by K. M. Hodge
He didn’t usually go for women her age, but her charming smile and big blue eyes enchanted him. Young women didn’t know the art of seduction, but this woman obviously did and he found it refreshing. While he liked to get his way, her coyness made for a fun game. All the same, he wondered if he could get her to fuck him later. The stress of his current caseload and the senator’s campaign had begun to take its toll on him. At least he’d taken care of the problem girl.
“Sure you don’t want to go to my office?”
A slow smile crept across her face. “I bet that line works really well with the young ladies.”
Her response threw him. He wasn’t used to women who were so direct with him. This one would take time to bend to his will, but he could do it. It could be fun. A challenge to make her say yes. To make her beg for more. In the end she would. They all did.
“You’re going to make me work for this, aren’t you?”
Sally’s shrug made him laugh. He let go of her arm and opened the door to the café for her. “After you, Beautiful.”
She led the way to a booth in the back and he slid into the seat across from her. “I can’t remember the last time I ate at an establishment where I sat myself.”
Sally looked away from him, but he was certain she’d rolled her eyes. What would impress this woman? Before he could try again, a waitress came up to their table to take their order.
“What can I get you?”
“I’ll assume you don’t sell lattes.”
“No, sir. We don’t.”
Sally smiled up at the young woman. “Ignore him. We’ll take two coffees and two slices of whatever pie you’ve got today.” When the waitress walked away, he said, “You like to be in charge.”
“And so do you. Is that going to be a problem?”
“No, ma’am. I like a good challenge.”
“Good.”
“So how does this work exactly? Say I want to call you and take you out for a proper dinner.”
“I don’t have a phone.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a receipt and a pen. She scribbled on it and passed it across the table to him. Her email was scrawled on the back, beside her name with X-s and O-s.
“No phones. Interesting. How do you function without a phone?” Michael stuffed the paper into his breast pocket.
Sally shrugged. “Payphones or I use someone else’s.”
“You’re one of a kind, Sally.”
“That’s what they tell me.”
Chapter 5
Mac’s Auto Center
Ocean City, Maryland
November 22, 2005
10:00 AM
~~~
Billy wiped his brow with a dirty shop rag that smelled like the overpriced synthetic oil they pushed on their customers. Two hours into his shift and he already wanted a drink. Being on the road was so much better. Most of the time the Virginian men wanted him to be a messenger, but sometimes, like this last week, he would bribe officials. This time they also wanted him to deliver a few boxes back home to the boss. He never asked questions and they never offered up any information. He would smuggle anything they asked. Drugs, guns, women—it didn’t matter as long as they paid him well.
“Bill!”
Shit, what now? He pushed off with his feet and rolled out from underneath the car he’d been working on. Above him, wearing a pair of fancy trousers, stood one of the men Billy had paid to keep quiet. Some cop or FBI guy that he’d given bribe money to over the years. He couldn’t remember the man’s name, but he’d seen him just last week when he’d paid him his shut-the-fuck-up money.
The man should know the rules about not coming to the shop. He needed to follow the chain of command.
“Bill, we need to talk.”
“Bill was my old man. Call me Billy.”
The man’s face twisted in disgust. “Fine…Billy, we need to talk.”
Billy rose to his feet and tossed the dirty rag away. “If you want more bribe money, you’re barking up the wrong tree. I’m just the messenger.”
“It’s not about the money. I need you to do a job for me.”
“I don’t freelance, either. You know the rules. You go through the boss if you want something.”
“I can make it worth your while.”
Billy squared his shoulders and folded his arms across his chest. “I don’t freelance.”
The man pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and tossed it on the tool chest beside him. “Think about it. I’ll come back next week and ask you again.”
“My answer won’t change.”
“Think about it,” the man said as he turned to walk out of the shop.
Billy glanced down at the money and looked over his shoulder. What harm could come from taking the suit’s money? He pocketed the cash and got back to work. He’d be gone in another day or two anyways. The man would come back to no money and no Billy. He couldn’t help but chuckle. He’d teach the fancy pants man a lesson about trusting a hustler.
***
State Senator Scott Mitchel’s Office
Annapolis, Maryland
November 22, 2005
12:40 PM
~~~
Michael shook out his jacket and slipped it back on. If he didn’t leave soon, he would be late for the meeting with his client to set up an escrow account. From twenty years of experience in the field, he knew the client was too stupid to notice over-billing or extra charges. These people practically signed all their life savings away to him without question. The money from the newest client would help pay for his vacation to Barbados at Christmas.
“The finance report should be in by tonight and the volunteers are doing a big door-to-door push this week on the west side of the state.” Geoff, the campaign manager, paused to sneeze then continued to drone on and on. Michael hated their weekly campaign meetings, and they always ran over time. He didn’t care for the senator, either, but the job as the lawyer for his campaign got Michael the kind of exposure he needed to grow his law firm.
