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“That’s not your style.”
I’m not offended because it’s usually not. “She didn’t have anyone to go with and she didn’t want to go alone.”
Pop scoffs. “I find that hard to believe, pretty girl like her. Don’t know why you can’t see she’s waiting for you to make a move.”
“No harm in going slow.”
Pissed her off last night too, when she invited me up to her apartment and I declined. Gawking at all that sex all night, she would’ve spread her legs real fast, and maybe,maybe,if Zarah hadn’t been there, I would have.
But shehadbeen there. Her soft skin under my hand as I helped her through that anxiety attack...the way she smelled. Fuck. I dropped Sierra home and had a good time alone fantasizing about Zarah looking at me the way that woman in the photo she bought gazed at her lover.
I imagine wrapping my hand around her throat, feeling her pulse jump under my fingers. How wet she would be. How she would taste. Her little body under mine, telling me she loves me in her throaty, husky voice.
“Zarah Maddox was there last night,” Pop says, shifting in his seat.
I scowl. “Why do you say that?”
“Because you’re thinking about sex again, and don’t deny it. I can smell it on you. Baby’s not here, you can talk freely.” His lips twitch.
“Cute.”
“Don’t change the subject.”
“Maybe shewasthere, looking like sin in a little dress I’d have no trouble peeling off. But, Christ, Pop. You know her history. You watch the news. Black sold her, then all that time in that hellhole of a sanatorium. She’s probably on just as many drugs as JodiAnne. Maybe more. Black took pleasure in torturing her and still is.”
“You’re saying she’d be too much work.”
“Not to mention she has billions dollars behind her name. I have bills and live near the industrial park.”
“How much does Sierra make at the café?”
“Fifteen bucks an hour and she can whip up a mean cup of coffee.”
“More your speed is what you’re saying.”
“Damn straight.”
I idle at a light waiting for it to turn green, my jaw aching because I’m gnashing my teeth together so hard.
“Then why in the hell do you look so miserable?”
I grip the steering wheel and look out the window. I don’t want to talk about this anymore.
Pop sighs. “I know you don’t think I know anything about it, but your mom was always too good for me. I knew it when I met her. She knew it, too, and it wasn’t long until she found someone better suited. I’ll never complain because I got you out of the deal. Maybe Zarah Maddoxisout of your league, hell, she probably is, and I’m pushing you in the direction of a broken heart. But your brother got through to her. I think if Max could, you have a fair shot.”
In all this, I forgot Zarah was Max’s girlfriend, lover, significant other. He had her first.
It doesn’t console me, I only step back another million feet.
“Just another reason to keep my distance, Pop. Max and I sure as hell didn’t live in the same universe, either.”
Pop adjusts his ball cap and doesn’t meet my eyes. “Yeah. Guess you’re right. Invite Sierra to my place this week. I’ll make spaghetti and we’ll play Trivial Pursuit.”
The idea doesn’t turn my crank, but I say, “Yeah.” In fact, it pisses me off because all I can picture is Zarah sitting in my dad’s kitchen feeding Baby scraps under the table.
The nurse, who looks more like a hospital’s beefy orderly, talks to us on his lunch break. The house he works at has a fancy solarium, and we chat in front of a window. Enough plants to fill a florist’s shop listen in.
“How long have you worked for the Morrisons?” Pop asks, leaning away from a fern that looks like it wants to hug him.