CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE #3
“I have one,” said Julia, walking over to the bed. She grabbed a black T-shirt off the floor. It was the shirt she’d worn to bed last night—one of Conor’s shirts. She pulled it on, the smell reminding her of him. Clean and soapy mixed with a musk of his sweat.
Angela got in the bed, fluffed her pillow, and lifted the cover. “You’re not sleeping on any couch,” she said. “Get in here, girl.”
Julia slipped under the cool covers next to Angela.
Angela turned off the lamp on her nightstand, fluffed her pillow, and rustled around a bit to get comfortable.
The scent of her cinnamon body wash filling the darkness.
Finally settled, Angela pushed back into Julia, letting Julia spoon against her back.
“You did good tonight,” Angela whispered.
“Thanks,” Julia said. A long stretch of quiet filled the room, but Julia could tell Angela wasn’t sleeping. “Hey, Angela,” she said.
“Yeah.”
“What was James doing in the club tonight?” She felt Angela stiffen.
“The same as every other guy,” said Angela. “Why?”
Julia laid a hand on Angela’s hip. “Just keep an eye on him,” she said, rubbing Angela’s hip. “He’s not what you think.”
Angela turned over, facing Julia. The whites of her eyes glowed in the dark. Julia could smell a hint of beer on Angela’s breath from the drafts Billy poured them after Sweeties closed. Angela touched her scar.
“He gave you this, didn’t he?” she said.
Julia pulled Angela’s hand off her face, and then nodded.
Angela kissed the scar. “I’m sorry,” she said.
“It’s okay,” said Julia.
“I hope you got something out of it.”
Julia touched the scar. She took a deep breath and exhaled. “You know I can’t work at the club if he’s around. If he sees me, he’ll try to hurt me.”
“He only comes for me,” said Angela. “You’ll never have to see him.”
“You shouldn’t either.”
Angela rubbed Julia’s thigh. “Men are terrible,” she said, moving her hand to Julia’s lower back. Her hand lingered there, then Julia felt Angela’s other hand slide between her thighs and begin to gently rub.
“We could leave,” said Angela. “Just you and me. We could make each other happy.”
Angela’s hand felt good. And what she said sounded familiar—about leaving together and making each other happy.
An image of Conor appeared in Julia’s mind.
His long hair. His green eyes. His muscled arms and shoulders.
His smile and the way he could be so gentle and so strong at the same time.
If he hadn’t stolen from that church, they could be together now. She would’ve gone anywhere with him.
Angela rubbed faster. Soft, insistent pressure, circling around and around. Julia pushed against Angela’s fingers, finding a rhythm. She moaned, a memory of Conor’s lips on hers, his breath mixing with hers, his strong hands holding her. Angela’s voice broke her concentration, breathless and husky.
“That’s it, Julia. I’ll take care of you. We’re good together.”
“Stop,” said Julia.
Angela kissed her neck, still talking.
“We’ll leave tomorrow. Neither of us will have to see James again. We’ll just leave and do our act at another club. We can go any—”
Julia grabbed Angela’s face. “Angela, stop,” she said.
Angela pulled her hand from between Julia’s thighs.
“I can’t do this with you,” said Julia.
Angela rolled to her back and stared at the ceiling. “You still thinking about that guy?”
Julia grabbed Angela’s hand. “His name is Conor.”
“Must be something special.”
“He was.”
“Was?”
“Maybe still is,” said Julia. “I don’t know.”
“You gotta be kidding me,” murmured Angela. “Guy treats you like dirt, and you run right back to him. Typical.”
“He never treated me like dirt.”
“You said—”
“I said I saw him stealing from a church,” said Julia. “That’s all. He was nothing but nice.”
Angela faced Julia. “Don’t bullshit me. He did something. Had to. You wouldn’t have come knocking on my door unless he did.”
Julia rolled to her back and looked at the ceiling. “He lied to me. That’s all. I’ve had too many people lie to me. I’m not putting up with it anymore.”
“Please, girl,” Angela snorted. “Everybody lies.”
Julia stared at the ceiling as Angela rolled over in a huff. Julia touched her back. “Are you mad?” she asked.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because you think some guy not telling you he’s gonna rob a church is lying. What guy’s gonna tell you that? He’d have to be the stupidest man in the world.”
“It’s not just that he didn’t tell me,” said Julia. “It’s just that...I trusted him. He was the first person I trusted in a long time.”
Angela rolled over and looked into Julia’s eyes. “What about me?”
Julia stroked her arm, holding her gaze. “What?”
“Do you trust me?”
Julia nodded.
“Then why can’t we—”
Julia cupped Angela’s face. “It wouldn’t be right. I’m still thinking about him. And I can’t be with you until he’s out of my head. It wouldn’t be fair to you.”
Angela pulled Julia’s hands off her face and turned away.
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” said Julia, tucking in tight against Angela’s back, hugging her.
“I know.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m perfect,” Angela said.
Julia could barely hear her as Angela added, “You better get some rest. You’re gonna have a big day tomorrow.”