Deadly Dosage (34 page)

     He
selected around five of them and stacked them on the coffee table with the one
I gave him on top of the stack.

That’s when my eyes rested on the orange juice bottle sitting
innocently on the table. “Omigod, Lloyd! You didn’t drink that, did you?” I
asked hysterically.

     “Well,
yeah, you said to help yourself.”

     I
rushed to the refrigerator and swung open the door. I pulled out the brown
paper bag and relaxed.

     “Sorry.
Didn’t know you liked orange juice that much. I’ll buy you more. You don’t have
to spaz out.”

     I
walked back to the living room holding my hand over my heart. “Sorry to flip
out on you, but you scared the hell out of me.”

     “By
drinking orange juice?” he asked as though I were more than a few notches off
center.

“Yes. I thought you were poisoned. See, yesterday afternoon,
with the help of Donna, I swapped out Mr. Schroeder’s orange juice. I have the
bottle his daughter gave him in a bag in the refrigerator and I thought you
drank it.”

     “Guess
you forgot you wrote ‘don’t touch’ in caps on the front of the bag with a black
magic marker.”

     “Oh
yeah.”

      He hugged
me. “At least I know you care about me.”

     I
looked up at his smug smile. “Maybe I just don’t want to go to jail for murder?
It would be hard to hide your dead body seeing that you weigh a lot more than
me.”

     “Nice
try but the panic in your voice told the real story.” He emptied the contents
of the orange juice bottle down his throat and took the empty container to the
garbage can. “So what do you plan to do with the OJ? My friend has two samples,
so I think that’s enough.”

     I
rested up against the back of the couch. “Autumn’s boyfriend is a police
detective. I thought we could give him the bottle. I was careful to only touch
the cap, so he should be able to lift some prints off it.”

     “How
come a woman as cute and clever as you is still single?”

     “I’m
dysfunctional,” I tossed out. Only cute? What happened to gorgeous or even
pretty? Guess this sweater did more for Sam.

     He
laughed warmly. “You’re in luck, so were my past girlfriends.”

     “In
that case, I’ll let you buy me some expensive jewelry at the mall.”

     He
pulled out his wallet from the rear pocket of his jeans and opened it.
“Hmm...only a hundred.”

     “Not
much of a sugar daddy,” I kidded.

     “Don’t
worry, I have excellent credit.”

We
arrived at the mall shortly after it opened. Lloyd suggested we start with the
purchase of another sweater dress to replace the one Brandi burned. Being a
guy, he had a hard time understanding that I wanted a different dress this
time. I think he wanted to walk in, buy the dress and leave. He had a lot to
learn about shopping.

     Almost
an hour later, no bags hung from my arms. Lloyd’s patience reached its limit.

     “For
God’s sake, Sunny, buy something. Any other woman would be carrying half the
mall in her arms by now.”

     “I
can’t buy something unless I really like it! I’m on a strict budget.”

     “I
told you I’d pay for it!”
     “Okay. Jeez. Don’t get all huffy.” We passed a men’s clothing store and I
pulled on his arm. “Let’s go here.”

     “We
didn’t come to shop for me,” he said critically.

     “Please?”
I flashed my elongated eyelashes at him and he followed me in.

     I
made him try on some items I knew he’d look hot in and convinced him to buy two
sweaters, a black mesh T-shirt, and a pair of tight gray, worn looking jeans.

     He
took his packages and we left the store with him threatening to return
everything the next day.

     “Hey,
you look cool in that T-shirt and those jeans. They’ll look great when you’re
holding your ax playing that song for me.”

He rolled his eyes. “You need a cold shower. How about this
store?” he said suggesting a trendy, twenty-something store on our right. I
followed him in and inspected the merchandise. Short, flashy and slutty. It is
a known fact, that when a man is shopping for a woman, he reverts to thinking
with his dick. These clothes could only be worn strutting street corners,
soliciting for business usually transacted by leaning provocatively through car
windows.

But, for the hell of it, I tried on a bunch of short skirts,
cropped shirts, bikinis, and stilettos. I left with a black string bikini I
planned to use in Vegas, a short red and black plaid skirt, a black cropped
shirt, a red satin push-up bra with matching bikini underwear, a pair of
five-inch spiked, heels and one very happy man.

