Two to Tango (Erotic Romance)

by Strong, Mimi

  I shook my head, laughing.

  “Did I get that wrong?” my mother asked. “I’m on Instagram, and Twitter, and Facebook. I don’t post all my drama for everyone to judge, but I like to play the games.”

  “I’m just laughing because if I’d gotten Charlie’s full name and googled him the night we met, things might have been so different.”

  She sighed. “It’s not too late for you two. And it’s just as easy to love a rich man as a poor one.”

  “Are you kicking me out in attempt to drive me back to Charlie?”

  “No, but that’s a good idea. I wish I had thought of that. Kind of like poisoning your father.”

  “Mom!”

  She held up her hands. “So shoot me. I like sick jokes.”

  I picked up a mushy raisin from the sink and tossed it at her playfully. “You are a sick joke.”

  “Don’t bang the door when you come home after work. And would you at least try to hide your drugs from me? Don’t leave everything in your pockets to get spread out in the washing machine.”

  “That wasn’t mine,” I lied.

  “Did you look at those night school brochures?”

  “I work nights. And I have my teacher training already. There just aren’t any jobs.”

  She crushed out her second cigarette and left the kitchen, muttering about me being pigheaded.

  “I’m not pigheaded!” I called after her.

  And I wasn’t. I’d picked up and moved my entire life to Arizona at my mother’s suggestion. Who does something like that? Not a pigheaded person.

  I was totally taking a stab at being flexible and open-minded. I’d even agreed to go on a date later that week, with the cousin of one of the other dancers. Would a pigheaded person agree to a blind date? No, they would not.

  Chapter 25

  Charlie

  AUGUST

  Skye didn’t use the phone number I’d written on her fridge to call me that night.

  She didn’t call me the next day, either. She did, however, send me a text.

  Skye: Charlie, my mother phoned me and suggested I should come live with her for a while. Just until I can make a fresh start of my life. In fact, I’m already gone. It turns out I didn’t have much to pack. I talked to my landlord already, and you have until the fifteenth of next month to pick up your furniture. I left you a key in the mailbox. I’m sorry it didn’t work out with us. Thanks for trying. Love, Skye.

  I frantically replied with a barrage of text messages and phone calls, but a recorded message said the account had been deactivated.

  Duncan was with me when I got the text message, having lunch with me at the restaurant in The Cedars. We sat in the garden room, the same place I’d shared lunch with Skye.

  “She left town,” I told him, relaying the message.

  “How bad did she beat that guy up?” he asked. “Like, is he in a coma or something?”

  “Just a few stitches. Nothing to leave town over.”

  “Probably for the best,” he said, chasing the capers around his plate with a fork.

  “Do you really think she was that bad?”

  “Of course not. She’s hot, and smart, and has a good body, plus she likes your sorry ass. She was the perfect girl. I’m only saying she was bad because I’m jealous and don’t want to share you with anyone prettier than me.”

  “You’re strangely honest sometimes, Duncan.”

  “And you’re honestly strange, but I love you, man.”

  “I’m driving over to her house. There’s no way she got packed up and moved out that fast. She’s totally bluffing.”

  Duncan tossed his napkin on the table and stood. “Let’s roll out, Batman.”

  “I’m Batman and you’re Robin?”

  “Don’t make me laugh. I’m Spider-Man.”

  “Then we live in different universes. I’m DC and you’re Marvel.”

  Duncan rolled his eyes. “Can’t we all get along? And since when are there different universes?”

  We walked through the lobby and out the building’s front doors.

  “What if she really is gone?” I asked.

  “We could try being gay, but you go first. No teeth. Okay, maybe just a little bit of teeth. But no biting.”

  I’d been worried ever since leaving Skye’s place the day before, and this new text message made my guts hurt, but I joked along with Duncan because it made me feel safe, like nothing would ever change.

