The Gamble

“No circumstances are the right circumstances for you to have your ass in another man’s lap.”

I shook my head, those short, quick shakes again.

“Are we… are we really talking about this?” I asked in disbelief.

“Positions reversed, Nina, you were in a room and I had a woman in my lap, would you like that?”

My stomach pitched again at the thought he planted in my head and at the fact he kept calling me Nina.

“No, of course not,” I told him.

“Point made,” he replied curtly.

“Unless it was Mindy or something,” I added.

“I fed Mindy baby food. You’ve known Brody a coupla days. That’s hardly the same f**kin’ thing.”

“In a way, it is.”

“What it is, is, I’ve known you a week and you’re f**kin’ me. You’ve known Brody –”

I lost my incredulity at our conversation and my mild confusion and the fear that I felt whenever he was angry at me and that red film covered my eyes again.

“Don’t you finish that!” I warned.

“Again, point made,” Max shot back.

I leaned in and snapped, “You’re impossible!”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that.”

I glared at him and he held my glare. Neither of us spoke, neither of us moved. I wanted to throw something at him but nothing was in reach and if I had to reach for something I could swear at that moment my entire body would shatter.

Regrettably, I was unable to hold his clear, angry gray eyes so I turned my head, looked into the house and realized there was really nowhere to go to escape him. Except one place. So I went there.

I stomped across the room, my boots loud against the wood floors. Then I stomped up the stairs. Then I stomped to the armchair to see my bag was gone and I stopped, staring at the chair. Then I stomped to the closet, threw open the door and turned on the light inside. I saw my limited amount of clothes hanging next to Max’s, my sweaters tidily folded on the fitted shelves again next to Max’s and my shoes lined up on the tilted rods also next to Max’s. My suitcase was folded up and tucked into a corner. All of my clothes had been laundered and, those that needed it, ironed and so had Max’s.

Caroline was good at her job.

I turned out the light, slammed the door and stomped to the bathroom. I opened the medicine cabinet and saw my toiletries tucked neatly away. Then I opened a drawer in the vanity and saw my makeup. So I stomped back to the door, saw my robe was on a hook at the back and I felt like shouting with glee when I saw it. Then I slammed the door and locked it.

Then I drew a bath and started the long, complicated procedure of giving myself a facial.

What I wanted to do was leave Max’s presence, his house and the state in which he currently resided.

Something else I wanted to do was walk downstairs and scream in his face.

Since I didn’t have a car and since I was so angry I couldn’t trust my own mouth and since my Mom and Steve worshipped the ground Max walked on and they’d planned a romantic dinner a deux at The Rooster thus I couldn’t call them to come and get me, I was stuck with the facial.

So I gave myself the longest facial in the history of me giving myself facials.

The water in the tub was cool but even after the facial, I had not cooled down when I climbed out and toweled off. I lotioned my body like I’d be graded for the endeavor and then I wrapped myself in my robe, grabbed my clothes and boots and walked out.

The house was lit downstairs and up with both lights illuminated on both nightstands but I could see and hear no Max.

I dumped my clothes and boots in the closet and went in search of my underwear which I found in one of the drawers (yes, by Max’s). I snatched out a pair and put them on, pulled on my last pair of pajama bottoms and a shelf-bra camisole. The bottoms were cotton with tiny, retro daisies in sherbet colors against a raspberry sherbet background with the camisole being lime sherbet. I shrugged my robe back on and confiscated a pair of Max’s socks, the best ones I could find deciding I’d steal them just to tick him off. I yanked them on while hopping around foot to foot.

Then I went across the room, slid open the doors to the TV, selected the most gruesome horror movie I could find even though I didn’t normally watch horror movies since they were horror and thus scared the dickens out of me, even the silly, bad ones which always made Charlie laugh his behind off when he used to force me to watch them with him and put it in the DVD player. Then I curled up on the bed, shoving most of the pillows behind me, tucking one to my front and I glued my eyes to the television set.

My stomach reminded me I hadn’t had lunch and I silently told it to shut the hell up.

The movie had scarcely started before a young woman was being chased through the woods, the blood of her hacked up boyfriend covering her barely clad body when I felt Max’s presence hit the loft.

Although a part of me I was not listening to was glad he was there (simply because the movie was scaring the dickens out of me), I didn’t look at him. I kept my eyes fixed on the TV even as I felt the bed move when he sat on it and I heard one boot then the other hit the floor. The bed moved again and I stayed completely still and focused on the TV.

Max slid in behind me, his arm went around my middle and he pulled me into his hard body. With a forceful jerk I pulled myself forward and with an equally forceful jerk he hauled me right back.

I gave up and held myself completely still.

“Turn off the movie, Duchess.”

Oh, so now I was Duchess. Now, after he proved, like most – no all men (except Charlie and Steve) – that he was a world class jerk.

I didn’t move nor speak.

“Baby, turn it off.”

Now I was baby. Nice.

He sighed then he pressed closer to my back.

“It’s been a shit day.”

I stayed silent and watched the young, barely clad damsel come to a bloody end in the woods.

“Curtis knew someone wanted him dead.”

My body gave a small twitch at this news but I remained silent.

“He had death threats.”

I watched the screen and somehow, shortly after the nubile, young lady met her dastardly end, two other young, good-looking people were having somewhat raunchy sex in a cabin.

This, I knew from my experiences horror movie watching with Charlie, did not bode well. Sex was usually the last thing anyone did in a horror movie before their life was snuffed out with an axe, hatchet, a glove made out of long, razor-sharp blades or a common kitchen knife.