Very Wicked Things

She ignored me, taking one of my hands and unfurling the clenched fist. She pressed our hands together, palm to palm, her eyes soft with—God, I wanted it to be love.

I bowed my head and yes, yes, yes, I wanted to sink into her softness; I wanted to drown in her gentle touch; I wanted to fall to my knees and cling to her waist for a thousand years.

I just needed this, her.

I leaned into her, inhaling her wildflower smell.

Regret filled me for the love I’d thrown away when I’d used her.

“I wish I could take this heartache from you,” she whispered, her eyes bright with emotion.

And that was enough to make me feel lighter than I had in months, knowing she understood. I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out and pulling her to me, gently so she wouldn’t flee. My head rested on hers, and I rubbed my face against her hair, enjoying the closeness, the warmth, the intimacy. I had to. Just this one horrific day, I wanted her tenderness and perhaps her absolution.

After a while, she pulled away, and I stepped back, feeling awkward and self-conscious. My need for her hadn’t diminished. Could she tell? Yeah, that was dangerous ground.

Needing some distance, I left her and pulled the curtains back from the window to check the street. The Mercedes was gone. “If that car comes back, call me. And you damn well better call me if those men come back.”

She scoffed. “Barinsky’s men coming over was a huge misunderstanding. I’ll straighten it out tomorrow.” She smiled brightly, but I wasn’t so sure. It felt like she was trying to downplay it.

“Why don’t I stay the night?” I offered. “Or better yet, come home with me. I have plenty of room for you and your family, Dovey.” And then neither of us would be alone. Maybe we could sit out by the pool and talk. Maybe, just maybe, I’d tell her more of what was eating me; I’d tell her why this entire year had changed me into someone she didn’t recognize.

“Cuba, go home,” she said. “I don’t want your help.”

My body flinched. What had I expected? That we’d be best buds now?

Whatever.

And didn’t I need to stay away from her anyway?

Yeah, there’d be no getting her back someday. Not that I wanted to, because I didn’t.

I didn’t.

“I didn’t want something I needed. I wanted Cuba.”

–Dovey

AFTER HE LEFT, I went back to the kitchen and found Heather-Lynn. I needed details.

“Why would you think asking Cuba for money was a good idea?” I asked her, still irritated with her audacity.

She opened a can of tomato soup and poured it into a pot. “Because these men will do whatever it takes to get their money. Remember what happened to old man Carson, the one who used to own the tobacco place? Those men cut off his fingers when he didn’t agree to sell his store.”

“That’s just gossip,” I said, downplaying what I knew to be truth. I rummaged around and found the pan to make us grilled cheeses to go with the soup.

She grunted. “In case you didn’t know, Carson’s new nickname is Nubs. Face it. We’re in over our heads.”

Yes. But there had to be a way out of this without involving my ex.

She stirred the soup. “I didn’t say anything in front of Cuba, but the two men that came slapped Sarah around.”

Horror filled me. I clutched the counter, and my words came out garbled. “Whhaattdoyoumean?”

“When she told them she didn’t have the money, they hit her.” Her eyes blinked rapidly. “She has a bruise on her left cheek.”

Bile rose up and my stomach churned. I paced around the kitchen. “I didn’t see it when I went in there. Does she need to go to the doctor?”

She shook her head, her normally bright face pale. “We put ice on it as soon as they left. Poor thing, she was hysterical.”

I licked my lips. “Maybe we need to go ahead and schedule a nurse to come in. You can’t watch her every minute I’m not here. You have your bingo nights and your dates. It’s not fair for you.”

She nodded. “You know I don’t mind watching her, but you’re right. I’ll call her doctor tomorrow and get a list of references.”

But where would the money come from to pay for that? We had to sell this house first.

And then Heather-Lynn completely took my mind off of Sarah.

“That Cuba sure is a fine piece of ass. Mmm-hmm. No wonder you fell for his charm last year. I’d tap that.” She jiggled her hips.

I chuckled at her silliness, but then stopped, remembering all too well exactly how his smooth moves had reeled me in last year…

“I had a dream about you. A good one,” a deep voice said, right as I took a giant bite from my peanut butter sandwich. I looked up, ready to shoot down the guy who was yanking my chain in the cafeteria at BA.

“Yeah? Is that so?” I said, checking out the fine specimen who stood across the table from me. Over six feet tall and breathtakingly handsome, stood Cuba Hudson, a divine creature who looked as if he’d just stepped off the cover of Bad Boy Magazine, rich jocks edition.

We were in the same history block this semester. And don’t think I hadn’t noticed him.

He was the most gossiped about guy at BA. I’d eavesdropped on plenty of sex convos about him. Apparently he had a giant cock and great stamina. Whatever.

“What’s the joke? I said, talking around my chews. Time was precious. I only had ten more minutes of lunch before my Geometry class.