And Janet began moving off of him. It was getting even beyond her definition of wishful thinking. “Time for me to go,” she said.
Richard looked at her. “Go where? You’re spending the night.”
“Not tonight,” she said as she closed his still-unbuttoned shirt around her naked body and got out of bed. She walked over to the chair where she had placed her clothes.
But Richard was perplexed. Was it something he’d said? No woman had ever turned down his invitation to stay the night. Or did that moment, where he saw her in a different light, frighten her?
He threw the covers off of himself, swung his legs out and sat on the edge of the bed. He watched as she removed his shirt off her body. A body so luring that he wanted to do her again. But she was too busy getting away from him. “What’s wrong, Janet?” he asked her.
“Nothing’s wrong,” Janet said, putting on her clothes. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea for me to stay the night tonight.”
“Why not?”
“Because I need to get home.”
Richard felt as if she was taking him around in a circle. He felt as if he was begging her, something he’d never done before in his life. It was a feeling he’d never had before, and he didn’t like having now. “What’s at home that you suddenly have to get home to?” he asked her.
She sat in the chair and began putting on her shoes. “It’s nothing that serious,” she said. “I just don’t wanna worry Mo,” she added.
Richard frowned. Had he missed something? “Who the hell is Mo?” he asked her.
“The man I live with,” she said.
When she said those words, Richard was floored. “The man you live with? What man you live with?”
“His name is Maurice Riley. But everybody calls him Mo. And if I stay out all night, even if I call him and tell him I’m going to stay out all night, he’ll still be worried sick.”
But Richard’s face was a mask of anger and shock. “You live with a man?” he asked her.
It was only then did Janet bother to glance over at Richard’s face. And when she saw that look on his face, a look of pure jealousy and hurt, she smiled. “He’s not that kind of man, Richard, come on now!”
“How was I supposed to know that?”
“How? I just slept with you! You think I’ll have a man at home and then hop in the bed with you?”
Richard had forgotten just that quickly that she was nothing like the women he was used to being with. Because yes, every one of the women he fooled around with would sleep with him in a heartbeat, and then go home to their men. But still! “Who is he, then, if he’s not your man?”
Janet stopped putting on her shoes and thought about it. And then she told him who Mo was. “When I was four years old,” she said, “Mo and his wife were my foster parents. But when his wife died two years later, they removed me out of his home and placed me with relatives. He wasn’t even fifty years old at that time, but they claimed he was too old to take care of a little girl. But it had been the only good experience I had in foster care. And when I was able, I searched high and low for Mo and found him, dying from neglect in a nursing home. I took him into my house, took care of him, and now . . .”
Richard was staring at her. “And now what?”
“He takes care of me,” Janet said bluntly. “He’s seventy years old. I don’t want to upset him.”
It sounded just like Janet to do something as extraordinary as taking in some old guy just because he treated her well when she was four years old. Either that, he thought, or it sounded too good to be true.
He grabbed his cell phone off of his nightstand. “Give me your phone number,” he said, “and take down mine.”
Janet did as he requested and then he tossed his phone back onto his nightstand and stood up, careful to hold onto his nearly overfilled condom. “Let me use the toilet,” he said as he began heading for the bathroom, “then I’ll be ready.”
But Janet was confused. She looked at him. “Ready for what?” she asked him.
“I’m following you home,” he said.
“Richard, you don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t have to do it. When did you hear me say I had to do it? I’m going to do it.” And he went into the bathroom.
But as Janet listened to him pee, she couldn’t help but smile. Was he going to see for himself that she was telling the truth about Mo? Was he actually jealous? But how on earth could a man like Richard Shetfield be jealous of some man in her house when he didn’t even know her like that? Unless he was just the jealous type. But she knew better that that too. No hit and run guy would ever be jealous-hearted. It went against their very nature of not caring either way. Until that right woman came along who could change his nature. At least that was how it happened in the movies!
But Janet wasn’t going down that yellow brick road with him again. There was no way she was convinced he found her special above all those beauty queens he was accustomed to. Women like his secretary Doris Wilson and that Margo lady from the restaurant. How could she ever compare to them despite Richard’s glowing words about how he saw nothing but beauty in her? She was not about to let that man hurt her heart ever again. No matter what.
She was determined to stay on guard.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Richard drove his Porsche behind Janet’s Honda and was still reeling from how he felt when he thought she had some young stud living with her. It did something to him, as if he thought for a second that she was playing him and was exacting her revenge for how he treated her six years ago. It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility for the kind of women he’d dated all his life. He’d dated some vindictive bitches in his day. But the idea that it would be Janet pulling that shit upset him. And, if he were to be honest, hurt him.
He’d never reacted that way before in his life. Richard Shetfield jealous? Get real! But that was what it felt like. Pure, unadulterated, green-eyed jealousy. What was it about this girl? She brought out all these feelings he’d never felt before in his life. Good and bad.