Senator Mitchel sat behind his ratty old desk, twirling a pencil between his fingers. The entire office needed an over haul. Dust covered the piles of books, the desk was scratched, and the ripped leather chairs made it look like the state did its shopping at a thrift store. But if the campaign went as planned, they would be in a posh DC office by this time next year. The Syndicate wanted this guy to win and was prepared to throw around a shit ton of money to make it happen.
Michael cleared his throat. “Is there any other pressing business? I really need to be going.”
Senator Mitchel looked at Geoff. “You want to tell him?”
Geoff groaned and settled down on the corner of the senator’s desk. “We got a problem. That whore’s brother. He’s drawing a lot of unwanted attention our way. I don’t need to remind you how important it is that we stay clean for the campaign. You offing your girlfriend right before the election can cause us a world of problems that we don’t need.”
Michael’s stomach tightened and he shifted his weight on his feet. “Can’t we make him disappear?”
“He’s too high-profile right now,” Geoff said. “And he won’t take money either.”
Michael’s BlackBerry buzzed and he looked down. A new email. Sally. He smiled a little to himself and his stomach started to unknot.
“Are you paying attention?” The senator pitched forward and slammed his fist on the desk. The man could be a real prick. “We can’t afford for this to get out. Deal with it or I’m dropping you.”
Michael pocketed his phone and clenched his jaw.
The senator stared Michael down. “Got it?”
“Yeah. I’ll handle it.” Michael righted his tie and buttoned his jacket. “I have to go right now, but I’ll file the paperwork, and I’ll deal with the brother.”
Once he was out in the hallway, he pulled up Sally’s message.
~~~
From: Sally
To: Michael David
Date: November 22, 2005 at 12:41 PM
Subject: Date
---
Dear Michael,
How does a real date sounds? Dinner this time. You pick the place.
XO
Sally
~~~
He smiled to himself and he took a deep breath. Dinner with the new girl might be just what he needed to deal with the compounding stress of his job. He quickly shot back a reply. Maybe too quickly, but who cared? He needed to get laid by this coy street girl.
~~~
From: Michael David
To: Sally
Date: November 22, 2005 at 12:42 PM
Subject: Date
---
Dinner tomorrow at 8pm sharp, La Rue. I’ll pick you up outside your apartment.
Michael
~~~
Michael pocketed his phone and hailed a cab. He couldn’t stop smiling at the thought of finally getting a go at the hot new girl.
***
MDNA Headquarters
Unknown Location
November 22, 2005
12:45 PM
~~~
The computers and servers hummed all around Sally as the latest message from the lawyer flashed onto the screen. The cover Jude had created for her had worked. Michael believed she was a single woman living above a grocery store. Jude’s hacker friends assured her that the identity would be ironclad. They’d created a whole backstory, made sure her “family” was all dead. Apparently, that made it simpler.
When Jude had given her the new identity—driver’s license and all—he’d made a comment about taking the new ID and running off with the boy, but she couldn’t do that. She didn’t run. The Syndicate had a way of finding people, anyway. And her husband was an especially good hunter. He’d hunt her down like a dog. No, she would bide her time and strike when the time was right.
“La Rue, nice.” Jude read over her shoulder.
“What the hell am I supposed to wear to some fancy French restaurant?”
“If this were the movies, he would deliver this amazing dress to your house with fancy jewelry and shoes to go with it.”
“Fuck that.”
Jude laughed. “My sister might be able to help you. She can borrow something at work. You just have to keep it clean. She can put the tags back on with the tag gun she stole from her last job.”
Sally sighed and slouched in her chair. “Ugh…”
“In addition to that fancy event,” Jude leaned on a chair next to her. “I need you to be my plus one at an art show my friend invited me to tonight.”
Sally frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. “An art show?”
“Come on, it’ll be fun.”
Sally grumbled but couldn’t say no to Jude. He did so much for her, the least she could do was go to some stupid art show. “All right.”
“And you’ll need to be looking correct. So you’ll have to comb your hair and put on something other than a T-shirt and jeans. “
“Don’t push it,” she said.
Chapter 6
The Lagoon Gallery
Washington, DC
November 22, 2005
8:00 PM
~~~
“Wow.” Sally examined an intricate drawing of an old woman shelling peas. The art show surprised her. She hadn’t expected it to be worth leaving the house for and missing out on her new favorite show, Lost. She carried her emergency cellphone with her just in case Zane got sick or hurt or just wanted her to come home.
“’Wow’ is right. This is some powerful shit.” Jude tugged on the end of his wiry goatee.
“What do you expect? They’re all from some therapist chick’s clients.” Sally rolled the program in her hands and glanced over her shoulder.
“What's wrong?” Jude touched her arm and drew them away from the crowd.
“I feel like someone's watching me.” She glanced around the main hall and tried to look casual about it.
“Well, no one here looks like they would, in any way, be associated with Billy. Anyways, we ditched those guys before the metro, remember?”
Sally nodded and took a deep breath. “You're right. I'm just being paranoid.”
