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I began unzipping my dress.
His hands went to his belt, and together we shed the rest of our clothing beside his bed. It was only then, as he reached for me again, that doubt reared up once more. I placed a hand on his chest and looked up at him.
“This means something, right?”
His expression was serious as he traced a finger around the curve of my jawline and the line of my nose. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…it’s not just sex? The reason I don’t do sex on the first date is because I want to make sure I’m not just a body. That I mean something to the person I’m sharing myself with. That I’m not expendable—”
“Yes.” He kissed me then, halting the flow of words with a heady mix of tongue and lip. “You mean something to me. I swear it.”
I was not a good girl that night.
Three
Jude
Dadwasarrestedthenext day, early on a Sunday morning before worshippers had even made it to their pews to say their prayers. News hit the papers, both the digital and print versions, somehow, before he was escorted into the jail—so someone leaked the news.
It was clear: they wanted it to hit the city in a big way.
Eleanor and I huddled in our hotel room for days, ordering delivery and keeping to ourselves. I refused to turn the TV on, choosing instead to follow the news online.
Mom wasn’t answering her phone. For all intents and purposes, she’d simply…disappeared.
Dad’s attorney had advised me to stay exactly where I was. “This’ll all blow over soon, young lady. Just stay away from the press, and for God’s sake, stay away from Martin Chesterfield.”
“Martin Chesterfield?”
“He’s in with the mob, and he’s pissed off.”
“Well, can we go to the apartment? We have some things there that we’d like to get, personal things. And where is our mother? She’s not answering her phone.”
“I’ll arrange to meet you at the apartment this afternoon, but you’re not to show up on your own. Honestly, there will be a repossession, so I shouldn’t be letting you in to take anything. But we’ll just keep this between us. A few small personal items won’t matter. And as for your mother…I’m not sure, Jude. I…”
His voice trailed away, and I swallowed. “I understand. Three o’clock at the apartment okay?”
“I’ll make it work.”
He hung up with no further niceties, and I disconnected more slowly, clicking over to my text messages. I had messaged Jason roughly fifteen times, starting with when I arrived home from our date, before everything had gone to shit, to now.
Had a really good time last night. Can’t wait to see you again.
Hey. Guess you saw the news.
Call me, please.
Trying really hard to curb my crazy here, but the fact that you’re not answering a single one of my texts is making it difficult.
Okay, I’m going to assume that the fact that my father is a criminal has changed things. I can’t necessarily say I blame you, but for God’s sake…the very least you could do is grow a fucking pair of balls and say it.
GHOSTING IS SO JUVENILE.
Fuck you, Jason.
FUCK YOU.
I hope you trip on a manhole and break your ankle.