  “I could do better that you, man,” I said as we got into the car. “I’d probably get someone younger than me, maybe a hot male gymnast with no flab.”

  Duncan sucked in his stomach. “I have zero flab,” he wheezed.

  “No, honey. You shouldn’t have had dressing on your salad. It’s all going to your hips.”

  Duncan pretended to cry, rubbing his fists under his eyes.

  I pulled out of the parking spot fast enough to spray up gravel.

  ~

  I drove up to Skye’s place as fast as I could without getting pulled over. I checked the mailbox and found an envelope with my name on it, and two keys inside. One fit the exterior door.

  Duncan followed me up the stairs. “This house must be a hundred years old,” he muttered. “Smell that. Lathe and plaster. This old gal probably still has some knob and tube in the walls. So much character. They don’t make them like this anymore.”

  My hand shaking, I used the second key to open the door to the top floor suite. “Hello?” The door squeaked open.

  We walked into the apartment.

  I could still smell her, the unique scent of her skin.

  All the cupboards in the kitchen were open and empty. Sun streamed in through the closed curtains, and from above, through the two skylights high above the exposed rafters.

  Duncan went straight to the leather sofa and patted the back of it. True to her message, all the furniture I bought at the auction was still there.

  “I’ll take this off your hands,” Duncan said. “Sixty cents on the dollar.”

  I gave him a dirty look and continued my exploration of the apartment, including both bedrooms, the bathroom, and a funny closet the depth of a soup can.

  “That used to hold an ironing board,” Duncan explained. “And I don’t think she’s in there.”

  “Now what?”

  “You tell me,” Duncan said. “You’re the guy who solves problems. Is this a problem you need to solve?”

  The buzzer for the intercom sounded. I crossed the room and pressed the button.

  The man on the other end identified himself as the landlord, and asked if he could come in to see about fixing a light switch. I said sure, and he let himself in the bottom door.

  A minute later, a round-bellied man with suspenders came in and kicked off his work boots.

  “You must be the friend with the furniture,” he said, shaking my hand.

  “That’s exactly who I am.”

  The man craned his neck, looking around the place. “The furniture looks like it was made for this apartment,” he said.

  “Actually, it does,” Duncan said. “This place is pretty sweet, and with two bedrooms, it’s way bigger than my pool house.”

  The landlord nodded. “Half of next month’s rent is already paid for, so you can move in right away, since your furniture’s already here.”

  Duncan and I looked at each other for a moment.

  “Yes,” I said. “I’m sure Skye will be coming back, so that’s a good idea. I’ll take care of her place until she gets back.”

  “I’ll need you to fill out a tenant application,” the man said.

  Duncan raised his hand. “Excuse me. Is bidding already closed? I’ll pay a hundred dollars more than him.”

  The landlord raised his eyebrows. “Give me just one minute to go down to the truck and get the paperwork.”

  Chapter 26

  Skye

  AUGUST

  My blind date with that dancer’s cousin didn’t start off so well. He knew wha
t I did for a living, and he asked me about a thousand and one rude questions.

  At least he paid for dinner.

  The waitress slipped him her phone number on the bill.

  Was he that cute? I couldn’t tell anymore. Guys all looked the same to me. This one wore glasses.

  I didn’t like the waitress hitting on him, though.

  “Thank you for coming by,” she said, patting him on the shoulder.

  I had half a mind to slap the shit out of her, but that might have been the coke talking.

  “We could go for a walk,” suggested my date. His name was Stefan, and he was a computer programmer who kept mentioning his PhD in history. He kept mentioning his school, too, but I’d never heard of it.

  “Sure, let’s go for a walk!” I pushed the chair back, banging into the elderly man who’d been sitting behind us, slurping his spaghetti noisily for the last twenty minutes.

  Stefan held his elbow out for me in his own nerdy version of being a gentleman, and we left the restaurant.

  “I don’t date much,” he said.