Jude drew her in and kissed her forehead. “Maybe you can go see this therapist and put up your own drawings next time.”
Sally punched him hard in the arm and he winced.
“Hey, be gentle.”
She rolled her eyes and looped her arm into his. They walked across the room to where the pencil and chalk sketches were on display. One group of drawings caught her eye—all women. One in particular stood out. The drawing was of a woman’s face done all in pencil, except for the blue pastel chalk used for the eyes. The familiarity of the eyes haunted her. Beside the sketch the title read, “True Blue.”
Jude stood beside her with his hand cupped over his mouth.
“That looks like—”
“Okay, okay. There’s something I didn't tell you.” He held up his hands between them in a defensive posture. “I may have looked up your baby daddy and found out he was part of this art show.”
A sudden chill swept over her. “Alex drew this?”
“I didn't know about the sketch, I swear.” He pushed his square framed glasses up over his nose. “It sure does look like you though, don't it?”
The hair on the back of her arms stood on end as the feeling of being watched washed over her once again. This time when she glanced around the room, she settled her gaze on a familiar looking man. Her heart thundered in her chest as a slow smile slid across the man’s handsome features.
Alex.
It had been years since she’d given up hope of ever seeing the father of her child again. For better or worse, she’d moved on. But the sketch told her he hadn’t forgotten her like she’d thought he would. Try as she might, she couldn’t take her eyes off him.
Alex touched the person beside him on the arm and walked towards the back door. Her face grew numb and her breaths came out in short panting puffs. She did a quick sign of the cross and prayed to the Virgin to save her from herself.
“What are you waiting for? Go after him.” Jude all but pushed her in his direction.
She stepped in the direction of the door and kept going until she’d made her way out the back entrance of the gallery. The door closed with a bang and she startled. Get a grip. She wrapped the wool coat she’d borrowed tighter around her waist and hugged herself. The lights from the city hid most of the stars from the moonless sky that night, but she looked up anyway. She closed her eyes for a moment and inhaled his familiar scent of cigarettes and sandalwood. He drew closer and her heart beat faster in anticipation. Damn Jude for putting her in this position.
A panic seized her chest and words tumbled out of her mouth to fill the silence. “I didn't know you were in the show.”
“So it's all some cosmic coincidence that we are both here tonight.”
“It would seem so,” she said.
He closed off the space between them. Even in the dark she caught his gaze falling on her lips. She didn't know who kissed who first, but suddenly they were kissing and holding on to each other for dear life.
Gone was the fiery passion that had engulfed them as young lovers. Her neediness had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with the overwhelming desire to connect with a part of herself she thought she’d lost.
His grip around her tightened and his nose brushed against hers. “I didn’t forget you, Sally Ann Ride.” The desperation in his voice tore down some of her defenses.
“But you never came back.”
“I did!” His wide-eyed gaze searched her face. “I went back to the bar and the owner kicked me out. He said I got you killed.” He sucked in a deep breath. “When I saw you tonight, I thought I was seeing a ghost.”
Sally trembled. No words would come, so she kissed him again.
He broke the kiss and looked down at her. “Your blue eyes ha
unt me in my sleep. I thought…I thought I got you killed.”
The stubble on his cheek rubbed against her face and his heady breath tickled her ear. She could feel the evidence of his want, pressing against her despite the many layers of clothes separating them. “I'm not dead,” she said.
“No.” A small laugh escaped his lips. His hands tightened around her, almost crushing her. “You're not dead.” He peppered her neck with kisses. “So alive.”
His lips returned to hers and she melted against him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and surrendered herself to him once more. When at last he broke the kiss, she examined him by the light of the street lamp. His features seemed sharper and the beginning of fine lines now bracketed his full lips. The man aged well. If anything, he looked better. She stepped back, taking him with her until she backed up against the wall of the building. His wide-eyed gaze and Schrödinger smile sent a thrilling shockwave through her.
“I remember this,” he said.
His soft lips brushed against hers in a familiar dance. She tightened her hold on him, while his strong hands snaked their way through her many layers of clothes and underneath her sweater. His icy touch made her gasp and her breath came in short pants. It didn't take much for him to undo her.
Alex pulled away a little and glanced around. Tiny wet flakes fell from the sky and landed on her upturned cheek—the first snowfall of the year.
“I'm staying in an apartment just around the block. We can talk some more there. It's warm.”
She nodded without question and followed him the short walk to his apartment. As he unlocked the door and stepped inside, he took both their coats and hung them up by the door.
“Would you like some coffee?”
“No.”
He kicked off his shoes and she followed suit. She stood frozen in the entryway of the studio apartment. She didn’t have time for this. Screw it! She pulled her sweater up and over her head. His intense gaze strayed her way and he started to unbutton his shirt. They slowly undressed until they were both standing naked in front of each other, a pile of discarded clothes pooled on the floor. A wave of self-consciousness rolled over her as the last bit of clothing fell. Motherhood had changed her body, made it softer, fuller. She wondered how he’d react to it now.
