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“You have no life, Gray,” she drawls. “You have homes that you exist in and a business you’re not interested in beyond the money it makes you.” I snort at that answer, acknowledging it. It’s true, apart from the responsibility that comes with a past I can’t deny.
The thought makes me look back towards the door Hannah’s behind again, questioning things that shouldn’t be questioned, as I imagine her under me. “Why not just make a new life?” She says. “I think that’s what Malachi’s hoping.”
I look back at her. “What?”
She swings her legs up on the arms of the chair, head resting back on the wing of it. “I’m not sure why, but he seems to need you here with him.”
The door suddenly opens behind her and Hannah wanders out into the room, a robe swinging loosely around her. She glares at both of us, ponders for a few seconds, and then heads for a tray of drinks. A bottle of vodka gets picked up and tipped to her mouth, long slow glugs being gulped until she pulls it from her lips.
“Is that what you want from me?” she asks. I stare, unsure what she’s asking me. “That, in there?” Another drink gets gulped. “And the stuff in the other room. When was that?” She shakes her head. “I don’t know whether I liked it or not, Gray.” I still don’t know what she’s talking about, but then I notice the robe slither as she moves towards me. It opens slightly, revealing the stripes across her abdomen. “You said pain was fun here. I don’t think fun is the right word for it. And did you fuck someone else?”
Faith laughs. I don’t. I’m too busy looking at the stripes in front of me on display, scrutinizing and considering the jealousy rising because of them. They sway in my eye-line, Hannah’s hips making a meal out of the move. “Did you?”
“No.”
“Oh. Good.”
She turns and walks back to the room, the bottle of vodka still dangling in her hand. “I win,” she calls.
“Fuck,” I hear from the room. “I’m not doing it.”
“You are. You said you would.”
Malachi walks out, his belt being buckled and an open shirt skimming his chest. “Why didn’t you fuck something else?” he snaps.
“I was sitting out here.”
“Why?”
“I think you probably know why.”
“I don’t. She’s not that special,” he mutters, trying to grab the bottle from her.
“Excuse me?” Hannah says, keeping hold of it. “I’m completely special.”
“Fuck off. Give me my vodka.”
I watch them both, unsure where this new dynamic between them is coming from. I don’t like it much. They’re like a pair of children fighting for air time. “What is this?”
“We made a bet. I won,” she says.
“What about?”
“I said you wouldn’t have fucked something else. He disagreed.”
I smirk at that, eyes glancing at Malachi. “You know I don’t. That’s a terrible bet to have made with her.”
“You do now,” he says, pointing at Hannah. “Have done. With her.”
“And only her.”
“Why?”
“Everything else isn’t her. She’s the only one of her there is.” He scoffs and whips the bottle of vodka from her grip, tipping it to his mouth.
“Told you,” Hannah says, walking back to me. “Completely special.”
“What are you supposed to do now you’ve lost your bet?” I muse.
