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She eyed me skeptically over the wadded-up t-shirt.
“I can see why you're angry. I'd be mad, too. If you want to keep following me, I understand. I'll be heading out around nine tomorrow morning.”
Lorraine barely cracked a smile. “I'm the fly, you're the shit, remember?”
I nodded, then rolled the window back up as she headed through the sliding glass doors.
“I'm the shit,” I repeated to Jack as we drove off.
Jack shook his head. “I forgot how crazy it is around here. And how nice people are.” He looked directly at me, realized who he was referring to, and felt my cheeks blush.
I bit my lip, wondering if he thought being nice was a good or bad thing. “Just because Lorraine's annoying doesn't mean I shouldn't be nice.”
Jack considered that as he fiddled with one of the heat vents. “Most people who are stalked by others have them arrested. You give them your itinerary. Unbelievable. You always do the right thing, don't you?”
Jack droveto Chris Sprague's house, and we left Jasper with him. I'm sure the Houdini reptile was happy to be rid of us as much as we were to be rid of him. Okay, I was definitely so much happier to be rid of him. I was going to have nightmares of snakes slithering up my shirt for weeks.
After, we drove to Jack's uncle's in silence. I was just relieved to see the tail end of Jasper. Jack, I wasn't quite sure what he was thinking. His face held no expression and that probably was a bad thing. He did a pretty good job of keeping his emotions in check. His cell rang on the way, he glanced at the screen and let it go to voicemail.
“My lawyer,” he grumbled under his breath when I glanced over at him.
I left him in front of Uncle Owen's house, standing by the side of the road, snow falling, shoulders hunched up against the cold, looking miserable and probably mentally preparing himself for the return call. I had no doubt things were worse than Jack was telling me. I wanted to help him, as Jack said, helping others was in my nature, but unfortunately, there was nothing I could do to help him with his Florida issues. I continued on to Goldilocks for work, knowing he had to solve this problem on his own.
16
“Marcus knew knots. As a sea captain, he wrapped her wrists in a way he knew she couldn't escape. Arms forced above her head, she was his for the taking. He looked over her luscious body. She had melons for breasts, ripe, sweet and juicy. Lower, too. Beneath the velvet skirts, he knew she was pink and wet. Ripe and juicy there as well.”
I read the next installment in Goldie's book. “There's a lot of ripe fruit in here,” I told her from my spot behind the counter at Goldilocks. It was dinner time, all was quiet in the store, no customers. Goldie ate from a Styrofoam to-go container. Chinese.
Delivery wasn't a service the restaurant offered, but they made an exception to the rule for Goldie. Whatever Goldie wanted was brought within thirty minutes of ordering. Every time. It may have been because she was such a sweet person that the owner did this just for her, but I thought it had more to do with his proclivity for ladies’ lingerie and a very specific genre of porn flicks. Confidentiality was Goldie's stock in trade, but it was evident the man figured it probably couldn't hurt to grease the wheels with Moo Shoo Pork, just in case.
“I want her to be desirable, to let the reader know how she's ripe and ready for him,” Goldie informed me about her unusual writing imagery.
“She's ripe all right,” I commented dryly. I wasn't sure how to tell Goldie her writing sucked. So I didn't. “I like the wontons,” I told her instead, picking up a fried crab one from a container, dipping it in some spicy sauce. I didn't get the opportunity to pick on Goldie very often, but by getting Chinese food, she'd provided me with the fodder I needed.
Goldie pursed her lips, looked at me over her fancy, spangled reading glasses as noodles dangled from her wooden chopsticks. “Very funny.”
Beep. I reached in my bag behind the counter for my cell and read the new text.You're good to go. The house is all yours.
“Yes!” I said, giving Goldie a quick hug. “My house is done. I can move back home.”
“Finally,” Goldie added. “What about your story?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “I haven't written anything else.”
Goldie's shoulders slumped, clearly disappointed. “Oh, I thought surely you and Jack would move things along.” She liked happy endings in real life as much as in her romance novels. Or she was fishing for me to kiss and tell.
“He's leaving tomorrow sometime.” I tried to hide the sadness from my voice. Goldie could pick up on that better than a bomb-sniffing dog and explosives.
“Tell him to stay,” Goldie said.
“It's not that simple.” I idly stirred the fried rice around in the white container. “He has things to take care of. To work out. Goldie, he's got ten years of issues to deal with. I can't solve his problems for him, no matter how much I want to help. No matter how much sex we might have.” Besides, I’d already told him I wanted to be a reason he’d stay, and he obviously hadn’t listened.
Saying the words made me sad. My life was here. His was two thousand miles away. To top it off, we hadn't even had sex. If Goldie knew, I'm sure she'd make him stay long enough for me to at least have one male-induced orgasm.
“Where are you?”Jack asked when he called me several hours later.
I was happily settled back in my own house. After leaving Goldilocks, I'd quickly picked up my things from Violet's and headed home.Home.Thrilled didn't come close to how I felt to be back. My own bed, my own everything. I cranked the heat so it was warm and toasty then climbed into my bathtub filled with tons and tons of hot, scalding water. Oh, how I loved my hot water heater.
