Stepping into the bathroom, I find clean towels and a fresh white robe with another note: Use my shampoo for now, I’ll pick up your favorite on the way home. Does that mean I’m staying tonight as well? Should I be annoyed at the implied assumption that I am? Because for once in my life, all I feel is like I can relax, like I know everything is being taken care of, like there isn’t a need for me to be the adult in this relationship.
I shower, thinking it all over, then dress in the robe and grab my phone.
But before I can place the call to the hospital, there’s a knock at the door.
I try to ignore it. This call is important, after all, but after a few seconds the knock comes again, harder. Then more insistent. Roxie starts barking, and when I sneak out into the hall I see her climbing up at the door, claws rasping against the wood. Then I hear a woman’s voice.
“Oz, it’s me. I know you’re in, you don’t go anywhere without that dog.”
I hesitate, not sure I should answer. After all, I’m just a guest here. Who is this woman? Not Oz’s mom, she died when we were twelve. I remember the day he came back to St. Justin’s, looking like a ghost of himself, quiet, pale. Even then, I wanted to run to him and tell him how sorry I was, but who was I? Some girl he didn’t even know.
“Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn you. I seriously hope you’re not jerking off in there.”
The sound of the key in the lock sends my heart into my throat, and I drop my phone on the table inside the bedroom as I run to the door, but before I even reach it, she’s letting herself in. Roxie barks happily, her tail going from side to side, but the girl—which is what she is, maybe nineteen or twenty—doesn’t seem interested in returning the affection.
She’s shorter than me, and a little curvier, but the dress she’s wearing must have cost a fortune. It flatters every inch of her figure and the shade of blue brings out the green of her eyes. She pushes past Roxie, then seems to notice me standing there and grins.
“New girl, huh? Where’s Oz, in the bedroom? He decent? God, I hope not. Out of the way, mutt.”
She laughs and marches past both me and Roxie, leaving me standing there, stunned, in the hall with the husky excitedly pacing beside me. I scratch behind Roxie’s ears, then turn and head for the bedroom, not sure what I’m supposed to think. This girl just marches in here like it’s the most natural thing in the world. And what was that comment about new girl? Who’s the previous girl here? Her?
“Oz isn’t here,” I say as I head into the room.
“No, I can see that.” She rolls her eyes then points at Roxie. “He normally doesn’t go anywhere without that thing.”
I see red.
Treating me like she just wiped me off her shoe? That’s one thing.
But treating my new furry friend like that?
“Hey, watch your mouth. I’m pretty sure Roxie is worth ten of you.”
“And I’m worth ten of you. Trust me, I’ll be here long after Oz kicks you to the curb just like every other fifteen-dollar hooker.” She meets my eyes, and I’m seriously tempted to wipe the little grin curling her lips right off her face. “If you’re still here when he gets back, tell him Naomi stopped by. He needs to call me.”
With that, she pushes past me again, luckily for her not touching Roxie, and heads for the front door. And I stand there, stunned.
What the…?
Part of me wants to chase after her and rip her hair out by the roots. Part of me wants to just dismiss everything she said. But another part?
She had a key. Roxie knew who she was. She waltzed right into the bedroom like she’d been in there a thousand times.
This isn’t just some business association, is it? It’s beyond that. A girlfriend, perhaps? Although she didn’t seem at all bothered by me standing there in a bath robe. But then, isn’t that what gangster women are like? They know their men are sleeping around, they accept it as a part of the deal. In exchange they get all that prestige, all that social power, and a heck of a lot of money.
Oh my god. Are they married? Do they have another place together somewhere and this is where he brings the…
The new girl?
I try to catch a glimpse of her ring finger as she slips out through the door, pulling it closed behind her, but it’s always just out of view. What is it they call gangster mistresses? Goomah or something like that?