17

Every Fucking Time

Angel’s satisfied sigh had barely left her lips before Drew slid to the side of the bed and began yanking on his pants.

“Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am,” Angel muttered.

Drew paused, throwing her an apologetic smile over his shoulder. “I can’t just—”

“I get it.” Angel shrugged deeper into the pillows haphazardly stacked behind her. “And I told you I don’t mind. But I’m too tired to come with.”

“That’s… unfortunate.” He shoved his shoes onto his feet and buttoned his shirt as he cast around the room looking for his jacket. Where the hell had it fallen?

“You mind if I sleep here tonight?”

“I said you could,” he murmured distractedly, hurrying over the pile of dark fabric he’d identified as his suit jacket.

“In your bed?”

He gave her a flustered shrug. “Yeah. Sure.”

Her smile became a touch hard, but she didn’t say anything else while he tucked in his shirt and yanked his jacket straight. The sound of his own hurried footsteps chased him through the house — muffled on the thick carpeting of the hallway and the stairs, clattering over the kitchen’s hardwood floor.

Outside, the rain sifted down in a misty drizzle. He ran down the drive, eyes fixed on Kelly’s door. Her gate squeaked loudly when he opened it — had it always done that? — and only slightly quieter when he let it bang closed.

Her door was still open. He paused to catch his breath at the sudden warmth and noise that washed over him.

He heard voices nearby — in the kitchen perhaps — and quickly slipped into the television room just off the main entry hall. The cozy room was dark and empty; perfect for him to catch his breath and straighten his clothes before he went to find Kelly.

“…Leaving already?”

Drew’s shoulders straightened. Footsteps came down the hall. From where he stood, their shadows reached him before they did.

One of those shadows he recognized as if it was his own.

Bryce came into view, glancing at whoever was behind him with that smarmy smile he wore so often.

“Yeah. I’ve outstayed my welcome.”

A woman a few years younger than him appeared, unsteady on her heels.

Bryce watched her for a few seconds before his smile inched up. “Hey, would you do me a favor, Susie?” His brother handed the woman a business card. “Make sure Kelly gets that, would you?”

“Course,” she replied, taking the card on the second try and bringing it to her nose as if smelling it.

Bryce’s smile oozed self-satisfaction as he turned and headed out.

There was a hesitant, “Hey… uh…” as the woman tottered out of sight after his brother.

“Yeah?” came Bryce’s voice.

“Could I have one too?”

“Sure thing. Mobile’s best.”

“Thanks.” The woman reappeared, hand held to her heart, the other hanging limp at her side. She completely failed to see Drew when she swung around to go back into the house. “Lucky bitch.”

He waited until his breath had returned to normal before stepping from the shadows and standing in the hallway.

And then the door at the far end of the hallway opened. A figure emerged, walking almost as unsteadily as the woman who’d escorted Bryce to the front door.

Kelly?

She didn’t see him as she turned and slipped into the kitchen. But she had a magnificent scowl on her face and was clutching her arms tightly across her chest.

Why the hell would Bryce give her his card? It wasn’t as if Kelly was in the market for a loss adjuster… was she?

“Hey!” The enthusiastic screech could only have come from the woman who’d taken Bryce’s card at the front door. “That guy just left.”

“Yeah, Susie, I know.” The fridge opened, and bottles clattered. “What’s this?”

“Said to give it to you. It’s his card.”

“You serious? That fucking—” Bottles clanked, hard. Kelly let out a harsh laugh. “Unbelievable.”

“What? He seemed nice.”

“Yeah? Then here. You take it. Turns out, he’s a really good lay. You two will get along like an arsonist and a bottle of goddamn butane.”

Drew’s mouth fell open. He took a step back, crashed into the narrow table pushed against one wall of the entry hall, and hurriedly spun around to try and quieten the various ornaments, car keys, and cellphones rattling on it.

“Did you close the door?”

“Yeah… I think.”

“We should lock it. I don’t want that piece of shit coming back in.”

“What’s wrong, Kay? Why’re you so—”

Drew couldn’t hear the rest — he was halfway out the front door. He made it to the gate before a rectangle of light cut across the lawn.

If Kelly had seen him, she didn’t call out. And he didn’t turn around. Hopefully, if she’d seen him fleeing her house like a surprised burglar, then she’d assume it was Bryce and not him.

As if Bryce would ever run away.

He slammed the front door of his house much too hard.

“Hello?” Angel appeared at the top of the stairs while he was still trying to convince his hands to unclench. “Mr. Sugar? Everything okay?”

“No, Angel.” His voice was hoarse, tight with the effort of not shouting. “It never was. Never will be.”

The girl jogged down the stairs, holding tightly to the two halves of his dressing gown. It dragged on the floor behind her until she gathered it up tighter around her chest.

“What happened?” she whispered.

“What happened?” Drew swiped his hand through his hair. “He fucked her, is what happened. That asshole just—” He clamped his lips closed and stormed away from Angel, heading for the kitchen.

“Who?”

“My brother.”

“Your… brother? Wow, slow down.”

“He does this every fucking time.” He threw open a kitchen cupboard and rummaged around until he found the half-empty bottle of gin.

“Does what?” Angel grabbed his arm, but he shrugged her off.

Gin sloshed into an empty tumbler, barely settling before he threw it into the back of his throat with a grimace. “Forget it. Done’s done.”

“Wait, how did he manage—?”

“Shut up!” He glanced at the bottle of alcohol, twisted his lips, and shoved it back into the cupboard. “I’m going to bed.”

When he heard her footsteps pattering after him on the kitchen floor, he paused. “Alone.”

