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I set my cup down and grab my phone from my pocket. “Let’s find out. I’ll call Chris.” I punch in his number from my autodial.
“No,” she says quickly, setting her cup down. “No, don’t—”
“It’s already ringing,” I say, and Chris immediately picks up. I get right to the point. “What’s the dress code tonight?”
“Translation. You’re Faith’s date tonight, and she doesn’t know how to dress. Put her on with Sara.”
“Good plan.” I hand Faith the phone. “Sara.”
She pales, glowers, and takes the phone. “Sara. Yes. No. Great. Nice to meet you, too. Yes. I’ll see you then.” She hands me back the phone. “Chris.”
“I’m here,” I say, placing the receiver to my ear again. “And I need nothing else.”
“Works for me,” Chris says. We disconnect, and I focus on Faith. “Blue dress?”
“You shouldn’t have called them, and actually the blue dress is too fancy, and I want to save that dress for the L.A. event. It was lucky the first time.”
“Luck is good,” I say. “But you do have a dress to wear, right?”
“Yes. It’s pink and doesn’t require you to spend money on me.”
“You’re going to have to get over this money thing, sweetheart. I have it. I spend it. If I want to spend it on you, I’m going to, and that doesn’t make me an asshole unless I use it against you in some way, which I won’t.” And those are words I’m going to have to repeat loudly when she finds out I paid the bank on her behalf. “Moving on,” I say. “Your dress is pink. Do I get the royal blue panties underneath?”
“They’re pink, and I don’t want you to spend money on me.”
“I like spending money on you, and I like pink.”
“Don’t rip them this time and you can like them twice.”
“Twice is good. More is better.”
“Do you know what you’re wearing?”
“Why? Are you considering which knife you need to undress me?”
She grins. “I think that’s a moment I need to capture on the canvas. That moment when you first saw the knife in my hand. It was priceless. I’m suddenly inspired to paint.”
“Then go and paint a masterpiece. I’ve got work that I can dig into in my office. I’ll come get you for lunch.”
“Are you cooking?”
“If ordering takeout counts, then yes. At your service, Ms. Winter.”
She laughs and starts to get up but sits back down. “I never asked what time the party is. Chris never said.”
“I’ll find out,” I promise. “You go paint.”
Her eyes light. “I actually can’t wait to pick up a brush again.”
“I prefer you with a brush than a knife in your hand.”
She laughs and pops to her feet, rushing through the house, and I sit back and enjoy this moment. I could get used to having this woman around.
…
The day passes too quickly, when Faith will leave tomorrow unless I convince her otherwise.
It’s nearly seven, and I’m standing on the balcony off my bedroom in a blue suit and blue tie, waiting on Faith to finish dressing, a glass of that whiskey Abel left behind in my hand. Outside, the storms of earlier in the day have passed, stars dotting the skyline before me, while the storm of lies I’ve told Faith is clear and present, haunting me tonight in ways it hasn’t before now.
