Paint It Black (23 page)

“Sure, hang on.”

He yelled for Abby and a moment later, she picked up the phone. “Hi, Mama.”

“Hi, baby. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Me and Grandma are making cookies. Are you still sick?”

“I’m okay. There are just some things I need to take
care of—”

“I know, work,” she said, and I rolled my eyes.

Thank you, Elizabeth
.

“Not work. I’ll tell you all about it when I see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay, Mama. I love you.”

“I love you, too, babe. Bye.”

I hung up and went over to answer the policeman’s questions. I didn’t mention Maria. Now that I’d calmed down a little, I realized that a house was a small price to pay to get her out of my life forever.

Bill invited me to stay with him and his wife, and Tucker said I could stay with him, but I told them I’d crash at Cougar’s tonight. We rode back to the hospital with them and retrieved his car.

Cougar had a gorgeous car, a 1964 black Camaro. Sliding into the passenger seat, I felt the first tingle of apprehension.

I was spending the night with Cougar.

I stared at him, thinking that he was one of the few men I knew who looked better when he was scruffy. I remembered the feel of his stubble against my palm and wished I had the nerve to touch it again.

He glanced at me, then snapped his gaze back. “What?” he asked warily.

“What, what?”

He made a face, and I held up my palms. “Okay. I
was thinking that the rugged look works for you.”

“Yeah?” He gave me a pleased smile and rubbed his chin. “Itches, though.”

I leaned over to scratch his jaw.

“Ahh. If I were a dog, my leg would be twitching right now.”

I giggled and pushed his shoulder.

“I’m having a hard time deciding if I’m more tired or hungry,” he said. “How about you?”

“Or dirty.” I tugged a lock of my hair to my nose and sniffed. “Uggh. Smoke.”

Cougar snagged a pack of Dentyne from the console. “Tell you what. Since you are the guest of honor tonight at the Casa de Cougar, I’ll make you dinner while you take a nice, hot bath.”

“That’s sweet, but you don’t have to cook. There’s a Taco Bell on Fourth Street, and a McDonald’s right beside it. We could—” He narrowed his eyes and I laughed.
“Ex-cuse
me. I forgot who I was talking to.”

“Make fun of me if you want. My body can’t survive on all that fast food and vending-machine crap like yours can. I was thinking soup. Good, homemade soup like Mama makes. Don’t worry, there’s hamburger meat in it, so you’ll get your daily grease quota, but at least I’ll get to slip in a few of those nasty vegetable thingies you seem so afraid of.”

“Vegetable thingies … you mean French fries?”

He snorted, and I laid my head against the seat. “For real, you know how to make homemade soup?”

Cougar snapped his gum and drawled, “Darlin’, I’m from Texas. I can do anything.”

We laughed, and lapsed into an easy silence. I reached over and squeezed his hand. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

He winked. “You kidding? I’ve dreamed about taking you home with me for years.”

A month ago, a comment like that would’ve gone in one ear and out the other. Cougar and Angel were notorious flirts. But now I felt my ears burning hot. The space between us seemed to shrink, and I had the irrational fear that he could hear my heart pounding. What was it about him that could make me feel so comfortable one minute and so unnerved the next?

As casually as I could, I slipped my hand out of his. “Can’t you drive any faster? I want that soup.”

“Good things come to those who wait.”

“They come faster to those who don’t.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah. Ben Franklin said so.” That made me think of Milano. “Oh, crap,” I said, fumbling for my phone. “Bill told me to call my lawyer, and I forgot.”

Milano answered the phone on the first ring. “Whoever this is, you’ve got three minutes!” he yelled. “I’m watching the season finale of
Smoke Jumpers.”

“Why don’t you swing by my place and watch some real firefighters?”

“Necie, is that you?”

“It’s me, with my latest calamity. I’ll hurry. My house burned down tonight. They suspect arson. I know signing those papers made me the sole owner, but did it also make me the sole insured?”

“He burned down your house?” Milano shouted. “That miserable piece of lawyer scum!”

“No, no. He’s got an alibi. It wasn’t him.” I ignored the look Cougar shot me. “What about the insured thing?”

“One of those papers you signed removed his name from the insurance policy. You should be getting something in the mail about it.”

“Thanks, Milano. I’ll let you get back to your TV show.”

“It can wait. Are you okay? You weren’t home at the time, were you?”

“Actually, I was in the hospital.”

“Hospital!”

