by Jj Rossum
Yeah right. There was no way in hell I was doing that. My car stuck out like a sore thumb in a Walmart parking lot. God only knew what people living in a neighborhood housing professional athletes would think.
So, I continued sitting in the parking lot, continued thinking about April. I didn’t know what was happening to me. On one hand, I had Holly. Sure, we had tried the dating thing, but even then I knew we weren’t in a place to be seriously dating. I could tell that recently things had changed, and that the comfort level and friendship we were building was a good thing. Plus, we had great sex. I hadn’t had sex with anyone I enjoyed more than her. Obviously, a healthy sex life is important in a relationship, and while we didn’t have a relationship per se, I’d be a fool if I said I didn’t think she wanted to give it another try. And, if I was being honest with myself, I would admit that I probably would have been happy to give her another try had April not showed up and messed with my head.
I still couldn’t quite figure out what it was she was doing to me, the effect she had on me. I felt it right away—this instant connection, this draw to her that I hadn’t remembered ever feeling. It wasn’t even attraction so much, but there was no doubt in my mind that I was severely attracted to her. I thought about her almost constantly. I didn’t know how I was going to be able to survive working next door to her and trying to focus on the task at hand at the same time. Maybe it would get easier. I doubted it.
And, she was married, for God’s sake. Who even considers a married woman an option? I was drawn to her, attracted to her, felt alive when we talked, flirted, bantered back and forth. But, she was married. To a hot-head. And she’s my coworker. At a Christian school. Never in my wildest dreams had I thought I would even let myself think about another man’s wife, let alone want to leap across a dinner table and take her on the floor. But, I did. And I asked her to go to dinner with me. And now I was waiting for her nanny to leave so that I could sneak over to her house undetected while her husband was in the air flying back home to see his wife and kids. Sure, I was just going to pick up a book. But, clandestine meetings always made things more scandalous than they usually were. Or maybe I was reading way too much into everything.
Paula just left the building! read the next text I got from April. It was followed by: Get your ass over here.
On my way.
I typed her address into my phone’s GPS and began following the directions. Once I turned onto the main road down the beach, I was immediately told to twist and turn through various side roads.
Well, she lives near or on the water, I thought.
Great. So if Marco showed up sooner than expected, he could cut me up and throw me into the Gulf, Dexter-style.
The things my brain could come up with in any given scenario would frighten most sane humans.
I drove into neighborhoods I didn’t know even existed, past houses the likes of which I had only seen in magazines. I had a feeling their home would be in a neighborhood like this, but not even I expected the houses to be this spectacular. I expected a police officer to come out of nowhere and pull me over just for driving through the streets. The homes were all gated though, so it wasn’t like I could sneak onto their properties without serious home-invasion equipment.
The gates were open when I pulled into April’s driveway. It was just like a driveway you’d see in movies. It was white brick, right down the middle of the front yard, and looped around a fountain in the middle. The house was massive from the outside, Mediterranean in appearance almost. My house would probably have fit into the garage.
I parked to the side, out of the direct line of sight from the front door. I told myself I did this more for her than for my own sense of pride.
My phone vibrated as I got out of my car. It was another text from April.
Just come in the front door when you get here. Don’t knock. I’m in the kitchen.
I threw my phone back into the car and locked the door before making my way up the steps that led to the large wooden doors.
The creak of the doors I was hoping for didn’t come like it did in the movies, further cementing my belief that all movies do is lie to us. The doors opened without a sound, which surprised me, considering how heavy they certainly were. I guess when you pay as much money for doors as I am sure these cost, you bought the ones that didn’t creak like an arthritic.
I opened the door. Directly in front of me was a spiral staircase leading upstairs.
The kitchen was most certainly downstairs, but that was really the only clue I had as to where I might be going. I paused for a moment, hoping to hear sound, but got nothing. So, I decided to walk in the direction to the right of the staircase.
I walked through the living room, I think, and saw a TV that was one hundred inches if it was one. The furniture all looked heavy and regal.
Finally, I heard the sound of water running and followed it to the kitchen. I walked in and she was standing over the sink, filling up a glass of water. One was already full and on the counter next to her. She had changed out of her black dress and was in pajama pants and a tank top. There wasn’t anything necessarily sexy about her outfit, which for some reason made it seem sexier to me. She was comfortable enough with me to change into something comfortable, which said a lot.
I stood there watching her for a moment before I allowed myself to say something. There was usually a period of thirty seconds to a minute with her where I needed to catch my breath after seeing her, needed time to reorganize my thoughts. Thankfully, she had yet to notice me, which gave me time to breathe normally and let my heart stabilize.
The old, well-read copy of Dubliners was resting comfortably on the marble-countered island in the middle of the kitchen.
“This must be the book I’ve heard so much about,” I said, walking over in the direction of the book.
“Oh my god,” she said, nearly knocking over the glass on the counter. “I had no idea you were here yet.”
She held her hands to her chest, as if willing her heart to stop racing as well. At least I wasn’t the only one with that problem.
