Still Into You: A Novel (Better Than Series Book 3) (10 page)

Davis pants out, “Jesus, Biz, you’ve never felt so hot.  My God, you’re on fucking fire inside.  I’m going to combust.”

All I can do is smile down at him.  Davis is generally pretty quiet, so this declaration is something.

I ride him slowly, purposefully, never breaking eye contact.  I know our nights together will be few after this week. This needs to be memorable.  Davis moves and directs the motion of my hips for his maximum enjoyment with one hand, while his thumb rotates on my clit again.

I rock into him a few more times as I know I’m close to coming.  Davis takes over, rolls me onto my back and begins to thrust rapidly.  I lean up and kiss him passionately and then tell him, “Your cock has never felt more powerful inside me.”  And then I
really
feel the power as his lips open on top of mine, a loud guttural groan of pleasure is emitted and he jerks inside of me.  My own orgasm follows as I involuntarily contract with force around him.

Chapter 12-Present: It Begins

              Super security.  That’s what I have right now.  Davis is always at home when I’m home.  Donnie is always “somewhere” hovering around KTTA when I’m at work.  I don’t know exactly where, but I get cryptic texts from him telling me exactly what I’m doing and who I’m talking too. Just a tiny bit unnerving.

Lunches are spent with Jake Gianni.  Even five years after meeting him, I can’t deny he is very attractive, same highlighted hair and blue eyes. Now with a little sadness around them.  I’d like to believe he would never treat any woman again the way he treated me. His assistance with the “Randall Situation” makes me feel he’s changed. Lunch dates with Jake Gianni – Surreal.  Surreal that Davis is cool with it.

I’m never alone. 

But it’s all part of a greater scheme.  We have one week to set the scene and pull Randall Ireland in.  One week until the Brandon-Connelly Foundation Gala.

Donnie’s trip to Algoa Road Prison to visit Neil Ireland proved fruitful.  Neil willingly gave information with Donnie’s incentive of reduced time if he gave information that led to Randall’s conviction.  He admitted that Randall has always been very jealous of him.  Even as kids there was terrible sibling rivalry for their mother’s attention.  Neil believes that Randall went far away after attacking him, but that he’s closer to home now.  Their mother told Neil she’s receiving more frequent calls from Randall.  The last few from either a 314 or 618 area code.  This means he’s in the bi-state area. 

But so far, there has been no sign of Randall.  It’s once again as if he’s disappeared.  Donnie assures me it won’t be for long – he’ll pop up again.  I’m not as confident.

***

Walking through the door of the condo after work, I’m immediately under olfactory attack.  It smells like the garbage hasn’t been taken out in days.  I gag, involuntarily, several times and then put my hand up to my mouth and nose to block the odor.

“Babe… Davis…” I call out between retches.

“Yeah?” I hear from the direction of our home office. 

Hearing Davis’ footsteps, I question him before he’s even in sight, “What is that horrible smell?  Did you forget to take the garbage out?”

“I took it out this morning,” Davis says as he approaches me.  He stops suddenly in his tracks. “Pee-EEEwww.  Man, that
is
a horrible smell.  I didn’t notice it earlier, but I’ve been in my office almost all day.”  He walks into the kitchen.  I follow.  Davis checks the garbage.  It’s empty.

“Wow”  Davis muses, “I wonder what’s causing that smell?”

I check the garbage disposal, the refrigerator and all the other trashcans.  Davis is now following me around, sniffing the whole time.  We are like a couple of bloodhounds on a mission.

“The smell is actually
stronger
over by the door,” he says, like he’s cracked the case.  Davis opens the front door.  I bug my eyes and nod in agreement, indicating I was already aware of that fact.  “I can smell it in the hall, too.”  Davis walks out the door and then comes back in.  “It seems to be coming from the garbage chute in the hallway.  I’ll call the condo manager and see what the issue is.  I don’t remember us having a garbage issue ever before.”

I go to the hall closet to find some odor neutralizer and candles.  Davis opens a few windows and turns on the whole-house fan.  We go to our bedroom to escape, the now “floral garbage” smell, in the main part of the house.  It takes about an hour, but when we finally stick our noses out, the smell has dissipated.  At last – we can make dinner.

“You know what tonight is, right?” I ask Davis, as I pull the ingredients for our meal out of the fridge and cabinets.