“It’s a long story. I’ll fill you in over lunch one day. But, yeah, I’m okay.”

“Have you got someplace to go?”

I glanced at Cougar. “I’m staying with a friend.”

“Ahhh,” Milano said gleefully. “Mr. Tall, Dark, and Goo-Goo Eyes is playing hero, huh?”

I repressed the smile that twitched at my lips. “You
could say that.”

“Well, you just let him, okay? I’ve got a hunch about that one. If I weren’t a straight man, I’d marry him myself.”

I laughed. “Good night, Milano.”

“Good night, doll. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That gives me a lot of leeway.”

“Take it and run with it.”

He hung up. I laughed and clicked my phone shut. “My lawyer is insane.”

Cougar grunted. “He’s a little too
friendly
, in my opinion.”

I hid a smile, amused by the fact that he seemed jealous of Milano.

Cougar swung into a parking space. “Madame, we’ve arrived.”

The inside of Cougar’s apartment was much as I expected it to be, very neat and sparsely decorated, with an open floor plan. When we walked in the front door, I could immediately see his bedroom, living room, and kitchen. A weight bench that looked like it’d seen a lot of use sat in one corner next to a huge stereo system.

“This is nice,” I said.

He tossed his keys on an end table and shrugged off his jacket. “Thanks.”

It wasn’t until I’d started for the shower that I realized I didn’t have any clothes.

“Um, hang on a sec,” Cougar said, and headed toward his closet. “My brother, Gabe, left some shorts here last time he visited. He’s a little smaller than me. They might work.”

He tossed me a pair of silver Cowboys drawstring shorts and a T-shirt. “That’s the best I can do for now, but I’ll run your things downstairs and throw them in a machine while you shower.”

The thought of Cougar washing my underwear was a little unnerving, but I managed a smile. “Thanks. You’re the bestest.”

He winked. “Nice of you to notice. I’ll wait by the door, and you can pass your things back out.”

I entered the bathroom and quickly stripped down. I stuck my underwear between my shirt and jeans and cracked the door to shove them out, taking care to lean enough so Cougar couldn’t see me. It was unsettling enough to see
him
.

“Hey, I’m an excellent back scrubber,” he offered. “Hair washer … you name it.”

“Don’t tempt me,” I muttered.

“What was that?”

“I’m more interested in the soup-maker part,” I said.

He gave a dramatic sigh. “That’s what I was afraid of.”

Whew, this was going to be a long night. I shut the door behind me and climbed into the shower.

Thankfully, Cougar had great water pressure.
The pounding spray beat some of the tension from my shoulders. He also had more hair products than a beauty supply store, with at least four different types of shampoo and three conditioners. I, on the other hand, sometimes resorted to using lemon-scented Dawn dishwashing liquid when I’d forgotten to buy whatever shampoo was on sale at the grocery store that week.

It was amazing how being clean could make a person feel so much better. I was almost lighthearted when I stepped out of the shower and toweled off. I laughed when I tried on the shorts and T-shirt Cougar had loaned me. I looked like Abby playing dress up. Life could be cruel sometimes when you were five foot two.

The smell of fried hamburger and onions greeted me when I opened the door. An oldies station played on the radio. I found myself humming along to “If Lovin’ You Is Wrong (I Don’t Want to Be Right).”

Cougar had his back to me, stirring something on the stove. When I drew closer, I realized he was on the phone.

“No,” he said. “Not tonight. I’ve got company. Necie’s here.”

He paused, and sprinkled salt over the skillet of meat. “It’s not what you think. Her house burned down tonight. Yeah, it’s gone. Nothing left. So, I told her she could stay here with me until she finds something. Abby? She’s with Necie’s ex.”

I hesitated, feeling like I was eavesdropping, and
the awkwardness was compounded by the fact that he was talking about me. There was nowhere to go in this apartment to give him privacy except back in the bathroom. I turned to do just that when he laughed and said, “You know better than that. You’re my best girl.”

I froze, wondering if he was talking to Kimberly or someone I didn’t know, then I cursed myself for caring. For feeling so betrayed. Men were all the same. Some were simply better liars than others.

Before I could figure out where to retreat to, Cougar spotted me. He turned his startled eyes on me and flushed bright red.

He surprised me by motioning me over. For some reason, I obeyed. He dipped a spoon in the pot of soup, then brought it to my lips.

Are you kidding me?

I simply stared at him. He frowned and lifted his eyebrows. Grudgingly, I tasted it.