  We walked past a convenience store and a strip mall. The sun had just set, and most of the passing cars had their headlights on. The air had suddenly shifted away from searing, and was a pleasant temperature on my skin, from what I could feel.

  “Stefan, I’m kind of a mess.” The words tumbled from my mouth, confession style. No more holding back from guys. I’d just dump it all on them day one. “You should know, I’m sleeping on your cousin’s couch, living out of a suitcase. When you were looking over the dessert menu back there, I was in the bathroom, putting yesterday’s earnings up my nose.”

  “You’re high?”

  “I’m not low. Like I said, I’m a mess, Stefan. You don’t want me.”

  “But you’re so pretty. You could get married tomorrow, if you wanted to.”

  “Are you saying you want to marry me?”

  “I just met you, Skye, but I really like you so far.”

  “Even though I made fun of your history degree?”

  “Especially because you made fun of my history degree. What a fucking useless piece of paper.” He took off his glasses and tucked them into his shirt pocket.

  Without the glasses, Stefan was about equally attractive to how he was with the glasses. I didn’t see him in a new way. He was still the same guy I’d written off in the first few seconds for not being Charlie.

  “You swore,” I said.

  We stopped at an intersection, waiting for the lights to turn. I didn’t know where we were walking to, but Stefan seemed to know the way. I took his hand, twined my fingers with his, and wished that he could be more like Charlie.

  “Did you google me?” he asked.

  “No, I like to live dangerously. Did I ever tell you about the computer-nerd roommate I had, who robbed my apartment and skipped out on the rent?”

  “How could someone hurt you like that?”

  “People hurt each other all the time.”

  He squeezed my hand and nodded that the light had changed and we could cross the street.

  “We shouldn’t accept that,” he said. “We shouldn’t live our lives around pain. I’ll tell you one good thing about studying history—you figure out a few things about life.”

  We crossed the intersection, still holding hands like a couple of teenagers.

  “What does history teach us?” I asked.

  “That eventually everything turns to dust. Every human, every monument, every building. Dust.”

  “And how is this supposed to make me feel better?”

  “It’s not.”

  “C’mon, Charlie.”

  He stopped walking and pulled me back to face him, under the yellow glow of a streetlamp. “Who’s Charlie?”

  I looked up, at the moths flitting around the bright light overhead.

  “Who’s Charlie?” he asked again.

  “He’s nothing,” I said. “Dust.”

  ~

  Would dating a computer programmer with a PhD in history really be so bad? That’s what I was asking myself that night as I dabbed glue across my eyelid and affixed a row of false eyelashes.

  Stefan had taken me on three dates so far, and I’d been off drugs of all kinds for a week. I actually had some money rolled up in my jeans pocket—enough to make me consider opening up a bank account. I also had the option of hitching a ride to Las Vegas. That sounded like more fun than opening up a bank account.

  One of the other dancers sat down next to me to fix her makeup. “Eyelashes?” she asked. “But you’re not dancing tonight, it’s Ladies’ Night. Are you trying to make yourself look good for all those male dancers that’ll be up on our stage tonight swinging their ding-dongs like firehoses?”

  “I’m helping behind the bar, but I still want to look good.”

  “Are you still seeing Mr. Glasses?”

  “Stefan? Yes.”

  “Does he have a big dick? I mean, what’s the appeal?”

  “He’s nice. I haven’t slept with him, so I don’t know.”

  She stared at me, batting her eyelashes in disbelief. “What are you waiting for? You know, your cherry won’t grow back.” She pulled a bottle from her purse and shook it. “Want a Tic-Tac?”

  The pills she was offering were not breath mints, so I said no.

  The head bartender, Nick, knocked on the doorframe. “Skye. You’ve got someone here to see you. A guy.”

  I didn’t have plans to see Stefan that night, but I assumed the visitor was him. “Send him in here. It’s just the two of us and we’re both dressed.”

