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Turning on her fuck-me heels and leaving behind only an air of perfume that my lungs crave, she rips the front door open and slams it again when she leaves.
“Dude.” Laughing, Drake walks across his living room, entirely too comfortable, considering I’m a stranger in his home. He flips lights on as he moves and gives me his back. “You’re a ballsy motherfucker.” He turns back. “You’retheTheo Griffin, right? Smart and rich. Computer guy?”
Instead of answering verbally, I give him a small nod. I give Libby all of my words, because she makes it so I want to talk, but the rest of the world gets silence unless I find I have something I wanna say.
“So, I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m also a cop, and what you just did, brother…” He shakes his head. “It was bad. It’s straight up hard time in the pen. The only reason you remain standing is because you were smart enough not to pull a weapon.” He pauses. “You’re carrying, aren’t you?”
I consider his words. I consider the Glock in the back of my jeans. Then I nod.
He grins. “I figured you would be. No genius is stupid enough to walk into another guy’s home without at least having something. But you were smart enough not to touch it, even when she was teeing up to blow your face off.”
“No point touching it. I’m never going to hurt her.”
He chuckles, grabs the remote, and plops down on the end of his long couch. “Figured. I feel like there’s this massive miscommunication between the two of you. Like…” He thinks it through as he flips channels. “I dunno, like maybe you’re on the page at the end of the book. You know how it’s gonna end, so you’re certain in your actions. But she’s still at chapter one. You know what’s up, but she doesn’t, and your confidence scares her. She doesn’t know you, man. But in your eyes, it’s already tied up.”
He’s a good cop. “You’re very intuitive.”
Finally settling on a renovation show, Drake tosses his remote down and kicks his feet onto the coffee table. “That’s why I get employee of the month every month for six consecutive years. I’m the fun one, the easygoing dude that everyone loves.” His eyes meet mine. “That’s why she comes to me; I’m not a complication for her. I’m easy, I smile a lot, and there’s no stickiness or weird feelings when it’s done. She’s drawn to my…” He considers his words. “Simplicity, I guess. I make it easy for her.”
“You need to stop talking about you and her. You need to block her number and pour bleach into your brain until you forget what she looks like naked. I don’t like what you see in your mind right now.”
He turns to me with a wolfish grin and sparkling eyes. “I can’t delete what I know. And even if I could, I’m not sure I would. She’s been fun for me too, Griffin. She was a hell of a good time.”
“I’m still carrying, motherfucker. I’m smart enough to doctor security footage of me ever being here. I will dispose of your body in the desert, and your mother will never know where you went.”
Scoffing, he settles back into the couch with a satisfied grunt. “I’m playing nice, cowboy. But I’m the law, you best remember that. Don’t threaten me, and don’t do anything to hurt her. She might not be my girl, but I own a part of her. It’s a small part, but it’ll forever be mine.” He settles his hands on his toned stomach and lets his lips curl into a nostalgic grin. “You love her?”
His question shocks me. Like I’ve stuck my fingers in a power socket, his question jolts and stings beneath my skin. “Um…”
“Either you know, or you don’t. There’s noumaround here.”
“She’s my family. It’s not the type of love like in the movies, but the type where my heart has beat for her for decades. She saved me and has no clue.”
He nods thoughtfully. He’s fully present in our conversation, but his eyes remain on the television. “You say decades. She says days. I see how your book is laid out; she’s got some catching up to do.”
“Areyouin love with her?”
He chuckles. “Yup. She saved me too, and she has no clue.”
“Are we going to have a problem?” I step forward and sit on the coffee table. “This isn’t a competition where you get to step to the starting blocks. I will remove you long before she ever entertains the idea of returning your feelings.”
“No. I don’t do the kind of love where I’d want to shackle her down. I love her like she’s my family too. I love her where I’d take a man out if he hurt her. But…” he lets the word roll between us. “Loving her means I can see whoelseloves her. It means I don’t arrest you and send you away for a long time, but instead, I sit in my living room with the man who just cock-blocked me in the most brutal way, and I chat with him. I ask his intentions and determine with my finely-honed detective skills if he’s telling the truth.”
Finally, his eyes meet mine. “You’re not lying about your feelings, I see that, but I also see she has no damn clue. She sees some dude stepping up, and Lib has never stepped down from what she perceives as a threat. You need to change your approach and come in a different way, or you risk a bigger explosion next time. She escalates; she’s a bomb, and she’ll blow if you keep going the way you are. Show her your book, man. Show her the last page, and stop with the blindfolds.”
I can’t. I won’t. I refuse to show her the real me.
I walk away from Libby’s lover’s home with an odd sense of dread swirling in my stomach. I got her out of there,andI didn’t get arrested. But her page and mine are so far apart, it’s almost an impossible chasm. I need her to catch up to me, but I’m expecting her to do it without giving her all of the pages in the middle.
In her mind, I’m a brand-new man, one she met just days ago, and traditionally, when a man and woman meet, they ask about their lives, their favorite foods and colors, they ask about career choices and family plans. But I already know her. I know her favorite candy, and I know she’s a cop. I know she wishes she was taller, and I know her family is as good as dead. I’m skipping the getting-to-know-you stage, and trying to pull her in like it’s normal to comply with everything a stranger demands.
I need to be gentler. I’m not sure I know how.
It takes half an hour to drive home, and I left far too long after she did to be able to follow her lights, so I drive in the dark and let Beethoven settle my nerves. Libby listens to hard rock when she’s working out. I listen to classical composers. She’s loud and demands attention and respect. I’m silent, and I steal the things I need.
Olly is positioned outside Libby’s apartment on my orders, and about fifteen minutes into my drive, he beeps my phone to confirm she made it home. In the dark of my car, lit only by my dash lights and stereo, I reply “Thanks,” then reach across the seats and grab my sweater and run my fingertips along the worn-away zipper.
I ran the risk of being found out tonight by bringing this sweater. What if, by some miracle, she decided my demands were reasonable and she came with me? How would I explain to her once she climbed into my car how I came upon that sweater? And if I got past that landmine –Sure, Lib. Not only did I break into your fuck buddy’s home, but I’ve been in yours too… twice– but then I run the risk of connecting what she thinks she knows about my eyes, and the sweater.
