I haven’t seen Hank; he’s been working fourteen-hour days so our contact has been limited to casual e-mails and text messages. I haven’t given Jake much thought other than he’s still out of town. My days are my own, and I enjoy the stress-free time spent being a lazy cow. I’ve spent today sitting by the pool, under an umbrella, of course. As the sun prepares to kiss off, I head inside and place a pizza-delivery order. There’s a good book and a bottle of wine calling my name.
A knock on the door surprises me and with a spring in my step I fling open the door. My smile turns into a lip curl and I swallow a dry heave. Jake is holding a bag of Chinese takeout and waving a movie.
“Hey, babe, I thought we’d pick up where we left off.”
My stomach turns and with nerves steeled, I conjure up my resolve. I refuse to let him manipulate me.
He pushes his way in and kicks the door closed, kisses me on the neck, and heads toward my kitchen.
I scramble to come up with a reason why he can’t stay. I’m still in my swimsuit with a towel wrapped around me. I go to my room and toss on my cover-up, the one that hangs to my knees.
I want Jake to leave but no viable excuse is coming to mind. Think, I scream in my head. I remember what Jayne said about being honest. It’s not rude or unreasonable to ask him to leave even if I have no other plans. He may argue back, but I’ll stand my ground. I repeat this several times, hoping to make it true. I head to the kitchen, my speech prepared, when someone else bangs on my door. I scramble to get it.
Please be Josie, I pray. She’ll know how to handle it.
I swing the door open to see Hank standing there with his lopsided grin and his hair mussed. A motorcycle helmet hangs in his left hand.
“Hey.” His smile broadens.
My body tingles and I smile back, “Hey—”
“Hey, babe, where do you keep the forks?” Jake comes in, pulls the door open farther, and gives Hank the once-over.
“Who are you?” Hank asks.
“Her boyfriend. Who are you?”
“Wait. What?” I ask Jake. I shake my head and look at Hank. “He’s not—”
“I’ve caught you at a bad time. I’ll get going,” Hank replies. His shoulders slump as he steps back and winces. My heart breaks, leaps, and then freezes in panic.
He walks off. I face Jake and throw my hands up in question. Words escape me, and I dart out the door after Hank.
I follow him down the hallway and have to skip steps on the stairs to catch up with him. We reach the parking lot, and I stretch out trying to touch him but he’s just out of reach. He stops suddenly and turns toward me, causing me to skid to a stop.
“This is exactly what I was talking about, Paisley, at the park. On our date.”
I give him a puzzled look.
“Sleeping with you and sharing you with others. It goes against my nature.”
“It’s not—”
“Answer me one question. Are you sleeping with him?” He sets his jaw.
If he would shut up for a second, I would answer all his questions.
I turn my face up to him and try not to twitch or blink so he can see, without a doubt, I’m telling the truth.
“No. This is like only the third time I’ve seen him and I did not plan nor ask for this. He showed up uninvited. He is not my boyfriend.” His eyes search my face. “Scout’s honor.”
“Didn’t you get kicked out of Girl Scouts?”
“No, I left voluntarily. Do you remember everything?” I ask.
“Why did he say he was your boyfriend?” He turns and walks to one of the most spectacular motorcycles I have ever seen.
I stare at it in awe. “I dunno. Maybe he thought you were gonna brain him with your helmet.” I nod toward the full-face black helmet. “You being the tough biker and all.”
We grin. I look at the bike and run my hands over the tank.
“I showed up uninvited,” he says.
“Yes, but you have a standing invitation.”
He pauses. “Seriously, what’s his deal?” He’s not snarky, just curious.
I shrug, “I dunno. Totally caught me off guard. I was about to ask him to leave when you knocked. How long have you owned a motorcycle?” I walk over to Hank, push up the sleeve on his left arm, and trace a tattoo of the Navy insignia with my index finger. “You, sir, have hidden depths.”
He smiles his crooked smile I love so much. “What are you doing with that guy, Paisley?”
I shrugged. “Nothing, I hadn’t planned on seeing him again. Besides, who needs a boyfriend when I’ve got BOB.” It’s my attempt at a joke.
“BOB?” He quirks a brow.
“Yeah, you remember BOB.” I do some awkward hand gestures and stop when realization dawns and he smirks.
Hank comes from around the bike, puts his helmet on the ground, and backs me up against my SUV, which is parked next to his bike.
“Yes, but can BOB do this?” He lifts me up, presses me between the car and his body, and kisses me thoroughly. I lose all sense of time and space. He breaks the kiss, hovers his lips over mine as he lowers me slowly to the ground. My knees buckle, and I give a nervous giggle.
