I didn’t visit my sister that day. But I came back sober the next day and sat with Mr. Thorne for a few hours after I visited Caroline. In fact, I visited with Mr. Thorne for ten days after my sister was discharged. He spent half our time together telling me dirty jokes and the other half lecturing me about sobering up. It would be a much better story if I could say that had been a turning point for me. But it wasn’t.
A few weeks later, I was back to partying, and I’d tossed the number Mr. Thorne gave me in the back of a drawer somewhere. Then five years ago, I dug it out and called him the night Caroline died. We started talking, and eventually I let him help me get sober.
“How are things between you and that jackass grandfather of yours?”
I forced a smile. “Everything’s pretty good. As long as he continues to get outstanding reports from the shrink, and I live up to the twenty other things I had to agree to in order to get my job back.”
“He’s just looking out for you.”
It was way more complicated than that; it always was with my family.
“How are things going with that lady friend you mentioned a while back?”
I had no idea who he was referencing, but I didn’t need to in order to answer. I shrugged. “It was just a date. Nothing more.”
“Boy, by the time I was your age, I was married with two kids.”
“That’s probably why you were divorced by the time you were thirty-five.”
“Nah. My Eliza divorced me because I was a drunk who couldn’t hold a job more than three months. Can’t blame the woman. A good woman deserves a good man, and eventually she sees right through an imposter.”
His comment made me think of Sophia. As much as I didn’t want to think so—because it made my situation easier—she was a good woman. Mr. Thorne was the only person I could admit all my ugly shit to, and he wouldn’t look down on me or judge me. Maybe it was because he had his own ugliness, or maybe it was because he was confined to this bed, and the only people who visited him were the nurse who got paid to take care of him and me. But whatever the reason, I trusted him with anything. In a lot of ways, he’d taken Caroline’s place. She was the only person I ever felt like myself around.
Blowing out a deep breath, I said, “I’ve actually started seeing a new woman. Well, she’s not really new, considering we’ve known each other since we were kids. And I guess technically we aren’t seeing each other, but whatever. There’s a woman.”
Mr. Thorne nodded. “Go on.”
“There’s not much to tell. Her name is Sophia, and she’s basically my enemy.”
“So, you’re telling me you’re sleeping with the enemy, like the movie?”
I laughed. “A different kind of enemy. Basically, my family and her family hate each other.”
“But you two get along?”
I shook my head. “Not exactly. Most of the time, she’s about five seconds away from kicking me in the balls.”
Mr. Thorne’s bushy brows dipped down. “I’m confused. So, you’re not sleeping with this girl?”
“No, I am.”
“But she wants to kick you in the balls?”
I smiled. “She does.”
“And that makes you smile? I don’t understand this generation at all.”
“She doesn’t like me. But her body does. We’re like a tornado and a volcano. It’s rare the two meet. But when they do, it’s explosive.”
“Explosive, huh? That sounds more like destructive to me.”
He had a point. But it was okay. Sophia wouldn’t get hurt, since she was the tornado, and they tended to move on quickly. It was the volcano that sat around dormant for years on end.
“Be careful. That sounds like the type of thing that can jeopardize your recovery.”
“Don’t worry about me. I got it all under control.”
Our eyes met for a moment, and we both knew this wasn’t the first time I’d uttered those words and been wrong. Though I appreciated him not reminding me of that.
I stood. “How about we get your lazy ass into the wheelchair, and I take you outside for a walk? It’s beautiful out.”
Mr. Thorne nodded and smiled. “I’d like that.”
***
Later that afternoon, I hit up an AA meeting on my way back to The Countess. After, I sat in my office thinking about what Mr. Thorne had said. I’d assured him I had things under control, and that was accurate in regard to my drinking, but the truth of the matter was that Sophia Sterling was getting under my skin. If I wasn’t watching her from afar, I was thinking of excuses to go talk to her, which inevitably led to an argument I’d get off on. My days had become centered around watching her or interacting with her, and our nights together fulfilled my fantasies. If I couldn’t goad her into a fight that heated things up between us, I sat in my room alone, jerking off to the memory. I’d even arranged it so when I moved out of the presidential suite, I moved into the room she’d just vacated and declined housekeeping. So now my sheets smelled like her, and every time I went into the shower, I imagined her standing in the exact same spot bringing herself to orgasm. Between that and how I liked to secretly watch her in line at the coffee shop and working behind the reception desk, I was turning into a real creeper.
So when Sophia knocked on my open door, I felt like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
I cleared my throat. “Yes, Fifi?”
She rolled her eyes and walked in. “Why did you start calling me that in high school, anyway?”
I leaned back in my chair and tossed my pen onto the desk. “I don’t know. I said it once and saw that it got a rise out of you, so it stuck.”
She sighed. “Some things never change, huh?”
“Well, technically they do. These days you’re the one getting the rise out of me, aren’t you?” I winked.
Sophia smirked, but ignored my comment. She took a seat in a chair on the other side of my desk and crossed her legs.
Was it me, or did her skirt ride up a little higher today? This morning, when I watched her from afar at the coffee shop, she’d had her hair down, but it was pulled to the side so I had a clear view of the beautiful skin on the back of her neck. While she stood in line, her perfectly manicured nails gently grazed up and down from her hairline into her silk blouse. I’d assumed it was my vivid imagination, and she wasn’t intentionally trying to drive me crazy, but this afternoon’s skirt was a bit on the short side.
When my eyes rose to meet hers, I could’ve sworn they held a hint of a gleam. Yet she was all business when she spoke.
“So, I received the two quotes from my contractors. The estimates aren’t that different, but only one feels they could get the job done in the timeframe we need. Any chance your quote came in?”
“Actually, it did. I’ve only glanced at the bottom line, so why don’t we take a look at all three and see where things stand.”
We moved over to the round conference table to spread out, and Sophia and I exchanged estimates. It only took a quick look to realize both of her estimates were significantly lower than mine. While my contractor felt comfortable committing to get the work done in three months, he’d included a number of rush charges throughout. The only extra fees Sophia’s contractors charged were for things like required night differential and overtime.