Mirror Image

Mandy was another thorn in her side. As if the little brat hadn’t always been spoiled rotten, it was even worse now since the plane crash. Just last week Fancy had been sternly reprimanded by her grandmother when she had yelled at her young cousin for eating all the Oreos.

In Fancy’s opinion, the kid was off her beam. Her hollow, vacant eyes were damn spooky. She was turning into a zombie and, in the meantime, everybody kissed her ass.

Her daddy had gone positively ape shit when she had gotten her most recent speeding ticket, and he had threatened to take away her car if she got another. He even warned that she would have to pay the fine out of money she earned herself. Of course her daddy’s threats never panned out, but his shouting had really gotten on her nerves.

She couldn’t believe the fuss everyone made over that primary election. You would have thought her uncle was running for fuckin’ president the way everybody had carried on about it. He had won by a landslide, which had come as no surprise to her. She couldn’t understand why they had paid a political analyst big bucks to predict the outcome a week before the election, when she could have given it to them months ago for free. Her uncle’s smile made women cream their jeans. It didn’t matter what his speeches were about; women would vote for him on the basis of his looks. But had anyone asked her? No. Nobody asked her opinion about anything.

Things were looking up, however. Now that the primary election was out of the way, Eddy wouldn’t have so many distractions. His mind would be freer to think about her. She had been optimistic of a successful seduction when she had first launched the project. Now she wasn’t so sure. He’d eluded her charms more adroitly than she would have guessed it was possible for a man to do. As far as she could tell, he wasn’t even close to the breaking point.

She swiveled her head to glare at him. On the surface, at least, he looked as cool as a cucumber. She could have been as ugly as a warthog’s ass for all the attention he was paying her. Maybe it was time she threw caution to the wind, stopped pussyfooting around, and, if nothing else, shocked the shit out of Mr. Clean.

“How ’bout a blow job?”

Moving with studied casualness, Eddy draped his right arm along the seat backs. “Come to think of it, that would feel real good about now.”

Heat rushed to her face. She gritted her teeth. “Don’t you dare patronize me, you son of a bitch.”

“Then stop throwing yourself at me like a cheap streetwalker. Dirty talk doesn’t turn me on, any more than a ringside view of your chest. I’m not interested, Fancy, and this juvenile game of yours is getting tiresome.”

“You are a fag.”

He snorted. “Believe that if you want to, if it salves your ego.”

“Then you’re bound to be getting it from somebody, because it’s just not normal for a man to go without.” She scooted closer to him and clutched his sleeve. “Who are you sleeping with, Eddy—somebody who works at headquarters?”

“Fancy—”

“That redhead with the skinny butt? I’ll bet it’s her! She’s divorced, I hear, and probably real hot.” She clutched his sleeve tighter. “Why would you want to screw somebody old like her when you could have me?”

He brought the car to a stop in the circular drive in front of the house. He caught her by both shoulders and shook her hard. “Because I don’t screw children—especially one who opens her thighs to every stiff dick that comes along.”

His anger only fanned her desire. Passion of any kind aroused and excited her. Eyes alight, she reached down and pressed his crotch with the palm of her hand. Her lips curved into a smug smile. “Why, Eddy, darlin’!” she exclaimed in a sultry whisper. “Yours is stiff.”

Cursing, he pushed her away and got out of the car. “As far as you’re concerned, that’s how it’ll stay.”

Fancy took time to rebutton her blouse and compose herself before following him into the house. The contest had resulted in a tie. He hadn’t dragged her off to bed, but he had wanted to. That was progress she could live with for a while… but not indefinitely.

As she reached the door leading to her wing, her mother emerged. Dorothy Rae was walking straight, but her eyes were glazed with the effects of several drinks.

“Hello, Fancy.”

“I’m going to Corpus Christi for a few days,” she announced. If Eddy refused to take her, she’d just surprise him in the coastal city. “I’m leaving in the morning. Give me some money.”

“You can’t leave town right now.”

Fancy’s fist found a prop on her shapely hip. Her eyes narrowed the way they were wont to do when she didn’t immediately get her way. “Why the hell not?”

“Nelson said everybody had to be here,” her mother said. “Carole’s coming home tomorrow.”

“Oh, piss,” Fancy muttered. “Just what I need.”

Thirteen

She saw him in the mirror.

Seated at the small dressing table in her room at the clinic, Avery made eye contact with Tate as he came in. They held their stare as she gradually lowered the powder puff to the mirrored surface of the table, then swiveled on the stool and met him face-to-face.

He tossed his coat and several department store shopping bags onto the bed while his eyes remained on her. Tightly clasping her hands in her lap, Avery laughed nervously. “The suspense is killing me.”