Double Entendre: (City of Steel 2) (The Vault)

by Katherine Rhodes

So I tried to find out what I had done, and I couldn’t get him to say more than a few words at a time.

  Finally, I gave up. I made an educated guess it was that Laicy was in my life and I made dinner plans for all of us.

  “Vanity…”

  I held up my hand. “Stop, Simon. You need to meet her. I know that now. She and I had a very long talk about this and you need to be part of that.”

  He shook his head.

  “Stop it. This was hard for me to do. Laicy and I aren’t in the best place right now and I’m all kind of confused about everything. Please, just come to dinner with me and meet her. Even if you decide to leave halfway through.”

  “I’m not that rude, Vanity. I’ll stay.” He let out a sigh.

  “You’re not feeling well, are you?” I asked. “Is it this Mistress Dee case?”

  “No. Well, yes, but not just. There’s more to it than that.”

  I curled into the chair next to him. “Are you mad at me?”

  “At you…? No. A little.”

  His admission shocked me. I really didn’t think it would be that easy to get it out of him. “Why? Please tell me. I don’t want you to be mad at me.”

  “There’s…a lot going on, Vanity. I can’t just—”

  “Simon. Please. I know I’ve been closed-mouthed about this, and I want that to change. I need you to confide in me too, though.”

  “You left the other night, when we got back from West Virginia.”

  “I needed to find my balance…”

  “I wanted to come back to you here, Vanity. I had an evening planned for you. I wanted to be the one to get you through what had happened. It just happened that I had set up the night. I was excited to see how you were going to like the surprise and you weren’t there.”

  My heart cracked a little. “You set up a night for me?”

  “A scene, Vanity. I still have everything in the basement,” he said. “I have been trying to figure out how to really come to terms with your kink, and Darien had agreed to come over and help me.”

  I put a hand over my mouth. “Are you serious?”

  He nodded slowly.

  Standing from the couch, I walked away. I had screwed up. Big time. He wasn’t okay with the polyamory—he was trying to figure out how to solve this himself. He didn’t want to share me with someone at all. He didn’t live in my world, and this was his way of trying to find the right balance.

  And that Darien had agreed? It just told me I was an idiot for doing this, for stepping outside the norms he knew. I was living in his house, and I couldn’t even manage to stay there.

  “I’m…I’m going to go change, Simon. I’ll be back down in a few minutes.”

  He grunted and I ran. Up the stairs, to our room and I shut the door. Only so I could hear him come in if he wanted to.

  How could I have been so focused on getting to Laicy that I didn’t realize I was abandoning Simon to deal with all he had to witness that day? And on top of that, Laicy had been right—I hadn’t come in the right frame of mind. I was desperate to forget. I’d ruined that scene too.

  I picked out a plain outfit. I wasn’t feeling up to getting dressed up, but I had picked a nice place for us. I had to at least try to make this work.

  I had the funny feeling this might come crashing down around my ears tonight. That was a terrible thought and I didn’t want it anymore.

  Simon eventually wandered up and put on a plain shirt and pants. Without another word between us, we headed downstairs and out to the garage.

  “I’m sorry, Simon,” I managed. “I didn’t mean to make this harder than it already is. There’s a reason people don’t throw me surprise parties. I have a bad habit of ruining them before they can get off the ground.”

  “It’s not that the surprise was ruined, Vanity. It’s that you just left me a note. Every other time you’ve gone to see Laicy, it’s been with advanced notice, and I thought maybe this time I could start to learn what you needed. And you were gone.”

  “I’m sorry…”

  He turned a corner. “Do you want to be in this relationship?”

  The question was soft, concerned, confused. Tears pricked at my eyes and I was sure my heart was going to break more. “Yes, Simon, I do. I do very much. That’s why we’re driving to see Laicy for dinner tonight. We can talk, face-to-face, about what all this is and what it means.”

  The road stretched out in front of us.

  “Do you love her?”

  Staring straight ahead, I swallowed hard. “Yes. I do.”

