Only Uni (35 page)

“But it’s even worse.” Trish was like a busted dam, and it was all coming out. “I broke up with him, then I slept with him again. It was so stupid. I feel like a slut.”

“Only once?” Rosa patted her shoulder. “I kept going back again and again. You were smart to wise up sooner. They’re so good at putting on an act, until they hit you again.” Rosa sighed and rubbed the sleeve of her flower-print dress. Several other women nodded.

Pamela took her hand. “In cases like that, maybe you need to try to avoid them. Sometimes it’s impossible.” She shrugged. “But when you can, stay out of situations where you can be manipulated or tempted by them.”

“Yeah, if I see my ex, I make sure I show him my brass knuckles so he knows not to come too close.” Felicity tossed her rat’s nest hairdo, which flopped back down on her leather-clad shoulders. “I don’t really hate him, but I don’t want to get close to him, either. In case he turns on the charm.”

“They do that so well.” Trish slapped the arm of her plastic chair.

“It’s not fair. It’s not like I can turn off the switch.”

The other women chimed in. “And you brain get all fuzzy.” The Thai girl circled her finger near her temple.

“And they say they’ve changed.”

“And they say they love you.”

“And a part of you really wants to believe it.”

“And — what’s that?” Rosa pointed at the window covered by horizontal blinds.

“What?” Trish’s heartbeat crescendoed like the finale of a Taiko drum performance.

“Somebody was watching us.”

“Oh, Rosa, I hope it wasn’t your ex.”

“I hope it’s mine.” Felicity cracked her knuckles and stood.

Trish had one of those weird feelings that sizzled down her spine. On one hand, it dissipated her panic. On the other, dread weighted down her chest because she really didn’t want to deal with this. “Wait, Felicity.” She got up. “Let me go first.”

“Oh, be careful, Trish.”

“Take this.” Cheryl handed her an aluminum bat that happened to be propped up in the corner. Well, this
was
downtown San Jose.

She exited the room and stepped into the hallway. No one except that really sinister flickering light. Okay, first on her list was to stop watching those scary movies with Jenn all the time. Her heart would pound straight through her breastbone any second now. At least Felicity was right behind her — she could hear her chains clinking.

She turned the corner —“

Aaaaiiiieeeee!”

She dropped the bat and started slapping at him. “I knew it was you! You’re such a creep! Why do you keep following me?”

Kazuo turned his shoulder to take the brunt of her nails. “I was concerned for you.”

“Concerned, my foot!” She stomped on his instep.

“
Ittai!
” He hopped on one leg.

“This your ex?” Felicity peered at him. “Looks like you don’t need help.”

Kazuo set his foot down gingerly. “I want to talk to you.”

“Well, we were just talking about you.” Trish folded her arms. She could honestly say she didn’t even want to be in the same room with him. Maybe because they’d been talking about far more abusive men, maybe because she’d been reminding herself how abusive he’d been.

Those women were more important than he was, and she honestly enjoyed being here with them. For the first time since she’d known him, she wasn’t torn at all about where she’d rather be. She stuck her nose in the air. “It is in my best interest not to converse with your sorry carcass.”

“Car-kass? I am a car?” He frowned, his accent more pronounced in his pain. “I just detailed my car.”

“This isn’t the best neighborhood.” Trish turned to head back into the room, Felicity ahead of her. “I’d go back to where you parked it to make sure it’s still there.”

Trish heard his feet pattering and the slam of the front door.

Well, she knew how high she was on his priority list.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Are you stealing that?” Spenser stopped and leaned against the office doorjamb.

Trish’s eyes bugged out. “No. As if.”

“Looks like stealing to me.” She was so easy to rile.

She responded as expected, much to his entertainment. Her hand slammed on her hip and her eyes sparked. Her other fist shook the Tyvek suit at him. “I used this earlier today, and I’m taking it home to use one last time.”

“Doing what? Experimenting with the bacteria at home as well as work?”

Her nose shot up. “For your information, tonight I’m going to bleach some mold to death.”

“Oh, that’s right. That going well?”

“I scrubbed the walls down earlier this week. This weekend, I’m going to pull up that nasty carpet. There’s hardwood floors underneath, you know.” She smiled, quite pleased with herself. She’d probably never even changed a lightbulb before moving into her current candidate for
Flip That House.

“You’ve been busy.”

“Tell me about it.”

The truth about Kazuo and his ex-wife had been gnawing at Spenser’s gut, and he knew he needed a good moment to come clean. He also held out a small hope she’d forgive him. So, he’d been thinking of sticking his neck out and asking her to dinner this weekend. Guess that plan was out, but he could still spend time with her. “I’ll help you.”

“What?” Trish couldn’t seem to make her jaw work and close her gaping mouth.

“I can pull up carpet.” He wasn’t an imbecile.

She frowned and her torso tilted sideways as she checked him out from head to toe. “You can?”

His mouth closed, and he glared at her before he caught the quirk in the side of her mouth. She’d got him. He sighed. “Tell me where you live and what time you want me to be there.”