Surprisingly, the girl didn’t follow him.

“Coffee.”

Drew blinked, running a hand through his hair as he pushed himself onto an elbow. Another glorious headache accompanied wakefulness. He had to stop drinking — the pain was unbearable and intolerable this early in the morning. He glanced at his alarm clock. Still an hour before he had to leave for work. He could snooze for another few minutes and—

“I’m leaving,” Angel said. The mattress shifted as she sat on the edge of the mattress.

Drew took a swallow of coffee — it was too hot, but he desperately needed the caffeine. “Where you going?”

“To my mom’s.” Angel shrugged. “Probably should have gone there in the first place.” Her mouth twitched with distaste, but she smoothed it away before he could open his mouth to ask after it. “Anyway, breakfast is going to burn if I don’t—”

He caught her arm as she rose. “Thank you.”

She widened those cerulean blue eyes at him. They narrowed immediately, and she cocked her head to the side. “You feeling okay there, Mr. Sugar?”

He laughed, but quietly because of his head, and set down the coffee cup. Sighing heavily, he grabbed hold of her wrist, squeezing it.

“If you hadn’t kept me back last night, I’d probably have murdered my brother.”

“I doubt it.” Angel shrugged again, her gaze growing unfocused. “You’re not the kind of guy that goes around murdering people.”

He tried another laugh, but his head complained too much about it, so he stopped.

“You’re probably not even going to say anything about it, are you? You’re going to go to work, look your brother in the face, and smile like nothing’s the matter.”

Drew pushed himself into a sit, releasing Angel’s wrist. “What?”

She crossed her arms over her chest. Last night’s nightie had been replaced with a faded sleeping shirt that almost touched her knees. It was the most decent thing he’d seen her wear since she’d arrived. His blurry eyes took in other details too; no makeup, hair disheveled, the smell of cigarettes.

“Fuck it,” she murmured, turning to the door. “It’s your life. Screw it up if you want. It’s easier that way, right? Just letting stuff happen to you, instead of being the stuff that happens to other people?”

His mouth was open, a retort seconds away, but she was already gone. He downed the rest of his coffee, squeezed his eyes shut against a hard throb in his head, and climbed out of bed.

The shower marginally revived him, a shave a little more. By the time he was dressed for work, he almost felt like himself. Angel had left painkillers next to the coffee, and those had kicked in by the time he arrived in the kitchen; drawn by the smells and the need to explain himself.

But Angel wasn’t there. His breakfast waited for him, plate steaming and cutlery glinting red in the sunrise-tinted light of dawn.

“Angel?”

Shit, had she left already? Drew hurried back upstairs and pushed open the door to her room. The bed was made. None of her stuff lay around; the room didn’t even smell of her cigarettes. He went downstairs again and tried to eat something, but his stomach wasn’t having it. He made himself another cup of coffee, transferred it into his travel mug, and headed for the front door.

He paused with his hand on the handle.

Jesus, the house felt so empty again.

Squaring his shoulders, Drew left. He almost stopped walking when he realized he might bump into Kelly, but a glance over to her property made it clear that she’d already collected her newspaper; track marks through the dew on her lawn, her gate ajar.

His mouth twisted into a sour grimace. She’d apparently been wasted last night. Which meant she didn’t like him; she’d just been after anything with a dick.

He shook away the thought and stopped when he turned to go up the drive.

His car was gone.

Penny’s car was still there, windows glazed with condensation, but his car was—

Parked down the road. He rolled his eyes and began trudging down the street, glancing around for any nosy neighbors. The car’s handle was wet, the inside chilly. Drew got into his car, but he didn’t drive off immediately. He sat, cradling the coffee mug in his lap as he stared sightlessly down the road.

He’d resigned himself to being with Angel, at least for as long as she was around. And why the hell not? She was spectacular in bed, and she’d never asked for anything except his attention. Fuck Bryce saying she was in it for the money; she hadn’t asked for a red cent yet.

Now she was gone. And what did that leave him with? An empty house, an empty bed, and the conviction that Bryce would be wearing a sleazy, victorious smile when he went into work. If he didn’t have to hand in his preliminary report for VDK Manufacturing this morning, he’d have turned the fuck around and just climbed back—

A knock at his window made him jerk so hard that coffee sloshed warm against the inside of the travel mug.

“Drew?” came a muffled voice.

He set his mug down inside one of the cup holders, took a deep breath, and lowered the window. Kelly’s face appeared, bleary-eyed and streaked with makeup.

“Morning.” God, he sounded as frosty as the inside of his car.

“Hey. So… uh… you never came back last night.” Her eyes were red; from her hangover, or tears?

“And?”

She pulled back, blinking at him as her mouth worked. “I… I thought you were going to…”

“I was drunk,” he said, switching on his car’s engine. “And now I’m late.”

“Oh. Sorry.” Kelly stepped back, hugging herself. “You were just sitting here—”

“Hope you had fun last night.”

Apparently, she couldn’t decipher the hidden meaning in his words. She shrugged and let out a low laugh. “Yeah. I’m feeling it this morning, but it was fun. Last guys only left roundabout one or so.”

“You sleep with them too?” He wanted those words back the instant they left his mouth, but they hung in the air like Kelly’s misted breath.

She let out a small, confused laugh, taking another step back. “What?”

“See you around.” The window closed and Drew forced himself not to look at the woman’s blurred shape as he put his car into drive and pulled away.

He couldn’t stop himself looking in the rearview mirror though. Kelly stared at him, a death grip around herself, head slowly shaking from side to side.