The Science of Loving (24 page)

My emotions were all over the place as I reflected on my whorish behavior; my embarrassment growing the closer we got to home. I’d jumped at having sex the first chance I got. No, not sex; sex was too tame a description for what we’d done. We’d fucked, and not the polite kind, if there was such a thing—
how does one fuck politely?
With pinkies out?
—I stifled a snicker—
Pardon me ever so much, but could I possibly stick my dick in your cunt? Ta
—no, what we’d done was nasty, raunchy and lewd. It was talk-dirty-tie-me-up-and-make-me-beg fucking, and I loved every minute of it. But after today, I doubted I’d ever hear from him again. He’d never be that desperate. He had the twins waiting after all.

“What’re you thinking about so hard over there?”

“Just processing,” I said hoarsely, swallowing against the painful lump forming in my throat. Shit, I wouldn’t end this with snot and tears, dammit.

“Uh oh, that doesn’t sound good. Don’t go thinking yourself into a funk, babe.”

“What makes you think I’m getting into a funk?” I knew better than to look at him. He seemed able to read me almost as well as Daddy.

“Really?” He glanced at me, raising an eyebrow. Shit, even his eyebrows were sarcastic.

“So, your mom’s an attorney, what does your dad do?” I watched him debate the change in subject. I relaxed when he sighed, knowing I’d won, at least for the moment.

“He’s a community organizer. He helps at risk communities correct inequities through local governance. For example, schools serving richer neighborhoods get the most money instead of the ones with the greatest needs. Even when programs are offered, they often don’t work because they’re not comprehensive enough. They’re just band-aides designed to satisfy some political agenda or regulation.”

“I guess you come by your activism honestly. It’s in your genes.”

“You know that’s not all that’s in my jeans.” He leered, dragging my hand over to grope his package. “So, back to my original query, what’s on your mind?”

God, he’s like a pit-bull.
I dragged my nails against the growing bulge in his lap. “What’s in your jeans?”
Now…

“Oh yeah?” He grinned, placing a smothering hand over mine. “Care to be more specific?”
No…

“A little mystery’s good for the soul. I can’t have you thinking you’re all that.”

“After making you come how many times last night? I know I’m all that, but I guess my questions can wait for the power tools and rope.”
Power tools?

“Do your worst.”
Please.
“I’ll never talk.”

“Oh, sweetness, it’s on.” Holy smokes, I was joking. What did he mean by that?

“So… tools, huh.” Hopefully he wouldn’t hear the quaver in my voice. What had I started?

“Tools, Angelina,” he growled. Shit, I was no longer sure if this was just playful banter. He smiled when I switched on the radio before my mouth got me into any more trouble. And every time he caught my eye, that nefarious grin resurfaced. He knew exactly what he was doing to me. I was so flustered by the time we got home, I could barely talk as he grabbed my backpack out of the back then guided me up the walk with a hand at my back.

He pushed through the door as soon as I had it unlocked, and my place shrank as he filled the space, prowling about. The Realtor had listed it as a two-bedroom condominium with an open floor plan; I called it a one bedroom, too-small-for-walls efficiency, with a large closet. But I was paying for the zip code, not the square footage. Really, how much does one person need? I worked. I came home and ate dinner in front of the TV then went to bed with lab reports or a book. I had all the necessary basics: A love seat, a coffee/dining table, an antique secretary with a really good desk chair and a couple glass fronted legal bookcases—gifts from Daddy when I received my Doctorates—to put all my published works and research in.

“So…” A growl startled me out of my wool gathering.

“So… What?”

“So, when are you coming to my house of horrors? I believe we still have some unresolved business to attend to.”

“Business?” I said, backing up as he stalked forward.

“Yeah. Questions. Answers. Power tools.” He trapped me against the front door placing a hand on either side of my head. “Tell you what, keep next weekend open, and we’ll discuss my lascivious intentions in more detail over dinner Wednesday evening.”

“I thought your intentions were concupiscent.”

“Very concupiscent.” He gave me a breath-stealing kiss, “Sometime soon, I’m going to fuck you against this door.” After another brush of his lips, he pushed away. “I’ll pick you up at six.”

He left me dazed, imagining the many ways one could be fucked against a door—I was pretty sure some of them defied the laws of physics—and I probably would have stood there all day if my dad’s ringtone hadn’t snapped me out of it.

“Hey Daddy, what’s up?”

“Hi baby girl. Ummm… You home?”

“Yeah, I just got back.”

“Good… Good… You have a good time?”

“Yeah, Mat’s family’s really nice.”

“Uh huh… I’m just around the corner. I don’t suppose you got time for your old man?”

“Sure Daddy, I always have time for you. Is everything all right?”

“Uh huh… I’ll see you in a bit.”

He’d sounded off. A heaviness settled in my chest as I carried my backpack to my bedroom. I began sorting my laundry into piles while I waited, discovering some garments had gone missing—
oh, for pity’s sake—
my Myla Monique panties were MIA. I rechecked all the compartments, nothing. I even turned my jeans inside out to see if they slipped into one of the legs before I pulled out my cell and began texting:

“Why does my property go missing after I’m with you?”

He replied immediately.
“Insuring 2nd date?”

My phone dinged again.
“Will sleep with them and dream of you. Breathing heavy already.”

“Good luck getting them on.”

“No worries. Fit perfectly on my face.
☺
”
Holy smokes.

Daddy’s knock at the door put an end to any possible sexting.
“Gotta go, Dad’s here.”

“Hey Daddy.” He looked haggard, his normally crisp shirt, wrinkled and wilting. There were heavy circles under his eyes, and his face was etched with worry in a way I'd never noticed before. “What’s wrong? Is Mom okay?” I asked, sitting next to him on the sofa.

