He always made me feel better. As I drove home that night, I thought about Brent and what to do with the new information. Should I confront him? Or dig into it more before saying anything?
Before I got to my house, my phone rang. I saw his name and face and picked it up.
“Hey, Brent. I was just thinking about you.”
“Good things, I hope.”
“Mostly good. What’s up?”
“I need to see you,” he said.
“Yeah, we should talk. I’ll send you the address to my house.”
“I’ve been to your apartment before.”
“No. I said my house. It’s different. I’ll explain when you get here. I have to go. Bye.”
I ended the call before he had a chance to ask me any questions. After pulling over to the side of the road, I sent him a text message with my actual address. He deserved to know the truth.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Brent
Fighting Words
I pulled up to a two-story brick home in a nice neighborhood north of the city and parked in the blacktop driveway. Before getting out, I stared at the house, wondering if it was just another lie from her.
Unable to wait any longer, she would tell me the truth or not be part of my life at all. I opened the door and got out. At the porch, I knocked on her ornate screen door.
She’s doing well for herself
, I thought as the door opened.
When I saw her beautiful face, I almost decided to not confront her.
“Hey,” she said. “Come in.”
She stepped aside, and I walked into a small foyer. A wooden table with a print copy of the local newspaper and a bowl with keys and change sat to the left.
“I need to ask you something,” I said.
“Let’s sit down and have a drink. I need to ask you something too.”
“Fine,” I said.
“Red wine okay? It’s all I have.”
“That’s fine.”
I followed her into an expansive open-kitchen. She stopped at a marble topped island and opened a bottle of wine. As I sat down on one of the bar stools, she poured us each a glass.
“Thanks,” I said as I picked one of them up.
She lifted her glass into the air.
“To honesty.”
“To the truth.”
After we clinked the glasses together, she took a drink then sat down next to me. I swiveled so we were both facing each other.
“I like you a lot,” I said, setting the glass down. “But I’ve found out you’ve been lying to me.”
She tilted her head to the side.
“About what?”
“This house for one,” I said, glancing around.
A frown slid onto her face, but she still looked beautiful.
“I work for the DEA.”
“Yeah, I know. I’ve been waiting for you to tell me.”
“You’ve known? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I wanted to see if you came clean,” I said.
She took another drink of wine.
“I mean, it’s not a big deal. I’m not doing anything illegal.”
“Are you sure?”
“What do you mean?”
“We have a wire on a cartel member, and you’ve been talking with them. You just told them you would think about their offer for money and business.”
I shook my head, pure anger coursing through my veins.
“You’re listening to my private conversations?”
“We have a wire on the cartel, so yeah, if you’re talking to them, we’re going to be listening.”
“Fuck this shit,” I said, standing up.
“Don’t leave. Let’s talk.”
“There’s nothing left to talk about.”
I headed toward the front door.
“Wait…”
She stood and came after me. I didn’t say anything as I walked, furious she’d been spying on me despite the fact I’d been looking into her. If we weren’t able to communicate honestly, our relationship would never last.
Better to leave her now
.
“Fine,” she called out after I made it outside.
I heard the front door of her house slam as I got in my Maserati, wishing I’d had Keifer drive so I could smoke one. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The word repeated itself a few more times in my mind. I pressed a button to start the car then put it into gear and backed out of her driveway.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Brent
Love & Apologies
Halfway down the block, I slammed on the brakes.
What the hell am I doing? Why do I always run?
I backed into a driveway and turned around to head back to her house.
The rage had turned to something else. I made it to her front door and knocked. She answered right away, glaring at me through the screen door.
“Can I come in? Please?”
“You talk about me running out all the time, but look what you do.”
“Please?” I begged.
She unlocked the door and opened it. I stepped inside and saw a tear on her soft, smooth cheek.
“Have you been crying?”
“Yes, I have,” she snapped. “Is that okay? It’s natural.”
I put my hand on the side of her head and wiped away a tear with my thumb.
“It’s fine.”
“I’m just so torn between work, and Dad, and you…”
She peered into my eyes as if they held the answer to all her problems.
“I told the cartel I would think about it because I wasn’t sure what to do. They’ve been after me ever since I began making money and they started losing it.”
“I should have asked you before jumping to conclusions.”
“And I should have asked you about working for the DEA when I found out. Your damn story still hasn’t been published. Did you even write one?”
A guilty look swept over her features.
“No…” she said quietly.
I smiled and tilted my head, leaning forward to kiss her. She kissed me back, her mouth opening and letting my tongue in to slide against hers. Emotions, which I usually kept at bay, overwhelmed me. I pulled back, staring into her eyes.
“I love you.”
The words fell from my lips so naturally, like they were meant for her alone.
“I love you, Brent.”
We kissed again. Fiercely.
“Slow down, okay? Let’s go slow.”
“As slow as you want.”
She took a step back and took my hand.
“Come on. I’ll show you my bedroom. It’s not as nice as yours, but…”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” I said, following her out of the living room and down a hallway.
