I expelled a wisp of breath and texted Bill that I wouldn’t be making it home for dinner. As I refocused on my project, I automatically swiped my finger across the phone’s screen when it pinged.
Sep 4, 2012 7:19 PM
Good thing for the ice cream then.
My heart leaped with panic. I scrolled my eyes over the screen to find that I had texted David instead of Bill.
“Shit,” I said, slamming the phone down. That is so embarrassing! I felt myself turning various shades of red. Quickly, I sent the same text to Bill and tapped my way back to David.
Sep 4, 201
2 7:22 PM
So sorry. Wrong person!
Sep 4, 2012 7:23 PM
I believe that counts as a Freudian slip.
I was at a loss for words. Now it appeared as though I was actively looking for trouble. He would either think I had done it on purpose, or that I’d been thinking about him when I’d sent it. Which would be the truth.
Sep 4, 2012 7:25 PM
Didn’t mean it. Embarrassed. Working late & a little tired.
Sep 4, 2012 7:26 PM
Mrs. Germaine, it’s not advisable to alert predators of your whereabouts late at night.
My heart stilled as I melted into a puddle of desire. A memory of a dream wedged itself into my thoughts. I’d had it shortly after David and I had stopped contact, only once, but I hadn’t forgotten it. We would meet accidentally in the same alley where Mark Alvarez had attacked me.
When my phone chimed again, I was already panting.
Sep 4, 2012 7:29 PM
That is, unless you’re looking to get caught.
I slid a tentative hand under my dress and into my damp panties. I relaxed back in my chair and remembered the dream, filling in the details where necessary.
I peer down the dark alleyway and am struck with fear when I see the silhouette of a big man. As he approaches, slow and cat-like, I turn to run the way I came but am met with a brick wall. He’s bearing down on me now, filling the small alley so I can’t escape. He looks incredibly strong.
It’s David, I realize, but my sigh of relief catches in my throat. I’m afraid of him. He slowly reaches out and snaps me to him by my waist, as though I were a flower to be plucked from the ground.
His lips are on mine, hard and unrelenting, and he won’t budge when I push him.
“Don’t fight,” he says when we’ve parted.
He scares me, but I obey. I let him move my arms like a puppet master and fix them above my head so I am helpless in his grip.
“Say it,” he prompts, as he shifts both wrists into one hand.
I fret because I don’t know what he wants me to say. When I look down again, I’m naked. With his free hand, he unzips his pants and pulls them down.
I panic and look over the exquisite face that is now hard and unrecognizable, a David I don’t know. Even his brown eyes are obsidian black to match his hair.
“Say it.”
“I don’t know,” I reply, chewing the inside of my cheek.
He pulls my leg around him and positions himself against me. When he plunges into me, I cry his name, a word that is a mixture of fear and pleasure leaving my tongue.
He pins me against the wall over and over, and I am lost. I whip my eyes open. “I know what you want me to say!”
But he doesn’t stop, and suddenly I have forgotten it again, but I don’t care because I am falling . . . and coming . . . and coming . . . .
I came to, winded and slumped in my chair. I pulled my hand out from between my legs and glanced around the dark office shamefully. I’d written the dream off as anxiety following Alvarez’s attack, but I had often wished it would return.
Say it. The words frequently ran through my mind. They were his last words to me the morning I had left. Tell me you can forget, he had demanded. Say it, Olivia! Say it say it say it . . . .
An alert told me Bill had responded.
Sep 4, 2012 7:36 PM
K. Jury prob out for a few days, going to OP house tmrw if you want to come.
Sep 4, 2012 7:44 PM
Why?
Sep 4, 2012 7:46 PM
Meeting David there. I can pick you up.
I closed my eyes for a long moment as the information permeated my slightly fuzzy brain. Bill and David, alone together? I wanted to scream. I wanted to blame David, but it wasn’t his fault, so I blamed Bill, but it also wasn’t his fault. I was only left with myself. With unsteady fingers, I told Bill I would come along. What choice did I have? I couldn’t forbid it, and I couldn’t not be there. The two of them alone, talking, laughing, sharing. The thought of not being able to monitor their conversation made me want to pull my hair out.
I groaned to myself and put the phone away, ignoring David’s last text.
