Authors: Saorise Roghan
“I’ll
help, Denise.
I’ll help you figure
it all out.”
He sat up straight
and placed his palms on his thighs.
“It won’t just go away.
We
need to deal with it.”
Having said
that, he got up and walked out of the room.
***
Denise
lifted her eyes and watched him go.
She had no idea what she wanted.
She had no idea how to make things right.
She had no idea how to talk to him. She’d like to pretend he
didn’t exist.
***
Evan
Martin looked at Andrew and shook his head.
“It won’t work.
You have to begin the way you mean to go on.”
Andrew
let out a breath of exasperation.
“I did.
I told you about
the prenup.”
Evan,
older than Andrew by at least ten years, waved a hand to stop him.
“Yeah.
You did.
And since then?
What have you done?”
Andrew
chewed on his lip.
“Like
I thought.
Diddly squat.”
Evan snorted.
“That’s your problem.
You may have started, but then you stopped.”
Andrew
flashed Evan a look that would have done a teenager proud and the older man grinned.
“Yeah.
You’re welcome. What have you done this
week-hell this day
!-
to be the Head of the House?”
“Christ.
I’ve gone to work.
I’ve tried to give her space…”
“Space.
Why?
How the hell does that help?
What woman needs space?
Space is trouble my friend.
That woman doesn’t need space!
She needs you all over her shit.
Evan
pushed out of his chair.
“The kids
aren’t in school?
What have you
done?
She hasn’t made any
decisions?
Have you told her she’d
damn well better make some? Have you fucked her?
Reddened her ass? No! Don’t bother answering me, kid.
It’s obvious.
Step up and quit whining.”
Andrew
opened his mouth but Evan wasn’t waiting around; he waved Andrew towards the
door.
“Think
of your old man, kid.”
Evan tossed
the advice at the younger man from the desk while Andrew headed out the door. “Picture
him after some crisis.
Now get the
hell out of here and go fix your life!”
“Jesus.
Thanks for the sensitive advice.”
Evan
roared out a laugh.
“You need
sensitivity you came to the wrong place! Now if you want your wife happy…”
Andrew
grinned and rapped his knuckles on the receptionist’s desk as he went by.
“See you Mrs. Flintstead.”
“Ignore
whatever he said!”
The older woman
smiled but kept right on working, not bothering to look up from her desk.
Driving
home, Andrew called Denise.
She
didn’t answer, she never did, and he drove on getting angrier as the message
system did its thing.
“Denise,
Andrew.
In the future pick up the
phone when I call.
Be ready at
seven, please.
We’re going out to
dinner.”
He
clicked off sharply and called William, the oldest.
“Dude-“
“Be ready at 7:00, William.
Dinner.
Tell your
brothers.”
“Sure.”
“Make
sure you all shower and dress up.
No shorts and Ts.”
“Fuck.”
“Language,
pal.”
“Dude-“
“William.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t
dude me or say fuck when I’m telling you to do something.”
“Crap.
You mad?”
“I’m
just saying.
Got it?”
“I
don’t know, man.”
“Sir.”
“Fuck!”
“Fuck,
Sir!”
Andrew
grinned to himself, tossing the phone to the seat. He felt better already.
Evan
had been right.
He needed to keep
his hands firmly on the reins, steady on the wheel, and every other masculine
image of control out there. His mom was a competent, organized, intelligent
woman who certainly kept things moving smoothly. But the few times the shit had
hit the fan when Andrew was a kid his dad had been all over the place.
And he knew better himself, from work, from
sports.
If you’re in charge,
you’re in charge.
He’d announced
himself with Denise.
And then he stood
back and waited for her to give him permission.
He flushed.
Furious with himself.
What a dick.
“I
expect you idiots back in school.
Tomorrow.”
He said flatly as
soon as they’d ordered dinner.
“Any questions?”
“No,
Sir!” William said promptly.
He
dug an elbow into Zander’s side and kicked Lucas.
“Absolutely
not!”
“You
bet.”
“Sir!”
All three added in chorus.
Andrew
grinned.
“Tell me about all those
damn mutts.”
Four
sets of eyes fixed on him.
Two
sets were extremely anxious. The others were merely interested.
The
concerned parties both began to speak at once.
Andrew shot up a hand, and looked pointedly at Denise.
“There are at least twenty fre-“ he bit
off the word, knowing if he expected the boys to speak better he needed to as
well-
“dogs roaming the property. Do any of them mean more
to any of you than the others?”
“They
all matter!” Lucas voice shook.
“And
there’s nine.
Not twenty.”
“Nine
is too many dogs.”
Lucas
shoved his chair back.
“Why?
Says who?
They have no other home!”