Pretty sure there’s a difference between being scared half to death and being infatuated with someone, just saying, I reminded myself.
“I’m sorry,” I said, enjoying her startled reaction. “I tried slamming the front door, but you had the water running so you probably missed it.”
“Smartass,” she said, hitting me on the chest with her left hand while setting the glass of water down on the island with her right.
“I should pour this all over you for scaring me.”
I secretly hoped she would.
“I’m an adult, ma’am. Threats involving water don’t scare me in the slightest. Unless you add the word ‘boarding’ afterwards.”
She laughed.
“I don’t think I have it in me to torture you the way our government tortures terrorists.”
“Well, that’s a relief.”
“Not yet, anyway.”
Her smile was flashing more often around me. She really was getting comfortable with me. I wasn’t sure if this was good or bad. It would only be bad if being with me was comfortable in a “best guy friend” sort of way.
“Thanks for the water,” I said. “And the book.”
“You had better read it too. No taking it home and Googling it so you know all the details and are able to report to me without having read a word.”
“Do I strike you as the type to do that, ma’am?”
“I am not entirely sure the type you strike me as,” she said. “You clearly are the type to continue calling me ‘ma’am’ even after I politely asked you not to.”
There was no anger or frustration in her voice, or her face. Light seemed to permanently dance back and forth across her eyes.
The tank top she wore was white, and the bra underneath was black. The straps of both made zebra markings on both shoulders. I’m not sure if women realize how distracting it is when they wear black bras under white shirts.
Actually, I’m sure they do realize it. When she leaned forward on the island, it was difficult not to stare down at them. The difference between April and Gianna earlier at the restaurant was that I had no desire to stare at Gianna’s breasts, despite the fact that they were on display for all to see. I could stare at April for a long damn time.
Focus, Luke. The last thing you need is to become aroused in her kitchen.
My mind went back to the island, which was at least eight feet long and four feet wide. I was sure she and Marco had used the island for various sexual encounters. I knew I would have if April were my wife and this island were in my kitchen. As much as I hated thinking about that asshole doing anything with her, it helped bring my mind back from its state of arousal. I needed to find a better way of focusing in the future that didn’t require imagining them fucking.
“Come out here with me,” she said, grabbing my left elbow and leading/forcing me toward a door that led to the patio.
Patio wasn’t really the correct term, but that’s the only word that could come to mind. There were tables and chairs spread out along what seemed like the pinnacle of a ramp that led down on both sides to the pool below. Past the pool area, there was a large field with a playhouse and swings and slides. Beyond that, there was a small apartment unit that was most likely the nanny quarters.
She led me down the ramp to the only one of the tables by the pool. There were lounge chairs all around, which made it seem more like a hotel or resort pool than that of a family of four. This house and “patio” were clearly used often for entertaining. We sat down at the table, which looked out over the lit pool. From this angle, I could see that beyond the grassy area was a fence, and past the fence was a dock that stretched out into the Intercoastal Waterway. If you took a boat down a little ways, either way, the Intercoastal would feed into the Gulf of Mexico and you’d be out in the ocean.
“This is a beautiful house,” I said, feeling dumb for even saying it. It was like seeing a Mona Lisa and saying “Wow, that’s neat.” Of course it was, and it went without saying.
“Thank you,” she said as she set her glass down and leaned back. “This was Marco’s dream house.”
My dream house wasn’t nearly this big. I wondered if there was something wrong with my dreams.
“Did the one in Colorado compare?”
“Oh god, no. Not at all. I mean, our house there was nice, but he didn’t plan on staying there long, so he wanted to get something lower scale. When he got traded to the Rays, he flew down here before us to go house hunting. I got a call from him the second he saw this one and he said he had found the house he had always wanted.”
“I think this would be most people’s dream house.” Not mine. I wanted something that felt like a home.
“Thankfully, he has always been decent with his money. Unlike a lot of other athletes. So he doesn’t make many big purchases. Obviously this is the biggest one he could have probably made, but seeing as how the money is basically all his, I wasn’t going to throw a fit.”
“I can see why you need a nanny-slash-housekeeper.”
“Yeah. Even if I wasn’t working there’s no way I would be able to maintain the house by myself. Thank God for Paula. And thank God for my job.”
“You don’t like it here?” I said. Her tone made it sound like she could take or leave the house and not care one way or the other. I knew plenty of people who would trade places with her.
“Luke, I am not complaining, I promise. It’s just an enormous house for four people, two of whom aren’t even in elementary school yet. Plus, he’s gone half the year so it’ll just make things more difficult for us. But, it’s a nice house, obviously. And he loves having teammates and friends over for poker nights and parties.”
“He is a pretty lively guy off the field too?”
She laughed.
“Yeah, he is a passionate individual about whatever he does, from throwing a baseball to throwing a party. His whole family is that way. Those Cubans know how to have fun.”
“This is quite the house for entertaining. I guess if I had a house like this I might invite one or two people over.”