Davis is slicing the meat for our dinner.  Ginger beef with cellophane noodles.  Elaborate sounding.  Easy as can be to make.  His cutting movements become less smooth and more choppy. “Yeah, I know.  I was just not saying it out loud.  You know that trick. You told me you used to do it.  ‘If I don’t say it, it won’t be true.’”  Davis has not looked up from his task at the cutting board.

I move to him, depositing the other ingredients on the counter to free my hands.  I place one hand over his hand on the knife to stop the now even more violent attack on the beef. “But really it is,” I placate.

Davis puts down the knife and finally looks at me, “It’s our last dinner at home alone.  Our last night.”  His voice somewhere between anger and resignation.

I get as close to him as possible and put my hands on either side of his face, rubbing lightly to appreciate the scruff of his day-old beard.  It’s a sensation I associate with mornings and evenings at home with Davis.  I’ll miss it.

I whisper soothingly, “It’s not really our LAST night.  What we’re doing… it’s not forever…” I’ve been doing the same thing – pushing our inevitable separation out of my mind.

Davis leans his face into one of my hands and wraps an arm around my waist, pulling me closer.  His gorgeous green eyes burn into mine with purpose.

“You’re right, Lizard.  Our forever hasn’t even begun.”

Chapter 13-Present: The Fundraiser Ball

“Rock ‘n Fuckin’ Roll!!”

Oh my god.  He did it.  He actually did it. 

Charming Charlie.  Charming Charlie Boxwood.  He could yell out to a crowd, or even just whisper the most outrageous filth, so sweetly, he’d make a grandma titter like a schoolgirl with excitement.  He did it.  He actually said it.  The F-bomb.  At a Black Tie charity function. And you know what? When I look over my shoulder, I see the president of a regional hospital conglomerate mouthing the words, “Fuck, Yeah!”  All these prim and proper society women are just smiling up at him for all they’re worth.  I shouldn’t have worried – Charlie’s going to kill it tonight!

Charlie bounds up to the mic and with both arms in the air, screams, “We are your hometown band, Boxwood, and we are here to make your night.”  He pauses for a bit and then adds, pointing a finger at one of the more mature women in the front, “Right, darlin’?”  She actually screams his name. I swear to God, I wouldn’t be surprised if a pair of Spanx landed on the stage at some point!

The Brandon-Connelly Foundation Gala tonight is equal parts exciting and bittersweet.  Jules has created a sensational evening, and from what she’s told me, Boxwood’s performance is only one of the surprises.  Little does she know Davis and I have a bit of a “surprise” of our own.

I look over to watch Davis watching the band.  It’s almost hard to believe I’m the one with the acting degree in this relationship, because he’s doing a terrific job of playing the carefree husband and host.  Davis is wearing his tux, a look I will never tire of.  Tonight, it’s with a regular tie, not bow.  I enjoyed watching him get dressed.  I slide my hand down his arm and he entwines his fingers with mine, doing the thing I like so much, the rubbing the thumb over my knuckles thing.  Closing my eyes, I transport myself back to our condo a couple of hours ago.  Something I think I’ll be doing frequently over the next couple of weeks, or months.  God, I hope it’s not months.

Staring miserably at Davis’ small suitcase placed next to the front door in the foyer, intellectually, I know tonight has to happen.  Davis has to go away.  But emotionally, it’s gutting me.

Davis slides up behind me, I know because I can partially see his reflection in the foyer mirror as I glance up with a sigh.  Davis puts his hands firmly on my hips, closes his eyes, gently rubs his nose in the back of my hair and sniffs quietly.  He then puts his head down and kisses the top of my shoulder, right next to the intricate neckline of my black lace-over-blush Elie Saab gown. 

“I always think you’ll never be more beautiful to me.  And then the next time I see you, you are.  How do you do that?”

I turn to face him, my arms clutching his tux jacket at the sides.  I smile tightly at his sweetness and completely ignore his question.

“Let’s forget it.  Let’s not do it.  I don’t think I can be away from you.  I’ve changed my mind.  I don’t care about Randall.  Let the police figure it out.”  I am in full squirrel chatter mode.

