Page 11 of Ivy’s Poison

As if reading my thoughts, she changed the subject while examining my black beaded rosary in her hand. “You got a religious woman back home?”

That rosary represented the only woman I had ever cherished, but she was gone, and that was a past I wasn’t willing to share. “Nah. Not into relationships.”

Ivy didn’t push for me to. Instead, that musical giggle of hers made me smile again. She declared, “You’re into me.”

I pursed my lips and sucked on my teeth, trying to cover my lie. “Nah.”

She released the rosary and took a hold of my cock. My eyes drifted shut. Her silky hand teased, “Maybe not your heart, but he’s into me,” before letting go.

I reopened my eyes to study the little freckles on her nose and the brim of her cheeks. Her lashes were long and curled dramatically. Her lips were small but plump and in a constant fish-like puckered state like Michelle Pfeiffer’s. Admiring the complicated beauty, I commented, “I’m surprised you don’t have an old man.” Tell me you don’t.

As if I’d provoked a painful memory, her expression saddened and her voice lost its spark. “I had one.” I waited to see if she would tell me more of what was diminishing the shine she easily exhibited. “Pop’s VP—”

She stopped when I jolted. Ah shit. But, she’s not his kid. I thought he staked claim to his own.

Cautiously, and with uncanny awareness, she slowly said, “But he’s dead.”

Sensing she was studying me, I didn’t break eye contact. I didn’t dare. “That sucks, babe.”

Slipping into deep thought, she absentmindedly uttered, “It sure does.”

Even though I felt her emotions pulling away from me and setting a wall between us, I asked, “What happened to him?”

“He was murdered.”

“Damn… Did he have kids?”

“No. Not really.”

What the fuck kind of answer is that? “How long ago did he die?”

“He was murdered last year.” She watched to see how I would react to the lie.

“Damn. Still fresh then, huh?”

She inhaled… then exhaled… “Yeah. Still fresh.” But I couldn’t read whether or not she had been convinced I wasn’t lying.

“Don’t want to be claimed by another?”

Her voice went vindictive. “I’ve been claimed many times since.”

I swallowed, wondering what it would feel like to be sold to others by ‘family’. My arms tightened around her, hoping to offer comfort.

She settled a bit, seemingly lost in thought while holding my rosary again. “Ever care for someone you shouldn’t?”

“That’s a double-edged question, babe.” Her eyes silently asked for a link to be built between us, so I exhaled and dared to speak of a time… “Drugs. The little I remember of my mom were filled with her addiction. Then there were foster homes… Then, my size by the age of ten made me high-risk since I was an angry kid. The only one willing to take me was a Sister.”

Her mouth gaped. “Like… a nun?”

I smirked. “Hard to believe?”

Her fingers touched the rosary again as she stayed quiet in thought. “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

Staring at Ivy, my jaw locked. She was prying too deep.

She released the rosary with a touch of anger. “Sorry for your loss.” Ivy rolled to her side, away from me. “Let’s get some shut eye.”

Staring at her red hair spilling over the cheap pillow, I felt my first remorse for killing the man she had counted on, as I had counted on Sister Mary. I touched her back. “You miss him?” I missed the only one who’d ever cared for me.