Hussy (15 page)

“
You didn’t!”

He was definitely grinning.
“I did.”

She squealed and took off running, stopping short at the baby gate now slung across the kitchen door where a black
Labrador puppy scrabbled on the linoleum, jumping up as they approached, a little black nose nudging Lindsey’s hand as she reached down to pet him.

“
How did you do this?” She leaned down to pick up the puppy, who lapped happily at her face as she lifted him—yep, it was definitely a “he”, she noted. There’d been no sign of a puppy when they left that morning.

“
I had Nate drop him off.” Zach scratched the wiggly black bundle of fur behind the ears, still grinning. Lindsey laughed, remembering how Nate had looked at her the first time she’d met him at the office just a few days ago, like he was keeping some sort of secret.

“
What’s his name?” she asked, giggling as the puppy squirmed in her arms, his pink tongue making the rounds of her face some more.

“
Argyle.”

She looked up at him and smiled, shaking her head.
“Will I ever find a man who pays more attention to me than you do?”

“
I doubt it, baby.” He wrapped them both up in his arms, dipping his head down to hers to share in an exuberant puppy tongue bath. “I seriously doubt it.”

Chapter Ten

If Lindsey had known how good puppies were at licking up tears and giving much-needed comfort, she would have found a way to get one years ago. Nuzzling Argyle’s little belly with her cheek, she pulled the comforter up over both of them. The bed was too big now. She considered, for a moment, sleeping on the couch, but couldn’t bear to be away from Zach’s pillow—it still smelled like him.

That made her sob harder, and the puppy whimpered in sympathy, getting back to work on licking up the salt on her cheeks. The more she thought about those last moments with him, the harder she cried, but she couldn’t seem to stop. The memory was too fresh for her to cut it off—just hours old, the apartment still lingering with his presence, his duffle packed, his uniform blinding white perfection over his muscled frame as he stood
at the door, arms around her, both of them silent, the only sound Argyle clamoring at their heels.

“
I can drive you,” she said again, but he shook his head.

“
Nate’s my ride. Besides, I don’t want to remember you waving goodbye at the airport. And I don’t want you to have to drive home.”

She’d proudly made it that far without tears, but they broke in a flood then, her chin quivering with their force.
“I’d be a basket-case.”

“
I know.”

The knock at the door startled them both. Zach swore under his breath, pulling her into him and kissing her, the memory of their marathon bedroom session over the weekend still fresh. But she wasn’t thinking about how incredibly good their sex was—and it was—instead, it was all about loving him, and the hole in her heart he would be leaving when he walked out the door. She gave all of herself to him in that kiss, willing herself not to think about the possibility that it might be their last and yet acting as if it just might be.

It was the tears in his eyes as they parted that undid her entirely as he whispered, “I love you.” She didn’t even have the voice to return the words as he picked up his duffle and opened the door, going out quickly without a look back. Argyle yapped at the door after him, until Lindsey collapsed onto the floor, her whole body shaking with her sobs. Then the little black puppy joined the competition and whined and howled right along with her, and she didn’t know who was louder.

She’d made it to the bed, she remembered. She wanted to be as close as possible to the last place they’d been happy together, aware of what was coming, but pushing it off as long as possible. And now
…

Now life had to go on without him. She
fingered the ring on a chain around her neck—the grocery store ring, which had, indeed, turned her finger green within twenty-four hours. She’d found a chain for it instead, and wouldn’t take it off.

How could she possibly manage her life without Zach? She closed her eyes against the thought. She
didn’t know how, exactly, she was going to do it, but there was work, and school, and there was Argyle to take care of. She hugged him close, glad for the warmth and comfort, knowing he needed her as much as she needed him.

* * * *

After that first week of not eating, forcing herself out of bed, going through the motions, things started to fall into a routine she could live with. It went on that way for a month, at least, work, school, she and Argyle curled up on the couch, sharing Moo Goo Gai Pan out of the carton. She couldn’t imagine that Puppy Chow was anywhere near the complete nutrition they claimed. And there was a phone call from Zach—just one—before they went under, he said. After that, there would be no contact at all until he was ready to come home.

