Finishing my drink, I place the empty glass on the table and stand.
“Bet she fucks your brains out. Those quiet ones are always so damn fuckable.” Joey laughs as I turn and walk out. I give him no response because it’s best not to encourage him.
Stepping outside, I find her sitting on the edge of the pool, still in that dress. I turn and wave Phillip in as I make my way closer to her.
She’s different.
I’m not sure how to describe her, but she’s not what I expected either.
“You must think I’m a weak woman,” she says, her eyes cast down at the pool’s surface as she speaks. How she knows it’s me, I’m not sure. “I wasn’t always that way. Sometimes things break you and you let them, even when you don’t realize it’s happening.”
I give her no words in reply.
I have no words to give her.
What I have to say, she doesn’t want to hear.
I’d be ruthless, and clearly, she’s had enough of that for this day.
“Sometimes, I just want to disappear.” She moves forward and her body goes into the water, falling forward until she is fully submerged. I step to the pool’s edge and see her touching the bottom, not coming up for air.
Glancing at my watch, I check the time, then look back to her.
She stays under.
One minute.
Two minutes.
I’m about to dive in after her when she finally pushes up off the bottom, sucking in air once she reaches the surface.
She eyes me, her gaze tightening as it locks on mine. “What’s wrong?”
“Why would you think something is wrong?”
“You have this look …” She shakes her head. “Never mind.” Then she goes back under again and I time her.
This time, she lasts almost three minutes before she comes back up, only this time she’s gasping for air.
“I used to swim every day, no matter the temperature. It was …” she flips to her back and starts floating, “… an escape.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I don’t recall asking for her life story.
“We have to spend a week together, so I figured you should know who is living in your house.” She turns, swims to the edge of the pool where the stairs are located, and looks at me before she climbs out, her dress now sticking to her tight little body. “I want my phone.”
“You’re making demands now?”
Those eyes that are infused with warm honey and green trees lock on me.
I can see the defiance in them, and I wonder why she never gave it to him. From what he said, he had total control over her. But I can see her fire there, sparkling behind those doe eyes, waiting for someone to light the match and ignite the tinder box.
“No, I am asking for my phone, so after this week I still have a job to go to because I know for a fact that he’s going to go home and sell everything we own, and I will be left with jack shit.”
She’s right, he’s probably doing that right now.
It’s the kind of people I go into business with, knowing full well who they are. Everyone in this life is here to serve their own purpose. Some just come along for a ride instead of taking ownership of the wheel.
“You should go inside.”
Sailor’s mouth starts to open, then she closes it and walks past me.
I’m still undecided if I want to kill her.
Time will tell.
Chapter Eight
Sailor
Phillip walks in with his head down as I sit at the window, still in my wet clothes. It’s dark and I’m tired, but I don’t know if I want to sleep just yet.
“Miss.” I raise my head and see him holding out his hand and in it is a key. I take it from him—it’s my house key. “Please go outside.” He leaves and I follow. When I get to the front door, which is open, there are two black cars and three men leaning on them, talking in hushed tones. When I step out, all three stop and two of them look directly at me.
He does not.
“You’re all wet,” one of them says.
I remember him as the cocky one sitting next to me at the dining table, his hair is perfectly slicked back, and he’s wearing a green shirt, but he isn’t as large as Keir. “But, baby, I haven’t said anything to make you this wet. Is it just the sight of me?” He winks, and a part of me should be repulsed, but I’m not. Something about him makes me feel at ease, and that’s dangerous.
“No, looking at you makes me dry. Dry as the Sahara Desert.” I smirk back at him.
“I can see your nipples,” he points out and looks straight at my breasts.
“They look good?” I ask him with a tilt of my head.