Sin (17 page)

I knock on Julia’s door pretty early on Saturday morning. She answers, wearing a silky robe and slippers.

“Joshua?” She’s stunned. “Is everything okay?”

“Can I come in?”

“Yes. Please do.” She steps aside. “Are you here to see Aunt Fergie?”

“No,” I say, taking off my baseball cap. “You.”

“Want a cup of coffee?” I follow her down the hallway and into the kitchen. She motions for me to sit down. “Black?”

“You remembered,” I comment, grinning. “Any plans today?”

“Not really. Maybe a little shopping in Corpus. Do you need help with something?” She offers me a mug and joins me at the table.

“How about spending the day with me? We’ll have lunch, catch a movie, maybe barbecue some ribs later tonight.”

She takes a long sip, then sets her cup aside. “Have you lost your mind?”

No, but I’m fairly certain she has. “No. You know Macey and I broke up after what happened the other night,” I say. “It’s been pretty hard readjusting. I could use some company.”

She blinks, her eyes never leaving mine. Then she covers my hand with hers. “I’m so sorry, Josh. I know you had high expectations with Macey. I tried to warn you—trash is trash.”

Still the self-righteous woman I’ve always known. It takes a lot of fortitude to ignore the insult. “You’re right.” I bite my lower lip.

“I’ll clear my schedule so we can spend some quality time together. Should I pack an overnight bag just in case we get too busy to drive back tonight?” Her eyes are full of mischief.

“Sure.” I shrug. “But before you head upstairs, tell me why you haven’t answered the phone all week. I tried calling you every day, especially the night everything went down.”

Her body goes rigid. “It was so embarrassing finding them together. I knew Bishop wasn’t exactly boyfriend material—he’s a womanizing pig. But Macey—we had lunch together last week. She seemed so enamored with you, so dedicated. It just broke my heart. I didn’t know what to say or do. You know, kill the messenger and all.”

She just graduated to full-blown sociopath. “I understand.”

“Give me half an hour.” She jumps up, kisses the top of my head, and runs upstairs.

I take the opportunity to text Bishop.

Like clockwork, Julia reappears, dangling a Kenneth Cole overnight bag in my face. “I’m ready.”

I take the bag and we head outside. I deposit her in the passenger seat, stashing her satchel in the back. Too easy. That’s the first thing that hits me. But then again, considering her extreme behavior, she’d jump at the first chance to see me again. Satisfied with my reasoning, I climb in the car.

The forty-minute drive is uneventful; she’s more interested in the visor mirror or posing for me than conversation. More indicators that she thinks she got away with everything. We stop at a convenience store and grab a couple of bottled waters and she buys a pack of cigarettes.

“Mind if I smoke one?” she asks.

“Not in my car.”

“Of course not.” She stands on her toes and kisses my cheek.

“When did you take up smoking?”

“It’s nothing new,” she comments. “Remember Manhattan? I’d never drink without a cigarette in my hand.”

Something else I’ve forgotten. I wish I could erase all memories of our relationship. She’s an attractive woman. And I do feel some level of empathy for her. But she’s the one who destroyed our relationship little by little. Yet I also owe her a big thank-you. If she hadn’t screwed me over, I would never have met Macey.

“There’s steam coming out of your ears, Joshua.” She teases. “What’s on your mind?” She blows out a stream of smoke.

“A little bit of everything,” I admit. “And you’re a part of it.” I thumb her chin.

“What are you saying, Josh?” She traces her fingers up my arm.

“Do I need to tell you right now?”

“No,” she says
conciliatorily.
“But let’s go somewhere to eat.”

“I’ll make you a continental breakfast at home.”

“All right.” She drops her cigarette butt on the ground and grinds it with the tip of her shoe. “Ready.” She tucks her lighter in her purse and opens the car door. I frown, pick up the pulverized butt, and throw it in the nearest trash can.

We pull into my parking lot and she follows me inside the lobby. “This is the first time I’ve been here as your guest.” She gives me a sidelong glance.

“Happy?”

“Very.” We get in the elevator. Halfway up, she hits the stop button. “Throw caution to the wind, Joshua—make love to me.” She drops her bag on the floor and presses her body against mine, hooking her arms around my neck. “I’ve waited so long for a chance to show you how much I love you.”

Shit.
I gently disentangle her, grasping her arms firmly when I hold her away from me. “Slow down, darlin’. We have time.”

