Grabbing the toothbrush, he says, “Are you mad at me?”
My attention darts back to the television screen. “What makes you say that?”
“You haven’t said a word to me since we left Whole Foods.”
“I have a headache.” The quiet provokes me to steal a glance. His eyes are on the script I’m holding, and his brows drawn together.
“Can’t be that bad if you’re reading and watching TV.”
Note to self: you’re an idiot and for future reference, stay away from lawyers.
“Thanks for the brilliant analysis, Sherlock, but it is and you’re making it worse.”
“You’re definitely mad at me.”
“I’m not mad at you,” comes emphatically rushing out of my mouth. “Why would I be mad at you?”
“Exactly. Why would you be?”
“I wouldn’t.”
“And yet, you are. Why?” His expression says I may as well be the Sunday Times crossword puzzle. He can’t make heads nor tails of me.
“I’m not mad at you, damn it,” I bark. “Do I need to draw you a happy face?”
Crossing his arms, he cocks his hip and casually leans against the doorframe like he hasn’t a care in the world––not a care. Which only serves to fuel my rage. “You’re downright furious.”
“I am not mad!” Popping up on my feet, I’m standing on the bed I’m so freaking mad. “God! You’re such a megalomaniac! Everything isn’t about you. Sorry to disappoint, but I haven’t sucked down the Jonestown brand of Cool-Aide! I don’t think you’re the sexiest thing since Bieber hit puberty! My panties aren’t about to start a five alarm fire by exploding or disintegrating or combusting every time you bat your eyelashes. My panties are just fine. So save it for Jane and the rest of the pussy parade!”
His expression morphs from surprise to…what’s he smiling about?
“Now if you don’t mind, can I have some privacy?” Pointing to the door, I fall back down on my ass. He doesn’t budge, though his smile grows increasingly wider. “Vaughn, if you don’t stop smiling, I am going to throw something at you.”
Unfazed by my threat, he stands, extends his arms, and then proceeds to stretch from side to side. True story.
“Go do your little aerobic stretches elsewhere please.”
“I’m going.”
“Good.”
He’s still stretching. I can see him from the periphery of my vision. My blood pressure must be at three thousand. I’m ready to bust a vein.
“I left a bowl of noodles on the counter in case you get hungry.” With that, he closes the bathroom door behind him and I flop onto my back.
I’m so hungry I’m ready to chew my arm off. As I stare at the ceiling, my stomach growls at me. I’m pretty sure it’s saying that the last thing I should be doing is listening to my damn pride which is not to be trusted with our welfare. I give it a respectable fifteen minutes before I sneak downstairs and inhale the delicious noodles. My pride and I are no longer talking.
Chapter Fifteen
“I’m doing a Black Sails marathon. These bitches are badass. What I wouldn’t do to get on a show like this,” I say into the phone, the one squashed between my shoulder and ear. After which, I shovel a spoonful of rocky road ice cream into my gapping pie hole.
The lounge being closed for a private event, I’m making good use of a rare Tuesday night off by binge watching my favorite shows in the newly renovated den.
It’s been two days since Audrey’s impromptu visit and Ethan’s been acting strange. Strike that, stranger, ever since. After we let Dan and Eileen know that Audrey was not chained up on a rack in the dank basement of some nice man who likes to experiment with knives, Ethan made dinner. He’s actually an amazing cook when he’s not trying to poison me with his kale concoctions.
Since then I keep catching him looking at me with a puzzled frown. Well, no, not quite a frown, but a look that says he can’t figure something out and it’s frustrating him. To that I say join the club.
In the meantime, David has been making progress with the case, trying to negotiate with the Gregorys some kind of settlement that doesn’t entail me draining whatever money my Grandmother leaves me so I can stay out of jail.
“What I wouldn’t do for the time to watch a single episode,” Camilla whines. “The traveling gets old fast. I’m actually excited that I’m not allowed to fly anymore.”
“Stop complaining. At least, you’re getting some on the regular. If something doesn’t give soon, I could wind up on a sexual offender list and the first victim may very well be my roommate. He has no idea what kind of danger he’s invited into his life.”
“What about Kurt? All that ink…”
My mind shoots straight to Kurt, one of the security guys at the lounge, and a shiver crawls over me.