Anything for Her

by Lola StVil

  (Present)

  I don’t know how she does it. That girl can make me say yes to things I would never agree to in a million years. We’re seated on the sofa and I just agreed to let her stay in a city where the whole damn world is seeking her out to kill her. I would have flat out refused to let her stay but I get her wanting to stand up for a friend. I also know how powerless she must have felt in that closet. I’m sure it brought back some deep shit from when she was little.

  She is blaming herself for Joanne’s death and feels she can only make that right by putting her killer away. However agreeable I may be right now, I swear to God, the first sign of something going wrong, I’m dragging her selfless ass into the car and we’re leaving.

  “I’m starving. Have you eaten yet?” she asks.

  “No, not yet.”

  “Please don’t tell me we’re ordering room service.” She moans.

  “Are you saying you don’t feel like paying fifty bucks for a bowl of fruit?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  “Yeah, I kind of figured,” I reply as I direct her attention to the bag of food on the dining table. She rushes over to it and reads the restaurant label on the bag.

  “You went to Ruby’s?!”

  “I stopped by my mom’s place and it’s on the way so…”

  “Thank you, I haven’t been by there in so long,” she says as she begins to take the food out of the bag and place it onto the table.

  “You love that place, I figured you go every other day,” I reply as I help her set up.

  “No, I don’t like going over there,” she says as she avoids making eye contact.

  “Why?”

  She bites her bottom lip and tries to keep her tone casual. “We used to go there all the time, it felt wrong to go without you,” she says softly. My heart skips. Goddamn her for being so…ARGH!

  “I got you a Diet Coke. Is that still what you like?” I ask, trying to keep my emotions at bay.

  “Yeah, it still works for me,” she says as we sit down to eat. She takes a bunch of fries and pops them into her mouth all at once. I envision licking the salt off her fingers, and right away, my fucking cock moves.

  “You went to see your mom, how is she?” Shay asks.

  “She’s been in the garden all day.”

  “Shit, who didn’t check in?” she asks, clearly concerned.

  I suppress a smile. I like that she remembers what that means. I liked that she cares enough to worry.

  “Cash,” I reply.

  “Is he undercover?”

  “Yeah and has been for weeks.”

  “Oh no. How much time has passed since he was supposed to check in with her?” she asks.

  “A little over twenty-four hours.”

  “She must be going crazy. Anything I can do to help your mom?”

  “No, but thanks. I went over there and did what I had to do…”

  “You lied to her.”

  “Yeah,” I reply, feeling my stomach knotting up. “I know it was a fucked-up thing to do but…I couldn’t stand to see her stressed out.”

  “It’s okay, your mom doesn’t believe you when you lie to her. She knows your tell.” Shay smiles as she dips her fries in ketchup.

  “I don’t have a ‘tell.’”

  “Yeah, you do. But it’s okay because she knows you’re lying because you care and don’t want her to worry.”

  “So, you’re not gonna tell me what I do that lets you and my mother know that I’m lying?”

  “Nope. I like having a small advantage over you.”

  “Your advantage over me has never been small,” I reply before I can stop myself. She doesn’t reply. I should have let it go right there but I couldn’t. I just couldn’t.

  “When I went to see Wyatt, he had some theory about you and me,” I inform her.

  “Oh, he did? What’s the theory?”

  “He thinks that there’s something I’m missing about the night of the wedding. He thinks that there’s a chance you are holding something back from me about that night. He says that I’m jumping to conclusions. But that can’t be, right? Because you came over to my house later that night and I asked you straight out if you were cheating on me and you said yes.”

  She puts her fries down and lowers her eyes.

  Her eyes. One of the many reasons I fell in love with her. I remember thinking I was in trouble but not really understanding what that meant. It wasn’t just that I wanted to protect her body and soul; I wanted her to need me and I wanted her to be mine in every way.

  ***

  Logan (Three years ago)

  I really don’t know how that shit happened but according to the people around us Shay and I are dating. I don’t know what you call it. All I know is that I want to spend every waking hour with her. I find myself counting down the minutes until I see her. It’s frightening how seeing her makes every fucking thing in my life better.

  Sometimes I catch her sneaking a glance over at me. I’ll text her, warning her that if she doesn’t stop, I’m going to have to take her right there in the police station. We sneak off and kiss like fucking teenagers every chance we get. We spend the weekends in bed and the weekdays dreaming about the weekends.

  We haven’t had sex yet, and believe it or not, I’m good with it. I figure we can wait a few days and it will only make it that much better. If kissing her is anything to go by, sex with her is going to be fucking mind blowing. It’s Saturday morning and Shay has just come over with breakfast. She’s in my kitchen placing the food on a plate. She points out that I lack tableware and furniture.

  “I hardly eat here. And I have a bed, a sofa, and a record player to listen to all the jazz I love. I don’t need anything else,” I reply as I sneak up behind her and kiss her neck. “Well, maybe I need one more thing,” I say. She laughs and playfully pushes me away.

  “Seriously you should do something with this place. It’s so beautiful. The high ceilings, the hardwood floors, and the crown molding…”

  “I will tell you the same thing I told my mom when she wanted to decorate. No.”