  “Do you love me?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  Goddammit. I was in love with two different people. One who could accept it, and one who was lost and confounded by it. And me. Who the hell knew where I sat in that mess.

  We pulled into the parking lot of the small restaurant, and I didn’t see Laicy’s car yet. My heart was racing as he parked, and I really felt a panic attack coming on. I wanted this to work. I wanted them to be friends at the least. I didn’t want to have to make a decision between them because either way would crush me.

  I loved sleeping in Simon’s bed, and I loved being beneath Laicy’s whip. I was being greedy, I knew that. But I wanted both of them. I wanted my life to be what I wanted just once, just for a little while.

  We were seated quickly, and I couldn’t order a glass of wine fast enough. It couldn’t get there fast enough. I knew alcohol and stress were bad, but then the waiter supplied us with a plate of bread.

  Simon only ordered a glass of water, which was strange for him because he usually loved a good micro-brewed beer and this place had them in spades.

  It started to tickle the back of my mind that maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t only me who was the problem here. He had a stressful job, an almost-ex-wife, friends who also needed help. I knew we had problems, but this level of depression in him was something I’d never seen before.

  “Are you nervous?” I asked.

  “Hmm?” He looked up at me. “I guess. A little. I’m used to talking to people in different situations, so…”

  “Usually in an interrogation room?”

  “Huh?”

  I sighed, the rude, sarcastic remark flying by him. He wasn’t really paying attention at all. “Do you want to call this off?”

  “No, no…”

  I looked straight up at the ceiling. “Look, I realize this isn’t easy or normal, but, Simon? You’re not even trying at this point.”

  “I have a lot on my plate.”

  “Simon. For fuck’s sake,” I growled. “You were the one who wanted to meet her in the first place. I wouldn’t have set this up.”

  “Don’t be angry with me.”

  “You won’t talk to me, what else am I supposed to think?”

  He was staring at me when I saw Laicy walk into the restaurant. I took a deep breath and wanted to call the whole thing off. I wanted to run screaming from the restaurant.

  Instead, I choked back my fear. “She’s here.”

  I had to get my head back in the game. This was important to Vanity and I was blowing it, big time.

  I just hadn’t been able to shake the guilt, or hide it. Cameron and I had cleaned up and I left. I hadn’t even grabbed the divorce papers.

  It took me nearly two days to call her. I had been crippled by guilt and fear and the reality of what I—we—had done.

  What the hell had come over us? We weren’t blaming each other, so there was that, but that meant we were both guilty. Guilty as hell. I had fucked my ex-wife against her sink, while our divorce papers sat on the table less than ten feet away.

  The motions were so ingrained in me that I was able to get through the two weeks without giving away the fact I wasn’t paying attention. To anything or anyone. I was drifting through life trying to figure out what the fuck I was doing.

  I was not a cheater. I didn’t cheat on my first grade girlfriend, I hadn’t ever cheated on any since.

  Except the woman across from me at the t
able. The one who, until that day in Cameron’s house, I had been shopping for an engagement ring for.

  I had fucked my life so bad.

  “She’s here.” The nervous tones rolled from Vanity across the table.

  Her Domme, the woman I couldn’t compete with, was walking toward our table. I didn’t want to stand or turn around. I didn’t want to deal with this, because I was going to have to deal with my infidelity soon after.

  At least Vanity knew herself well enough to ask permission.

  I apparently thought just fucking my ex was a good idea.

  I didn’t even know if she was really my ex yet.

  God, what the hell was wrong with me?

  Vanity stood from her seat and walked to where Laicy was approaching the table. I heard a kiss, and my manners kicked in. I stood from my chair to walk to the one on the side to hold it for the woman while she sat.

  The grin was strong in Vanity’s voice as she led the woman over to the table. “Laicy, this is—”

  “Simon?!”

  My head jerked up and around.

  No. Fucking. Way. This was impossible.

  I stared for a long moment at the woman standing next to Vanity and finally managed to hiss her name out. “Cameron.”