“Biz, ssshhh.” Davis bends slowly, tentatively and kisses me gently on the side of my mouth as I prattle on. “Now, you want to stop it?  After all my initial hesitation.  Lizard, we are going to do this thing and get it over with.  And you… need to stop chattering.  Because I’m this close…” Davis holds his thumb and forefinger together, right in front of my eyes to show me the exact measurement, “to taking you out of that pretty party dress and putting you right back where we’ve been all day – in bed.”

“Davis…” I’m about to continue, but Davis’ index finger presses firmly to my partially open lips.

“Come on.  I need help with my tie.  We can’t be late to our own party.”

I tie his black silk tie, the entire time thinking how he looks better without one.  How he looks better without anything.  The thought causes a slow burn to descend deep in my lower abdomen and I involuntarily tighten all the muscles in my pelvis.

“No, I guess you’re right. We can’t be.”

I step away after finishing his tie and admire him.  Then I turn back to the door, intentionally ignoring the suitcase.  I pick up my crystal-covered clutch from the foyer table and start toward the front door.

I’m suddenly pulled backward and turned at the elbow.  Davis has spun me around and is holding me slightly away from him.  The perfect distance for his eyes to speak to me before he utters, “Biz? Tonight? When ‘it’ happens.  Every time you hear me say something that hurts? Remember, I mean just the opposite. Every time you feel shock or pain in your heart?  If that happens?  Remember to replace that feeling with the feeling of my eyes on you right now.  Replace it with thoughts of me kissing you, holding you.  Remember, all my words tonight, no matter what they sound like, mean, ‘I live for you.  I. LOVE. YOU.’  Can you do that?”

I kiss him.  Our last private kiss.  And breathe into him, “Yes.”

              “…great aren’t they, Biz?  Biz?  Hey, where are you? Tahiti?” Davis jokingly snaps me back to the here and now by gently turning my head to pull my focus to his eyes, his words.

              “No” I lean and whisper in his ear, “not Tahiti.  Back at the condo.”

              “Aaahhh,” he acknowledges my meaning.

***

Once my mind is completely back in the Starlight Roof Ballroom, I widen my view, take in the grandeur of the evening.  All the men in their tuxedos and white dinner jackets.  The women wearing some of the most gorgeous gowns I’ve ever laid eyes on.  And the room?  Perfection.  The Starlight is probably one of the most exquisite venues in the whole city.  It’s on the top floor of The Chase Park Plaza.  Floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the lush and historic Forest Park and the twinkling city lights.  There is a circular architectural feature with a window on the ceiling that makes it feel as if you are looking right up to heaven.  Jules arranged to have wide swaths of white tulle draped in an array from the circular ceiling.  It’s all lit with pinks and corals and is giving the sunset now on display through the windows a run for its money.  The large round tables are covered in the same colors with tall arrangements of white flowers in the center, making it possible to have a conversation even across the table.  Jules has a gift for setting the right tone to make people loosen up – themselves and their wallets.

Boxwood finishes a song and Jules joins her husband on stage.

“Thanks, honey,” she says to him and gives him a kiss on the cheek.  Charlie escorts her closer to the mic by putting an arm around her waist and skootching her closer.  He waves toward the mic, essentially inviting her to talk.

Jules talks to the crowd like she’s sitting at my island in my kitchen talking to me, “I hope you all enjoyed dinner and the concert by Boxwood.”  People in the audience talk back to her, saying things like, “Yes, it was delicious,” and “More Boxwood!” 

She giggles and says, “Good.  Sounds like you did.  Well, we have more with Boxwood later.  They are going to play another set later and there will be dancing.”  The crowd applauds loudly.  “We have a special surprise now for the founders of this foundation.  Davis. Biz. Will you please stand up and turn to the screen to the right of the stage.”

I turn to Davis, “What’s going on?  What is this?”

Davis replies, “I have no idea.”

We stand and smile, as the room breaks out in more clapping.  And then the lights dim.

An image appears on the screen.

It is the First Lady of the United States!

I inhale audibly, grab Davis’ arm and then look from the screen to Jules, who has one arm around Charlie and her other hand held up to her mouth in a fist.  I know she is suppressing a scream.  She releases her index finger from her fist and with it still at her lips, points to the screen.

