Playing House: A Black Widow Novel (Dark Secrets Duet Book 1)

by Christa Simpson

  Yes, she was good, but the fact that she had to state the cleanliness of her money tells me that it’s not all rainbows and sunshine like it once was for her.

  “Your daddy gave you the money to fund a strip club? Wow, how things have changed.”

  She shakes her head. “Nope. I told you, this is all me. I’ve been cut off. It’s for the best, really.” She growls at me. “We have so much catching up to do!”

  I keep smiling at her. It’s been too long, and little about her has changed. Her hair’s a bit longer, her highlights a bit whiter, but overall she’s matured very nicely.

  Savari assesses me the same way I do her. “Come on.” She hooks on to my arm, and yanks me toward a door that reads: Employees only. Her security guard follows after us, like a tanker just daring someone to approach us. Savari swings around and pats him on the chest.

  “Thanks, Derek, but I can take it from here.”

  Derek listens well. He leaves Savari’s side and returns to his post without any further need for direction. Savari leads me through a series of halls and punches a few numbers into a keypad to unlock a tall, black door. She opens it up and flicks the lights on. I walk through the doorway and stop just inside the room. This is her office. It’s modest, but you don’t have to tell me it’s hers; I just know it.

  I walk over to the dark wood bookshelf and pick up the small frame meticulously placed opposite a business diploma. In it is a picture of four girls dressed in crimson cheerleading uniforms. Savari and I are sandwiched in the middle of two other rookies. I smile, remembering that as the best year of my life—the period I now call before Finlay. Tears well in my eyes, but that’s just the liquor talking.

  “Remember that day?” Savari asks me. “I don’t think I’ve ever had that much fun.” She takes the frame from my hand and stares at it, before returning it exactly where I’d lifted it from.

  Sadness consumes me, as I remember how quickly my life had changed after that; I’ve become good at hiding my emotions over the years, and don’t even need to clear my throat to cover the sudden sentiments.

  “Yeah, that was a good day.”

  She’s the only one who has ever been able to read my moods, and when she quickly changes the subject, I know that she hasn’t lost her touch. “So, what the hell brings you here?”

  I chew on my bottom lip, trying to remember. “A mystery tour?”

  “Ah, shit. So those things actually do work. I paid a good chunk of change to get listed at the bottom of the night. It was totally worth it now,” she says, smiling at me. “I’ve missed you!” She pulls me into another huge squeeze.

  I pinch off the tears. There’s no room for those here. “It’s been a while,” I admit. “How’s it going?”

  “Eh, it’s going. A little tight for money, now that daddy’s cut me off, but I’m getting by. How about you? I’ve heard the rumors. I don’t believe any of them.”

  I’m not sure which rumor she’s referring to, so I just brush it off. “Why not? They’re all true.”

  She nods her head, smirking. “Okay then. I guess we really do have a lot of catching up to do then. Where are you staying?”

  I try not to tell her I’ve just moved into a dirty, little hole in the ground, but I can’t lie to her. “A scumbag motel on Victoria.”

  “You’ve got to be shitting me. I’m at the Dusty Rose across the street.”

  “What? You’re staying in a motel?”

  “The best money can buy,” she teases. “I told you money is tight these days. It’s a big place, though. Two adjoined rooms with a double bed in each. My roommate just bailed on me, and now I have to foot the whole bill this month. What about you? I thought you were living in a cozy little neighborhood in NYC.”

  I look to the floor to find the courage to tell her. “After Zayne died, I lost everything. I barely scraped by this past year. Zayne’s insurance was audited. The company is probably looking for a loophole, so they don’t have to pay me anything else. The bank has taken the house. I could barely afford the bus ticket to cross the country.” I shrug my shoulders, and she keeps on listening. “The house was huge for one person, anyway. It was big enough for an entire family.”

  “Oh, Clarisse. I’m so sorry. You must have been devastated.”

