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“You’ll…you’ll be down. Here? In the store?” The shock is laughably apparent and it’s made doubly so with the way Kat is laughing at my conversation, bent over and holding her stomach. That makes me want to bend her over somewhere else and have her stripped naked, my hand hard against her bouncing ass. Now I’m hard again with that visual. I’m not sure how I’m going to survive this trip grocery shopping. At least I won’t meet anyone I know.
I have the hardest time not laughing hysterically at Griffin at the store. He’s lost his normal people skills. The upper class lifestyle has him in this loop of not being able to do every day normal things. Going grocery shopping is just one thing. He usually has a driver. He does of course have his expensive-over-the-top cars. He doesn’t drive often enough anymore. I see him at work. My little, old VW would be laughable to him.
We leave, him moving the bouncing cart, one wheel off-center, a pained expression on his face. He’s glancing around us as if afraid he’ll be recognized. I’m sure there will be pictures and now I’m sure I have the same pained expression on my face. Pictures. I’m sure I’ll be in them for everyone to see. His next bed buddy. Not sure if I can be considered a girlfriend, no one knows about our agreement but my father and Griffin. Not even my mother. Oh my god. My mother. She can’t be all alone tomorrow.
“Griffin, do I have to be at your place tomorrow?” I glance anxiously at him and the parking lot, not sure now whether I want to be photographed with him. Maybe this outing was the bad idea I didn’t think about. I hurry ahead of him, wanting to put these groceries in the trunk now before we’re seen. The screams and crying from young children in the parking lot reminding how not alone we are.
He turns his head to look at me as if I’m crazy. “Yeesss. Where else would you be?” His dark gaze narrows on me, stopping the wam wam wam of the broken wheel. His head is cocked to the side as he waits, his body tense, my answer important. How important I’m not sure.
“My mother. She’ll be all alone with Dad in London or Germany, wherever he will be at.” We reached his sport Jag. Of course. He clicks the trunk open and we place the paper bags into the trunk.
“Well, she can come. If my mother does anything it’s big, family dinners even if it’s just the three of us. There’ll be pasta along with all this traditional turkey fixings. I’m sure there will be pies or cakes or both. She’ll keep both of us busy.” We finish putting the groceries in and he slams the trunk top down, the sound gunshot loud in the surprisingly quiet parking lot. I glance around, trying to act normal while not acting normal. I feel like everyone is staring at us, no one is paying us an ounce of attention.
I start to go back to the passenger side and bump into a hard, delicious body. “I…I’m sorry. I should look where I’m going.” I giggle, too high-pitched with embarrassment.
“You can bump onto my body any time you want.” His voice a soft whisper of air against my ear, the double entendre makes my body shiver and light up with fireworks. My breath stops and starts again faster.
Griffin holds the door open for me, and I slip in not looking at him, because I’m not sure what I would do if I did. Climb onto him and hump him like a bitch in heat? Maybe. I feel hot enough right now. Not sure if I can make it to his house without self-combusting.
“I’m not sure I can wait until we get to the house.” He gets in the driver’s side and presses the button and starts the car, turning his head to gaze at me, a tortured and wanting expression on his face. His voice wavers with pain.
“Find somewhere quiet.”
“You sure?” His eyes widen with surprise, hands grip the steering wheel and gear shift hard enough for his knuckles to turn white, shoulders tight and tense. He jams the shifter into drive and his foot onto the clutch so hard the gears grind and the car lurches.
My hands grip the dashboard, “I’m sure, just make sure we get there in one piece.”
He chuckles shaking his head at himself, his cheeks red with chagrin at his loss of his normal unflappability. He presses on the clutch and gas at a more even pace moving the car forward smoother.
“Maybe you should drive yourself more. You might be out of practice.” Making fun of him having a driver most days.
He gives me a quick glance and turns his concentration back on the road his lips turn up at a rueful look, “you might be right. Being rich is difficult.”
That observation makes me laugh out loud. Only someone with a lot of money would say something like that. I grew up with it but I don’t live with it since I left my parent’s home much to my mother’s disgust, she doesn’t understand my way of thinking. Of wanting to live in a one bedroom apartment and take the bus. She thinks designer clothes, diamonds and expensive cars makes a person. I think my father’s mother and Griffin’s mother showed me how to not be an artificial person.
His look back at me is sheepish, “yeah.”
“Let’s go back to your place. We need to put the food in the fridge.” My heart pounds with the thoughts of what will become reality hopefully within a half hour. It’ll only take about fifteen more minutes to get home. Two to bring the food in and then…
He plants his foot down on the gas and my body heads for the dash again, I still had my hand there so I’m safe so far. Not sure for how long if he continues to drive like he’s in the Indy 500. I don’t know why he’s not concerned about getting pulled over. I’d laugh at the intense look on his face but I’m too scared, the way the streets flash by.
He pushes on a button on his steering wheel controls and swerves into the driveway, the gates open so slow I’m sure we’re going to bash into them, instead we slip by with inches on each side. He slams on the brakes just before slamming into his house, my body slams into the harness around my torso and instead of wanting to have sex with him I want to kill him.
I huff a breath out, drawing another in having held my breaths through that shit. I could bash his head in now if I wouldn’t go to prison for murder.
Ramming my finger against the button for my shoulder harness I open the door, not caring if it impacts against anything. I’m too pissed. I’m beyond pissed. Way beyond. I jump out before he can come around to my side and in fast strides make it to the front door before him. I try to open it but of course it’s locked. I wait, grinding my teeth at his audacity of driving the way he did.
“Kat, is something wrong?” Deep confusion colors his voice in different shades.
“Ya think?” I mock him, not being able in any other way to articulate my fury. I stand with my hands on my hips, my body swirls with the anger I feel and not the lust I was feeling about a half hour ago.
Griffin unlocks the door and I march forward pushing the door wide, I don’t even wince when it hits against the wall.
I glance over at her and her set face makes me realize sex might not be happening now. I need to get the groceries now, I’m sure it will be a while before I can pry the answers out of her as to what she’s upset about.
Going back to the car I load my arms up with the bags of groceries. I’ll be able to do this in two trips, there are so many bags. How can there be so much food for three possibly four people. But, I won’t argue with my mother. We can always take the excess to the homeless shelter. I’ve done it before.
But what is going on with Katrina? I set the bags on the small four-chair kitchen table, turning make my way back out to the Jag for the rest. I glance over my shoulder and she’s with an air of leave me alone surrounding her like a dark cloud of discontent I leave her alone. Get the rest of the bags from the trunk and slam the hood down.