  “Guys can’t come in,” Nick said. “Not on Ladies’ Night. Not unless they’re staff or dancers. Go see your friends in the parking lot.”

  “Friends?” I got a bad feeling, like a dancer about to get kidnapped by an obsessed customer, even though I couldn’t think of anyone who’d been giving me the creep vibe.

  Nick had already walked away, and the other dancer had disappeared into the bathroom to crush up her pill.

  We did have security cameras in the parking lot, plus my curiosity was high. Stefan might have stopped by with a friend.

  I stepped out to the parking lot, blazing bright with summer evening sun.

  A guy stepped out of a familiar-looking car, and my mind played that trick on me, where it made him look like Charlie.

  He walked toward me, pulling off his sunglasses.

  Another guy stepped out of the passenger side of the car. He tossed back his shaggy hair. “Duncan!” I yelled.

  He waved.

  The man walking toward me stopped in front of me, his sunglasses parked on top of his dark hair. His hazel eyes were even more captivating than I remembered. “Skye,” he said. “I found you.”

  “I wasn’t lost.” I looked over my shoulder, at the door to the building, but my feet wouldn’t move.

  “Gloria found you,” he said. “She worked with my investigator, Cooper, and they tracked you down, here. It wasn’t easy.”

  “Gloria?” I backed away. “She shouldn’t have done that. I told her I wanted a fresh start.”

  “Your friend Gloria loves you. She wanted to drive up here with us, to get you and bring you home. She had a family thing, though, so it’s just me and Duncan.”

  “Bring me home? You can’t do that. I have a new life here. I have nothing back there.”

  He took my hands and pulled me to him gently. “You have me. And you have your old job waiting for you, if you want it.”

  I shook my head and looked away. “I don’t want that anymore. I’m making good money here, and I’m saving up. I might go back to school.”

  “Do you have a boyfriend?”

  “Sorta.”

  “Do you love him?”

  I looked down at the asphalt, and then across the parking lot, the view distorted by shimmering heat waves from the sun hitting the pavement.

  “No,” I said. I didn’t love Mr. Glasses. But that wasn’t to say I wouldn’t eventually.
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  “Do you love me?” he asked.

  “I hate you.”

  “Fair enough. I did accuse you of being my father’s mistress. You know the funny thing about that? My stepmother has a red dress. The exact same kind as the one you have. She was wearing it the day my father dragged her into the steam room for some daytime play time. I guess it was a popular dress, because she stopped wearing it after she saw one of our members, Mrs. Winfield, wearing the same one.” Still holding my hands, he swung our arms between us awkwardly. “Pretty funny coincidence, don’t you think? I love that red dress. We should get married, and you should wear that red dress, because it brought us together.”

  “I have a boyfriend.”

  The door behind me squeaked open. Nick was there, his red hair bright in the sun. “Everything okay out here?” he asked me.

  I wiped the sweat from my forehead. “Can my friends come in and have a drink? Hardly anyone’s here.”

  Nick crossed his massive arms. “No men, except staff and dancers. Are you about finished, Skye? Those limes aren’t going to chop themselves.”

  I turned to Charlie. “You shouldn’t have come here. I have a life. A fresh start. My problems aren’t for you to solve. My life is all mine, for me to fuck up.”

  “Can I see you tomorrow? We’re staying over at the motel. The one where your mother works.”

  “You saw my mother?”

  “Not yet, but I talked to her on the phone. She’s the one who told me to come see you in person. She said that people have let you down your whole life, including her, and she wants to do better by you.”

  “Did she tell you she kicked me out of her house?”

  He chuckled. “We didn’t get into those sort of details. She did ask me what I knew about investing in time-shares. She said the accounting didn’t add up, and she’s worried that people are being ripped off by time-share operations. She thinks they take advantage of people who aren’t good with money.”

  Still standing at the door, Nick cleared his throat to remind me of my shift.

  “I have to go, Charlie,” I said. “Can we talk tomorrow?”