“Do we?” She pouts. “That’s always been your mantra.
We have time.
But look what happened to us—we ran out of it.”

I punch the button and the elevator groans back to life. “Quit living in the past, Julia. There’s so much to look forward to.” The door opens and I scoop her bag up, then usher her into the hallway.

As soon as we reach my door, Bishop steps into the hallway.

“Joshua. Julia,” he greets us.

Julia’s eyelashes flutter and she looks away from him, completely silent.

“Good morning, Bishop,” I say.

“Could I impose on the two of you for a few minutes?” he requests.

Julia crosses her arms over her chest. “I don’t think
we
have anything to say to you, Dr. Singletary.”

“Now wait, Julia,” I whisper near her ear. “Who are we to deprive a man of his fifteen minutes of fame?” I wink at her.

A smile tugs at her lips. “Oh, you are naughty.”

I take her by the elbow and we join Bishop inside his condo.

He invites us to the kitchen, where his paperwork and pill bottles are still out. “Glass of wine?” he asks.

Julia glares at him. “Is that some kind of sick joke?”

“No,” he answers quietly. “But I’m very disappointed in you, Julia.”

“What do you mean?” She’s getting a little cagey; her gaze zigzags around the room. “Joshua, did you trick me into coming here?”

I reposition myself in the entryway, ready to catch her if she tries to run. “I did what I had to do.”

“You bastard.” Then she stares at Bishop. “What am I doing here?”

“I think you already know.”

She shakes her head.

“You drugged Macey and me with Ambien and stole one of my prescription pads, Julia. I can’t let it happen again.”

“Liar!” She whips around, eyes wide and glassy. “Get out of my way, Joshua.”

“Jail or rehab,” Bishop calls from behind her. He’s not wasting any time.

Her mouth drops open and she spins around slowly. “You’d send me to prison?” Tears stream down her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to do it. I’m so sorry—really I am.” She sinks to her knees, hugging herself and rocking.

I kneel behind her, holding her close. “Nobody wants to hurt you,” I say softly. “We want to help you—get you the care you need so you can be a productive member of society again. We’re both dedicated to seeing you well again.”

She wipes her tears away with the back of her hand. “That sounds so rehearsed, Joshua. Don’t fuck with me.”

“He’s not,” Bishop interjects. “He’s being honest, and so am I. If you’ll agree to rehab, I’ll forget any of this ever happened.”

“What about Macey?” she screeches. “She’ll never approve of that arrangement.”

“She doesn’t even know what happened, Julia,” I say. “And I think you underestimate her capacity for forgiveness.”

“She’s a fucking stripper, Joshua, not a saint. Why are you so blind, so taken in by a woman who sells herself to any man who thinks she’s beautiful?”

Like a fish out of water, she’s gasping for breath, trying to manipulate her way out of this intervention. “Please,” I say, lifting her off the floor. “Let’s focus on you—what you need to start feeling better about yourself.”

“A dose of oxycodone would help,” she says, smacking my hands away. “And a second chance with you.”

“Joshua…” Bishop pulls me aside, never taking his eagle eyes off Julia. “I can take it from here. She knows what I expect of her. My colleague manages a rehab program in Victoria. I think we’ll take a drive out there tomorrow. You should go, settle your own affairs.”

“Are you sure?”

“Go.”

We shake hands.

The real estate agent agreed to meet me at the house at nine. I’m early, playing voyeur girl, peeking inside the windows, prowling around in the backyard. There’s a shed and a single-car garage, too. I hear a car pull up and run out front. A middle-aged woman in a navy skirt suit climbs out of a late-model Cadillac. She gives me a Texas-sized smile and waves.

“Macey Taylor?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“I’m Sophia Gomez. So glad you left a message for me last night. This is an enchanting house and has only been on the market for ten days. Ready to look inside?”

“I’ve been dreaming about it.”

“Wish all of my clients had your enthusiasm.” She unlocks the front door.

My cellphone rings—Joshua. “Ms. Gomez, I’m sorry—I have to take this call.”

“Meet me inside whenever you’re ready.”

I wait until the door closes to answer. “Joshua?”

“Did you find your little buddy this morning?” He sounds so happy.

“Thank you. I love him so much.”

“I know you do, darlin’. I’m sorry I kept him from you. I’m an asshole sometimes.”

“Why are you so happy today? Win the lottery? Find a new girlfriend?”
God, I hope not.

