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Clay grunted and smacked his palm onto the intercom button. “Six-nine-one. What’s your emergency?”
“Joke all you want, Clay, but I’ve been sitting in this anteroom for forty minutes. I’ve used up all my match-three game attempts on my phone. I’ve counted all the hardwood planks on the floor. Now I’ve resorted to watching my leg hair grow. If I’m gonna be all alone tonight, I’d just as soon be that way at home.”
Clay cut Heidi a searching look.
Saying nothing despite knowing the exact reason for Clay’s appeal, Heidi crossed her legs in the other direction. Perhaps a small, sadistic part of her wanted to witness Clay unable to talk his way out of at least one thing. He didn’t deserve the long winning streak he had.
“Well, Carine, you didn’t have anything specifically scheduled, as far as I can tell.” He continued to watch Heidi.
Heidi sipped the wine. She hated for things to go to waste, and the vintner had gone to incredible lengths to get that foul concoction to market.
“Well, I know that,” Carine said. “But usually, even if I didn’t have something lined up, you could work some magic and get someone…themhere. I thought maybe you didn’t know I was here tonight, and that’s why I buzzed.”
“Oh, I knew. You think those little birdies out there can ever keep a secret?” He kept on staring.
Heidi kept on having no words to give him. It was his fault, really, for failing to extract a promise from her. Like most reasonable people, she treated informal agreements as wholly optional constraints on her time.
“Sorry, Carine,” he said. “I’ve got nothing.”
Carine sighed. “I guess that’s what I get for putting all my eggs in one basket.”
“Nothing wrong with that if you were having a good time.”
“Hmm,” Heidi intoned softly and studied her nails. She didn’t like her new manicurist. In a rare tactical error on her part, she’d consensually beaten her last one black and blue. She’d been wearing a mask, and so had he, but his hair hadn’t been covered. Xuan had a distinctive white patch at his right temple. Heidi had neglected to plumb her memory deeply enough when the niggle of familiarity first tugged at her. She should have paused, but he’d been so needy.
Should probably just take my chances and switch back. His sister can’t file straight.
“Of course I was having a good time,” Carine snapped. “Do you think I would bother waxing my snatch every month otherwise?”
“Do you kiss your momma with that mouth?”
“Shut up. But it was bound to happen, right? I should have had options. Maybe I should diversify. Why don’t you see who’s in the big book who can pinch-hit? I’ve got a couple of hours.”
Heidi looked up at Clay. She was reasonably confident her expression wasn’t giving anything away beyond its usual catchall warning, but Clay was a man of his own mind. Whether she fed him cues or not, he would say whatever he wanted.
“I think diversification isn’t what it’s cracked up to be,” he said.
“You realize that you don’t get your renovation funds if the freaks don’t re-up and come back, right? How are you gonna fix your house then?”
“I’m aware of the financial consequences,” Clay said. “But I’m a man of honor, and I said what I said. I’m sorry they didn’t come to play tonight. You have a schedule. You’ll see them then, guaranteed. Up to you if you want to go out into the crush and see if someone’s willing to let you sit on his face, though.”
Heidi knew that wasn’t what Carine wanted. She had more than a hunch.
“Ugh,” Carine groaned. “No. I’m gonna go home. I’ve got an early morning showing tomorrow, anyway. May as well be on-time for a change.”
“Welp.” Clay tented his fingers and watched Heidi watch him. “Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.”
“You know damn well you’re not sorry. You wouldn’t know sorry even if it spat on you and told you to beg. And I’ll be down there in a minute.” The intercom light dimmed.
Clay drummed his fingers on the arms of his swivel chair. His expression changed from businesslike to falsely dispassionate. “I probably shouldn’t ask what you’ve done to that woman to break her brain the way you have. There’s probably sorcery involved, and I don’t dabble in the woo-woo shit.”
“Maybe I just give good head,” Heidi said.
“How?” Clay scoffed. “I’ve never once seen you walk out of there with your lipstick worse off than when you went in, and I happen to know you don’t use a long-wearing formula ’cause your color doesn’t come in it.”
“Your imagination is failing you. The thing about having a blindfolded sub is that you can sit there as long as you’d like and reapply whatever you need to before you leave.”
“Sure thing, Heidi. You’ve given her hours and hours of head over the past year, and that’s what’s made her silly.”
