m so fat.”
“I think the word you’re looking for is ‘voluptuous,’” I assured her. “And, baby, that ass needs to be shakin’.”
She bit her lip.
“Sweetheart.” I arched a brow for her. “It’s disco. We’ll look ridiculous together.”
She laughed, put her drink down, and squeezed my hand tight. They were both trusting me, and I felt like I could fly.
Ancient disco songs are irresistible to me, and it is my belief that if you’re truly happy and enjoying your partner—or partners, as the case may be—nothing else matters.
Bliss will wash away everything else. So even though my girls looked uncomfortable out on the floor with me at first, when I started to sing along with the lyrics, then did the Travolta move before grabbing each of them in turn and spinning them out and then back into me, they started laughing.
I saw them both start to get into it, watching me the whole time, their eyes sparkling with surprise when they saw that I could seriously dance.
I bent backward, arching almost to the floor before slowly rising back up.
I got pulled back close to them with a hand on the front of my shirt.
“Jory…honey…look at you move,” Stephanie said appreciatively.
“Here,” I said, putting her hands on my hips as I swayed them.
She sighed playfully and stepped into me.
Seconds later there was a pat on my ass.
Looking over my shoulder, I saw Ersi dancing behind me.
I moved back into her, and she stayed where she was and danced.
Sandwiched between two women, I showed off, letting them see how fluid my body could be.
Since everybody knows all the repetitive lyrics of the old songs, we all sang the words at the tops of our lungs.