“Hello, Davis, Biz, and everyone at the Brandon-Connelly Foundation NEVER AGAIN Gala.  I’m so pleased to be here with you this evening, if only by video.  I want to take a moment to honor the work that the foundation is doing to support young victims of sexual assault and those with mental health issues.  The facts are: Young women still face the highest rates of dating violence and sexual assault, despite an increase in social awareness.   One in five young women have been sexually assaulted while they’re in college.  It’s everyone’s duty to see that this appalling statistic is wiped out.  We are proud to announce that the Brandon-Connelly Foundation and The White House will be teaming in the future to move the
1 is 2 Many
campaign forward.”

There is thunderous applause.  I’m smiling so wide – so very proud of the work we are doing.  I glance to Jules and give her a thumbs up.

The crowd quiets and the First Lady continues.

             
Some other facts:  Suicide is the tenth leading cause of death in the U.S.

(more common than homicide) and the third leading cause of death for people ages 15 to 24 years.  One in 17 people suffer from serious mental illness, such as schizophrenia and bipolar disorder.  One in 18 from anxiety disorders – social anxiety, panic disorder.  I also have the honor of telling you, Biz and Davis, that the Brandon-Connelly Foundation has won a grant to support free screenings for mental illness on high school and college campuses.”

Davis takes my hand and runs his thumb across my knuckles.  In his touch are a million words and emotions.  He looks down at me, just as I twist my head up and over my shoulder to look in his eyes.  I know he’s thinking about his brother, Cole, right now.  Probably wishing he was here.  I know I wish I could have met him.

              The First Lady says her good-byes.

              “
Once again, thank you for inviting me to be a part of your evening.  I’m excited to be working with you in the future.  For those of you attending tonight, please be generous with this most important charity and have a wonderful evening.  Congratulations and Good night.”

Again, there is raucous applause.

As the lights come back up and the screen ascends, the partygoers become louder

and more animated in their conversations.  They surround Davis and me, asking if we knew about the First Lady’s appearance.  We didn’t, of course.  But Jules did.  She has done everything in her power to make this a special evening.  I almost allowed myself to believe for a moment that the evening was going to end well.

***

              Davis and I dance to Charlie and the boys for a few tunes, then I lead him out to the open air portion of the roof.  There is a light breeze and it’s a bit cool for the beginning of May.

              Once we are well away from other’s ears, I turn to Davis and say, “It’s been an almost perfect night – for the foundation, for Jules – I hate to ruin it.”

              “Almost perfect” Davis repeats my words.  He’s rubbing his hands up and down my arms to keep me warm.  The skirt of my gown is rustling slightly in the wind.  Davis’ hair is blowing up a bit.  He looks amazing.  My mind flashes back to the first time I saw him in a suit – the Othello cast party – when I was with Jake.  How’s that for irony?  Davis’ eyes on my face warm me almost as much as his hands.  I want desperately to kiss him, but I can’t.  It won’t ring true with what we are about to do.

              I tilt my head and pucker, kissing the air.

              Davis up-nods like he’s catching it.  He presses his lips together and whispers, “Ready?”

              “Never,” I reply honestly but then say, “but, yes.”

Here goes.

              I take a deep breath, step back and scream angrily in his face, “NO!” loud enough for everyone on the terrace and in the ballroom to hear.  And evidently they do, because my skin blushes with the burning of all their eyes on us.  On me.  I run from the terrace through the ballroom and into the lobby, just as we planned.  I stop for a moment to let Davis catch up with me and grab my elbow, spinning me to face him.  We are directly in front of the elevators.  No one can get past us to leave.  A captive audience to our “break-up.”

              Davis’ face is full of anger.  It looks so real, I’m shuddering a bit. And then it begins, “Really, Biz… Jake Gianni?! You’ve been seeing Jake-fucking-Gianni?  I don’t even believe this is fucking happening.  You sure fooled me with your ‘innocent victim’ crap.” I open my mouth to fake protest. No air escapes, but only an exhale. “I heard, I know…you’ve been seeing him and evidently some other guy.  Jesus, Biz!  Don’t
I
feel like an idiot.” His voice has gotten louder and rougher and more full of hate.  I have to actively remind myself this is an act and that his words mean nothing.  That I’m supposed to imagine him telling me he loves me.

              It’s barely working.  Big, fat salty tears are building in my eyes and just as one falls down my cheek, I not so fake beg, “Davis, please, it’s not what you think… Jake is nothing to me.”

              “Oh, well that makes it even worse.  You’re fucking around and it means nothing,” Davis growls realistically “You really are a slut!”

              Wow! Those words hurt more than I believed possible.