“I’m sure your mom’s just fine. Honey, there’s really no easy way to say this; your mother and I are getting divorced.”

“Why?” Although I knew things weren’t great between them, I was stunned anyway. I couldn't help thinking this was somehow my fault. Would they still be together if I hadn’t complained to Daddy about that night? “Is it because of me?”

“What? Oh, no. No baby girl, don’t ever think that. This has been a long time coming. We only lasted this long because of you.”

“But, I don’t understand. What happened?”

“Nothing… You’re all grown up now, and it’s just time.”

“So what happens now?”

“Well, I was hoping you could put me up for a bit while we get things sorted out.”

“Of course Daddy.”

I snuggled up to him as I had countless times before. “Tell me what you want Daddy. You know there’s nothing I can’t fix,” I said, returning the comforting words he’d given me more times than I could count.

He hugged me tightly. “You’ve grown into such a beautiful woman. I’m so very proud of you.”

“I know Daddy,” I whispered sadly.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Hey Daddy Look What Followed Me Home

I went to work earlier than usual, giving myself time to gather my thoughts before meeting with my partners. I was topping off my second cup of coffee mulling over Angie’s idea about a second division when Tom came.

“Morning. How was the great outdoors?” He grinned as I filled his cup before returning the pot to the burner. He was always insufferably cheerful in the morning.

“It had its highs and lows. We need to talk.”

“Talk huh? Are you breaking up with me honey? It’s just a few extra pounds. I’m sure I’ll lose them once the baby arrives.”

“Yeah, about 170 pounds of douche.”

“Ah… I’m surprised you waited this long.” He caught on so fast it was uncanny. I once accused him of being psychic. Instead of denying it, he just stared back, smiling creepily. God, gave me chills just thinking about it.

“So, you on board with this?”

“Yep. Just been waiting on you.”

“Good. There’s another idea I’ve been mulling over—well, it’s not my idea, something a friend tossed out—you know how Max wants to get into the generic market?” Tom’s eyes narrowed. He hated that shit almost as much as I did. “What if we gave Max an independent division with its own brand to address that market?”

“That could work well. He’s better at the commercial stuff. We’re probably holding him back.”

“Yeah, I was thinking it’d be a nice carrot to offer, but Avery’s gone, regardless.”

“Agreed. I’ve already had a couple of complaints.” I raised my eyebrows. “He’s made some comments to Mel and sent a couple of off-colored emails.”

“Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Because, you’re a hot head and each incident by itself wasn’t bad enough to be actionable. But it’s starting to add up”

“So, what’re you two so serious about.” Max strolled in with Avery bringing up the rear.

“Oh, this and that.” Tom motioned to Max. “Grab some coffee and we’ll chat in the conference room.”

When Avery trailed after Max with a curious look on his face, Tom stopped him at the door. Max looked from Tom to me. “So, what’s up?”

“Avery’s gotta go,” I said, much to Tom’s annoyance. Right, I really should let him handle this. He was the facilitator of our little group; without him, nothing would get done. Neither Max nor I were big on compromise. Max would pull that passive aggressive shit, quietly acting behind our backs—like hiring Avery—while I skipped the whole passive part; going straight to rattling-the-windows, full rant.

Max glared, looking ready to fight. “You’ve never given him a chance. God, why do you have such a problem with him?”

“You want to know why I have a problem?”

“Mat.” Tom cautioned.

“No, it’s high time we cleared the air.” Tom sat back resigned when I ignored his warning. “First of all, you waited until we were out of the country then hired him behind our backs. Not cool, but also not his fault so we gave him his shot, but he brings in business he knows we don’t want, and ignores the market we’ve asked him to develop.”

“I really don’t understand what you have against commercial development.” I looked at Tom; we weren’t getting through to him.

“That’s a whole different discussion.” Tom added calmly, trying to steer the conversation into reasonable waters. “Look, if you want a sales rep, fine. Let’s try someone else, someone that gets what we do.”

Max was already shaking his head even before Tom finished. “I’ll talk to him.” I just didn't get why he was so stuck on Avery.

“It’s not only his work that’s unacceptable, we’re getting complaints about his conduct.” Tom continued.

“What kind of complaints?”

“The kind that could get us taken to court for harassment.”

“Okay, not everyone gets his humor, I’ll talk to him.”

“Do you know where he spent this weekend?”

“Yeah, he said you guys went camping. Knowing how you feel about him, I was surprised you invited him.”

I snorted. “I didn’t invite him. He showed up without any gear, expecting to weasel his way into my tent. The tent I was sharing with my girl. Oh, but not before eye-fucking her. Then I come to find out, he pushed on Danny—you remember Danny, my baby sister—to the point she felt it necessary to introduce her knee to his nuts. Let’s just say things went downhill from there, but him expecting me to dump my girlfriend to help him make it with some coeds was the last fucking straw.”

“Seriously?” I guess Tom was unaware just how monumental a douchebag Avery was.

“He even alienated my dad.” Finally, that got Max’s attention. My dad was pretty unflappable. “Now if he can do that, just think of the damage he can do to our reputations. Next thing you know he’ll be taking our clients to strip clubs.”
By the look on Max’s face, he may have already done that.
Motherfucker.

Tom’s expression morphed from amused disbelief, to horror. “Max, please tell me he didn’t take our business to strip clubs. If he did, you should not only have fired him, you should’ve given us a heads up.”

“Look I had a long talk with him. He knows not to do that again.”

“WHAT THE FUCK!” Who was this idiot? Because this wasn't the man I went into business with.

“Mat, you need to chill out.” There must have been ice water in Tom’s veins maintaining his calm; unfortunately, I had my mother’s temper.

“Here’s an idea, let us buy you out, then you can go into business with Avery, because there’s no fucking way I’m staying in business with you.”