Still, I wanted something to replace my burnt dress. “Brandi
works over there. She said she would let me use her discount.”

     “Lead
the way,” he said with renewed energy.

     I
noticed his pants looked a little tighter in the front and made a mental note
to remember the slut store for future purchases.

     Brandi
saw us as soon as we approached the entrance. She practically ran over the
other customers trying to reach to Lloyd’s side.

     “Hi,
Lloyd, remember me?” she said all smiles, managing to hike up her skirt an
inch.

     “How’s
it going, Brandi?” he said with little interest.

     “Peachy.
What can I help you with?” She placed her manicured paw on his arm.

     “Sunny
needs a new dress. One without an imprint of an iron,” he replied bluntly.

     I
grimaced. No need to piss her off until I got the discount. Right?

     “Oh?
Hey, Sun, try these on over here. I just love them to death.”

     She
led me to the dressing room with twenty outfits. I’m sure she planned on
wearing whatever I purchased. I paraded each possibility in front of Lloyd. For
a guy that earlier demanded I buy just anything, he suddenly became very
opinionated. Too long. Ugly color. Weird design. Bulky. I sent him and Brandi
to search for more. I wasn’t about to get dressed and start this process over
again. Now I was feeling cranky.

     Brandi
came in and handed me ten more garments. These were much more expensive then
the first selections and frankly more to my liking. I modeled them for Lloyd. I
guess they had just the right amount of sleaze to please him.

I selected my favorite of the dresses, but he insisted I
purchase two others. Brandi took them to the counter, checked us out with her
discount, and Lloyd walked away a poorer man.

“I need to pay you back for this, Lloyd. You spent way too
much.” I said with concern.

“Drop it. I did it because I wanted to. Besides, Brandi paid
for one of them.”

“Yeah, because she wants to wear it!” I said with
exasperation. He bought more for me today than Sam did since the day I met him.

We passed a jewelry store and I gazed longingly at the
diamond rings in the display windows. “Mmm, gorgeous. I’ll take this one,
Lloyd,” I joked, pointing to an exquisite, emerald-shaped diamond surrounded by
baguette cut diamonds on each side. It sparkled brilliantly in its delicately
designed, white gold setting. “Judging from the steep price, I’d say that it’s
real,” I said. “Oh well, maybe in another life,” I smiled and turned into the
store. “Mind if I look in here for a sec. I need to find a present for my mom’s
birthday.”

“No, go ahead. I need to have my watch battery changed. Maybe
they can do it here.”

Lloyd followed next to me as I examined the items inside the
cases. “Wow, that’s pretty,” I said pointing to a Russian diopside and diamond,
white gold journey necklace. “I love it but my mom hates the color green.”

“That stone matches your eye color perfectly,” he said in
amazement. “Tantalizing.”

“Really? Thanks,” I replied. “Well, I don’t see anything I
can afford.”

We left the store and began the journey back to his car when
he stopped and turned around.

“What?” I said.

“I forgot about my watch battery.” He dug into his pocket.
“Here, take my keys. I’ll meet you in the parking lot.”

“Okay. Why don’t you give me your bags?”

He handed them over and kissed my cheek. “It won’t take me
long.”

Chapter 40

We
decided to drop off my packages and return to Lloyd’s house for a late lunch.
He took me to a spare bedroom I never knew existed and as promised, showed me
his guitar—a shiny black and chrome, top of the line, Fender Stratocaster model
made for professionals with a rosewood neck. He plugged it in, and played some
riffs. To his credit, I recognized the songs he played. I told him to practice
and I returned to the kitchen.

     On
the way over, I picked up some fixings from the grocery store. Not one for
cookbooks, I created my own dishes, hit or miss, as they were. I found a frying
pan and added some olive oil. The game plan was to prepare salmon with crushed
pineapple glaze, wild rice, and green beans. 

Working
in someone else's kitchen is a maddening experience. Nothing can be found,
anything that can be found isn't needed, and nothing seems to be in a logical
order. Right now, I needed two items to continue: salt and garlic powder.

