“You were just at her place?” I ask. He nods. “You saw her?” He nods again, takes another huge bite. “This is a stab in the dark, but you wanted to have sex with David’s daughter this morning, and you didn’t, is that what I’m getting here?”
His eyes cut to me and if I were a weaker man, I’d wilt. But I ain’t. With his mouth half-full he says, “I didn’t touch her.”
“But you wanted to.”
“God help me, I did.”
“So your solution is to have me go in there, live with her, and maybe take your place?”
He rolls his eyes like the idea doesn’t please him. After swallowing a mouthful, he growls, “I want to take care of her. But that doesn’t mean just paying her rent while she heals. Mar broke her leg and it’s not easy for her to get around. I want someone there, literally taking care of her.”
“Why not hire a woman?”
He shouts in my face, “Because a woman won’t stop me from coming over!”
“Ahhh, I gotcha.” Crossing my arms, I chuckle. “Jack, you want a real life cock-blocker.”
“And you’re more her age. If she got together with you, I could handle it. Some other fucking guy, I’d rip his throat out. She’s…she’s…” He rubs his face and blinks at the irony. “I love this girl. I’ve watched her grow up, for fuck’s sake. So if I can’t have her, I want her with someone I actually like. Who isn’t a disrespectful dickhead. In other words, I’m giving her to you.”
I stare at him, the intense compliment hitting me hard. He turns for the fridge and pours himself some juice.
While I contemplate what he said, and let it all sink in, I pull my hair into a bun and tuck it into itself to make it stay put. I think a lot of Jack—his opinion matters. That he thinks so highly of me strikes a chord. Nodding, I drop my hands. “Weird, but I’m into it. She might not want me. I might not want her. But this is an interesting game. Count me all in. And thanks.”
“Don’t thank me yet.” He glugs down the juice and sets the empty glass down, eyes locking with me. “You haven’t met Marion.”
I watch him walk to his office. “But Jack, you said she was a ballerina.”
“Who said ballerinas aren’t tough as rusted nails?”
I stare after him, interest piqued all the more.
Chapter Six
Marion
Hobbling to Teeka’s empty room, I scream at the sight, “You’re not going to clean it?!”
“Who has that kind of time, Marion? I’m checking into rehab this after-fucking-noon!”
I blink at her. “I thought you were going to live with…” Trailing off, I realize I had no idea where she was going. “Are you serious? This is why you’re moving out?!”
“Why do you look so upset?” Rolling her bloodshot eyes, she grumbles, “I want to change.”
“Since when? Just yesterday you announced you were moving out. You slept the day away and vanished until seven in the morning today again! High still! And suddenly I’m supposed to believe you’re checking into rehab?”
“I was giving it one final go.”
My shoulders slump. “Oh, I see.”
“What?”
Thumping my way back to the couch I throw up my arms. “You’re lying!”
“I am not!”
“Yes you are!”
She runs past me.
Because she can.
How rude.
“Yeah, rub it in my face that you have two working legs, Teeka!”
“I was going to move in with my parents, because I’m broke, Marion, but they said not until I got clean. So I am not lying. You don’t know everything, you jaded biatch.”
“Stop saying that stupid word. I hate the way it sounds.”
“I am going to rehab!”
“Not going to miss you.”
“Mutual.”
One more friend gone. But really, Jack’s right. A coke-head is not an easy person to remain friends with. She can’t blame me for not believing her. She sticks with plans for all of two seconds on the daily. And besides, who lose their job and takes four months to tell their roommate? Crazy people you can’t trust, that’s who!
A knock at the door gives Teeka pause as she marches to her pig sty where suitcases and sloppy boxes await. “That’s probably my dad.”
“I hope he brought a vacuum!”
“You have one!”
“I’m not breaking my vacuum on your war zone!”
She goes to let him in, throwing her annoyance back over her shoulder at me. “It’s not that bad.”
“I saw chicken bones! With fur on them!”
Shrugging, “I forgot I left them under the dresser,” she opens the door to reveal a gorgeous, raven-haired viking-dude standing on our welcome mat in blue jeans and a navy, form-fitting, henley shirt. “You are not my father.”
He smirks, looking her up and down. “And you are not my ballerina.”
My eyebrows shoot up. His ballerina. Ohhhhhh. “Are you Troy?”
Sultry eyes shift my way and sharpen like he likes what he sees. “Mar?”
“Marion. Only Jack calls me Mar.”
“We’ll see about that.”
I blink, surprised by his cockiness. And pleased. This is who Jack set me up with? What does this mean? Am I to understand that Jack really doesn’t want me then, because Troy is the type girls loses their minds for. It’s not like he’s some wimpy guy who won’t cause me to get wet on sight. Those raised pecs, jeans-hugging thigh muscles, and dimples cutting into his smile are enough to make my nether region dampen and soften instantly.
Teeka wags her thumb back and forth. “Marion, where are all these hot men coming from?”
With heavy sarcasm I shoot back, “You are so smooth, Teeks, you know that? Queen Subtle, that’s you.”
An older man walks up, and throws a curious glance to the guy barring his way. “Teeka? I brought your Uncle Joe to help.”
She deflates, reality hitting her. Rehab is coming. No escaping it. She can try. And she just might.
I have no faith in this plan.
Troy steps inside, and watches the two men enter our apartment with grim determination.
He and I are eyeing each other. He definitely could carry a sword.
As they reappear with boxes, Troy realizes what’s happening and he jumps in to help. This takes me by surprise, and shows a side of his personality I wasn’t expecting. A guy that handsome being a well-mannered gentlemen, too? That’s damn attractive.
But he’s not Jack.
He looks…
Dare I say it?
Too young.
His skin isn’t rugged like Jack’s.
Would Jack carry those boxes?
He’d probably tell Teeka she should carry them herself to learn her lesson. The image brings a smile to my face.
As the last bit of stuffed cardboard vacates the premises, Teeka and I stare at each other. “I won’t miss you,” I tell her.
“Yeah, you will. But it’s okay, I’ll miss you a little bit too. Biatch.”
“Ugh.”