He inhales. “Don’t joke about that, Macey. I can’t think about anyone else but you.”

“Sorry. Can you blame me after how angry you were last night?”

“Let’s try and forget about that—not one of my better moments. Where are you?”

“Guess.”

“Paris?”

“No.”

“The club?”

“Nope.” I giggle.

“I give up.”

“Looking at a house I want to buy.”

“What?”

“I’ve done a lot of soul-searching since our breakup. I think it’s time for me to grow up, Joshua. Buy a house, go to school, learn to trust myself—hell, to respect myself.”

“Wow,” he comments. “I’m proud of you. Where does a house fit in?”

“Downsizing,” I answer. “I don’t think I’m coming back to the club, so I need to find a place to live I can afford on a more modest salary. You know how hard it is for a single girl to pay the bills.”

“Single?”

“Well, Dr. Singletary proposed.”

He’s silent.

“Sorry—just trying to be funny. And rambling because I’m so nervous.”

“Do I frighten you, little girl?”

“More than anything.” I tense from top to bottom. Confessing that he still possesses the ability to reduce me to mush is disconcerting because it really doesn’t matter anymore. We’re not together.

“Want me to drive over and check the place out?”

“No—I’m a big girl. Pretty handy with power tools, too. Don’t worry, I’ll look for water leaks, mold, and cracks in the walls.”

“Full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“I don’t want to be rude, Joshua, but the realtor is waiting for me inside. I’m just dying to see it. Can I call you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be waiting,” he says, then disconnects.

I silence the ringer then, wondering what just happened. That was the most uncomfortable and bizarre conversation I’ve ever had with him. Like we’re old friends catching up. We’ve lost our spark and I hate it. I take a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat, beating back the sadness.

When a door closes, a window opens.

I flop back in my car seat, bewildered by the girl I just talked to on the phone. Life plans? Downsizing? A new house? School? All great things, but she wants to do it on her own. It’s my fault. And I’m pretty fucking sure there’s nothing I can do to change her mind right now. And that shit about Bishop proposing…I shake my head; I need to talk to my mother.

An hour later I’m sitting in the living room with her. I explain everything.

“The poor girl,” she remarks. “Well, Joshua, are you entirely sure Macey is the girl you want to marry?”

“Never been surer of anything in my life.”

“Then what are you doing here? Go get her. Bring her home.” She raises her head and looks at me, deep concern shows on her face. “I’ve never seen you this undecided. Humbling, isn’t it? But you’ve done more than most men do—you admitted you were wrong.”

“Not to her.”

She slides closer to me on the couch, draping her arm across my shoulders. “I have a feeling she’s in denial. Surrounding herself with friends and taking on extra
responsibilities
to keep herself busy so she doesn’t have time to think.”

I ripped my own heart out this time. I gave Macey every reason to start a new life. I just never thought she’d move on this fast. “Have you ever felt this way?”

She blushes, folding her hands on her lap. “You know how I feel about discussing private matters. I was still a child when I gave birth to you, Joshua. Girls weren’t given the luxury of dating when I was young. If a reputable young man came along and asked for permission to court you, most fathers gave their blessings. The oil boom and war drove most young men north or into the service, leaving behind a bevy of young women.” She sighs, then takes a sip of her ice water.

“There was a time when I thought your father regretted asking for my hand in marriage. He being ten years my senior, I didn’t have the experience a woman his own age did. We were apart four months while he traveled in the Pacific Northwest after we were engaged. He considered it a rite of passage. So like any proper young lady, I gave him my blessing, while inside, I feared and loathed what might happen while he was gone. Sure, we exchanged a few letters and talked on the phone a couple of times. But I didn’t know whether he truly loved me or not.” She gazes at me, her hands shaking. “In my limited experience, I can definitively say, if I had been a little older and wiser, I’d have told him I didn’t approve or gone after him.”

Macey was right before. We come from different worlds. I’ve never faced the challenges she has. Never experienced the level of grief she has. I grew up happy. My father taught me to think and act like a man. My mother showed me how to love. What did Macey get? Heartache. Broken promises. Financial instability. Fear. Letdown after letdown. And what did I do? Added to it. I rub my face with both hands.

“It may be too late,” I say.

“You really don’t know anything about the inner workings of a woman, do you?” She laughs. “Love isn’t a choice. And if Macey feels the way I think she does, she just needs a gentle reminder.”

