AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Catching my eye, the man raises his glass of red, tilting it in my direction. He murmurs to his companion, who then shifts, pinning me with an icy stare. “Care to join us?”
Her offer is every bit as much a challenge as it is an invitation, and lucky for us both, it’s one I’ve been waiting for. I run my eyes over the length of her, a cool breeze rustling the scented air.
“No obligations,” the man says, his upbeat tone at odds with his downturned mouth. “Just an invitation.”
His offer is precisely the kind I’d hoped for, which is why I scoot from my table, grab my glass, and resettle myself in a chair between them. My eyes dart back and forth toward the entrance. They burn, both from sleepiness and from irritation of the contacts I use to conceal my natural eye color. “I’m waiting on a colleague,” I confess. “But she must have gotten held up.”
“I’m Richard.” He offers his hand, then with a swift sweep of his head, he says, “And this is Janine.”
You don’t say. “Olivia.”
Once introductions have been made, the conversation unfolds easily. I learn Richard is an inventor (retired) and Janine a model (also retired). They are not colleagues nor do they offer the vibe of being lovers upon closer inspection. Nevertheless, there are erotic undertones in their involvement, evident in the way they seem pleased to have drawn me in.
“So, tell me, Olivia,” Janine smiles. “What are you into?”
“Real estate, mostly,” I answer, my face fresh and hungry. Overly eager. I’m sorry I killed your father. What was he like? Did he tell you about me? Is this my fault? Do you have daddy issues? This is more along the lines of the type of Q&A I came for, but of course, that’s not what I say. “For the most part, I work with buyers.” I pause just long enough to sip my drink. Dropping my chin, I raise my gaze, allowing my mouth to linger on the rim. “But on occasion, sellers too.”
It takes a second, given the way the information is delivered, but inevitably their eyes glaze over. The moment a person thinks you’re trying to sell them, is the moment the conversation is over.
I can, if necessary, drone on endlessly about real estate, but they don’t care to know. Instead, I describe my recent trip to Africa, a hunting expedition. I’ve never actually been to Africa, but I can picture the trip down to the terrible khaki, the necessity of understanding the bell curve, and the weaponry involved in killing big game. None of which interests them in the least, and that is the point.
My lies flow as effortlessly as the drinks. It’s a perfect story, and deception always offers a pleasant rush. My panties would be wet, if I were wearing any.
“It’s such a pleasure to have met you,” Richard tells me, his voice lower than before. “You resemble someone I used to know.”
“Yes,” his companion purrs. “We love your eyes, and that dress—and my God, Richard, have you seen those heels?”
He has. I know, because not only have I not spared any expense, I’ve positioned myself just so. Laughing the woman off, I imagine her friend moving his hands deftly and possessively over my body. Undoubtedly, my thoughts are reflected in my eyes. He’s not my type, but it helps to keep the feelings real, and to keep the feelings real, it helps to go there. Imagination is everything.
It’s obvious in the way he glares back at me. He views me, I can tell, as something to own, a nice collectible to stick on a shelf and admire when it suits him. He believes he is in control. Most men do.
I look away, the flush of my cheeks evident.
“Is that so hard to imagine?” Janine asks. “That we find you stunning?”
“No,” I reply, somewhat harshly. “It isn’t.”
She looks surprised. It’s not the first time she has registered something may be off. But she isn’t certain and she doesn’t want to disappoint her friend, so when she starts to speak, she thinks better of it, pressing her lips together instead. They’re familiar, in a certain kind of way. I picture myself reaching out and running my finger over them, fake as they may be. I suppose it doesn’t matter, if they taste the same. There’s a part of me that desperately wants to find out.
My phone chimes. Fishing it out of my clutch, I see it instantly. The one word text: BOUNCE.
Apologizing to my new friends, I tell them I’ve gotten the location of the meeting wrong, and without another word, I am in a town car bound for the airport.
Chapter Six
Charlotte
The town car weaves in and out of rush hour traffic. My phone estimates the drive back to the airport will take all of twenty minutes, but looking out the window, I’m not so sure. I should feel relief at the delay, but I don’t. I feel nothing.
My
forehead falls against the cool glass as I arrange the pieces of the puzzle in my mind. There are endless questions that can be asked, answers that can always be found.
I don’t know why Henry followed me; I only know that the past is never through with us.
He taught me that, way back when. Back when Sophie was a baby, and long before Hayley had ever been thought of. Back when I objected to the idea that I would be good at this gig. You have to be kidding, I’d said to him. It just sounds so cliché. Like a joke.
I laughed him off, even as they carried the Italian off the plane in a body bag. Mostly because a part of me thought it was a joke. It seemed I’d earned myself a starring role on a TV show where any minute someone was going to jump out and yell gotcha! But then I realized, who would do such a thing? I don’t have any friends, or at least I didn’t at the time, and Michael’s sense of humor is far too dry to pull that kind of prank, nor does he care about such trivial matters.
