ChapterThirteen
The high-rises of downtown Seattle gradually gave way to the single-family homes of the suburbs. The rapidly setting sun didn’t help Sam’s attempts to navigate the unfamiliar area. Her family had only moved to this particular location a few years ago.
Before that, they’d lived near Portland. Before that? Tacoma. Olympia. The fringes of Vancouver, until Sam’s father finally got that big promotion he had been promised back when he and his wife immigrated to the US before Sam was born. Only now could they afford to live closer to Seattle, where their friends and community were concentrated, along with their daughters.
Which was ironic. For several years, Sam’s mother and father had all but disowned her, going as far as forbidding her contact with her little sister Nisha in order to stop Sam from negatively influencing her. Sam had always been a rebel in her parents’ eyes. Kissing girls. Running off to join the Air Force. Choosing such a ‘masculine’ career.
If they knew what she’d been getting up to at her job lately? They’d probably disown her all over again.
As she stopped at a red light, her mind returned to the other night with Bianca. One of the hottest moments of my life… And it had taken place in a dark, concrete parking garage, where anyone could have caught them going at it against the same car Sam now sat in. Although it had happened so quickly, Sam could still feel the heat of Bianca’s body, the softness of her skin, her powerful undulations…
It was taking all of Sam’s willpower to deny herself more. Especially when Bianca flirted with her so shamelessly. Every word, every interaction, and every glance was a dare for Sam to shove Bianca up against the nearest surface and fuck her there and then. The wall. The couch. The kitchen counter. The shower in the master bathroom, which was neatly curated with skincare and beauty products, and a giant whirlpool tub that Bianca had commented “really got in the good spots.”
But then, after only a few days, Bianca had stopped flirting entirely. Now, when they were in the same room, she no longer spent half her time staring at Sam as if she were the most interesting person in the world. She stopped coyly exposing more than a hint of skin, tempting Sam with some of the tenderest flesh she had ever encountered. If Bianca wasn’t fully dressed when Sam entered, it was by accident, not by design. And Bianca was likely to grab a blanket or robe to cover herself up.
Maybe I shouldn’t have rebuffed her so hard. Sam owed her a frank conversation about what had happened. Her usual method of avoidance was not helping. Bianca’s youth made her prone to taking everything as a slight against her.
But Bianca didn’t realize just how big a deal something like this was for Sam. It wasn’t only that it was grossly unprofessional and could get them both in a lot of trouble. Sam had gotten emotionally involved with a client before, but in a different way. It had been platonic. Sisterly, even. But what mattered was that she’d started caring about her client a little too much.
And she had made mistakes. Potentially deadly ones.
Rosalie. That name would always haunt her, whether she was attempting to sleep, or working, or sitting at one more damned red light.
She needed to keep Bianca’s name from becoming another that haunted her when the sun went down.
Instead, it simply haunted her daydreams. Why does she have to be so… compliant? If Sam were to peg her perfect type, it was definitely the bratty princess who needed to be put in her place. That had been true in the soccer team locker room back in high school, and it had been true in the Air Force, when all a woman had to do was giggle and give Sam’s shoulder a shove to wake up the thing inside of her.
Since starting her own business, however, she’d suppressed that side of herself. Girlfriends were non-existent, and lovers were few and far between. Yet sex was one of the few ways Sam could completely give in and let go. Having complete control in the bedroom, where her lovers were pliable and submissive and screamed her name in adoration, was the only way Sam knew how to transcend her mind and all the turmoil within it.
Sam pulled onto her parents’ street. The road was so packed with parallel-parked cars that she almost couldn’t find the driveway leading to her parents’ house. At least her parents’ car wasn’t in it. She had picked the perfect time to visit.
As she shut off her engine, a woman appeared in the doorway, her hand on her hip. She was the spitting image of her older sister, if Sam had been daintier and more feminine.
“Hey!” Nisha said. “You’re just in time. I made pakoras. I’m taking them to Damien’s family’s potluck thing tomorrow, but I can spare a few.”
Nisha stepped out of the way and motioned for her big sister to come into the cozy suburban house. The 1940s kit home had been spacious and charming in its day, but now the two bedrooms and tiny kitchen could barely fit the three members of the Reddy family still living under the same roof. The scent of pakoras dominated the small space.
Sam closed the door behind her. Nisha crossed to the kitchen, passing the small TV above the fireplace that, for once, was not set to daytime Indian dramas.
Nisha pulled a hot pan from the oven and dropped it onto the kitchen table. “I’ll let you have the first sample once they’ve cooled off a bit. I’ll warn you, though, I baked them. They’re not quite like how Mom makes them, although I finally got her to try the air fryer.”
“I don’t know if I want them if you cooked them in the oven,” Sam teased. “Aren’t pakoras too wild for the WASPs?”
Nisha put away her oven mitts and turned to her sister, hands on hips and blue-tipped fingernails drumming against her waist. “I’ll have you know that Damien’s family is wild enough to eat authentic Mexican food.” She sat down at the small kitchen table, motioning for Sam to join her. “Besides, I didn’t make them as spicy as Mom does. They’ll live.”
Sam crossed her legs and leaned toward the counter. “Are you sure? Poisoning your in-laws would really put a damper on the relationship.”
Nisha smacked her sister’s forearm before poking the pakoras to check if they had cooled. “I’ve missed you. I’m really glad you decided to drop by. I’m also glad you did it when Mom and Dad are at the Temple for the night.”
“I didn’t think anything was happening at any Temple on a night like this.”
“Just a preliminary meeting for my wedding. I’m supposed to go to the next one. You know how these things are. All ritual, all tradition, all anxiety.”
“Why do you think I cut and ran?”
“Believe me, I’ve considered it more than once in my life.” Nisha slid two pakoras onto a China plate and placed them in the middle of the table, right next to a small bouquet of marigolds. “You’ve done well for yourself. Mom and Dad will never say it, but they’re really proud of you.”
Yeah, right. Her parents, who had cut Sam out the moment she graduated high school and boarded the bus for Basic Training? For years, Sam had navigated life on her own. Money, holidays, relationships.The few times she attempted to reach out to Nisha, who had been in middle school when Sam left, their parents swept in like a typhoon, dragging her younger sister away from her. Nisha was the ‘good’ daughter. Their parents didn’t want Sam influencing her. America had done enough to their children already.