Only Trick

A half hour later I get a response.

Trick: OK

By the time Colby, Wes, and Mallory show up, we’ve put in almost four hours of tutoring. They invite me and Trick to dinner, but I decline this time, knowing that Trick will not be socializing until he’s completed his project. The eerie silence drowns me as I open our front door. A little part of me was hoping he’d been making dinner, watching TV, or even doing yoga, which he hasn’t done in days.

“Trick?”

No answer.

I go upstairs and knock on the door.

“Hmm?”

I sigh. “Let’s go out for dinner.”

“Not tonight. Maybe tomorrow.”

I lean my forehead against the door. “Please.”

“Tomorrow.” His voice is absent of emotion.

“Well I’m going.”

“Ok.”

Clawing at my scalp, I shake my head. This sucks. I don’t give a shit how fabulous this picture of me is; the resentment is going to take away from my full appreciation of it.

“Oh, and I’m taking your Ducati. Any special instructions before I leave?” I call on my way down the stairs.

The bang upstairs sounds like the doorknob impaling the wall.

“What did you say?” Trick stands at the top of the stairs in his jeans, no shirt—eyes wild.

Mentally willing the smirk on my face to hide, I turn around. “Welcome to the world again.”

“You’re not taking my bike.”

I shrug. “Who’s going to stop me?”

“Darby.” He squints his eyes.

I grab my purse and his key from the counter then sprint outside and around the corner to the carport.

“Darby!” Trick yells, chasing me in his bare feet.

I yank off the cover and grab my helmet. He jerks my helmet from my grip along with the key and picks up the cover from the ground.

“Not happening.”

“Take me for a ride, please.”

“Tomorrow.” He walks off toward the house while I fight back the tears.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

The brain is complex and some things just can’t be explained, such as the woman I’m drawing. I have to remember her. For God’s sake, I’m drawing her! It’s effortless for my hands to keep adding details; they know every single one. But what I really want to do is bang my head against the wall because she’s so familiar. I know her, but how? Is my memory coming back or just fucking with me?

I’m pissed, and paranoid, and … confused. Then there’s Darby. I can hardly look at her. What would I tell her? I’m drawing a woman sleeping who’s naked. I don’t make shit up. I don’t draw things I haven’t seen. My sketches aren’t imagination, they’re recollection. I’ve been with this woman. Fuck! I can even hear her voice, but not her words.

I need a trigger—a name, a location … something. It’s not finished, but as is the case with most of my work, I’m not sure it ever will be. I find details run to infinity. Eventually I just have to move on to something else. Sliding my phone from my pocket, I take a picture of my drawing and send it to Grady with a message.

Me: Recognize her?

Grady: Should I?

Me: I fucked her.

Grady: I hope not recently ;)

Me: Cut the crap. I drew her but I don’t know why. I know her but I don’t know how. I’m fucking miserable.

Grady: You have a beautiful wife and a promising future. Forget about the woman.

Me: That’s just it! I can’t forget what I can’t remember.

Grady: Thought you were drawing YOUR WIFE!

I don’t respond. There’s nothing left to say. I’m an asshole now and I’m pretty sure I was back then too.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Something is wrong with Trick, but I don’t know what. His obsession with sketching me is going too far. He won’t let me see it. He won’t come out of that damn bedroom except to shower and go to the bathroom. He’s even slept in there for the past five nights. I’ve turned into his personal maid—doing laundry and catering food to “his” room. The motorcycle ride? Never happened. Sex? Haven’t had that either, and I refuse to stand outside his door naked again looking like I’m begging for it.

I still haven’t looked for a job. Declan keeps me busy in the afternoons tutoring him. He insists on paying me, and although I try to refuse, he won’t take no for an answer. I value his friendship along with Wes, Colby, and even Mallory’s to a certain extent. I’ve had dinner with them now two different nights, without my husband, and I’ve spent several mornings watching them surf. They’re all really good at it. I enjoy feeling like their equal and I know telling Declan that it’s ridiculous to pay me because I don’t need the money would taint that. So I conveniently use the money to buy more snacks and drinks and contribute to the meals we have together.

This morning I have to do a double take when Trick comes down the stairs before I have a chance to finish making breakfast and leave a plate outside his door.