“I've noticed,” I said.
“You just wait though, she'll be speeding around before you know it.” “Really?” I asked. “Trust me, Whitney is seven years younger than me. I remember the baby years well. Particularly when she nearly walked off the top of the stairs to the basement.” “Where were your parents?” I asked, shocked. “Under the impression that she was asleep in her crib,” he explained. “I, however, was more aware of her cunning.” “Good thing too,” I said. “Tell me about it.” After lunch, we put Katie down for a nap. Chase read her a story, as per her demands, and I got ready to head back out to work. To my surprise, Chase came up and kissed me full on the lips. Stunned at first, I soon reciprocated, the taste of sweet and sour sauce still on our breath. “Don't eat on the way home, okay? I'm making us something special for dinner.” “You can cook?” I asked, sounding more surprised than I meant. “And play the guitar,” he said with a grin. “Really?” I asked, genuinely impressed. He winked at me. “You're just going to have to hang around and find out.”
Chapter Thirteen
Chase
No sooner did Ashlyn leave than Katie got up and came toddling over to the door in that earnest way of hers.
“Mommy go?” she asked. “Just for now,” I said, looking down at her. “Oh,” she said, taking the news in stride. “I think it is time for your nap,” I said, actually checking the time. “Story!” Katie demanded. “You don't get anything that way,” I said, which seemed to stop her in her tracks. “Story pweeze?” she tried again, after giving the matter some thought. “That's better.” Katie clapped enthusiastically, applauding her own success and toddled off toward the guest room, making it maybe thirty paces before doing a spectacular face-plant. To my surprise, she didn't start to scream. The little girl looked around, wondering what the heck was happening.
I bent down and scooped her up, carrying her into the guest room. Setting her on the bed, I started to read what she proclaimed to be her favorite book. I could certainly see why. It was a rousing narrative about an elephant who has lost his peanuts. Katie made it about half-way through the story before she fell asleep. Putting the book down on the nightstand where it had been, I kissed Katie on the forehead and quietly left the room, leaving the door open so I could hear her if she woke up.
Heading back out into the living room, I made for the desk, my mindset on getting more work done. No sooner did my ass touch leather chair, however, than there came a frantic buzzing on the intercom. Figuring it was Ashlyn forgetting her key, I hit the buzzer and went back to the desk, getting set up for work.
Somewhat to my surprise, rather than coming in, there came a knock at the apartment door. Confused, I got up and opened it. That was a decision I immediately regretted.
“The stairs are really murder,” Etta said, putting her heels back on. “What are you—” “How long has the elevator been out?”
“1996, or so the legends tell.” “There's the Chase I know,” Etta said gently, running her finger down the front of my shirt, from the collar to my belt. “The fuck do you want, Etta?” I asked, gently but firmly removing her hand from its position precariously close to my cock.
“Not what I had in mind, but we can fuck if you want, baby,” she said, slithering past me. “Not what I meant,” I said, trying mightily to hold my temper.
“I just want to talk, sweetie, get things out in the open,” the she-devil said, sitting on the overstuffed leather chair near the couch, crossing her legs seductively. “Get what in the open?” I asked.
“The lies you've been telling,” Etta managed to say with a straight face. “Pot, this is kettle. Kettle, this is pot.” “Be that as it may, it is obvious you don't actually know Ashlyn very well. Katie seems sincere enough, I'll give you that much, but come one. Where did you find them? Central casting?”
I crossed my arms in front of my chest. “What makes you think—” She cut me with a look. “Cut the shit, okay? This is me you're talking to. We both know you’re not the type. You were loudly of the opinion that marriage was a form of state prison, and you already helped raise Whitney and didn't want any more kids.” “People change,” I tried, even though I knew she was right. “Not that much, honey.” “Which brings us back to the main point.” “Which is?” She blinked at me, confused that I had taken over the conversation. “What a massive bitch you are.” That certainly got her attention. Etta actually took a sharp breath in and thrust her hand upon her heart as though mortally wounded. “Or did you forget what you did to me when we were younger?” “I-I was young and confused.” “Confused about which dick you were supposed to have inside you? I'll give you this, you sure tried hard to figure it out,” I snapped, losing the little control over my anger that I had. “It was you I loved,” she said, nearly in tears. “Funny way to show it. Giving out your pussy like candy mints.” “Come on, that was low.” “Yeah,” I said, conceding her point. “The fact is I need money. My mom is sick.” After freezing a second, I shook my head. “At the same time Whitney and I come into billions.”
“Yeah,” Etta whined. She looked up at me with tears streaming down her face. I didn’t believe her for one second.
“What a coincidence.” She stood up quickly with her hands balled into fists. “It's fine if you don't believe me.” “That's a relief because I don't.” “Whitney has already agreed to help me with the costs,” Etta explained, hardly trying to contain the smile that was brushing across her tear-stained features. My temper was boiling. “You stay away from her. Whitney is a sweetheart, but she is very trusting.”
“Which is why I thought you might like to help me instead.” “Why the hell would I do that?” I asked. “Because you know I can get more money out of her than you,” she pointed out. I couldn't deny she had a point, but still, I was smarting from how we had left things and was really suspicious about what she planned to do with my money. “I never stopped loving you, you know,” Etta added, coming closer. That was the clincher. If she hadn't said that, her attempt to insinuate herself might have actually worked.
I snapped. “You never loved me. You can't love anything. They would have to compete with your ego first.” She looked up at me stunned. “I loved you, you know. Almost too much. I joined the army to try to forget. Do you have any idea what really happened in Afghanistan?” “I—” “It's fine, most people don't. Here, let me help.” I ripped open the front of my shirt, the buttons flying across the room, taking it the rest of the way off and letting it fall on the floor. From my waist just above my belt to my shoulders, my upper back was a pattern of crisscrossing scars resembling an argyle sweater. It was something I'd tried to keep hidden. I always kept a tank top on when I fucked. The only person who had seen the scars was Ann who had led the extraction team.
“Fuck,” Etta whispered. “I told you no.”