But one thing for certain, he thought, regaining his mojo. This Mo person had better be old and decrepit, or Janet’s ear was going to get an earful, and her ass was going to get a handful. Dick Shetfield was not the one to play with. Everybody knew that.
But nobody would believe that he would follow a woman all the way to her home in another town just to make sure she wasn’t bullshitting him about some man. He never cared before. He was the man who slept with her and left for six years, without even giving her a phone call. Why did he care now? He didn’t know, he thought, as both cars turned onto a quiet suburban street, and drove up onto the driveway of a quiet, tiny-looking, cottage-styled home. But he did care.
He got out of his sportscar and walked over to the Honda just as Janet was getting out. He placed his hand around her waist again as they walked toward her front door, as if he still had points to prove. As if he wanted to make sure that if that Mo person was looking out the window, he was going to see that she belonged to Richard.
Janet loved every time he placed his arm around her. It made her feel warm and protected, and wanted without shame. Which was new to her. Men usually distanced themselves from her presence whenever other men came around, or else their buddies might think she belonged to them. Richard seemed to want them to think it.
And when they got to the front door, instead of letting her unlock the door, he rang the bell.
She looked at him. “Why would you do that?” he asked her.
“Let Mo answer it,” he said to her.
“Why?”
“Why not? Why would you care who answers it? Why would you care if eeny-meeny-miny-mo answers it? What difference does it make who answers it?”
“He’s seventy, Richard,” Janet said. “He might have been asleep in bed.”
Richard hadn’t thought about that. He allowed his anger to overrule his sense, and his automatic me-first go-to feeling to get in the w
ay.
But then the door was opened, and Mo was standing there. He was a good-looking man. Richard would have preferred that he wasn’t so great looking. But he was definitely seventy. She wasn’t lying. She wasn’t playing him for a chump.
“You lost your key, Baby Girl?” Mo asked her, although he was staring at Richard.
“No, I didn’t lose it,” Janet said. “I wanted you to meet Richard.”
“Shetfield?” Mo asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Shit,” said Mo. “What you bringing him here for?” Then he caught himself. “I mean, hello,” he said to Richard.
“How are you? Mo is it?”
“Maurice, yes.”
“Nice to meet you, Maurice.”
“Likewise.”
“I’ll be in in just a second, Mo,” Janet said.
Mo gave Richard another suspicious look, but then he went back inside and closed the door.
“Now are you satisfied?” she asked Richard.
“I was satisfied all along,” he said to her. Then he smiled. “Yes,” he said.
Janet smiled too. “Good.”
Then Richard leaned in and kissed her on the lips. “Call me later.”
“And what’s wrong with your fingers?” Janet asked with a grin. “You call me later.”
Another first for Richard. Him call a female? It had always been the other way around. And he preferred that it remained that way. Even with Janet. “The thing is,” he said, “I’m a very busy man.”
“Then don’t call me,” Janet said.
This girl! But that look she was giving him, that whimsical, smiling look as if she were enjoying every second of his torture, caused him to smile too. And give in the way he felt he’d been giving in since they hooked back up. “I’ll call you later,” he said. “How’s that?”
Janet smiled too. “Better,” she said.
“Now get inside,” he added, slapping her on the rear, “so I can go home.”
She laughed at his little pat, too, and went on inside, closing and locking the door behind her.
And Richard, completely satisfied, got in his vehicle and sped away.
A gray Chrysler 300 that had driven up after they had, stopped across the street and the driver watched as Richard slapped Janet on her rear, laughed with her, and then got into his Porsche and drove away. But instead of driving off, too, behind Richard, the Chrysler remained where it was. For well over two hours. As the driver stared at Janet’s house. Until there were no shadows of the two people inside the house moving past curtains. Until every light inside the house appeared to have turned off and the inhabitants gone to bed.
And then the driver put on a pair of thick leather gloves, and got out of the Chrysler.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
After Janet had showered and got into bed, she couldn’t sleep for anything in this world. At first, it was because she was just that happy. Richard made her feel so alive when she was around him. Unlike she’d ever felt around anybody. And the fact that he might have been jealous of Mo? A man like Richard Shetfield jealous because he thought some young virile man just might be living with her? She was over the moon!
But after almost two hours later and he still hadn’t phoned her, reality began to set in again. What were the odds of it being true? That Richard could finally want to settle down? It seemed possible to her, whenever she was around him, but now that he wasn’t around, and hadn’t phoned, forced her to take a far more realistic view. Because it happened to her before. The first time she met him, and slept with him, she was over the moon then too. And he seemed to be sharing her excitement. He even drove her to work. And hugged her goodbye. Then, the same day, he buys her that luxury car and have a man find what appears to be the only photograph in existence of her long-deceased mother. Not to mention that incredible promotion he was dangling in front of her. She thought all of that had to have meant that he was over the moon about her too.
But he wasn’t.
He not only never phoned her again for all of those six years, but he didn’t have one of his people phone her to tell her something. As if he had gotten a spin with a virgin, and the fun for him was over.