  Of course. Of fucking course. Cameron Laicillia McKinney Garabaldi. Her grandmother had called her Laicy.

  “You know each other?” Vanity was scared.

  “Vanessa,” Cameron said, her eyes fixed on me, “I’d like you to meet my estranged husband, Simon.”

  “You were married?” Vanity’s words were meant to be loud, but they were frightened and confused.

  My brain couldn’t handle any of this. At all. I glanced between the two women and just shook my head. “No. Nope. This isn’t happening right now. I need time. I need to leave. Vanity, the house is yours. I’ll call you when I feel like I can talk about this.”

  I turned on my heel and marched out of the restaurant, down the street to my car, and got in. I glanced in the rearview and saw the two of them—my wife and my lover—standing there at the door of the restaurant watching me peel away from the scene.

  I couldn’t think. I could barely breathe.

  My girlfriend was seeing my nearly-ex-wife as a Domme. A Domme.

  It was proof positive that the world had lost all of its goddamn sense and God was laughing at me.

  I just drove. I didn’t think. I didn’t bother to try and think. My whole world was now upside down and I had no idea where I was going to start to right it.

  At least I had the wherewithal to be the one to drive away. I didn’t want to kick Vanity out of her only place to stay. That wasn’t fair. She was, ironically, the innocent party in all this. The guilt was all on me and Cameron. Laicy. Whoever.

  I could get a hotel or find a friend’s house…I was sure that Darien, Nick, Paul…someone would be willing to put up with me.

  Before I could make a conscious decision as to who I was going to call and ask for sanctuary while I put my brain and heart back together, I pulled the car to a stop.

  I looked to the left, and I realized I had driven to my brother’s house.

  Salvatore Garabaldi, also known as Vatori, the bassist for the insanely popular local band Silver Soul. The man who hated pants. He was so completely opposite of me. The younger one was usually the insane one and he took that to the limit.

  We didn’t talk often. We lived two radically different lives, and the only time we crossed paths was…well. Never. Rock stars didn’t generally hang out with cops and teachers.

  Still, we weren’t strangers. Holidays and birthdays, and when we crossed paths—like murders, fires, and kidnappings. He and his bandmates could really get themselves in the middle of things.

  Staring at the house, I figured it was as good a place as any to ask for sanctuary. Climbing out of the car, I walked to the front door of the huge brick Tudor-style Victorian he had restored from the bottom up and rang the bell.

  The lighted doorbell was a smart bell, and a moment later it lit up. Sal’s voice filtered out. “Yo. Si? That you?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “What on Earth are you doing here?”

  I shoved my hands in my coat pockets and sighed. “I need a couch to crash on.”

  “Dude, you? Hey! G-man, let him in.” The second part of that was away from the speaker, directed at someone else. “Couch is no, but we have plenty of spare beds.”

  “Thanks, man.”

  The door clicked and swung open, and Genghis Stathopolis was standing there, in his boxers.

  I was not expecting this.

  “Detective?” He was not expecting me, either.

  “Stat, good to see you.”

  Stepping out of the way, I could see my brother descending the steps on the left. He trotted down them and headed right over to me, offering me a masculine, brotherly hug.

  “A couch? What’s going on? You own the house.”

  “Sal, you would not believe me if I told you.”

  “Tell me anyway.”

  Stat grabbed something from the chair and threw half of it at my brother. “For God’s sake, Sal. Put on some damn pants.”

  “My house,” Sal said, and pointed looked Stat’s boxers.

  “Your brother, even though he’s your brother, doesn’t need to be threatened with your dick popping out to say hello.” Stat shook his head, annoyed. “Caveman.”

  I snorted. “Good luck. From the day he was born, pants were never an option. Our mom had to jerry-rig suspenders so he would keep them on in school and still be able to pee. There were days when he still couldn’t manage to bring the pants home.”

  “Well, he knows better now,” Stat said and slapped Sal’s head. “Keep ’em on while there’s people in the house.”

