Jezebel

by Koko Brown

  “I turned out f—”

  Before he could finish, a hand clutched Shane’s shoulder and spun him around.

  Celeste stepped to the side and her heart dropped. The drip from the rent party and two of his cronies squared off against Shane, blocking them from escape.

  “Well, what do we have here?” the drip drawled. “A pair of lovebirds or a hoe and her trick?”

  When Shane rolled his shoulders, testosterone emanated from him in waves. Celeste groaned. This wasn’t going to end well.

  No man liked a woman to help him save face. Still, she couldn’t just stand by while they beat him to a pulp.

  “Ha! What a comedian,” she twittered, her voice sounding shrill to her own ears. “We better be running along or the sun is going to catch us.”

  She moved to loop her arm through Shane’s.

  He had a different plan.

  Stepping forward, Shane knuckled the man advancing on their left. The poor fellow didn’t even see what hit him. A quick, right jab shadowed by an uppercut sent him flying along with spittle, blood and what looked like teeth.

  Shane didn’t watch the guy go down. Quick as lightning, he pivoted around and dealt a jaw-cracking right hook to the poor fellow’s friend. His left eye filling with blood, arms failingly wildly as if shadow boxing, Shane’s unmatched adversary staggered backward. Celeste marveled at his dexterity and balance.

  His one good eye suddenly widened, regaining focus. He stuck out his tongue and swung. Light on his feet, Shane stepped out of harm’s way then parried with a blinding blow. Like a falling tree, the man swayed. His arms fell to his sides and his knees buckled, sending him crashing to the pavement.

  As with the others, Shane advanced on the last man standing with a ferocity she could only imagine belonged in a boxing ring. With a succession of well-placed jabs, he opened skin and drew blood.

  With each parry, his muscles bulged, rolled beneath his suit jacket and traces of a smirk tainted his handsome features. He was relishing this, making mincemeat out of his antagonist.

  Unable to stand anymore, Celeste looked away and her eyes fell on the bruised bodies crumpled like discarded paper dolls on the sidewalk.

  She was the cause of all of this carnage and pain! And she wasn’t worth it, any of it, especially when the insult hadn’t fallen far from the mark. Her father had given her the name Jezebel and she’d spent the past five years drinking enough hooch and taking enough lovers to deserve the moniker.

  Horrified at her role in the night’s turn of events, Celeste inched back, blending into the shadows. She waited for Shane to turn his back and then she bolted.

  By the morning, all of this will be nothing to me Celeste thought fiercely. And if he came a calling, she would have Maggie turn him away. All of this had been a flight of fancy. Everything she felt, everything she had done with an almost mesmerized abandon had been part of a fantasy—all make-believe.

  Through sheer habit alone, Celeste found her way home. Once inside, she yanked off her cloak, including her hat and gloves as if all three of them were the cause of her shortness of breath.

  Since their removal didn’t improve her current mood, Celeste dropped them unceremoniously in the hallway. Clawing at the dress’s neckline, she stumbled to her father’s study.

  Celeste ran her hand along the top of a lacquered chinoiserie cabinet. Before moving in she’d made sure the entire house was dry. Only yesterday, she’d discovered she’d forgotten the rye whiskey her father kept for special guests when she found Maggie dusting in here. She’d meant to dispose of the bottle, but in all of her excitement over her new gig and Shane, she’d completely forgotten about it.

  Until now.

  Smiling, Celeste fingered the key. All she needed was a sip.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  “Long time no see.”

  Celeste dragged her gaze from the drink in hand to the man now standing in the doorway. He didn’t look too worse for wear. His dark suit still fit him to perfection, not a single strand of hair out of place. The only indication there’d been a fight was the bloody handkerchief wrapped around his right hand.

  Disgusted by the throbbing pulse at the base of her throat, in spite of everything she still wanted him, Celeste muttered, “Too soon, if you ask me.”

  Ignoring the way he flinched, she brought her half-empty glass to her lips.