  I just barely manage to stifle the tears pricking the back of my eyes. I nod my head but don’t answer. I just barely manage to stave off the tears that have been haunting me for days now. The excess liquor certainly isn’t helping.

  “Losing Zayne was pure horror, but my baby boy? That’s the hardest thing to deal with.”

  “Was it the accident that took him from you? I’ve heard other... stories.”

  I press my eyes shut and let the tears sting my eyes. “It was an accident—a terrible, terrible accident. Zayne Junior—” I shake my head with memories of that day flashing before my eyes. “It was the worst day of my life. When he died, what was left of my goodness died.”

  A tear trickles down Savari’s cheek as she takes my hand and rests it on her heart. I feel a good cry coming on, but I feel like it’s undeserved, so I suck back the emotion and keep a brave face. I accept the extended silence and take a few steadying breaths, before Savari breaks away from me.

  “Hey, crazy idea. If you’re not tied to the place you’re staying at now, why don’t you move in with me? You do plan to stay in the city for a while, right?”

  The change of conversation is welcome, but I don’t know if that plan is such a great idea. I came here to get away from my old life, but it seems to have found me again.

  “To be honest,” Savari adds. “I could use a little help with the rent. It’d be cheaper than what you’re paying now, since I’m only asking you to pitch in what you can.”

  I think about it for only another second. I’ve only paid for one night, hoping something better would come along, although I did promise to pay for an entire week’s stay.

  “Come on. It’ll be just like old times,” she says, coaxing me to say yes.

  “All right.”

  Her hands do a little cheer, but she doesn’t make a sound, her maturity coming to the rescue. “Where are you working now, anyway?”

  “Uh, hem,” I say, clearing my throat sarcastically. “I just arrived in San Francisco today, and I’m unemployed at the moment. Finding a job is next on my list of things to do.”

  “Ah, right. Well, if you need a job, you’re welcome here doing whatever you want. Can you bartend? We can always use help in the kitchen. Maybe you can help keep the books.”

  All of those options are lovely, except for one thing. “What I’d really like to do is dance.”

  “What?” Disbelief mars Savari’s fair features.

  “Is that so hard to believe? It felt good to be up there on stage tonight. With the spotlight on me, I thought about nothing but the music running through my body. I want to dance, if that’s even an option.”

  “Shit.” She smiles at me again. “You never cease to amaze me, woman. Training starts on Monday, but know that I don’t hire just any random flabby chicks. Only the best of the best get on my stage. Tonight was nothing. Amateur night draws in a different crowd.”

  “I can do it. I’ve been exercising like a madwoman ever since—” Again I stop, reaching one of the many hot topics I prefer not to discuss.

  Savari saves me the effort of trying to reword my situation. “I can see that. You look amazing. I’d never have known you were pregnant—” This time she’s the one stopping. “I’m sorry, Clare. You’ve been through a lot. We need to talk, big time.”

  “It’s okay. It’s’ no secret. I was pregnant. I lost the baby.”

  “That must have ruined you, delivering that baby all alone. I was so upset when I heard the news. It’s not your fault, Clarisse, as long as you realize that. You do realize that, right?”

  I shrug my shoulders, trying to change the topic. “The walk was my idea, but did you hear what my dumb-ass mother-in-law did?”

  “No.
What’s that?”

  “They buried my husband without waiting for my discharge.”

  Both of Savari’s hands fly to her mouth. “Who would do such a thing?”

  I shake my head. The proper question is not who, but why? Why is this kind of thing always happening to me? “Tell me again that I’m not cursed.”

  I see the pain in her eyes as she listens to my cold rendition of my living, breathing hell. “Savari, I swear I’ve never felt more wretched in all my life. First Zayne, then my baby boy.” I stop talking. All this talk is too much. I’ve tried to bury this loss the deepest, and it seems to cut the sharpest when unveiled.

  “I don’t know how you’ve survived.”

  The special walls I’ve built in my head go flying back up. “Meds, lots and lots of sleeping pills, oh, and wine.” I try to giggle but it comes out like a heart-breaking snort.

