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He shook his head. "Naw. I'm pretty sure your drinking and fucking budget is bigger than mine. I'll be outside." He swung by me, shaking a few hands and slapping backs on his way out, his stride relaxed and confident. Apparently, he was well known here. Had he christened the bathroom before? The thought made me sick.
I looked back at the bartender, who gave me an expectant look. "He got a tab?"
"Not one he's paid recently." The man reached for our glasses, raised an eyebrow at my full one, then dumped them both out.
"Figures." I dug in my pocket, came up with a twenty, and placed it on the counter. “So, he comes in a lot?”
He shrugged. “Once a week, sometimes two.”
I glanced around the dingy place and wondered why, of all places, he came here. I nodded toward the cash and swallowed all of the questions I wanted to ask. “Thanks.”
"No problem. Always great to see one of Lee's girls."
I paused, turning around to glare at him. "I'm not one of hisgirls."
The man snorted back a laugh, shrugging as he plucked up the twenty and stuffed it in his front pocket. "Whatever."
One of Lee's girls. The words screamed through my head as I pushed out the door and walked toward his Jeep. My stomach tightened with anxiety at the sight of him in the driver’s seat, his fingers tapping on the door sill to some rock song that had a bunch of screaming.Rock. Brant liked Andrea Bocelli and I winced as a loud expletive crackled through his speakers. I crawled up into his jeep and quietly suffered the ten-minute car ride back to the convenience store, the wind whipping my hair as his speakers pumped and the vehicle bounced and rocked over the uneven road.
He came to an abrupt stop behind my car, his eyes sweeping over my convertible. It had been a Valentine’s Day gift, one that had put Brant back six figures. "I assume this is you, Lucky."
"It's Layana." I grabbed my purse and unclipped the seatbelt.
He flipped open the ashtray and fished out a business card, the edges worn and bent. "I'm not crazy about that name."
"I'm not crazy about Lee."
"Whatever. Call me if you want another round." He grinned at me and held out the card. Revved his engine as if he was ready for me to get out.
I took the card and stared at its cheap font.He has a business card. The fact was both ridiculous and endearing. I wrote my name, number, and home address on the back of a Burger King receipt that was on the floorboard and passed it to him. Then I got out.
He pulled off without saying goodbye, and the trailer's tires sent a cloud of parking lot dust into my face. I got into my car dirty, my hair wild, my shirt stretched out, my shorts still missing its button.
I pulled over three exits before home and parked in a grocery store lot. Locking my doors, I lowered my forehead to the leather steering wheel and began to cry.
Chapter 24
I stripped as soon as I entered my bedroom, needing the shower but reluctant to wash off his scent. I smelled like Lee. Oil and grass and dirt and sex. It was out of place in my world, in my bedroom, in my life. So different from Brant, so outside our box. I liked the different. I wanted more of it. More than I could get from Brant, more sides, more than the man who put me on a pedestal and engaged me intellectually and proposed to me in the moonlight.
I turned on the shower but didn’t step inside. Instead, I put my leg up on the tub’s edge and pushed my fingers inside. I closed my eyes against the soreness there. What would it feel like after an entire night with him? Would that—could that—ever happen? Pulling out my fingers, I opened the door and slowly stepped into the hot stream of water. I cried again as I washed every part of the day off my body.
I stayed in the shower for over a half hour, then slowly turned off the railhead, then the body jets. Grabbing one of the white fluffy towels from the warmer, I wrapped it tightly around my body and stepped out.
I had to finish. I had to get dressed. I was having dinner with Brant that night, assuming he showed up.
* * *
Lies. There was a mountain of them between us, the linen tablecloth too pure and small to hold them all. They tumbled down the sides, spilled around and crowded the twin lobsters before us, the melted butter catching some of them in its flame.
I had many; he had few. I was fully aware of my deceit, and I could only guess at his. We'd talked for hours in this relationship, but had said little that wasn't, in some part, a lie.
"I heard that you're honoring your parents at the Xavier Event,” I said.
He nodded as he cut a piece of asparagus. "I've decided to name the new building in their honor." The building was a hundred-million-dollar investment, one that would have their names on the top. A kind gesture, but a frequent one. Three of them on BSX's campus already bore my name, the challenge of a new employee finding his way to the right one becoming a hazing practice among veterans. Other boyfriends gave roses; Brant gave buildings. Literally gave them. My name was on the property deeds, his companies now paying me handsome rent each month.
I took a sip of wine and savored the taste for a moment before swallowing. It was a 1961 La Mission Haut-Brion, and it was perfection. "Are you giving the building to their foundation?"
He nodded and cut a piece of steak. "Tomorrow, can you get with Jillian? Look over the foundation’s endowments this year and see if you agree with where they are going."