  “Your mom tried to decorate for you?” she asks.

  “Yeah, she did all my brothers’ homes. But I know it’s her way of checking in on me and I don’t want anything pink and shit in my house.”

  “And what do the other women think about this minimalist look you have going on?” she asks.

  “I don’t bring women to my home,” I inform her. She looks back at me as if to say she doesn’t believe me.

  “I’m serious. This is my space I don’t share. I spend most of my time at work and when I come home, I don’t want to deal with anyone else. And I don’t want to bring a woman here and give her the wrong idea.”

  “So, why am I here?” she asks.

  “Because you’re different. Special. And because I don’t want a day to go by where I don’t see you.”

  “How do I know that you don’t say that to everyone?” she says in a low whisper.

  I walk up to her and place my hand under her chin and make her face me. “I don’t share my space, my feelings, or my memories of my sister with random women. I have done that with you because you matter to me. I hope you believe that because it’s the truth,” I reply as I shake my head in frustration and walk over to the kitchen window that looks out onto the street.

  “You seem upset, do you want me to go?” she asks.

  “No, that’s the last thing I want,” I reply.

  “I didn’t mean to…I’m just not sure what this is.”

  “Well, neither am I. All I can do is promise to be upfront with you. That’s all I got.”

  “Okay, sounds fair. So, be up front. How do you feel about me; us?”

  “I have no fucking idea what’s happening between us but I like it. I like knowing I will hear from you and that at some point in my day I will get to see your face. And when I think about you everything around me stands still. I don’t know how the fuck you became
my goddamn sun but you are, and everything I do is revolving around you.

  “I’m told that means I’m in love. So, if feeling like you are gonna fucking lose your mind if you can’t be with that person means being in love, then that’s what I am. I am in love with you. But I don’t know if I’m any good at being in love so…you might not want to take this ride with me,” I warn.

  “What if I do? What if I feel the same way and what if like you, I have no idea what I’m doing?” she asks.

  “Then I guess we’re both screwed.” I laugh ironically. She comes over to me and kisses me with need and hunger. Right away, I have plans for us. It goes like this: Sex. Food. Repeat. I share my “to do list” with her. She laughs but I swear before the laughter there was a quick flash of something—panic? Worry? Fear? I’m not sure.

  “I love your list, Logan, but I can’t. I’m having lunch with Kat and I have to meet a client and help her get a nice dress for court.”

  “Is it that woman you’ve been working with—Jennifer?”

  “Yeah, she is finally ready to face her ex.”

  “You have a gift at this, you know that?” I reply as I take her face in my hands and kiss her. I growl, wanting—needing—so much more of her.

  “Someone’s at the door!” she says, sounding almost relieved as she runs off to open the front door. I don’t know who is there but I’m pissed that they are here at all. I need to be alone with Shay. I need to be inside her, have her squeezing my cock as she screams out from yet another orgasm. Seriously, who the fuck is at the door?

  “Who is it?” I ask Shay as she comes back into the kitchen.

  “It’s some woman,” she says. I go to the entrance.

  “Aw hell, it’s not a woman; it’s Shelby,” I reply, not bothering to hid my irritation. My sister-in-law Shelby is a good-looking woman. She’s black, her skin damn near glows, and she has never left the house without looking perfect. She’s all designer and glam. She knows everything that goes on in the NYC social scene. She’s nosy as hell and has yet to learn the fine art of shutting the hell up. Oh and one other thing—she never fucking calls before she comes over.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I ask.

  “I love you too, Logan, and move aside. I need to meet the ‘Miracle,’” she says as she walks over to Shay and studies her.

  “Shelby, this is Shay. Shay, this chatty fly buzzing around you is Shelby. My sister-in-law. She’s married to my oldest brother. And she very gifted. She’s the only being in the world that can gossip under water. She is as persistent as a gnat fly and twice as annoying.

  “Oh and she has a very big allergy—to cell phones—which explains why she never fucking calls before she comes over.”

  “Don’t listen to him, he loves me. Hi Shay!” Shelby says as she hugs Shay.

  Shay’s eyes widen as she politely hugs Shelby back. Shelby goes on a mile a minute about some function she wants the two of us to attend. Shay and I exchange a look. She’s amused by Shelby’s motor mouth; I, on the other hand, am not.

  “I just wanted to meet the girl who tamed the beast, that’s all. She did the impossible. She got you to focus on something other than work. Hence the name Miracle,” Shelby says.

  “Um, I don’t think I tamed…I mean—”

  “Shay, don’t pay attention to her,” I reply. “Shelby, what do you want?”

  “I’m here to take the miracle out to lunch. We have to get to know each other.”

  “Oh that sound nice, but I already have lunch plans,” Shay says. “Maybe next week?” she adds.

  “Shay, don’t encourage Shelby. Spending time with her is like torture. Seriously, I thought of reporting her to the ACLU.”

  “He thinks he’s so damn clever. But Logan is forgetting that I am always right about the women he dates. Granted he’s more of a ‘one night and done’ kind of guy but still, I’ve helped him stay away from the crazies. I can always recognize them.”