  “Come here, girl.”

  When Savari opens her arms to me, I fall into them. I’m a sucker for love, feeling denied the real thing, by plenty fault of my own. “Oh, Clare,” she whispers, hugging me tightly. “It’ll get better for you. It has to. I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

  I don’t reciprocate her embrace long or hard enough, but Savari won’t let go. “Give me a god-damned hug, woman. I feel so sorry for you.”

  “Well, don’t.” I lift my head from her shoulder as I push that horrible feeling deep inside my chest.

  “I can’t help it,” she says. “It’s not right. You’ve been put through the wringer a few times. How much can a girl take?”

  “You’re telling me.”

  Savari shakes her head. “Your luck changes today. You’re going to move in with me, and we’re going to live happily ever after. All right?”

  My frown lifts into a playful smirk. “I take it you don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “Nothing serious. This town is filled with cheating assholes, bisexuals, and men with ugly hearts.”

  I cringe, knowing I’m not one to help the situation.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m probably a disservice to intelligent women like you. I take a perfectly decent man, thrust my tits into his hands, and ruin his family.”

  “You’ll fit in here just nicely,” she teases.

  “But I’m serious. I turn good men bad. I make average women pay for not respecting what they have.”

  “Hey, that sounds fair to me. If the woman isn’t doing her job at home, that’s her problem. If a man can’t resist your tits, he doesn’t deserve the good life.”

  I burst into laughter. “Savari, you make me smile so hard.”

  “Yeah, I am good for that.”

  “Are you saying my tits aren’t amazing, though?”

  “Those saggy momma tits?”

  “You bitch,” I say dramatically, making a sour face.

  She belts out a laugh. “I’m only teasing. Your tits are beautiful. Any man able to resist you must be a magician or a homosexual.”

  Again, I laugh. “Oh, Savari, I really needed this.”

  “Cool. So, I’ll ask Derek to swing by your place after his shift to pick up your stuff. What room did you say is yours?”

  “Hold up. Derek, your security guard, Derek?”

  “Yeah, he helps me with everything.”

  “Everything?” I ask, waggling my eyebrows at her.

  She slaps me. “Not everything,” she says, telling me everything I need to know.

  “You’re lucky to have someone you can trust, but I don’t need your hired muscle.”

  “Sure you do. Derek is exactly the help you need. He will carry your shit, and it doesn’t hurt that’s he’s cute in the face.”

  “He seems like a nice guy.”

  “He is. He’ll take good care of you... I mean, your things. He’ll take good care of your things.” She pauses and makes a pouty face at me. “You leave him alone.”

  My mouth drops open. “You did not just accuse me of trying to pick up your security guard.”

  “I like Derek. I don’t want you to fuck him up.”

  “Oh, thank you very much, Miss Perfect.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  And I do. Everyone and everything I touch turns to shit or dies. “I promise to leave Derek alone.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I’ll tell you what,” I start, stretching my arms above my head in a dramatic fashion, because I hate to intrude on her night any longer. “I’m whipped. I’m just going to catch a cab home and crash. Give me a day to collect my bearings and we’ll get together Monday night to decide what to do next.”

  Savari feigns disappointment. “All right. I’ll see you Monday, lady.”

  “Not if I see you first, momma.”

  28: From Dusk Till Dawn

  I’m lying next to Devlin Decker, my back flattened atop a picnic table overlooking the bay bridge, the array of LED lights a permanent fixture illuminating the Bay Area sky. We’re just far enough away that we’re bathed in unsettling shadows, but neither of us is too worried about it.

  “I’m glad you decided to join me tonight, Clarisse.” His voice darkens. “Of all the men you could have left that club with…” He doesn’t finish his sentence.

  I know exactly what he’s thinking, and I smile when I catch the way he watches me. Time to play devil’s advocate. “About that.” I stare up into the night sky. “If you could have your heart’s desire—anything you ever wanted—right now, what would it be?” I turn toward him, my leg gently brushing up the length of his.

