Read Caught in the Devil's Sheets Online
Authors: Jesse Johnson
When I get to Odin’s house, I recognize his black lifted Chevy in the driveway. I park and sit outside a while observing, trying to find the courage to go knock. He has two garages and a double driveway that is paved all the way to the road. As I make my way out of my car I see the other car that’s in the driveway. My confidence slowly deteriorates as I realize this car belongs to a woman.
It’s a convertible, but not an overly expensive one. It has a shiny purple paint job that I actually like. Inside I can see a few bags, one from Victoria’s secret, and I notice the bumper sticker on the rear of the car that says ‘I’m not spoiled, just well taken care of.’
Is this Samantha’s car? Is Odin inside with Samantha?
I try not to get upset, thinking it’s probably best for me to leave. I turn around and Odin’s front door opens. I freeze, then slowly turn to see a blonde-haired girl walking out with a box full of stuff. I have seen her before, but I can’t recall where. At a party at the club house maybe.
“Hey, Lila,” she says when she sees me, slowing down to walk around me and the car with the box full of things.
“I’m sorry, have we met?” I ask, smiling politely.
“Not officially, I’m Samantha,” she says, holding a hand out to me. She’s cute, and she’s smiling pleasantly at me. I hold my hand out as well, greeting her properly.
“Nice to meet you.” I have no idea what to say. It looks like she’s just getting her things from Odin’s house.
“Yeah, I have heard a lot about you,” she says, still smiling.
Oh. I’m at a total loss for words.
Then Odin comes out his front door. He’s wearing jeans and a black plain t shirt. His hair is messy and threads of it stick out. He looks stunned, and I start to feel stupid for just showing up unannounced. I’m staring at him, and he looks at me with wide eyes that quickly turn to relief.
“Delilah! I’ve been trying to call you.”
No shit!
I’m overly relieved that Samantha heads back into the house giving us a minute. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I’d be interrupting anything,” I say, embarrassed.
“Why didn’t you answer your phone?” He sounds irritated, which only makes me feel worse.
“I thought I’d surprise you,” I say, but Odin just looks at me puzzled. “I wanted to tell you in person that I broke it off with Jaime,” I tell him, hoping he’ll be happy for me.
Odin smiles an oversized smile that lights up his whole face. Then he holds his arms out to hug me.
“Good for you. I thought you’d chickened out,” he says, still with a brilliant smile.
“No. I did it.” I shake my head.
Samantha comes out with another bag full of things. Odin casts a nervous glance at her and then back to me.
I get the feeling I should go. “So anyways, I just wanted to let you know and I’ll see you around,” I say making my less then graceful escape.
“I’ll walk you out,” he says, following me to my car. “You want to celebrate tonight?” he asks when we’re just out of hearing range from the driveway.
“That depends. What’s Samantha doing here?” I try hiding my jealousy. Odin has every right to have sex with other women, but I refuse to be anyone’s second lay in a day.
“She just came by to pick up her things and I’m helping her get some of her affairs together.” Odin seems sincere.
I want to believe him, but trust is not my strong suit. Odin looks behind him to see that Samantha has gone back inside. Then turning he lays a gentle kiss on my forehead and then another softly on my lips. “Don’t leave,” he whispers, and I’m taken aback.
“What?”
“I want to make you dinner and properly celebrate,” he says with a smile that tells me exactly how he plans to celebrate.
“What about Samantha?”
Samantha is sitting on the end of her car, and she looks ready to go, but she’s waiting on Odin.
“Drive up the street and back down. I’ll have her out of here in five minutes,” he says turning to leave, not giving me a chance to protest.
I cast another quick glance at poor and desperate Samantha, waiting to say her goodbye. I hope to God that I never stand in her shoes.
I feel silly and not sneaky in the slightest as I drive up Odin’s street. When I get to the top there is big open circle, with no houses. When I back into a space, I am overlooking the beach. It’s beautiful as it nears sunset, other than the oil rigs posted a few miles off shore. I can see the islands and the Santa Monica Pier’s Ferris wheel. I can even see the tourist portion of Venice Beach. It’s a beautiful view.