That, actually, set her back another week, the sound of his voice, the sharp pain in her chest that immediately returned from its usual dull ache. But it was beyond good to talk to him, to whisper what she wanted to do to him—she could hear him squirming, and wondered afterward if their call was monitored, and laughed at the thought. She let Argyle lick the phone and bark at it to say hello, and she told him about her teachers, her classes,
how Nate had followed Zach’s instructions quite seriously and was “keeping an eye on her,” stopping by once a week to check in.

She almost didn’t tell him about her mother—she’d started calling every so often, leaving messages on Zach’s answering machine. Lindsey’s voice wasn’t on it, but somehow her mother had gotten the number and knew she was living there. She just erased them, but she did break down and tell him about the calls.

“When you’re ready,” was all he said. She rolled her eyes and changed the subject.

It was that phone call, really, that pushed her into his closets, going through his things, looking over her shoulder as if he could walk in at any moment. God, she wished he would. She just wanted to find every piece of him she could, and was surprised at the little keepsakes, pictures of his high school graduation—a younger, grinning version of Zach looked at the camera, his arm around a woman who must have been his mother. God, she’d never even met his parents. Hadn’t even asked
…

Who was the little boy in the next photo? Was that Zach? She smiled at his camera-grin. Here was the same little boy playing in the sandbox with a little girl with cornrows. Who was she?

God, they knew so little about each other, she thought, sifting through a box of photographs, her heart aching with the knowledge. Things had happened so fast. Maybe too fast. A picture of a woman on the beach caught her attention—she was stunning, her skin like fine cocoa against the stark white of her bikini. She was looking over her shoulder at the camera, laughing. Lindsey turned it over and read the back:
Alicia, the Keys, 2007
. Just a year ago.

And she remember
ed the name. Of course she did. She could still hear the woman’s voice on the answering machine: “Hey, baby, it’s Alicia. I’m in town for a few days, and I’d
love
to get together… ”

Did they? She wondered. The thought stabbed at her heart like a knife and she dropped the photo back into the box as if it were on fire, shoving it back into the closet. Argyle, who had been way too quiet behind her, had found one of Zach’s shoes and was busily chewing the laces.

“No!” Lindsey reprimanded, snatching it away. “Bad boy!”

The puppy cowered, whining at her tone. She sighed, picking him up and
apologizing with kisses. “Let’s go for a walk, huh?”

She needed to get out and clear her head.

* * * *

Alicia called just after she’d sworn to Argyle that she wasn’t going to snoop anymore. Her mother had just called, and Lindsey was sure it was her again and turned up
the volume on the episode of
Desperate Housewives
she was watching, wanting to drown out the sound. Instead, the voice that came from the machine was much younger, and the call was most definitely not for her.

“
Hi baby, it’s Alicia. Can you give me a call back? You’ve got my cell number, right? I’ll give it to you just in case… ”

Lindsey stared in the direction of the voice, listening to the woman rattle off a phone number. She got up from the sofa in slow motion, going over to the machine and staring at the blinking red light. Her mother’s message was on there—something about getting together and talking. She knew well enough how to erase them. One click would do it.

But now Alicia’s number was on the machine. Did Zach have it? Probably. Of course, he was nowhere near a phone. And Lindsey knew, if she wrote it down, “just in case,” it would sit like a growing temptation, and she would eventually break down and call it herself. She imagined the conversation that would ensue: “So, how do you know Zach? Is that so? How long did you go out?”

She snarled at the machine and stabbed the erase button, pressing it hard until it beeped.
“You have no new messages,” the voice said.

Good. That was better. That, she could live with.

* * * *

The tree
fort looked exactly the same.

In some strange, convoluted way, it was the piling up of phone calls, from her mother, Zach, Alicia, that pushed her there
, as if the world was turning backwards and she was traveling back in time. She wasn’t wearing her shorts—they were locked up in some cabinet as evidence, awaiting the upcoming trial—but she’d found a bag of her old clothes in the closet when she was going through Zach’s things, and a pair of Daisy Duke cut-offs and a black tube top had completed her transformation.