  Sal grumbled, but he did pull them on. It was the kind of exchange I needed to calm my nerves, get my high-strung ass back down to Earth.

  Stat motioned to the kitchen and I followed him, and Sal followed both of us a moment later. He pointed to a chair and I sat.

  “I didn’t realize you and my brother were roomies, Stathopolis.”

  Stat’s head whipped around to Sal and the angriest, most accusing glare I had ever seen appeared on the mild-mannered bartender’s face. “I thought you said you were going to fucking tell him?”

  Sal rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I didn’t quite get around to it yet…”

  “It’s been a year, you asshole!”

  I turned to my brother and stared at him. “Are you gay?”

  He gave Stat the middle finger. “No. Well, not really. It’s…complicated.”

  “Not really?” I asked.

  “It’s complicated.”

  I pointed my finger at him. “If you’re gay, say it. I don’t care, and you know that. Neither does Mom.”

  “I’m not gay,” he said, rolling his eyes.

  “You are just the worst,” Stat grumbled.

  Turning, I looked at him. “Are you gay?”

  “No, I’m not. Not officially. What I am is in a three-way relationship with your brother and Nadine. And when you’re sharing a bed and a woman, lines are blurred and crossed.”

  “We’re a throuple.”

  “A what?” I twisted my lip.

  “Would you fucking stop with that word? Jesus, you think you’re clever with it.” Stat couldn’t roll his eyes harder if he tried.

  “I am clever.”

  Stat marched over to him, grabbed his chin, and kissed him. Hard, deep, and thoroughly. “What’s clever is your tongue, the rest of you just exasperating.”

  “Throuple,” he whispered again.

  “Simon, Sal is my husband and Nadine is our wife. Is that confusing enough for you?” Stat folded his arms, ignoring my brother and his waggling eyebrows.

  Somehow, none of this shocked me with my idiot younger brother. He was always one of those people who just did whatever he wanted and damn the norms. I put a hand on my forehead. “So, you�
�re both involved with each other and with Nadine.”

  Sal cleared his throat. “Well, I’m going to marry her.”

  “And your mother has agreed to adopt me,” Stat said. “That way we all have legal standing in the courts.” He slapped Sal hard on the back of the head. “You didn’t even tell your brother that? What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  Stat threw his hands in the air. “Is that what your damn death certificate is going to say? Because I’m about to kill you!”

  I looked at Stat. “You changing your name in the proceedings? Or are you sticking with Genghis?”

  The man slumped. “I’m sticking with it. I can’t do that to my dad’s memory. It sucks, I did try a few different names, but I just associate it with my dad.”

  Snickering, I leaned forward and folded my arms on the table. “Welcome to the family, Genghis Stathopolis Garabaldi.”

  “Jesus that sounds terrible,” he stated.

  “So, what brings you couch surfing, Bro?” Sal asked.

  I grinned. “It’s complicated.”

  “Oh, fuck the two of you,” Stat said and walked for the door. “I’ll be upstairs, showing you how you really play Red Dead Redemption.”

  Sal held his middle finger up until Stat was on the stairs and then shook his head. “Look, Si, I’m sorry. I should have called you, talked to you. The whole thing with me and Nadine and Stat really isn’t all that complicated. I just thought you wouldn’t…”

  “Like it? Understand it? Approve of it?” I shook my head. “Sal, you know damn well I’ve been the kink community’s police liaison for like four years now. And you’re you. Why would anything you do shock me at this point, Sal Pantalones?”

  “It’s been hard for me to deal with sometimes.” He looked sheepish. “I didn’t want you to hate me.”

  “You’re a loser, that doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

  “Well, fuck you too, couch surfer.” He leaned back in the chair. “So, what’s your problem? Did Cameron claim the house in the divorce?”

  Hauling in a deep breath, I let it out slowly. “No. No, she didn’t. I’ve been seeing Vanity—”

  “Vanity, Club Imperial Vanity?” His eyebrows rose.

  “Yes.”

  “Color me impressed. Go on.”