My mother just restored my diminishing confidence. “You’re amazing.” I drag her into my arms and give her a kiss.

Twenty minutes later I’m on the road, exceeding the speed limit and probably breaking a couple of other traffic laws. I make Corpus in record time.

Spending four hours at the house with the realtor has given me all the motivation I need to make an offer on the property. With my stellar credit and a significant down payment, the house is practically mine. I rush home, fully committed to the second step in my plan. I take Simon for a quick walk, set him up in the mudroom, then head to the kitchen.

I’ve been seriously deliberating taking my GED tests for over a year. I’m already registered online and have paid the $135 fee. There are four tests—math, science, social studies, and language arts. I can take two on Wednesday and two on Thursday at the Del Mar College Test Center. And with the internet, the scores are almost immediately available. I don’t want to enter into a professional partnership with Renee without having a high school diploma.

I’ll never forget where I came from. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have the right to move on, to better my chances in life, to live up to my potential. Joshua helped me realize that. I know I teased him relentlessly about being an Ivy Leaguer, but in all honesty, I respect him for it. I felt so insignificant on Valentine’s Day when Julia questioned me about my educational aspirations. Dwarfed by the doc, a clinical psychologist, and a business genius, all I could do was tell the truth. Joshua tried to rescue me and Bishop was a complete gentleman, but I saw the contempt in Julia’s eyes. Felt it in the pit of my stomach.

I scroll down the website page and hit
Register for tests.
There. Come Wednesday morning, my ass will be parked in a chair for four hours.

Time to call Robyn—she’ll kill me if I don’t tell her what’s going on.

She answers on the second ring. “I’m pretty mad at you,” she says.

“What did I do?”

“Where to start?” she sighs. “Leaving me hanging. What’s the latest with Joshua?”

“Nothing has changed since Valentine’s Day. We’re still broken up. He showed up at Roper’s last night, punched the cowboy I was dancing with.”

“Really?”

She’s such a gossip fiend, especially since she quit dancing. “Broke his nose.”

“Who was he?”

“Dale MacRae.”

“Oh. My. God. The rodeo star?”

All right. This is getting so irritating. Even she knows him. “Why does everyone know who he is?”

“Duh,” she laughs. “TV, newspapers, radio…”

“Well, he’s definitely not going to be the pretty boy he used to be.”

“Did Joshua apologize?”

“In a roundabout way.”

“How?”

“I woke up with Simon’s kennel next to the couch.”

She squeals. “Macey,” she starts. “That’s the sweetest thing in the world. He loves you.”

“That may be going a little too far. He cares. And I think someday we may be friends. But for now, I’ve decided to undertake a few projects.”

“You’re not leaving again, are you?”

“No,” I assure her. “I just put an offer in on a house a few blocks from here. It’s beautiful. I can’t wait to show you.”

Another high-pitched scream of enthusiasm. “I can’t believe you’re willing to move out of that ridiculous mansion.”

“And…”

“Wait,” she says. “Do I need to sit down?”

“Considering you’re a pudgy pregnant lady, probably.”

“Remind me to smack you next time I see you.”

“I’m going to invest in Renee’s catering company
and
take my GED.”

“Are you manic?”

I laugh. “Maybe.”

“That’s so incredible. Wait until I tell Garrick and Marisela. We need to celebrate.”

“Now who’s looking for an excuse to throw a party?”

She giggles. “Dinner tonight?”

“Sure, baby girl. What time?”

“Seven?”

“I’ll be there.”

Why didn’t I do this years ago? The answer is obvious. I wasn’t ready. I invested all my time and resources into being super-stripper. Believe me, I’m great at it. I know how to entertain men, how to talk to them, how to dress for them. That’s the legacy my father left me with by dumping me in Darren Starr’s office when I was a kid. The man who shot craps with sugar cubes when he was young because he didn’t have any dice. I recline in my chair, waves of memories crashing over me.

The alcoholic who smacked my mom around, then broke her heart. The asshole who didn’t do anything after his gaming partner raped me. Dad blamed me. And I never forgot that. It made me numb. Shallow. That’s how I found the courage to take my clothes off the first time onstage. I capitalized on my pain, turned it into something else. And after my father died of advanced syphilis, I didn’t care. Hate took over again. I gladly spent his money, taking lavish trips, shopping in the best boutiques, and living in denial. Not anymore.

The doorbell rings.

I heave a sigh, disappointed by the interruption. I open the door, hoping it’s someone I can get rid of.