“Are
they yours? All of them?”
The
kid nodded.
“We’ll
talk.” Andrew looked around the table.
“They’re out of control, Lucas.
That’s what I won’t tolerate.
I’ll help you figure it out. We’ll get kennels or something.”
Some
of the tension left the boys bodies.
Their sister sat as straight as a martinet, her face a total mask.
The rest of dinner passed smoothly,
even well. The boys relaxed, and seemed to get the basic idea:
He, Andrew, was in charge, but life
would probably be a benevolent dictatorship.
Denise, on the other hand, could have snagged an Oscar for
doing cool, aloof, and very polite.
The boys
left the restaurant in a noisy pack, William armed with the valet ticket.
Andrew’s hand shot out, a slight
pressure keeping Denise in her seat at the table.
He waited for her to look at him, the waiter to move away.
“You
have your bedroom and I’ve been sleeping in another one.
Take your pick, but choose one for us
both and let me know before you go up tonight.”
He slipped the signed receipt back into the leather folder
and reached for his wallet as he stood.
He
watched her as he placed the card back in the wallet and slid it into his
pants.
Her eyes had widened
slightly and she’d nipped her lower lip with her teeth just slightly.
Otherwise, not a
sign.
“Understood?”
He eased her chair from the table and
reached out a hand to her.
He
watched her long lashes sweep her cheek as she dropped her eyes.
Her head ducked slightly.
She dabbed her lips with her napkin and
then her tongue swept out and licked nervously.
She placed her hand in his waiting palm and stood up.
Andrew
waited, possessing her hand, waiting for her to look at him again. She started
to turn away.
Andrew stopped her,
his other hand moving to catch her chin and tip her face up to his.
“Look at me, Denise.”
The
teeth caught at the lip again, but her eyes came up.
“Understood.”
Her voice was little more than a whisper.
Andrew
leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, nipping just lightly.
He leaned to whisper in her ear.
“Good girl.”
***
It
was that
good girl
that got her the
most.
In another man it might not
have even registered, but oh, with him, it did. The desire to shoot him gave
her an actual, physical ache, as if the muscles in her arm tensed as she
brought a high caliber rifle to her shoulder.
She didn’t want him in her room. Just inside the front door
she paused for a brief moment and looked at him.
“I’ll come to you, please.”
His
lips had thinned slightly but he nodded. “I’ll expect you to stay. You can move
your things in tomorrow.”
He moved
ahead of her, tossing comments after the boys.
In
her bathroom she opened the medicine cabinet and flicked the lid off a
valium
bottle without any hesitation.
She swallowed two, and then went to
work removing make up, brushing teeth.
She spent more time than normal flossing.
She
dressed in boxers and left her room, braiding her hair tightly as she walked
down the hall, focusing on bringing the strands tightly together.
Her hand went out to knock and then she
stopped and opened the door because fuck it, if this was to be her room too…-
Andrew
lay on the bed, several pillows propped behind his head, the remote in his
hand.
“Hey.” His voice was casual,
and he patted the bed beside him.
Denise
didn’t know what to do.
What to expect.
Sex between them had always been good.
But now?
All she wanted was to murder him.
She climbed up onto the bed.
Jeez.
She’d
never realized how incredibly high off the ground it was.
The TV was on, so staying as close to
the edge of the bed as she
could,
she fixed a look of
keen interest on her face, as though Amazing Animals really was
amazing
.
A
long, tanned, strong arm swept out and scooped, affixing itself to her hip and
dragging her closer.
She couldn’t
help it -- she flinched, resisted.
A mistake.
The
remote dropped.
Andrew turned more
completely to her and pulled inexorably.
Her body slid across the bed.
He reached over and back, pulling the
pillows out from under her head.
He propped his head on one hand, and with the other he gently touched
her face, softly sweeping the wisps of hair back from her cheeks.
“This can be good, Denise.”
The
pad of his thumb stroked her cheekbone. Her brow.
Came to rest on her lips and caressed.
There was the slightest pressure and
Denise opened her lips without thinking.
His thumb stroked back and forth along her lower lip and then her mouth
opened and he took over the warm wet of her, stroking her tongue, following the
smooth enamel of her teeth, running his finger far back in her throat.
She gasped, swallowed, tried to pull
back.
He surged up and over,
letting his weight settle over her hips.
Denise’s
eyes flew open.
He sat straight
and tall, watching her, smiling gently as she looked up at him, her head
rearing back to escape his long finger. He bent, kissing her forehead, her
cheek bones, his other hand coming up and stroking her throat, sliding his palm
up its graceful column, a finger tickling the lobe of her ear, tongue exploring
the inner recesses and drifting back to her mouth.