    Yelling
from the kitchen was my first thought, but I didn’t want to be rude. So I went
to him instead. When I got half way there, I heard him singing in addition to
playing his guitar. Unfamiliar with this particular song, I listened closely to
the lyrics. When he sang
, “In my dreams your face is all I see; Through
the night you share your love with me; Dreaming visions of you, Feeling all the
love I never knew…”
I almost swooned. His voice possessed a raw, sexy
quality that was a real turn-on. I wanted to hear better, so I walked to the
edge of the door and flattened myself against the wall so he couldn't see me.
During the last chorus, I sneaked a peak to see him in action and Rufus gave my
position away. Darn cat! He and I needed to come to an understanding. I'm sure
he'd be open to discussing it providing I furnished an acceptable treat, like a
can of tuna.

Lloyd
glanced up. He had an ear bud in his ear attached to an iPod, and appeared
unfazed by my sudden appearance. I suppose performing in from of live
audiences got him acclimated to peoples’ gawks. I whistled and clapped when he
finished. He gave a little bow and removed the ear bud. 

Wow!
You sang that beautifully Lloyd. You have an excellent voice!”

He stared
at me doubtfully.

“Honestly,
I'd tell you if you sucked.”

His
eyebrows rose. “You don't have to be that honest.”

I
shrugged. “That song is so pretty. I never heard it before. I really like it.”

“So
do I. It’s called “Dreaming (Tell Me)” by Yngwie Malmsteen. Sung by Joe Lynn
Turner.” He hesitated before saying, “Reminds me of you."

My
heart did somersaults in my chest and I was pretty sure I started blushing. “I’m
overwhelmed. If your intention was to sweep me off my feet,
you've succeeded.”

He grinned.
“Good to know my seductive powers are working.”

“A
girl could fall in love dancing to that song.”

He
put his guitar down and took my hands in his. “Care to dance?” he asked. “Let’s
see if it works.”

“A
girl could get a broken heart that way,” I said seriously.

“A
man too. That's the chance you take in a relationship. What are you afraid of,
Sunny?” he said pulling me close.

“Making
a mistake.”

“Everyone
makes them.”

“I
know. So it’s only a matter of time, right?”

“Did
someone break your heart?”

My
parents broke my heart when they got divorced but I knew that wasn’t what he
was asking. So I replied, “No. I never really gave anyone I dated, including
Sam, the opportunity to.”

“You
need to stop thinking with this,” he said tapping his head, “and start thinking
with this,” he finished by placing his hand over his heart.

“It
would take a lobotomy to get me to stop thinking with my head.”

“I
know a less drastic measure.” He kissed me so deeply that all of my reasoning
power left my body. Taking my right hand in his, he began swaying us back and
forth, his body pressed up against mine, softly singing the lyrics in my ear.

He
knew what he was doing. My mind went completely blank, and my pulse raced. A
weak battle with my self-control ended before it started.

“Sunny,”
he whispered in my ear. “I can feel your heart beating hard against my chest.
Give in and make love to me.”

I
was this close to giving in to an orgasm when the doorbell rang.

“Shit,”
he swore softly.

My
sentiments exactly, but I whispered, “Saved by the bell.”

He
kissed me once more and walked out of the room.

     I bent down,
lifted Rufus into my arms, and carried him into the kitchen. Lloyd pulled aside
the curtain, looked out, ran a hand through his hair, and opened the door. I
recognized the man immediately as his friend from the hockey game.

“What's
up?” said Fred.

“Great
timing, dickwad,” replied a frustrated Lloyd.

     Fred glanced
over Lloyd’s shoulder at me. “Hey, sorry man.” He added, “Were you about to get
laid?”

     “I’ll never
know, regrettably. Come on in.” He stepped back, holding the door open and Fred
entered.

     “Hey, Sunny. Looks
like your reputation will remain unsullied,” Fred commented with a laugh.

“Thanks,”
I said as he strolled past us to drop off his jacket in the living room. I gave
Lloyd a little shrug.

     He was leaning
up against the counter with his arms crossed over his chest and his legs
crossed at the ankles looking absolutely delicious. I licked my lips
seductively. “Hungry?” I asked arching an eyebrow.