“Macey…”

My heart skips a beat. It’s Joshua. “What—”

He doesn’t say anything. Instead, he crashes into me. I let out a little
oh
before his hungry lips claim mine. Our tongues spiral together violently. I close my arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, clinging to him for dear life. I’ve desperately missed him. And this…My legs start to shake. He releases my lips, moving his mouth to my ear.

“I missed you.”

“I can’t believe you’re here.”

“Why?”

“After last night…”

“Some of your fans from the club tried to get us back together and invited me to show up—I didn’t know you were interested in other guys already.”

I give him a small smile. “At some point if we’re not together, Joshua, we’re both going to move on.”

“Maybe,” he says. “But not right now.” He sounds so tormented. “It’s too soon, and quite honestly, I’m not sure we’re done yet, Macey. Are you?” He tickles my lower spine, his green eyes flashing down at mine.

“No.” He’s right. “But I’m terrible alone.”

“Then don’t push me away.”

“But you…”

“I was wrong.”

Should I tell him about the deep grief I’ve felt since we broke up? How I can’t sleep? How I’m trying to cover everything up? Then he kisses me. Stupid hormones. That’s what takes over. Gone is the resolve to stand on my own two feet and conquer the world. Gone is the need for space and time. His touch triggers a revolution between my legs. A second invasion by his tongue and I’m ready. I nod and he scoops me up, kicks the front door shut, then races up the stairs.

We tumble on the bed, our arms and legs entwined. My T-shirt and bra are quickly removed, followed by my warm-ups.

“No panties?” he growls.

“Commando.” I shrug, remembering his own preference.

That earns me a breath-stealing kiss. His fingers find my pebble-hard nipples, first pinching, then gently circling my areolas. I reach between his legs, feeling his hard length, unzipping his shorts. He springs free, filling both of my hands. I squeeze, gently milking him. He groans, and I get super-excited, squeezing harder. He kicks off his sandals. I urge him onto his back, applying more pressure, enjoying the heat and feel of his smooth skin. Time to take his clothes off. I rise to my knees and tug down his shorts.

Then I crawl between his legs, nudging them wider, until he’s spread-eagle. His eyes burn with desire as I suck him into my mouth. He hits the back of my throat and I nearly gag. I wrap my right hand around his base and begin stroking in perfect unity with my mouth, sucking and petting. Nibbling and tickling. His legs tremble as he grabs two fistfuls of my hair, forcing me to look up while he’s still buried in my mouth.
Shit.
What’s he going to do?
Control has eluded me. And even though I’m on top, I know who retains the power. He always has.

“I want to watch you swallow me.”

I suck him in deeper, my eyes never leaving his. With his hands still resting on my head, he powers forward, sliding in and out of my mouth. After several hard strokes, he groans and throws back his head. I close my eyes, reveling in his salty-sweet taste.

Before I can think, he pulls out. “Not so quick, darlin’. You don’t get all the fun.”

I’m flipped onto my back, my legs neatly spread. He hovers above me, his hands planted on either side of my face. He dips, sweeping his tongue across my lips. I automatically open up to him, waiting for that crazy tongue to connect with mine. I love his mouth. His lips twitch as he gazes down at me.

“Macey…” He shakes his head, giving up. Instead, his tongue and fingertips work my nipples, rolling them between his fingers, pinching them so hard I cry out.

Then he begins a languid trek down my body, his tongue agitating my already too sensitive skin. When he reaches my center, he wastes no time—his thumb plunges inside and his fingers and tongue plunder my clit. My hips buck in retaliation. I bury my hands in his hair, close to ripping it out by the roots. My response only increases the intensity of the assault. Replacing his thumb with two fingers, he inhales me, nibbling and suckling my clit relentlessly until I explode.

Days of pain and neglect are soon forgotten, replaced by joy and heat.

I whimper, writhing wildly underneath him. He eases his fingers out, but continues to lick and hum, the soft reverberation of his throat acting as a natural vibrator, increasing the magnitude of my orgasm. When the jolts of pleasure begin to subside, I’m quickly introduced to the next phase of pleasure. He impales me in one solid thrust, stretching and filling me to capacity.

“Wrap your legs around me, darlin’.”

I do as he asks, and he penetrates deeper. “Joshua…”

“Shhh,” he says, silencing me.

Then I’m
gone—completely
consumed by the man I thought I’d lost.