  Why didn’t he just go away? Be done with it. They would never fit just like two square pegs in a round hole.

  Unfortunately, his reaction cut her to the quick and she temporarily lost her taste for anything with ethanol.

  Irritated, Celeste set her glass down with a loud thud. Her eyes met his and she froze. If the eyes were the window to the soul, his seemed to be at war.

  Obviously frustrated, he pummeled his good hand through his hair, mussing it. Unkempt, he looked ten years younger. Despite her best efforts, the look plucked at her heart strings.

  “You’re a hard woman to please.”

  “Who asked you to?” She felt horrible for saying it, but the quicker she nipped this in the bud, the sooner he’d move on. She didn’t need or deserve a hero or a savior.

  “You didn’t,” he mumbled as if having trouble with the words.

  Equally troubled, Celeste leaned against her father’s desk for support. For some reason, she felt cold, empty and weak kneed.

  “I’m sorry I troubled you,” he said with a finality that raised the hairs on the back of her neck. He turned to leave and the bottom dropped out of her stomach.

  For the first time in her life Celeste was terrified of someone walking away from her. In a moment of insanity she would question in years to come, Celeste decided to provoke him. Throwing back her shoulders, she pushed away from the desk.

  “Coward.”

  He rested his hand against the door frame, but didn’t turnaround. Instead, he slightly cocked his head so all she could see was his near perfect profile. “You got me pegged, sister.” Expecting to be met by bluster and bravado, Celeste choked on her initial comeback.

  “I’m a yellow-bellied coward,” he rasped as he turned around, “and so are you.”

  His words hit their mark and it felt like the carpet had been yanked from under her. He compounded her instability by slowly advancing on her. Unsteady, she stumbled back against the bookcase.

  “Only cowards retreat.”

  He paused to extinguish a floor lamp, blanketing the far end of the room in semidarkness. The banker’s lamp resting on her father’s desk outlined his bulky silhouette.

  “I’m not a coward,” she said, finally finding her tongue. She even pushed away from the bookcase and squared her shoulders. Even when he breached her comfort zone, she stood her ground.

  “Then why the hard—ass act?” He inched closer until his body heat was faintly tangible. “Can’t you see I’m sweet on you?”

  His words and the tone in which he said them burned into her, shooting through her body and nestling in the pit of her stomach and lower.

  Why couldn’t he be mean and hurtful like her daddy? Or even ugly for that matter. Maybe then it would have been easier to not want him so much.

  He reached out and pulled her into his arms. So close, she could see the gold flecks in his green eyes and if she went up on her toes they would be lip locked. “That’s why I keep refusing to walk way.”

  “I’m rotten to the core,” she warned as he lowered his head.

  In the dim light his eyes looked dilated, yet intense. “You’re starting to sound like a scratched phonograph record.”

  He moved in to kiss her, but Celeste turned her head. “I’m not what you think…I’m a woman of loose morals.”

  Each word that tumbled from her lips felt like a catharsis, a heavy load falling from her shoulders.

  “I-I love to drink…and have a good time…I have had lovers…plenty of them. You’re not my first and knowing my history not my last. But I’m trying…really, really hard…turning over a new leaf, you c
ould say…I poured myself a drink…b-b-but I…when you came in I ended up just beating myself up…and then I took it out on you….”

  Shane planted his hands on either side of her head and she fell silent. Her confession had been a deal breaker for sure. The thought of him walking away now did a job on her insides, but it was for the best.

  She didn’t want him to walk into their assignation with a false impression. Coming clean would save his pride and her unnecessary time wallowing in guilt.

  “Done?”

  Celeste’s shoulders slumped as she nodded her head.

  His tone was emotionless, harsh even. His hands slid down the bookcase, setting her on edge. So much so, she jumped when he grasped her wrists.

  “Until you transgress against me, I don’t care about the past.” His warm breath fanned against her lips and Celeste shivered. “You and me we’re in the present and that’s all I care about.”