And tonight, he had slept with the woman whose virginity he had taken, and he, once again, hadn’t bothered to phone. As he said he would. Was the fun over for him again? Had she read too much into him again? She had no clue about these games people played in the romance department. She’d never had a romance outside of Richard. And you couldn’t call that a romance anyway.
And the tears came again. He certainly knew how to make her cry, she thought. He was good at that too!
But it was her own damn fault, and she knew it.
She turned onto her side, turned off her light, and cried in the dark. Not for losing Richard. She never had him to lose him! But for what she thought could have been with Richard if he’d only given it a chance. And she cried silently, so Mo wouldn’t hear her and think even less of those Shetfields than he already did.
Oh, God, she cried into her pillow, why is there no happiness in this world for me too? What have I done my whole life to deserve so little? I know Richard is above my reach. But he’s the only one who’s ever bothered to reach for me. And then for him to build up my hopes again, and then dump me again, was excruciating this time. Because I should have known better. But I still allowed myself to hope!
She felt like a fool.
A zip-dang fool, as Mo would call it.
Until her cell phone began ringing.
She lifted her head from the pillow and looked over at her phone as it lit up on her nightstand. And then she lifted her phone and looked at her caller ID. Saw the name Richard on her screen, given that was the name she had put in her Contacts when she put his number in her phone. And she hesitated. She could always refuse to answer and be spared the I don’t think we should see each other again dumping lecture from him. But that wasn’t her. She couldn’t sweep things under a rug and just forget about them. Either way, she had to face facts. She wiped her tears away and answered the phone.
“Hello?”
“Did I wake you?”
“No. No, you didn’t. You made it home safely?”
“Yes.”
“It took you long enough.”
There was a hesitation. “I guess so.”
But he gave no explanation for why a twenty-minute drive back to Tulsa ended up taking two hours. But, apparently, he didn’t feel he owed her an explanation because he didn’t give one.
“What were you doing?” he asked her.
“I’m in bed.”
“Wish I was there.”
Janet didn’t know what to say to that. He didn’t ask to be there when he followed her home. It never even came up, or she would have let him stay.
“What are you wearing?” he asked her.
“Excuse me?”
“What are you sleeping in?” Richard asked. “Something, or nothing?”
Janet felt some kind of way about that question. Was their relationship predicated on sex alone? Was that the beginning and end of his interest in her? “I wear pajamas to bed,” she said to him.
“Not sexy, but okay,” Richard said.
He wasn’t trying to camouflage it either, Janet thought. “Anyway, I’d better get some sleep,” she said.
“Yeah, me too,” Richard said. “I meet with the lawyers tomorrow. Good night, Janet.”
“Good night,” Janet said, and they ended the call.
She sat her phone back on the nightstand and turned onto her back. He called her. He kept his word. But it wasn’t the kind of conversation she was hoping for. It wasn’t a reassuring call as if they still stood a chance. It was just all sex talk.
“Who was it?”
Janet leaned up when she heard Mo’s voice. He was standing in her doorway.
“Didn’t mean to startle you,” Mo said. “Was that him?”
Janet laid back down. “It was him.”
Mo stared
at her. Then he walked over and sat on the side of her bed. “He called you. But you don’t seem happy about it.”
“No. I guess I don’t.”
“Why not?”
Janet hesitated. “He seemed more interested in my body,” she said, “than in me. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it.”
“You’re reading too much into it,” he said.
Janet looked at him. “Why are you saying that?”
“Because every man interested in a woman is interested in sex first. We just are. But here’s the trick: how does he treat you when you’re around him? Does he try to act like he’s not with you when people come around? Does he laugh at your jokes? Does he pay the tab? Does he follow your ass all the way home just to make sure you aren’t shacking up with some man?”
Janet smiled. “Shacking up?”
“Living with a man,” Mo made it clearer. “Does he worry about that? Because I will tell you, if any of that other stuff is true, then yeah, he’s interested in what your body can do for him. But he’s interested in you too.”
“But six years ago, I thought he was interested too,” she said. “But he wasn’t.”
Mo looked at her. “You knew him six years ago?”
Janet had forgotten that she never told Mo the story. Not because she didn’t want to, but because she was ashamed. “Yes,” she said. “But only for one night.”
“Oh, okay,” Mo said. “Got it. Six years ago you guys hooked up and for him, it was a one-night stand, which was what it was. But to your inexperienced butt, you thought it was going to be a lifetime commitment. Right?”
Janet smiled. It sounded so crazy when Mo said it. “Right,” she said. “That’s what I thought.”
“Wrongheaded thinking, Janet. Stop making it out to be more than it is. Just let it be what it is. Because he likes you. I saw that right off. Any man that would follow you all the way home just to see who you’re living with is a man interested, not just in your body, but in you too. Bank that. Mo knows what he’s talking about.”
Plain Jane Evans and the Billionaire Page 14
