Only Trick (25 page)

“You’re too smart, Darby, to play dumb with me. This isn’t Cal’s first election, and you know that rogue family members can end a political career.”

My neck and jaw stiffen; my temperature soars. “
Rogue
? Really, you’re going with that?”

“Don’t be so defensive. Everything was how it should be when you were with Steven, but now you’ve dragged this guy home whom we know nothing about. He could have a real disaster of career-ending skeletons in his closet.”

“Wow!” I jerk my head back. “Don’t worry about Darby’s happiness. God! That’s been the story of my life, but not anymore.” I shove my feet into my tennis shoes and bend down to tie them. “You can tell
Cal
that he doesn’t even have my vote, so he sure as hell doesn’t have a say in who I choose to love. Half my genes, that’s all he has, and most days I wish he didn’t even have that.” I straighten my posture, crossing my arms over my chest.

Rachel stands, rubbing her hands over the front of her skirt. Her lips curl into Satan’s smile, then it slips. “
Love
?” she jeers, pinning me with a piercing look. “You’re going to get your heart crushed, little girl.” She inches closer. “Guys like Trick aren’t capable of love. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.” Pulling on her coat, she walks to the front door then turns as she buttons the last button. “Cut him loose, Darby. I’m not
asking
.”

My muscles quiver with anger. She’s judging Trick without merit the way people have judged me my whole life.

Fuck her!

Darby the
doormat
, no longer. Rogue? They haven’t seen anything yet.

I turn up the music so I can actually feel it, then I hop on my bike and ride until my heart threatens to collapse along with the rest of my body.

*

My takeout arrives
just as I finish drying my hair. A hard hour of cycling leaves me ready to pass out on the sofa. Fixing my own dinner? Not happening.

My phone chimes the minute I plunk my tired ass down with my Chinese box in hand.

Ugh!

I lumber to my feet again and grab my phone before plopping back down in my seat. “Hey!” I feel guilty for scowling at my phone when I see Trick’s photo on my screen.

“Hey, sexy. Miss me?”

“I do, and why is that? Grady says jump and you say how high?” New bolder Darby emerges with a sassy attitude after my earlier confrontation with Rachel. It wasn’t that long ago that I was a conformist in the Don’t Make Waves Club.

“His
friend
is short a makeup artist for a movie that they’re filming. She went into labor yesterday. Anyway, her assistant was going to step in since she’s been mentored for almost a year, but I guess she wasn’t as ready as they had hoped. So I’m here filling in.”

I pick at my lo mein noodles with chopsticks. “You’re trying to tell me that in all of Los Angeles, there wasn’t another person who could fill in?”

“And still allow Grady to be the one who ‘saved the day?’ No.”

“He’s doing this to impresses his
friend
, by which I assume you mean lover.”

Trick laughs. “You’re sharp.”

“How long?”

“A week, maybe two. They’re almost done filming.”

“What about your clients?”

“Grady took care of my schedule.”

“He’s like your makeup pimp.”

“It’s a job. With Grady I always have a job.”

“Yeah, Grady’s a real peach. By the way, I never did ask you why Tamsen was working with you when she came here to visit. She’s a paramedic, correct?”

“Grady asked her to come and deal with me.”

“What does that mean?”

“Tamsen got me into rehab after I recovered from my accident. Aside from her EMT training, she has experience with drug rehab, so anytime Grady thinks I might be ready to fall off the wagon he calls Tamsen. She shadows me for a few days, and when she’s satisfied that I’m not losing my shit again, she goes back home.”

“You sound like a real handful.”

“Sexy, I think you know from experience that I’m way more than just a
handful
.”

“Jeez, here we go again. Don’t flatter yourself. I have small hands.”

He snickers. I can just see his lips twisting into a devilish smirk. “Think you’re pretty brave when you’re two thousand miles away from me, huh?”

“I’d say the same thing if you were here. What would you do about it anyway? Fuck me into the elevator gate until I have welts on my back?”

The devil laughs again. “I saw those this morning.”

Whoosh!

He just stole my gusto. “You did? Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I didn’t see the need to get you all worked up.”

“I have marks all over my back! My nurse walked in this morning while I was changing and thought I’d been mugged!”

“And your point is?”

My jaw drops but no words escape. How can he ask me that?

“As I recall … let me think … Oh yes, your words were ‘fuck me until the only thing I
feel
is how
hard
you’re fucking me.’ Does that sound familiar?”

I raise and lower my jaw like a damn puppet, but still no words.

“Well, this morning when I saw your back, it looked like you must have
felt
how
hard
I was fucking you. Like a … a stamp or seal of approval.”

“Wh—a—are—are you
serious
?” The shock in my voice reaches opera pitch.

“Were you not?”

“Yes … no … I don’t know.”

“You could have told me to stop. Did you want me to stop?” That voice … my God it cracks with iciness then drips confidence from his smoldering ego.

“Trick …” I sigh with frustration.

“Darby …” He goads me.

“So what type of movie are they shooting?”

He breathes out a small snickering. “Pornographic, BDSM … nothing too exciting. Just a bunch of naked people grinding on each other.”

I set my box of noodles on the coffee table and sit up straight, taking a deep swallow. “Oh, that’s … well, does that require a lot of makeup.”

“Darby?”

“Hmm?” I hum past the nerves of insecurity.

