“When will I see you again, Princess?”
“I have to go out of town tomorrow morning. I’ll probably be getting on the road early and back late. I’ll text you the day after tomorrow, maybe.”
I hated that answer. But I took it. “Have a safe trip.”
I walked some dogs, went to the gym and decided to skip Aubrey’s for today. After my time with her this morning, I didn’t want to screw things up by being inside stalking when she arrived back home. And there was no doubt once I walked inside her house, I’d be doing a full investigation. So instead, I showered and headed for some quality time with my favorite bartender. The place was always empty at this time.
“You look particularly gorgeous today, Carla Babes.” She had on a red shirt with large white polka dots that was tied just under her ample tits, revealing a shitload of smooth skin. Her pinup girl style hair was done up with a red scarf.
She poured me a drink. “You’re in a good mood today. Finally grow some balls and go after that woman?”
“I’m working on it.”
“You’ve been working on it for two weeks now.”
“It’s a marathon, not a sprint.” I sucked back a mouthful of my drink.
“What are you, the Dalai Lama?”
“I’m starting to feel like a Buddhist Monk. They don’t get laid either, do they?”
“Let me ask you something. Why don’t you go to a bar and pick up a willing woman and get the dirty deed over with? It’s been a long time. Just have sex. Sweaty, body slapping, meaningless, dirty sex. It might make you feel better.”
Honestly, I’d noticed a few women lately. I’d have to be dead not to. Yet my body didn’t have the desire to be with anyone else. “I would feel like I was cheating.”
“Even though she’s screwing someone else?”
That fucking hurt. “Thanks, Carla.”
“Sorry.” She grinned. “But let me know if you change your mind.”
I looked down at the ring on my finger. They may have been vows spoken in front of Elvis with a buzz on, but I was committed all the same. It made me wonder if she remembered our vows, now that I was back in her life again.
Chapter Twenty-Three
They say that the rate of recidivism for criminals is upwards of fifty percent. I was becoming a damn statistic. Even though I had a key and wasn’t technically a criminal, my little snooping gauntlet had me feeling like the felon that I was.
It started innocently enough. I let myself in to go to the bathroom; then Pixy was looking thirsty. So I went through half of the kitchen cabinets to find a bowl. Nothing too incriminating there. Some fancy wine glasses, coffee mugs with law firms etched into them, canned goods with the labels all facing the front. I smiled when I saw two bottles of the red sauce with a pompous rooster proudly displayed on the front. My girl liked the cock sauce.
From there, I moved onto more conspicuous investigating. The bathroom had only one pink toothbrush. The tub was filled with only girly crap. I might have opened the canister of cream on the countertop and taken a giant whiff. It smelled like Aubrey. I was smiling like an idiot again. Until I opened the mirrored bathroom closet. Tylenol, deodorant, razors, extra this and that and…birth control pills. I opened the little oval container and saw Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday had already been popped out of the silver foil this week. The urge to flush the remnants of the month down the toilet was powerful. But the ramifications from doing that was something I couldn’t even allow myself to think about. I ventured down the hall further.
Inside her bedroom, I opened the sliding closet doors. One of the doors was off the track and almost came crashing down onto my head. Princess fucker fixes nothing, I see. There was no sign of men’s clothes in the closet, which made me feel somewhat vindicated after the bathroom medicine cabinet find.
On top of her dresser, there were a few framed photographs, one of which I presumed to be Aubrey and her dad at her law school graduation. She was looking at him as he looked at the camera proudly. I remembered he was a lawyer, too. There were a few others. One of her and a friend as teenagers. Another of an older woman and Aubrey. They looked alike; it must have been her grandmother. The last picture caused a crushing sensation in my chest. It was of her and Dick…with Pixy sitting between them. Mutton, you damn traitor. As much as it hurt to look at it, I couldn’t stop staring at it for a full five minutes. Aubrey was smiling widely. She looked…happy. That should have been me.
I’d seen just about all I could take and was about to walk out of her bedroom, when I stopped in front of the last dresser drawers. My eyes fixated on the top drawer, which was square—the type you keep your underwear in. Seeing as I was already an asshole today, I slid it open. Inside was filled with lace. And a note.
Cocky – since you have nothing better to do, how about fixing the closet doors?
I laughed for a full five minutes. We knew each other so well. Then I fixed the closet doors.
I hadn’t heard from her since yesterday morning. I was hopeful maybe tomorrow she would text, excited as hell when my phone flashed her name at almost nine in the evening.
Aubrey: Thank you for fixing the doors, pervert.
Chance: Anything for you.
A few minutes passed. I wasn’t sure if I should apologize for my obvious snooping or not.
Aubrey: You didn’t try any on, did you?
Chance: I’m more of a sniffer than a cross dresser. Plus, I like your ass in lace, not mine.
Aubrey: Very funny.
Chance: I wasn’t kidding about liking your ass in lace.
My phone went quiet. Clearly, I’d moved this conversation from friend territory. I figured why not push my luck a bit more.
Chance: I miss you. When can I see you again?
Aubrey: How about a dog walk tomorrow afternoon? My last appointment at the office should be done by 4.
Chance: I’ll meet you at the shelter at 4:30
Aubrey: OK.
Chance: Good night, Princess.
Aubrey: Night, Chance.
The next afternoon, we met at the shelter. Aubrey arrived after me, looking as beautiful as always in her fancy suit. But when she disappeared into the bathroom and came out wearing jeans, a white t-shirt, flip flops and a pony tail, she looked fucking phenomenal. I couldn’t help but stare at her as we each leashed up two dogs and headed for the park.
“What? You’re looking at me like something is wrong?”
“Just looking at you. I’m not sure if it’s possible, but I think you get more beautiful every time I see you.”
She was quiet as we entered the park. We walked for a while and then sat on a bench. “Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
“What was it like? In prison, I mean?”
I suppose it made sense for her to wonder what I’d spent the last two years actually doing. Seeing as all I had done for two years was wonder what she was up to. She was catching up.
“It was…degrading. Overcrowded, yet solidary at the same time.”
“Did you have any visitors?”
“Adele came to see me, every other Saturday.”
“What about your Mom? Is she still taking care of your ill grandmother?”
“No, she passed.”
Aubrey looked over at me. Her face fell. “I’m sorry. That was thoughtless. Your grandmother was ill. I should have realized.”