“You’re serious?”

“I covered myself in orange goo for you the other week.”

She smiled, a rather nasty one. “That
was
rather amusing.”

He took a step backward. “I guess you don’t need my help . . .”

“No! No, I do.” She flapped her hands at him as if that would keep him from walking away. “Thanks for the offer. Ten o’clock?”

“Great.” He’d probably get lunch with her, and the work shouldn’t be too hard.

Covered head-to-toe in a Tyvek suit, complete with hood, safety goggles and a mask, Trish clambered up the ladder and spritzed bleach solution onto the natural mural on her bathroom ceiling. She stumbled down the ladder and escaped to the doorway, breathing in the chilly night breeze from the wide-open front door and kitchen windows. The bathroom fan coughed and gagged as if it would die any moment, but it had run for a solid half-hour already. Maybe it was a hypochondriacal electric appliance.

So, Spenser had offered to help her pull carpet tomorrow. She’d been shocked and still couldn’t figure out why he’d offered. Seemed kind of strange. He couldn’t be interested in her, could he?

Her heart fluttered, and her gut simmered. No, she should ignore her excitement —
No looking! —
and treat him like a coworker and a friend. For the sake of her three rules and to protect her heart against his charm, and because of Kevin’s unwanted attention that one time. Thankfully, Kevin had been ignoring her, although he’d deigned to say good morning last week.

Back to Spenser. She would be businesslike and efficient when he showed up tomorrow. She would toil and sweat and show her most unattractive side. She wouldn’t flirt or laugh, or even smile at him.

Hmm, I wonder what I should wear . . .

Spenser couldn’t imagine anything more revolting.

He stood in the archway to Trish’s living room. This close to the carpet, he could smell the faint musty odor. A mosaic of browns and grays colored the surface in ancient stains.

She glanced up at him with apology on her face. “You don’t have to stay.”

The temptation to cut and run tugged at his feet. That or bolt for the open door so he could hurl his breakfast into the weeds.

He could tell her about his past another day, another time. He wasn’t even sure if he’d find a good moment to spill his guts about Kazuo and Linda.

Trish opened and closed her hands, as if wavering between shoving him out the door or grabbing him by the shirt to keep him from escaping.

But then she turned toward the carpet, and her shoulders sagged. She seemed to shrink under the weight of the work ahead of her. If he didn’t know her already, he would have suspected her of playing his emotions to get him to stay, but this was Trish. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t desert you like that.”

She smiled, magnificent and beaming, brighter than the sunlight outside, so infectious that it made him grin in return. He couldn’t understand how she always did that, and why it always surprised him.

She set him up with a mask, safety glasses, heavy gloves and a utility knife, and they started at opposite ends of the room. They cut the carpet into four-foot widths, making it easier to tug the pieces from the tackless strips, although she still had a hard time. But she persisted, as if she had a personal stake in the removal of that nasty carpet.

She yanked up a stubborn piece. “If only my dad could see me now.” Her voice had a bitter, metallic tang to it.

“Why?”

“He told Mom he didn’t think I could do the repairs. Ha! I showed him.” She rolled up the carpet she’d unhooked. “I took your advice and did Internet searches to figure out how to pull up old carpet. Oh, and I secretly raided my dad’s Time Life books.”

“My dad had those. He actually used them, too. He would work on the house while Mom took my brothers and me to church on Sunday.”

“He didn’t go, too?”

“Not at first, but he did later. I miss him. He passed away when I was in college.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The droop in Trish’s mouth fascinated Spenser, even though dust and grime coated her hair, even though she wore no makeup, even though her baggy clothes did nothing for her figure.

He could segue the moment into Kazuo. No, too abrupt, too much like a confession spilling out. He didn’t want to sound
guilty
for not telling her about his past history with Kazuo. Maybe he’d mention his own struggles with faith. Then she’d understand how he hadn’t handled that situation in a very Christ-like manner . . .

She turned to a new section of carpet farther away from him. Too late. The moment was gone.

They removed all the carpet — from the front room, the hallway, and Trish’s bedroom. He noticed the folded camping tent and lack of furniture. “Where will you sleep?”

“I’ll set the tent back up after we clear off the carpet pad. I have an old sheet to lay down on the floor.”

He frowned at her.

She shrugged. “What else can I do?”

He had no answer.

They hefted the last of the carpet outside to the dumpster she had rented. They started pulling up the tackless strips with crowbars, but one mighty heave sent a piece of wood flying up to graze the back of his wrist. Spenser bit his tongue hard before he could let loose with a vehement cuss word.

“Are you okay?”

Spenser grimaced at the beads of blood from the scratch. It burned, but it wasn’t deep. “I’ll be fine.”

“I have a first aid kit. Let’s clean it so it doesn’t get infected.”

“No, it’s not that bad.”

Instead of insisting and dithering over him, she shrugged and went back to work. Spenser stood there in shock. Weren’t Asians supposed to offer multiple times because people always refused the first time? He felt gypped. Well, he couldn’t renege like a wuss. He tackled the wooden strips.