He brushes a second gentle kiss on my lips, takes a step back, pulls on his helmet, flips the faceplate up, and straddles his bike.
“You let me know when you get BOB to do that.” He winks and starts the bike up. The vibrations of the bike echo the tremor in my body.
I’m rooted to my spot, like a dullard, with what I suspect is a goofy look on my face. At least I manage a small wave as he rides off.
A reflection of light from an apartment across the way catches my eye, and I look over to see Mrs. Cranston, the nosiest neighbor this world over, watching me through binoculars.
Ha. I knew she used them. Wait till I tell Josie.
“Hi, Mrs. Cranston.” I wave before heading back to my apartment. Jake is standing on my balcony eating Chinese food out of the container and looking down at me.
Holy hell. My left eye twitches.
I climb the stairs to my apartment, my mind a total blank, at a loss for what to say. I swing open the door and brace myself. He continues to stand there and eat.
“Ah...” Yep, it’s all I got.
“I was going to ask if you missed me.” He gives me a wounded look.
Like I missed a cold sore.
“I can see you had a distraction. Guess I need to step up my game.” He puts the Chinese food on my coffee table, without a coaster, and I stare at the food box as the gummy gravy oozes out from the bottom. He steps closer and tries to pull me into an embrace, but I put my hands up on his chest to stop him.
“Listen, Jake. I’m sorry, I have plans. I appreciate the spontaneity, but the timing is off.” I don’t want an ugly confrontation, convinced if we get into it he’ll just twist my words until I’m confused and the message is lost. I don’t have the debate skills to go up against guys like Trevor and Jake. I want him to leave. I try to take a step back, but he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me toward him.
“I won’t lie and say I’m not hurt. I know you’re giving me the brush-off but you’re making a mistake.” He weasels his hands under the bottom of my bathing-suit cover and pinches my bum so hard I yelp and jump closer. He locks me in tight.
“Don’t you understand, Paisley? Don’t you think we can have something good?” His voice is low, almost a whisper.
Never in my life have I been this unnerved and scared shitless. I nod, afraid to do anything other than agree.
“Great. I’ll let you come up with something for our next date. Make it good.” His kiss is rough; his lips push against mine with such force it hurts, and I taste the metallic flavor of blood in my mouth. He pulls away, pushing me backward, and I fall onto the floor. He steps over me and scoops up his keys as he heads toward the door.
“Oh, what color is your dress for the wedding? I’ll try to coordinate it with my suit.” He turns back and waits with an impatient look as if I’m a petulant child.
“Navy.” It comes out a whisper.
“Great. Navy. I expect to hear from you soon. I enjoy being with you. You’re a cool chick.” He winks and walks out. When the door closes, I jump up, throw the lock, and slide down the door, my back resting against it.
I bite my thumbnail as I listen through the door, afraid he may come back. There’s a soft shuffle on the other side and I press my ear closer, straining. I jump when someone knocks.
“Who is it?” I demand in what I hope is my sternest voice but there is no denying I’m rattled.
“Pizza delivery.”
I look through the peephole and let out my breath.
It’s the pizza guy.
I grab my money, open the door, snatch the pizza, toss him my cash, very large tip included, and slam the door, throwing the bolt again. I lean against the door, holding my pizza, shaking. Jake has made me afraid in my own home.
“Wow, thanks lady,” the kid yells through the door. Clearly, he is pleased with my tip.
My trembling is no longer generated by fear but anger. I’m pissed off. Who the fuck does Jake think he is? I have a flash to Trevor. Toward the end of our marriage he used to play the same type of mind games and he nearly broke me. I don’t like the parallel.
Jayne’s words about honesty and Josie’s about feeling obligated resonate with me. And then there’s Hank’s kisses. Even when hurried, they never cause pain. Ignoring what needs to be said between Jake and me won’t resolve this problem. I was stupid to think it would. I’m tired of being a victim. I may not have changed as much as I originally thought but here’s the opportunity to make more of that change happen. I’ve come this far, and I won’t be held down by anyone, including me, anymore.
I snatch up the Chinese food on my table, wipe up the gravy square, combine them with the container in my kitchen, and drop them in the trash. There is no way in hell I’m eating something Jake brought. For all I know it’s laced with a date-rape drug. I wouldn’t put it past him.
I uncork my bottle of wine, grab a napkin, the pizza box, and my book, and head out to my balcony. I toy with the idea of texting Hank, asking him to come back. But then he really would be my booty call. I stick to the original plan.
Tonight is going to be what I originally wanted, an evening with only myself for company.