“I’m just bullshitting you. It’s a paranormal film based on a book.”

I grab my takeout container like I’m going to throw it at him. Damn! I wish I could beam him in the head with it or knee him in the gut. “I hate you!”

He chuckles. “You don’t, but my God you’re so gullible. I can just see you biting your lips together until they turn white. I bet your hands are fisted like you want to beat the shit out of me.”

I’m nearly crushing the box of noodles and my hand holding the phone is white-knuckled.
Ass!

“You’re just mean.”

“You’re beautiful.”

Melt …

He manipulates my emotions with mastery.

“I do miss you.” I submit to his hold on me—the hold he has,
two thousand
miles away.

“I gotta go. Grady’s rolling his eyes and tapping his foot.”

“Hi, sweetie! I’m taking our guy out tonight. Kiss. Kiss. Love you!” Grady yells from the background.

“Okay, well … bye.”

“Darby?”

“Yeah?”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

*

After two more
long days of work and only a short “Good morning, sexy,” and a “Goodnight, sexy,” text from Trick, I decide to invite Nana over for dinner and cards. She likes Bridge and I like Go Fish so we settle for Cribbage and a bottle of wine with the box of truffles she brought.

“Rachel visited me the other day.”

Nana looks up from her cards. “Lucky you.”

I sip my wine. “Yeah, lucky me. She basically told me to end things with Trick.”

Her brows pull together. “Why would she do that?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure. Some crap about skeletons in his closet and
rogue
family members ending political careers.”

She snorts with laughter. “You saw her the other night at dinner. She’s bat-shit crazy.”

I glance up from my cards, attempting a poker face. “I’m sure she thinks the same thing about you.”

Nana pops a truffle into her mouth, eyes rolling back in her head. I think she’s of the belief that chocolate is better than sex. I love chocolate, but if Trick came in bite-sized portions wrapped in fancy foil, he’d bankrupt the chocolate industry.

“I am bat-shit crazy, but since I’ve acknowledged it I’m no longer a danger.” She winks. “But Rachel is oblivious to her craziness, which makes her a liability to everyone around her.”

“Well her craziness was in overdrive the other day. Before she left she let me know that she’s not
asking
. My love life is none of her damn business.”

Nana refills our wine glasses. “Is it?”

“Her business?” I squint.

“Love. Is Trick love?”

I sigh with a dreamy grin that appears at just the mention of his name. “Did I tell you he bought me my own helmet and jacket for riding on the back of his
motorcycle
?”

Nana’s posture inflates at least six inches until her whole body beams with pride.

My cheeks heat and I feel like a thirteen-year-old girl with my first crush—captain of the football team type crush. The one where all the other girls are catty-bitch jealous that the most popular guy in school only has eyes for the shy girl with pale skin and unruly red hair.

I sip more wine, fading back into my chair, allowing myself to really think about Trick with unguarded feelings and nonjudgemental eyes. “He was the guy I never imagined myself with … now he’s the guy I can’t imagine myself without.”

Nana’s expression softens. “I’m happy for you, dear.”

I nod and smile with a few tears in my eyes. “I love him; I’m not even sure it’s a choice anymore.” I laugh and shake my head. “The truth is he may have a closet full of skeletons, but I wouldn’t know and … I’m not sure he does either.”

Nana tilts her head to the side.

“He was in an accident, hit by a car. Now he has partial memory loss, about five years of his life just … gone.”

“Oh, Darby …”

I give her a sad smile. “He has trust issues and I think a lot of it stems from the memory loss … well that and the fact he grew up homeless.”

Her face contorts into a sad grimace.

“He was homeless at five and orphaned by fifteen. Can you image? A fifteen year old coming home…” I shake my head “…wherever ‘home’ is when you’re homeless, to discover his parents have just vanished. He assumes they’re dead and maybe they are, but what if they’re not?” I sip my wine. “I don’t know what to think, but I do know I love him, even the part he can’t share with me. Can you believe he owns a gun?”

Nana shakes her head. “Doesn’t mean he’s done anything bad with it. A lot of people own guns for protection. I have one in my bedside stand.”

WTF?

“Close your mouth, dear. It’s not very ladylike.”

“Nana—I-I don’t know what to say.
You
have a gun?”

She sorts her cards like we’re really going to finish this game. “Of course, Bridge club is Tuesday Thursday, Wednesday Friday I go to lunch and shopping with friends, but on Mondays Mary and I go to the shooting range. How’d you think I’ve managed to keep such muscle definition in these old lady arms?”

“Pilates, Nana. You go to Pilates, not the shooting range.”

She snaps her wrist at me with a dismissive
pfft
. “I haven’t done Pilates in almost six months, not since Mary had surgery on her knee.”

Resting my elbows on the table, I rub my temples, but it doesn’t help. This conversation is happening. It’s not a dream or
nightmare
.

“My point is that Trick is a smart guy. He didn’t grow up under the same circumstances that you did, and he doesn’t live in the best neighborhood. You should have him teach you how to use a gun.”

I shake my head. “No way. The night he pistol whipped my attacker I was reminded of the violence I clean up after every day and—”

“Darby! You were attacked?”

I grimace. “Sorry, no that’s not what I meant. I wasn’t attacked. There were these two thugs trying to scare me one night when I left Trick’s place. But he came out with a gun and … it was fine. I’m fine.”