  Shane knew he should’ve severed ties, followed Gould’s advice. And yet, he knew with a fatalistic despair that he wouldn’t walk away.

  She turned him inside out. She made him want to move heaven and earth to protect her. Being with her was unlike like any woman he’d ever been with. Whenever she looked at him, he felt like he could do anything.

  Unable to hold back any longer, he placed a hand on either side of her face and slowly traced his thumb along her bottom lip.

  “You’re so perfect,” he whispered.

  Celeste shook her head. “I’m no—”

  He lowered his head and used his tongue to slowly trace her lips.

  She tasted just as sweet as he remembered! Even better! Groaning, he claimed her lips and brought her arms behind her back, trapping her solidly against him. To soften his aggressive manhandling, he entwined their fingers together as he slowly drew her tongue into his mouth and led her into a long, passionate kiss.

  His mouth conquered hers in an endless variety of kisses that progressed from smolderingly impatient to deliberate exploration of her mouth, her lips, her tongue.

  He released her arms suddenly, and then with a deliberately taunting slowness he ran his hands down her sides to her hips, capturing them then using them to pull her into him. The hard, hot evidence of her effect on him wedged itself in the V between her legs. Shane groaned again. The contact gave him a taste of what he wanted so badly.

  With an urgency now born of pure desire and lust, Shane pulled her closer. Soft and womanly, her body was in direct contrast to his and it almost brought him to his knees.

  The air grew thick and heavy. No sound permeated the space between them except for their harsh breathing and her sporadic moans.

  Shane felt himself rising and falling with a sense of urgency born of desire.

  At some point, they crossed an unspoken barrier with him taking liberties and she pulling at his shirt and the waistband of his pants. Answering in kind and without releasing her lips, Shane slowly guided her backward pressing her into the bookcase.

  “I want you so bad,” Shane bit out between wet kisses down her throat.

  He molded her body against his and she felt his arousal. Mercy! He was big. It would be so easy to lead him upstairs to her bed, Celeste thought. It wasn’t like they needed to wait for marriage. She was well beyond that stage. But that was the rub that put the salt in the wound. She’d given it up to so many men before him and where did that lead?

  A life of melancholies only made gay at the bottom of a liquor bottle or the next man’s arms.

  If she truly wanted to turn over a new leaf, things had to be different. For once she didn’t want this to be purely physical and absolutely nothing to do with emotion.

  Resolved, Celeste pushed on his shoulders. His gaze met hers, searching then as if reading the writing on the wall, his hands fell from her body.

  “You want to wait?” He lowered his head and pressed their foreheads together.

  More like needed to wait, Celeste mused but simply nodded. In all honesty, if he went all cave man on her and dragged her upstairs she’d let him.

  “Thank you for a lovely evening.” His voice cracked and he paused to pull on his collar. “You free Wednesday?”

  “What do you have in mind,” she gushed. She’d feared he wouldn’t want to see her after tonight.

  “You tell me. I’m open to anything and everything.” The double innuendo wasn’t lost on her.

  “How about dinner and movie.”

  Shane groaned. “You seriously want to go down that path again?” She chuckled, causing him to smile in turn. “I’ll agree only if you cook.”

  Of course, it made perfect sense. They wouldn’t have to worry about not being served, but there was another obstacle in their path.

  “I—”

  Shane pressed his suite, as if he hadn’t heard her. “I can make it at as early as six. I don’t have evening conditioning. Ollie goes to evening Mass.”

  “But I—”

  Before she could protest further, he dove in for another kiss. Hot, passionate and self-assured, he once again took control. His tongue slipped inside, taking liberties, imitating the act of sex. He made her heart race and her legs wobbly.

  Get a grip kiddo! You’ve been kissed hundreds of times.

  True. But never like this.

  Fortunately, the kiss ended as soon as it began her fortitude was slipping faster than quick sand.