I glanced at the art on the wall briefly – paintings of sunsets on the beach – but most of my attention went to her flowing and curly red hair. And that ass.
She stopped in front of a sliding door.
“Don’t laugh, okay? It helps me relax.”
“I promise,” I said, wondering what was on the other side of the door.
When she opened it and walked in, still holding onto my hand, I saw the source of her concern. Hundreds of Barbie dolls lined shelves throughout the room.
“You collect dolls?” I asked then corrected myself. “I mean Barbie dolls.”
“Yeah. I have since I was a little girl. My father bought them for me when my mother died.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It happened a long time ago.”
She let go of my hand and spun around to face her neatly made bed. The red and black comforter on top really stood out. I turned to her and smiled like I was the happiest man in the world.
“What?” she asked nervously.
“Nothing. I’m just happy to be here with you.”
“Yeah?”
I nodded and stepped toward her.
“Yeah. I’m glad we’re being honest with each other now.”
“Me too,” she said, voice barely above a whisper.
Her red lips stood out against her pale, flawless face. I bent forward and kissed them again. She moaned and put an arm around my waist before pulling back.
“Can you roll us a joint while I light some candles and get some music going?”
“I can,” I said with a grin. “You have a personal stash?”
“You know who my father is now.”
“Do you have some of the…”
“Yeah,” she said, cutting me off.
My smile intensified.
“My box is on top of the dresser,” she said, pointing.
She left the room as I walked over to open an intricately carved wooden box. Inside, I saw a glass jar with a few choice buds and a pack of Zig-Zag rolling papers.
I sat down on the edge of the bed and got to work rolling a fat, two-paper joint. If she wanted slow and sensual, this would help get us going in the right direction.
As I rolled, she came back in with a silver tray and a bunch of candles on it.
“You’re prepared,” I said. “I like that.”
She smiled and set the tray on the dresser. I went back to rolling the joint as she lit the candles. By the time she turned off the lights, I’d finished.
“Not bad,” she said, examining it closely. “I’m impressed.”
“You can’t get as rich off as weed as I did if you don’t know how to roll.”
“I’m not in this for your money,” she said suddenly, almost wrecking the mood.
“Whoa. Where did that come from?”
“I don’t know. It’s just that sometimes you like to talk about your money a lot.”
“It’s not my primary concern now.”
“Yeah? What is your primary concern?”
“You, silly.”
I patted the mattress next to me.
“Let’s get undressed before we get stoned,” she said. “Do you mind?”
“Seeing that body of yours again? Not at all.”
“I hate my breasts. The nipples are too puffy.”
“Get out of here,” I said as I stood up. “They’re fucking perfect.”
“You think so?”
“I love every inch of your body, and tonight I’m going to prove it to you.”
“Okay,” she said quietly.
I watched as she undressed, honestly loving the curves on her body. Too many of the women who threw themselves at me were rail thin like they never ate. My ideal woman stood before me.
After stepping out of my pants, I waved my hand toward the bed. She crawled on the mattress and moved to the far side, laying on her back. I laid down next to her, staring up at the ceiling.
“This is powerful stuff,” she said.
“Oh, I know. Your dad and I smoked some.”
“Please don’t mention him right now while I’m naked, okay? I love him and all…”
I smiled and said, “I understand.
“Light it up,” she said.
“No music?”
“We’re going to be making out own music. I had no idea what to play.”
“Fair enough,” I said, lighting up the joint.
It was as thick as one of her slender fingers. After puffing and inhaling, I passed it to her. She took it, her smooth, silky skin touching mine.
Settle down
, I told myself.
I exhaled, a cloud of smoke rising above us. The bed became our life raft as we floated to another realm by altering our minds. Three or five or nine hits later, she declined.
“I’m good,” she said.
As I leaned over and put the half-joint into a Barbie ashtray on her nightstand, I laughed.
“What?” she asked, sitting up.
“They have a Barbie ashtray?”
“It’s a joke. My dad made it for me.”
“Nice,” I said, rolling over on my back.
“This is nice,” she said then took a deep breath.
I felt her hand move to my thigh, causing me to sigh. As her fingers caressed a tiny spot of my body, I put my hand on her leg, doing the same. The smell of marijuana, strawberries, and flowers filled the air.
“Your room smells great,” I said.
“Shhh,” she hissed, her hand inching closer to my cock.
As we quietly explored each other, pleasure washed over my entire body and mind. Maybe it was the weed or the fact we were taking it slow and sensual, but something was different. Even if I couldn’t put my finger on it exactly, I felt the difference.
My hand reached her pubic hair, neatly trimmed. The red tuft drove me nuts, but without seeing it, I experienced it differently. Her fingers brushed against my cock as she stroked my pubes. Blood rushed between my legs as my chest rose and fell faster.
Instead of grasping my hard dick with her fingers like I expected, she rolled on her side and ran them over my stomach and up my chest. The light touch sent tingles through my entire body. My cock throbbed, still filling with blood and getting so hard.