  He stares into my eyes. “You. Without a doubt, you.”

  I shiver from the authority in his voice. He doesn’t move or say anything more. I smile again and pull myself up so I can get him in between my legs. On my knees, I lower down until I’m sitting on his lap. He’s still lying back, his eyes showing how intrigued he is by the progress he’s making already.

  My eyes settle on his. “Out of all the things you could have chosen—money, mansions, a lifetime supply of loose women—you picked me. Why?”

  His eyes grow wide, like he can’t believe I don’t see the answer for myself. “You’re beautiful, smart, flexible…” He pauses on that last word. “Friendly.”

  Mmm hmm. Friendly. I grab the hem of my shirt and lift it over my head, dropping it on top of his face so it blocks his view. I reach behind my back and unlatch my bra while Devlin fumbles to get free from my shirt. When he casts it aside, I’m already naked down to my waist.

  “Do you like what you see, Dev?” If the size of his pupils are any indication, I’d say he likes it very much.

  He nods his affirmation. I take his hands and cup them over my breasts, squeezing his fingers into my soft flesh. I arch my back until my hair dangles down and touches his thighs. With closed eyes, I imagine it’s Parker’s hands touching me, his hardness rising up to meet me. I drop my hands and moan when he keeps gripping my breasts. He moans, too.

  I roll my head back and forth, keeping my eyes closed. “What if I said I want to give you everything you ask for?” I rub against him, the friction making him shiver.

  “Yes,” he breathes.

  “Now,” I say, prying open his pants, secretly confiscating the switchblade from his pocket before moving aside.

  “Yes,” he moans, pulling off his clothes frantically but leaving on his socks.

  “Everything,” I say.

  Once he’s good and naked, and the switchblade is safely tucked in the band of my thong, I take all his clothes, roll them up into a ball and toss them into the sand a good ten feet away.

  “Now you,” he says eagerly, lying back down. He reaches for my skirt, but I slap his hand away and wag a finger at him.

  “Ah, ah, ah.” I take my skirt off and toss it aside, but not until I’ve placed the blade on the picnic table between his legs.

  He only notices how my thong is the only barrier between us. “Please,” he begs.

  “Do I look like the kind of girl who gives it up that easily?”
/>   He snickers. “Sorry to say, Clarisse, but you kind of do.”

  Anger builds in my gut and flushes through my chest until it’s stinging my eyes. I stare at him, willing my illusions to bring back Parker, but it doesn’t work. It’s only Devlin Decker and his substandard cock embracing the world around it. A breeze whispers through my hair, and I close my eyes, but when I open them, it’s still Devlin—the selfish prick who called me a whore.

  I look around for something to tie his wrists and turn up only one option. I stand on the seat of the picnic table, and pull off my thong. That’ll do nicely. Devlin looks at nothing but me as I crawl over him. I pop his head through one of the holes to wrap the thong around his neck. I stretch the rest of the material out to bind his wrists snugly behind his head. A smart man would question my motives. He mumbles his appreciation.

  “This is amazing.” He laughs.

  He won’t be laughing for much longer.

  I settle back on his thighs and wrap my hand around where he’s hardest. I grip him gently while my other hand searches behind me for his switchblade. It’s all there in his eyes—excitement mingling with desire.

  “I think you have the wrong impression of me, Dev.” I say his name with purpose, to disguise the sound of the blade switching open. My hand clutches him harder and he yelps.

  “Hey. That hurts!”

  I loosen up, so he doesn’t freak out, but only for a second. “You mean this?” I crush him in my hand. If I hadn’t have flashed the knife first, he wouldn’t still be lying there in such a vulnerable position.

  My evil laugh echoes down the beach and disappears into the darkness. He obviously values his balls, or he might’ve tried a little harder to get up. I point the blade at him in warning. That’s right. Lie back down. You’re not going anywhere.

  “What are you doing? I don’t understand.” He stutters, “I-I-I thought we were having a good time.”