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At least he kept up his end of the bargain and introduced her to several influential people, two of whom had upcoming interior design jobs—one for a private residence that was closer to a mansion than a house, and one for a new art gallery in Philadelphia. Throughout the evening, she passed out business cards to wealthy, important people and collected icy, impervious looks from her lover and tried to act like she wasn’t overwhelmed by either.
He dropped her off and they agreed to see each other on the shoot on Friday. And that was that. No kiss good-bye. Just a sort of unexplainable chill, which might’ve come from her lack of haste to accept his invitation or maybe, more likely, he’d already started to pull away.
This was all just temporary, after all.
Vicky tossed and turned half the night, then got through the next day at work like a zombie. When she ended up tossing and turning again the next night, she pounded her pillow and relived the previous night’s crappy non-date all over again. In spite of her supposed plans, she’d come so close to spewing out her confusing feelings in the car—even in spite of his unrelieved coldness to her—that she’d had to get away before she ruined everything. Those feelings had nothing to do with harmless infatuation. They went way deeper than that, and denying them only made her more of a liar.
Lying ran deep in her family, at least in her branch of it. She’d lied to her mother during their visit that evening, putting on a happy facade because she knew her mother needed to see that. She didn’t understand that Vicky still had bad dreams about being left. And lately, she had daydreams about leaving herself. Running away from her problems and her life. Tossing her chips on the table just like good ol’ dad. Why not? What did she have to lose?
The faces of the people she loved scrolled through her mind, and she sighed. She had a lot to lose. A lot. She was just overtired and overstressed and overcome. She’d soldier through, like she always did. She wasn’t the type to bail when the going got tough—even if she couldn’t help imagining it now and then.
And…sleep was not happening. Again. To try to keep her mind busy, she finished her antiquing article—her final article for this issue of the magazine, thank God—and e-mailed it to Cory, then aimlessly surfed the web.
Was he still up, too, staring at his ceiling? Maybe working in bed, barefoot and bare-chested and looking unspeakably delectable? Perhaps he was online, talking astronomy with his fellow geeks. What had his chat group been called? Skychat or Moonview or something. She could run a quick search, see what came up. He’d told her about it willingly, so she wouldn’t be stalking him. Much.
After a fruitless half hour, she hit pay dirt. The group was called Celestia, and it was based in nearby Penderville. She clicked into the chat room, and lo and behold, there were five other people logged in. One of them might even be Cory.
A member had used the name Ra, so she played a hunch and chose the name Goddess Nut. In many versions
of Egyptian mythology, Ra was the god of the sun and Nut was the goddess of the sky, as well as Ra’s wife. She was also the mother of Osiris, whose embodiment in the stars was sometimes said to be Orion. Freaking Orion.
Sometimes being a nerd came in handy.
Though she knew she was likely wasting her time, she started chatting with the group about the recent meteor shower. Almost right away she got an instant message from Ra. Her heart picked up speed as she clicked on it, but she tried to remain calm. It might be him. It might not be.
So you sleep with your brother?
She laughed out loud. In mythology, the father of Nut’s children was her brother Geb.
Only when the pickings are slim.
A reply appeared immediately. They are tonight.
I’m talking to you, aren’t I?
Yes, for the next few minutes. How are you this evening?
She bit her lip. Did she dare? The style of speech and lack of typos fit Cory, but it was a pretty big leap. She didn’t even know he was online. Hell, she didn’t even know if he was home.
Ah, what the hell. If she got a weird feeling, she could always hit the X.
I’m horny. Just typing those two words made her flush. Are you?
The resulting pause lasted so long she thought Ra had signed off. She kept chatting in the main room, one eye always on that solid blue box at the side of her screen. Then it blinked.
You do realize this is Celestia and not Sexee Chat, right?
She laughed again. Sexee Chat was a local phone line advertised on the cable channels late at night.
Maybe I like geek sex. Game?
How do you have online sex? Do you rub on your monitor? Mount your hard drive?
A helpless giggle spilled out of her. Yes. Lots of rubbing. Lots of fingering…the keys.
So is this where I ask what you’re wearing? And you answer a thong and a smile?
I’m actually wearing a nightshirt with Hello Kitty on it. Please, no pussy jokes.