She didn’t take Argyle. She didn’t think he could walk so far. Instead, she drove the Camaro and parked it down the street, walking past her mother’s house, trying to ignore the way her belly trembled as she drew nearer. Her stepfather’s car wasn’t there. Neither was her mother’s. The house looked the same, though, the same as it had for years. It was the place she’d grown up, where she had fallen and been picked up by her father, the place she had traveled to the moon and back, until her daddy wasn’t there anymore, and everyone forgot about her after that.

Her mother had forgotten her. Lindsey stood there, hugging her arms over her chest, thinking about Zach. What would she do if he never came home? How broken must her mother have felt after her husband hadn’t returned from the Gulf War where the causalities were so negligible people didn’t even think of it as a war? She shivered, shaking her head, and started walking again. She didn’t want to think about it.

Somehow her feet followed themselves to the tree
fort, and she found herself slipping out of her sandals to climb the rough boards up the side, settling herself in the very center. The height had never made her dizzy before, but it did now, and she didn’t want to be too close to the edge. Not anymore. The day had been warm, but it was cooling toward evening now, the air crisp and clean, the leaves rustling softly around her.

She had brief flashes of memory—Brian and Ralph and that other kid, what was his name? She couldn’t remember. So different from the night just a few weeks later, when she’d been beaten, raped, and she knew, if things had gone as far as they’d been
ratcheting up to, she might have been dead.

Somehow, up until then, she’d felt like she was the one in control. She liked it rough, she wanted them to use her, she wanted them to
… didn’t she? She heard Zach’s voice in her head.

You were saying no along.

Was it true? She didn’t know.

“
Hey, look who’s here!”

She gasped and turned at the sound of the familiar voice, seeing him coming up the makeshift ladder, carrying a brown paper bag.
“Ralph!”

“
I haven’t seen you in ages. Where’ve you been hiding?” He leaned back against the railing, getting comfortable and dropping a wink in her direction.

“
Around.” She tried to ignore the hammering of her heart, glancing toward the ladder. “Actually, I’ve got to get going… ”

“
Awwww, come on.” He nudged her hip with his tennis shoe. “Stick around. We can have some fun.” Pulling a bottle out of the bag, he uncapped it, taking a long swig of the amber fluid. He offered it to her, but she shook her head.

“
Thanks anyway.” Lindsey edged her way across the platform past him. He didn’t make a move toward her, and she was grateful for that. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“
Suit yourself.” He shrugged as she swung her legs over the side.

She didn’t answer him, and she willed herself not to hurry as she felt her way down the tree, rung by rung, slow and deliberate. When she reached the bottom, she looked up, and saw him peering over the side at her.

“Maybe some other time,” he said with a grin.

“
Bye.” She gave him a quick wave, turning and heading down the path. She couldn’t help looking over her shoulder once to see if he was following, but she didn’t see any sign of him, and she hurried faster toward the car.

* * * *

“Where have you been?” Lindsey pulled the door open, expecting Nate. He had a habit of coming by on Sunday nights, and they’d started walking to the Dairy Queen on the corner. He always got a strawberry sundae, and Lindsey would get a small bowl of “doggie” ice cream for Argyle—they even put a milk bone in it—but she was much more choosy, changing her flavor choice from week to week. “I’m dying for a caramel… ”

She wasn’t expecting Ralph, and it was a nasty jolt to realize he knew where she lived.
He followed me
, she thought, as he leaned against the doorway and grinned. She could smell the Jack Daniels on his breath. Had he drunk the whole fifth by himself?

“
What are you doing here?” The door wouldn’t close. He was too far in already, and Lindsey wished Argyle were out of his little cage-house instead of sound asleep, so she’d have an excuse to shut it immediately.

“
I followed you.” Well, at least she’d been right about that. “Nice place.”

“
You can’t be here.” She tried to make her voice firm, resolute.

“
Oh come on.” Ralph’s grin broadened as he stepped past her into the apartment. Her heart dropped as he stood there, looking around for a moment, and then glanced back at her. “You came out to the tree fort looking for it, and you know it.” Reaching past her, he swung the door closed, stepping close and pressing her against the door’s surface. “I just decided to make a house call.”