  “It’s getting late. I’d better go,” he said nearly shoving her away, yet not releasing her, his hands squeezing her upper arms.

  “I—I’ll walk you out.”

  Even though his breathing was harsh and his green eyes blazed, he nodded.

  In silence, they walked to the front door with Celeste on eggshells. As she closed the door behind him, she noticed her hands were shaking.

  ***

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  Celeste took the store key out of the lock and pocketed it. While her cousin Trudy remained on the sidewalk out front, she walked inside.

  “Mr. Percy recommended it before the final sale went through. He didn’t want me to have any regrets.” Celeste walked over and hit the lights.

  “The place looks exactly the same,” Trudy whispered.

  Celeste nodded in agreement. The black and white harlequin tiles didn’t look any worse for wear. Dry goods still sat on the shelves. The old rickety fan her father always complained about, but refused to fix, clacked overhead.

  Celeste smiled at the bitter sweetness of this moment. The only thing out of place was her father stationed near the cash register. Mr. Percy had been true to his word. Shortly after the police cleared the place, he had the place cleaned up.

  Curious, or maybe a glutton for punishment, she walked over to the counter.

  It happened here, she surmised, noting the missing top glass. Unable to help herself, Celeste put her hand through the open hole. She then closed her eyes and tried reenacting what happened. Step by step, she envisioned her father going about his closing ritual. After counting the day’s receipts, he’d straighten the shelves then sweep the floor.

  She got to the part where her father put a gun to his head and she faltered. She just couldn’t wrap her head around it. Her father considered it a mortal sin.

  “Do you think after he shot himself, he fell and hit his head in the counter?”

  Celeste whirled on her cousin so fast, she stumbled backward. “My father didn’t kill himself. And don’t you say it again.”

  Ignoring her cousin’s frightened look, Celeste stepped around the counter. If she stayed there one second longer she was going to have a meltdown.

  “But what about the police report?”

  “All lies,” Celeste whispered. She stumbled over to one of the shelves to steady herself. Her world was spinning out of control. “My father didn’t even own a gun.”

  “You haven’t lived under your daddy’s roof since you were fifteen. A lot of things could’ve changed over the years.”

  To stave off a f
ainting spell, Celeste squeezed her eyes shut. “The Reverend was true blue. Look at this place. Those walls have been mint green ever since I learned to hobble around in my braces.” Stricken with rickets at the age of three, Celeste had stays for more than five years.

  A crazy idea suddenly hit her. “Go with me to the police.”

  Trudy stepped forward and placed her hand over Celeste’s forehead. “You’ve had too much sun.” Indignant, Celeste slapped her cousin’s hand away.

  “Stop playing around. I’m serious. Will you go with me to the police?”

  “What’s that going to solve?”

  “I think if I saw the gun…or…or if I talked to someone else.” Even Celeste noted the rising, almost shrill tone in her voice. It was sobering. Forcing her voice down an octave, she said, “You have to see what I see.”

  Trudy squeezed her hand. “I do, but unlike you I realize it won’t change a thing.”

  “But—”

  “But, nothing,” Trudy interrupted before she could run off into another wild tangent. “No amount of digging is going to bring the Reverend back.” Trudy tugged on Celeste’s hand, pulling her into a sisterly hug. “And it definitely won’t change the past. You were never and still are not daddy’s girl. So stop trying.”

  Why did Trudy have to hit her below the belt and with the truth, no less?

  Allowing her cousin to walk her to the entrance, Celeste moved mechanically, while her mind remained a jumble of emotions.

  She didn’t look back and she was glad of Trudy’s ceaseless chatter that carried them out of the store and away from the past.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Celeste hurried into the kitchen and put down the packages she picked up from the grocery store on the way home from rehearsals.

  Hopping on one foot, she proceeded to yank off her black Mary Janes, while unloading the ingredients for tonight’s dinner. Maybe she shouldn’t have given Maggie the night off. She could use an extra hand right now.