CHAPTER 9
FIDGETING WITH THE COLLAR of my purple silk blouse, I craned my neck to watch for Bill’s car. According to Bill, we had to see the house before David left for New York in the evening. I didn’t know what else to expect; whether David even knew I was coming or how long this hell would last.
Bill pulled up and screeched to a halt at the curb.
“We’re late,” I commented.
“Tell that to Specter,” he said.
“Which one? Specter or Specter?”
“Ha.”
“Are we picking David up?”
“He’s meeting us there.”
I worked my lower lip between my teeth in anxiety and excitement. Just a week prior, I knew I’d never see David again. And now this. I half-rolled my eyes out to the window.
“Look, whatever happens will be for the best.”
“What?”
“With the house. If it’s too far gone, we’ll find something else. I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”
“I’m not worried,” I said, looking back out the window. At least, it didn’t make it into the top three of my current concerns.
When we pulled up, David was talking intently with an older, portly man. David gestured to the house, and when the man spoke, he listened attentively, his arms crossed and his thick eyebrows knit in concentration. His back was straight as a board and his shoulders taut. The small glimpses I’d seen of David in architect mode were especially disarming – there was something arousing about watching him do what he loved.
He looked up then and gaited toward us with calm confidence. I couldn’t tell if he’d expected me because he was almost too collected. While I was near senseless with anxiety, his wide smile and sturdy handshake were signs that he was a schmoozer, a player, a charmer to the core.
“This place is a find,” he said, sticking his hands in his pockets.
“I know it’s not like the other houses,” I said, “but that’s why I like it.”
“It certainly isn’t, thank God for that,” he replied, looking down the street.
Bill grumbled under his breath as he stole a look at the house behind us. “You must be the appraiser,” he said to the other man, extending his hand.
“I’ve already been around the neighborhood and the outside of the house,” the man said. “If you have the keys, I’ll just take a look inside.”
They took off for the front door, leaving David and I behind. I glanced up at him from the corner of my eye and gave him a half-smile, to which he responded with a friendly wink.
“What do you really think?” I asked.
“This is a prairie-style home, you can tell by the horizontal lines and overhanging eaves. They’re reflective of a sweeping prairie,” he explained, gliding his hand through the air to demonstrate. “It’s a fairly popular style in Oak Park because of Frank Lloyd Wright’s influence – he designed several homes around here. You’re right that it does seem out of place on this street, but I meant what I said. It is a find.”
I followed him through the door into the front room, where his eyes went to the ceiling and worked their way down. “Open floor plan,” he commented. “Me favorite option if the space permits. You could really do something unique with the interior.”
My mouth warped skeptically. “I don’t think Bill would like that. He’s pretty traditional.”
“This isn’t a traditional home, Olivia. It would be an injustice to turn it into one.”
I flushed, feeling somewhat as though I’d been reprimanded. “It seems like a lot of work.”
“Right off the bat, yes, you’re looking at a long renovation period. Maybe up to a year, depending on what you want to do.” I followed his gaze down. “These floorboards have to go,” he continued, “but the hearth is big and central – I wouldn’t even to
uch it.” He walked toward the wall of windows and peered into the backyard. “Bonus for great lighting. Wright loved nature, and this house reflects that. The landscaping needs work, but once it’s scaled back, it could have a woodsy, earthen feel. Romantic even. I’d run with that, maybe incorporate water somehow – a pond or fountain. Reminds me of my place in New York a little bit.”
It was maybe the most I’d ever heard him talk, and I was hanging on his every word. He was even more devastating when he was passionate, and I fell in love with the house as he spoke.
Bill returned then, and it took a great deal of effort to peel my eyes from David. When I decided that their conversation was benign enough, I left the three men and headed upstairs to explore further. As I walked between rooms, I was overwhelmed by the amount of necessary work. I couldn’t help but feel a little selfish for expecting Bill to go through with it. He’d just seemed so pleased with the idea, and now, I didn’t want to give it up . . . .
“Hey,” Bill said from the doorway, panting slightly. “The fucking jury is already back. I have to run, like five minutes ago.”
“Oh,” I said. “All right, let’s go.”
“Actually can you stay with these guys?”
“No, Bill, please, I have to get back to work.”
“Just a few minutes longer. I talked to the appraiser already, and David has an estimate, but they haven’t hit the second floor yet. I wouldn’t feel right leaving the two of them alone since David is doing us a favor.”
“He has an estimate? How much?”