  “I should hope so, you’re their leader,” I mumble.

  “Shay, what you need to know about this family is that the men think they know things but really, they don’t.”

  “Oh, got it. So we tell them what to do?” she asks.

  “It’s really the only way,” Shelby replies. The two of them exchange a smile.

  I’m going to throw Shelby out the window and then hunt my brother down and shoot him for marrying her in the first place.

  “Shell, I need you to get the hell out of my house,” I reply.

  “See, that’s his way of saying he’s happy to see me. Now Shay, meeting up next week sounds great. Here is my card. I can’t wait to show you some of the tricks that I have learned to ward off the hordes of women coming your way.”

  “What women?” Shay asks.

  “Oh honey, you’re with a guy who’s rich, hot, packs a gun, and is packing,” she says suggestively. “Did you think the women of New York would just let you take him home and not fight for him? No honey, I will teach you how to fend those thirsty, low-class women away.”

  “Okay, it’s time to go. Now,” I reply.

  “That’s enough, Shelby,” I say as I nudge her towards the door. She calls out to Shay as I push her to the exit. “Yes, girl, the hoards. C’mon, the Hunter boys have money, muscle and manners. You need to stake your claim, now!” she says as she turns to face me. I slam the door in her face, knowing full well it won’t stop her from coming back anytime she wants. I need to change my damn locks.

  Shay laughs and tells me she thinks that Shelby would be fun to hang out with. I groan and roll my eyes. Then I get a text from Shelby.

  “Be nice to her, you brute, virgins break easily.”

  ***

  It’s a few days before Shay and I get a chance to really talk because things got busy at work. We finally got a moment to ourselves after we came back from dinner with Wyatt and his wife, Winter. The two women got along really well and had no issue with us breaking off to talk shop about one of Wyatt’s new cases.

  Wyatt joked that being with only one woman was so new to me; I may need classes on how to do it. I make a mental note to kick the shit out of him when I see him again. When we get back to my place, I ask Shay to join me on the terrace. We talk about dinner for a little while but I have to confess, my thoughts are all on the text that Shelby sent me.

  “How was your lunch with Shelby?” I ask as I pour some water into her glass.

  “She had to cancel at the last minute but she said we’d try again,” Shay replies.

  “I’m sorry she’s so damn pushy and…well, so damn ‘Shelby.’”

  “I like her. She’s crazy but in a fun way, I think.”

  “She’s actually had this theory for as long as I have known her. She thinks that she can tell if a woman has had sex or not.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, she’s an idiot. But she texted me and thinks that I should be gentle with you because you’re a virgin,” I reply. I see her reluctant expression; right away I know that Shelby is right. Fuck me. She leaves the terrace and walks back into the house. She starts to gather her things and her face is red but I’m not sure if it’s from anger or embarrassment.

  “Shay, where are you going?” I ask.

  “Home.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you are discussing our love life or lack thereof to your family like I’m some juicy piece of gossip for you and your family to tear into.”

  “That’s not it at all,” I protest.

  “Oh really? Then why does Shelby think I’m a virgin if it wasn’t something you said?”

  “Okay, first you have to stop trying to leave,” I reply as I block her exit. She is seething. Her arms are folded in front of her, and if I wasn’t twice her size she would have tried to tackle me to get out. Actually, knowing her, she might do just that.

  “Shelby is just guessing. I didn’t tell her anything because I had no idea. I don’t talk about the stuff that happens with us in the bedroom because I
’m not thirteen and I don’t give a fuck what anyone else thinks but you and me.”

  “How did Shelby know?” She breaks, now placing her hands on her hips.

  “It could be part of the pact she made with the devil: in exchange for her soul, she gets to pick out virgins and get good parking through New York City,” I tease.

  “This is not a joke, Logan.”

  “I’m not joking. She once got a parking spot right in front of City Hall! Tell me that’s not some supernatural shit,” I tease as I come close and press my body against hers. She’s still pouting and angry but she doesn’t push me away, so I guess it’s a start.

  I try to get her to look at me but she keeps looking away. I lower my voice as I whisper in her ear, “C’mon, you know you don’t want to be mad at me.” She huffs as if to reinforce how upset I have made her. I pout back at her, “Don’t be that way, it makes me sad too. See,” I reply, giving her a totally exaggerated pout as I wrap my arms around her and move in closer.

  She is now making eye contact. She’s trying to stay mad but it’s a losing battle once I nibble on her ear and whisper, “Don’t be mad. Please, Anika.” That works but I’m still on thin ice with her. She walks over to the chair by my vintage record player. She likes sitting there as I play her the jazz records I love. I grab a chair and take a seat beside her. I play a Miles Davis record that’s soft and easy to listen to in the background.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were…”

  “A freak,” she says bitterly.

  “That’s not it at all.”

  “I can save you the trouble of asking. I’m not religious and I’m not saving myself for marriage. I just couldn’t…” There are tears gleaming in her eyes, on the verge of spilling over.

  “Hey, you don’t have to cry, it doesn’t matter to me. You could have been with a dozen guys or no guy at all. All I care about is that I get to be the one you’re with now,” I reply as I place a hand on her knee.