I sit up here about 15 minutes before heading back down the hill. Samantha’s convertible is gone and I take her place in the driveway. Before I put it in park, Odin opens one of the garage doors, and has me pull in. Part of me had wondered if Rick might try looking for me here. I feel so scandalous being here with Odin. Even after leaving Jaime, I know I shouldn’t be here. But there is no place in the world I would rather be right now.
Odin shows me through the garage door that leads into a small room and opens up to a beautiful house. It’s big and spacious and it reminds me of mine and Jaime’s beach condo, only bigger. And here, Odin has no real neighbors. He has dark hardwood floors and a black wooden table with matching chairs. His kitchen looks like it gets a lot of use. The kitchen floor is white tile and the cupboards are dark wood with black granite countertops.
“Wow, I love your kitchen,” I say as I admire his place.
“Come on, I will give you a tour. Then I’ll show you the southern magic I create in my own kitchen.”
I follow Odin as he leads me into the living room. It, too, has dark hardwood floors throughout, big open tinted windows looking out over his backyard. All the furniture is black. Other than a few tall cupboards and some Harley Davidson and Chopper memorabilia on the walls, there’s not much décor. It’s clean and bare, but I notice a black acoustic guitar tucked into the corner.
Odin leads me through to the large glass sliding door attached to the living room.
There is a pool and a hot tub, and his yard overlooks the woods that lead back down the mountain he lives on. It’s beautiful! He leads me around the yard and we re-enter the house through a locking door that leads into a study. There the dark wood and black theme continues in this room’s desk and bookshelves and lounge chairs. I notice a few locking cabinets and a safe.
“I don’t usually bring people in here,” he says cautiously.
Why?
He has to unlock the door from the inside to let us out, and I note that he locks it again behind us. He shows me the downstairs guest room, and bathroom, then leads me back into the living room. There is a grand staircase that winds around the fireplace and leads to an upstairs balcony that overlooks the living and dining room, above the study and guest quarters. There is a pool table and a bar up here. It’s like a little man cave, only out in the open.
“Would you like to see my room?”
The fact that he’s asking makes me hesitant. I know he’s into some kinky shit. I can’t help wondering what’s in there.
“Sure.”
Why not?
He leads me around the pool table down the hall, where there are two bedrooms. Odin opens the door to the left. Turning on a dim light, he leads me into his room. The first thing I notice is his bed. It has four thick wooden bedposts that connect with beams at the top. Each bedpost is equipped with metal hooks and hanging from the beams above are black leather cuffs, suspended from long links of chain. Definitely not from IKEA, it looks hand crafted. Across the room standing on the floor is a piece of equipment that at first glance I’d think was used for exercise, though I have a feeling it’s intended for other uses. There is a heap of rope coiled up and neatly hanging from the arm of it, and it looks like it can be repositioned in several ways. I swallow hard wondering how he intends to use it.
Behind Odin’s bed is a wall that leads up to the cathedral ceiling and is painted scarlet red. Dangling from nails on the wall are all kinds of whips, handcuffs, floggers, and other instruments I don’t recognize. They’re neat and organized to look like an art piece. Framed on the top of the wall there are three very large prints of Bettie Page. She is one of my favorite women in history and her pictures fit this room like a glove. Odin’s furniture is black, including a large black chest at the foot of his bed. There is a small door that I guess leads to the master bathroom. One wall has a large window that overlooks the woods and I can even see the beach far off in the distance.
“That’s a beautiful view.”
Odin laughs at me. “A room full of my toys and you notice the view?” he states, bemused.
What is there to say about all the rest? “I really like your pictures of Bettie Page,” I say pointing to the one in the middle. It’s a picture of Bettie wearing nothing but red high heels and red see-through armbands and tights. She’s sitting on her knees with her back facing the camera, but is turning her head to give it a seductive stare. On her back is a tattoo of a jaguar chasing a rat down to her behind.
“She’s my number one poster girl,” he says with a grin. “Come on, I’ll make you dinner.” He holds the door open for me.
“What’s in that room?” I ask pointing to the door adjacent his.
“I’ll show you that room another time,” he says, and he takes my hand, leading me back down the stairs.
“I really like your house,” I say admiring it from the second level.
“Thank you, I built it.”