It wasn’t enough that he was good-looking and smart. He was a good cook, too. It wasn’t fair.

“Enough salt?” he whispered, then shifted the phone. “Sorry, I was talking to Necie. Yeah.” He glanced at me. “Mom says hi.”

I blinked. It was my turn to be embarrassed, but Cougar didn’t seem to notice. He set the spoon down and frowned, staring at something over my shoulder.

“Why?” he said suspiciously. “You’re not gonna—
don’t, okay? All right. Yeah. Hang on.”

He pulled the phone from his ear and dropped his head. He held the phone to his chest a moment, then he sighed and gave me a beleaguered smile. “My mother wants to talk to you.”

“Me?” I mouthed, and accepted the phone he thrust at me. “Mrs. Stratton, hi!”

Her Southern accent was so thick and honeyed, it took me a moment to translate what she’d said. “Necie, sweetie, I’m so sorry to hear about your house.”

“T-thank you,” I stammered.

“Do you have homonna’s?”

Covering the receiver with my hand, I whispered, “Homonna’s?” Then it dawned on me.

Homeowner’s!

“Yes, I have homeowner’s insurance.”

Cougar’s anxious expression faded, and he snickered.

“Shh!” I hissed, and tried to concentrate on what she was saying.

“What size clothes do you and Abby wear? My sista owns a consignment shop. Maybe she has some things to tide you ova until the insurance pays off.”

Behind me, Cougar launched into a near-perfect
Sling Blade
imitation. “She likes the way I talk, and I like the way she talks, mmm-hmmm.”

Nearly choking on my laughter, I stalked out of the kitchen. Cougar shot me a delighted grin and followed.

I plugged my finger in my ear and ran to the bathroom. “That’s very sweet of you, Mrs. Stratton, but I don’t want you to go to the trouble.”

“Nonsense, darlin’. It’s no trouble at all. I want to help.” She paused. “You’re important to Jason, so that makes you important to me.”

A sudden lump rose in my throat. “Thank you, Mrs. Stratton,” I said, and gave her our sizes.

Outside the door, Cougar said, “I like them French-fried potaters, mmm-hmmm.”

Smiling, I sat on the edge of the tub and listened to Cougar’s mother. She was so sweet. I liked the way she called me honey and suga and darlin’. She talked to me like we’d known each other forever, sharing funny gossip about people I didn’t know and a few tidbits about Cougar’s childhood. She had the same openness and friendliness that first attracted me to him. After growing up in the city, I didn’t expect that from people. In Philly, we freaked out if someone spoke to us on the subway.

Cougar rapped on the door. “You can come out now. I’ll stop.”

I put my hand over the receiver and said, “Okay, I’ll be out in a sec.”

She must’ve heard me, because she said, “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to rattle on. I imagine Jason’s wanting his supper, and his daddy is, too. Keep your shorts on, Charlie,” she yelled, and I laughed. “Anyway, I’m
glad we had a chance to talk. Tell Jason I love him, and that Gabe and I will be up there to see him as soon as we can.”

“I will. It was nice talking to you, too, Mrs. Stratton.”

“You take care, hon. I’ll get those clothes out to you tomorrow.”

We said good-bye, and I wandered back outside. Cougar was getting a couple of bowls down from the cabinet. I walked up to him and punched his shoulder.

“You jerk,” I said. “That was your mom you were making fun of.”

He pointed a ladle at me. “I would never,
ever
make fun of my mother. My mother is a saint. She’s put up with my jackass father for thirty years. I was making fun of
you
, Ms. Homonna.” He frowned. “She hung up already?”

“Yeah. She said she loves you and that she and Gabe will visit as soon as they can.”

“My mother never hangs up without telling me ‘bye’ a thousand times. It’s a Southern thing. We tell each other ‘bye’ when we go check the mailbox.”

“She said your dad was waiting on his supper. Speaking of which, what can I do to help?”

“You can make peanut-butter sandwiches if you want.”

“With soup?”

He sighed and tossed me a jar of Skippy. “Yes, with soup. Must I teach you Yankees everything?”

While I smeared the peanut butter on a slice of
bread, he snickered and said, “You know that guy from personnel I told you about, the one whose kid played against me in high school? He came up to me that first day on the job, and said, ‘Son, don’t worry that you can’t understand anyone. They can’t understand you, either.’” He shook his head. “That became apparent when I met Angel. He talked to me for three days before I realized he was speaking English.”