“I bet your idea of a party is having English professors over, smoking cigars and drinking brandy,” she said, playfully pushing my right shoulder.
She was sitting to my right, probably less than a foot away. I didn’t think she was sitting close enough to me, but I imagined if Marco suddenly showed up he might have a different take on it.
“I don’t know. Cigars can be hazardous to your health. We would probably smoke those ridiculous fake cigarettes they sell in the mall.”
“Who the hell uses those things?” She chuckled. “Douchebags, that’s who.”
A slight breeze began to pick up and it started to actually feel pretty cool outside. The weather rarely gave you any relief in September, but tonight had turned very pleasant. I wished I could stay there all night. Damn Marco.
I turned around and was taking in my surroundings, looking up at the backside of the house. The house looked even bigger from this side, dark windows peering down at me from every direction like many eyes on a spider.
“Are your kids okay in the house by themselves?” I asked. I wasn’t used to taking kids into account when I did things, but I was probably dumb to ask a mother like April if she was taking care of her kids or not.
She reached into the right pocket of her pajama pants and pulled out a slender walkie talkie looking device. I had no idea when she slipped it into her pocket, but there was no way it had been there earlier.
“They’re fine,” she said, increasing the volume so the nothingness coming from the radio became even louder. Then she turned it back down. “In a house like this, you need all kinds of contraptions to make sure the kids don’t wander off into some corner of the house they don’t belong. Their corner of the house has sensors that’ll let me know if they get up in the middle of the night and wander outside of where they are supposed to be.”
That sounded very high-tech, and very expensive.
She placed her left hand on my right forearm.
“I will give you a tour of the house sometime, not tonight though. There’s a movie theater and a billiard room. I swear sometimes I feel like I’m wandering through the Clue house.”
“Mrs. White in the billiard room with the lead pipe,” I chimed in.
“Lead pipe, huh? How very brutal. I think I would choose the gun. Much quicker and cleaner.”
“Cleaner? How do you figure? The rope would probably be the cleanest one,” I said, turning toward her. Her hand was still on my arm, her body warmth pouring through her touch.
“I meant it would be cleaner for me,” she said, laughing and leaning forward. It was like we were getting closer by the minute. “Killing someone with a rope would take time to set everything up. The knife and the wrench and the lead pipe would make you get close enough to the person where they could overpower you. Oh, and the candlestick too. And let’s face it, I could outrun them, but that’s probably about it. So, for someone like me, the gun would be the easiest.”
This was a strange conversation to take part in, but I loved it. She was a nerd, that much was obvious to me the day she sat in on my class and helped discuss To Kill a Mockingbird. She was also a thinker, and even with the Clue killings, she was showing herself to be calculated, someone who made decisions deliberately. She probably wasn’t all that impulsive.
This meant that the soup was probably a thought out decision, and saying yes to dinner, and inviting me back for the book. Hell, now that I started thinking about it, the fact that she “forgot” the book here at the house could very well have been thought out.
Or maybe I just overthink everything. That was entirely possible too.
The breeze was picking up and I could see the goose bumps on her left arm as her hand continued to rest on my arm. It felt natural. I wasn’t tense, and neither was she. We both seemed very relaxed and comfortable. But she was getting cold a
nd I had nothing to cover her up with.
“Are you cold?” I finally asked. “Should we go back inside?”
She squeezed my arm.
“No, I’m fine unless you are cold. I come out here all the time to read once the kids go to bed.”
God, I’d be out here all the time at night if this were my house. My backyard is just grass and an orange tree with a view of a wooden fence.
“No, I am comfortable. I just saw the goose bumps on your arm when the breeze picked up.”
“You actually noticed something like that?” she asked, seeming almost startled.
“Well, yeah.”
“God, you are an observant man.”
“It’s one of my numerous flaws.”
“Oh shut up. Don’t be so self-effacing all the time. Most people aren’t very observant at all.”
I didn’t really know what to say in response, so I took her advice and shut up for a few minutes.
The breeze blew softly through the trees all around the house. I loved the way a nice sea-breeze sounded, but I normally never took to the time to sit somewhere and listen to it. I didn’t get down near the water very often. Most Floridians took it for granted, at least the ones who weren’t fortunate enough to actually live on the water.
The water in the pool glistened from the light underneath, and the breeze had caused a slight rippling. The pool looked inviting. I had half a mind to pick April up and toss her in. Part of me thought she might be the type of girl who would actually like something like that. Or at least laugh about it.
I had attempted that once with Carrie at her parents’ house and she didn’t speak to me for the rest of the night. Some girls just liked spontaneous, and even though April was calculating, she also had an air about her that screamed playful.
I glanced over at her, and her eyes were lost in a gaze somewhere off to her right. I could have followed to see what was transfixing her, but I preferred looking at her. She was breathing slowly, and her chest was rising and falling in a steady rhythm. The wisps of hair that had freed itself from her ponytail fluttered joyously in the breeze. She really was a beautiful woman, was in any light. But moonlight made her shine. This would be one of those moments that get permanently seared into your memory.