I’m thoroughly impressed.
“What would you like for dinner?” he asks, pulling out a stool from the breakfast nook for me.
“What’s on the menu?” I ask, settling on the stool. It’s a relief to be off my feet after a day in my wedges.
“Steak and potatoes? Pasta? Fish?”
“Pasta sounds good. Start me off with a drink?” I ask.
“What’ll the lady have?” There’s a hint of his southern accent in his voice.
“Wine?”
“Red or pink?” he asks.
“Red.”
“Fine choice,” he says, making his way over to the wine rack that is part of the cupboard interior. He pulls two glasses that are hanging upside down under the wine rack and sets them both on the breakfast nook in front of me. He fills both glasses about three quarters full and sets the bottle down beside them. He lifts the glasses, handing one to me. “Congratulations Ms. Winter,” he says, clinking his glass against mine.
Odin makes himself busy in the kitchen.
“Can I help you?” I always feel out of place watching others work.
“You can pick some music,” he says gesturing to an iPod plugged into a wire in the living room.
I shuffle through Odin’s iPod and I notice Gogol Bordello. I click play on
Start Wearing Purple
. Gypsy music and wine go perfectly together.
I linger in the living room, swaying to the music with my glass in my hand. I kick off my shoes and make myself more comfortable on my feet, tossing my hair about in a graceful motion. I’m aware of Odin’s eyes on me from the kitchen, so I pull out some old belly dancing moves, unhinging my hips from side to side while keeping my head still enough to finish my wine. I twirl in a circle, moving my torso in the opposite direction. I fish my free hand through my hair then use it to simulate a snake, twisting it gracefully through the air away from me, and then rolling it back towards me. I used to love belly dancing. Another thing I just fell away from being so wrapped up in Jaime.
When the song is over, I once again go to the iPod and change it to AC/DC. Odin is still staring at me as I pour myself what I promise is to be my last glass of wine. The noodles are not yet boiling and he has a lid set over the sauce. Abandoning the stove he makes his way over to me. I’m even shorter than normal sitting on the bar stool and Odin bends over to kiss me. Instinctively I wrap my arms around his neck, kissing him back. He leans against me so my back hits the breakfast bar, his arms wrapped tightly around me. His tongue slips into my mouth and I smooth my tongue against it. Odin’s lips are soft and firm, and he smells like aftershave. For a biker, he has a classic gentlemanly charm about him. We make out until the contents of the stove call for his attention.
Odin strides over to the stove. “So,” he asks, stirring the grilled chicken into the sauce. “What’s next for you?”
“You know, I didn’t really think that one through all the way. I guess I need to get in touch with a realtor and sell the house,” I say, taking a big sip of wine.
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes and no. That house is so full of Jaime, I just can’t see living there. But I don’t want to leave town. I don’t really have anywhere to go. Even my best friend married into the club. I don’t know what to do from here. I have a feeling people will react badly to me divorcing Jaime. I don’t know if I’ll stay around.”
“Lila, fuck those people. Don’t leave your house just because some people don’t like your choices. I think you’ll be surprised how many people won’t treat you any differently.”
“I just feel like whoever I date next is going to have a difficult time with Jaime being so close,” I admit more of my reserves about keeping the house.
“Then don’t date a pussy,” Odin says like it’s that easy, like he doesn’t know the hell Jaime is likely to raise as soon as he gets out.
“Last time I checked, Batman
was
single.” I play into the sarcasm.
Odin smiles, draining the noodles in a strainer and tossing them back into the pan. “What if you just didn’t date for a while? What if you just enjoyed being single?” he suggests.
The truth is, I have never been one to enjoy being on my own. I need company. For the longest time I had Billy and he kept me company when I was in between boyfriends. He took the place of telling me the things I need to hear, making me feel loved and wanted until the next guy came along. And even then when things would get tough with Jaime, I would always go crying to Billy in a letter or sneak out to talk to him on the phone. I even visited him once while Jaime and I were together.
“I don’t really do alone so well,” I say shyly.
Odin walks over with two bowls of pasta and sets one down in front of me. “Who says you have to be alone?” His look is intoxicating. He pulls a stool to sit across from me.