The Virgin Duet

I took a beating a few months back trying to find Sam at a known drug house I heard he was at. I hadn’t seen him for three days, and I got so worried I went looking for him. It was dumb going in alone, but I had no one else to go with me.

I got cornered by a couple of guys, and while I was fighting them off, they got a few blows in on me. Luckily the cops showed up, and I managed to get away in the commotion. When I finally made it back to the shelter we’d been staying at, he was there, still strung out. I’m not sure how he got to the shelter, or who let him in. Usually if you look high they boot your ass out.

Soon after, I got us the motel room. I wanted to keep Sam clean and away from the shelters. It’s easy to get mixed in with the wrong people down there sometimes, but I think he’s still at it. Some of the girls give me shit for always helping him out, but I owe him this. He protected me for years and it’s my turn to return the favor now that I can, even if it is just some crappy motel.

Opening the fridge, my stomach growls at the contents. All vegetables, fruit and…is that soy milk? I’m really going to have to go to the store if I’m staying here. I need some real food. Grabbing a bowl of grapes and a bottle of water, I pop a couple into my mouth and start searching the drawers.

Bingo. Finding a cookbook, I pull it out and shuffle through the pages, marking the corner of recipes that catch my attention. When I finally get to the end of the book, I look up and notice the sun has set. I can’t believe how long I took going through that book. I’ve never had a kitchen all to myself to cook in before. I can’t wait to try something out tomorrow on Vanilla.

Snatching my water and grapes off the counter, I head to my room. When I reach the end of the hall I’m unsure where to go. He didn’t take me up on my offer to sleep with me so he likely wants me to stay in one of the guest rooms. With that thought, I make my way into his room. I set my water and bowl of grapes on the nightstand, throw the covers back, and crawl into his bed. This room is just as boring as the rest of his house. There isn’t even a TV in here. Now that I think about it, I don’t remember seeing a TV anywhere. Who doesn’t have a TV? At least I have the view of the city from the bed, and that’s not so bad.

The walls are off-white and bare. His closet door is open and I can see all his suits lined up in color order—the color order being gray, blue, and black. Crawling back out of the bed, I enter his closet. It’s like the world’s most boring dream closet and it’s driving me crazy. One by one I move the suits around, disturbing the order. Let’s see how he likes that in the morning. Maybe I’ll wait up and pretend to be sleeping, just to see his reaction to the bathroom and closet, and me in his bed. I don’t know why I’m pushing my luck. He’ll probably just fire me. But today in his office when I poked at him, and he got so worked up, I reveled in the emotion that crossed his face. I want to do it again.

Lying back, I wait, and as the minutes pass by, I can’t stop thinking what he might be doing with Cindy. Did he decide to go home with her because he didn’t want to come back and deal with me? Some of the foster parents chose to just ignore you, and for some reason their silence was worse than the ones that screamed at you.

I feel like I’m on a cloud. I open my eyes, and it takes me a minute to adjust to all the light in the room. The bright sun bounces off the white walls, making everything brighter than it should be. Sitting up, I look around to see where Vanilla is. Maybe he didn’t come home. The thought makes a lump form in my throat. Dragging myself from the world’s most comfortable bed, I make my way to the bathroom to handle my business. I’m not his mother. I can’t be upset he didn’t come home last night.

Then I notice the towel I left on the floor is gone. I rush to the closet, I slide the door open, and all his suits are back in order. A smile spreads across my face. Not because he put everything back the way it was, but because this means he came home. I wonder if he slept with me too. The idea of him sliding into bed with me sends a thrill through me. I was sure I was going to be woken up and told to move my ass to another room.

I search the rest of the penthouse for him with no luck, until I spot a note on the kitchen counter. Next to the note is some cash, a credit card, and a cell phone. Swiping my finger across the phone, I see the backdrop is a picture of a fairy. Odd. Pulling up the contacts, I see there are two numbers saved. Bray Cell & Bray Office.

I snatch up the note and see his perfect handwriting.

Be home around 7. I left some cash for you to pay for the motel, and a credit card for anything else you might need.

I’m disappointed at its simplicity. No ‘call me’ or a word about last night. His not acknowledging it bugs me.

I pick up the cash and count it out. Jesus, he left me a thousand dollars. Picking the phone back up, I hold my finger over Bray’s cell number. I want to call him, but I don’t want to seem needy or desperate or something. I hate how this is making me feel. Why am I like this with him? Shit. It’s nine thirty already. I’m going to be late to meet Sam.