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SCENE 2 - VIAGRA NIGHTS
PART ONE
Lucky
Can I have a friend over?”
Fionnella looks up from her clipboard. “A friend?” She says the word like it’s an STD.
I nod, calmly spoon another mouthful of cereal into my mouth.
“Male or female?” she asks from across the kitchen isle.
“Does it matter?”
She sets the clipboard down. “Don’t be naive, Lucky.”
“Fine. Forget I asked.”
“No, I won’t forget it. Where did you meet this friend?”
“What makes you think they’re not someone I’ve known my whole life?”
Her stare is direct and cynical. “Are they?”
I shrug. “It’s no big deal if you don’t want me to bring anyone here.”
She plays with her pen for a minute. “It’s not up to me. You asked. I’ll run it upstairs, see if there are objections to you having a male friend over.”
I bite the snappy comeback off my tongue and swallow it. I’ve been a little cranky since I woke up and found Q gone and another hundred thousand sitting on the dresser. In the space of five days, I’ve made more money than I know I’ll make at any other point in my life. I don’t even care about the stigma attached to how I came by it.
No, what’s got me cranky is the way my heart feels…bruised each time I think of Q. How can I have such weighty feelings for a faceless stranger? The way I felt two days ago in South Carolina, when I woke up and Stephanie told me he’d left, disturbed the hell out of me. Those feelings doubled this morning when I woke up to an empty bed. How can his absence leave me with a hollow feeling inside when I don’t even know what he looks like, what his real name is?
What baffles me even more is that I have similar feelings toward Quinn, the man who’s barely touched me, never mind fucked me.
A part of me admits the feelings are attachment borne out of the circumstances I find myself in. Quinn, Fionnella and Q are the only people I’ve had the most prolonged contact with in the past five, harrowing weeks. Out of those three, one is becoming a friend, one is fucking me and the other is mind-fucking me. And in some weird way, I’m getting addicted to the friendship and both brands of fucking.
My mind skates over the conversation with Quinn last night, and the desire to see him again intensifies. So instead of telling Fionnella once again to forget I asked, I look at her, smile and say, “That would be great. Thanks.”
She gives me a peculiar smile in return, and goes back to her clipboard. “Your weight is much improved. How do you feel generally?”
“Great.”
She ticks a box, then looks at me. Her eyes are speculative. “Anything on your mind you want to talk about?”
I tense. “Not particularly, no.”
Did Q mention Clay to her? If so, what is she going to do about it? What can she do about it? The fact that she’s here, conducting her routine check-in suggests nothing has changed. But then, what do I know?
“When will I be returning to South Carolina?” I ask, trying to read her face.
She gives nothing away. “You won’t be.”
My breath catches and I lose my appetite. “Is…something wrong?”
“No, nothing’s wrong. The boss has commitments in the city, so there’s been a change of venue, that’s all.”