Rock Bottom

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

DANIKA

I’d called my sister several times after I’d gotten her number. When I had no luck reaching her, Jerry offered to use the number to track her down for me, and I’d let him. He was resourceful like that.

He’d found her living in L.A. She was a waitress and an aspiring actress, and she was willing to drive all the way to Vegas just to meet with me.

I was ecstatic.

Jerry had set up the meeting, but it had taken her a very long time to pin down a date. I’d been more than willing to drive to see her in L.A., but through the filter of Jerry, she’d insisted that she’d prefer to come see me. I was more than willing to take what I could get, even when it took her months to come.

We were supposed to be meeting in the bar and grill on Maryland Parkway, right across from the UNLV campus. I was hurrying to the meeting, running ten minutes behind because of my long-winded Political Science professor, when I saw her.

I stopped in my tracks.

It had been years since I’d seen her, but I recognized her instantly. She’d changed so much, but she was still the beautiful girl I remembered.

My mother said she didn’t look like me, but that was wrong. She had light brown hair, which was different, and it fell long and wavy down her back. She’d gotten blonde highlights, which set it off nicely. She was much shorter than me, and even my mother, and built thin, almost waif-like. I looked voluptuous in comparison.

But her face, down to her pale gray eyes, had always been very similar to mine. There was perhaps just a touch less of an exotic tilt to her eyes, but not by much. Even with her light brown hair, she barely passed for Caucasian, on close inspection. For some reason, this had always made my mom think she was plain. But she was wrong. Dahlia was stunning.

She was dressed very preppy, with a pleated gray skirt, white silk top, and a pale pink cardigan. Black Mary Janes and white knee-high socks completed the look. She looked like an adorable schoolgirl. It was not the look I’d been expecting her to adopt, being an actress/waitress living in L.A., but it looked great on her.

She didn’t smile when she saw me, but she waved, big white sunglasses hiding her expressive eyes from me.

I waved back, moving to her. We stopped in the middle of the sidewalk when we reached each other, just staring. I would have hugged her, but I wasn’t sure she’d want that, so I kept studying her, taking in this new, grown up version of my sister.

She seemed to do the same. I’d worn a little mod sheath dress that I’d borrowed from Bev. It was light blue, and I had flat ballet slippers that matched almost exactly. I’d been going for conservative but feminine, wanting to make a good impression on my kid sister, and be the polar opposite of how she’d last seen me, in that dark trailer that held so many dark horrors for us both.

“Hey Dahlia,” I finally spoke, finding my voice, if barely. Setting eyes on her had me choked up. “You look wonderful. L.A. seems to agree with you.”

She nodded shortly, still not smiling. “It’s better than here. I can’t believe you stayed here. I hate this town.”

I couldn’t blame her. We’d had a hell of a childhood in Sin City. Somehow, though, I’d made my peace with it. “I’m going to school here. I’m on a decent scholarship, and I work for a great family. I haven’t felt any desire to leave. Everything I need is here.”

She just gave another short nod. “Can we go sit down somewhere?”

“Yes, of course! I’m so sorry I was late. My professor wouldn’t stop talking.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that. I never even finished high school.”

That made me stare unhappily down at my feet. “I’m sorry for that,” I told her quietly.

“Why are you sorry? It wasn’t your fault. We never did have any good odds in our favor. It’s amazing one of us even made it to college.”

There was something in her words that gave me hope, some inkling I could hold onto that she didn’t blame me for everything.

We got a booth, ordered two waters, and then had another long staring match. It was something akin to an awkward silence, although it wasn’t quite that.

I studied her hands. They were so tiny and delicate. How had such a tiny, delicate thing like Dahlia fared against the big bad world all by herself, from such a young age? She’d survived, obviously, but what had she had to go through?

I shuddered to think.

“So how are you?” I asked her quietly and seriously.

That got the tiniest smile out of her. “I’m all right. Waiting tables. Still trying to catch my big break. I can’t complain.”

We shared another long, studying silence.

“So, I um, met your boyfriend,” Dahlia finally began, her lips pursing. I had a hard time reading her, but I thought her expression was displeased.

That had my eyebrows arching in a very curious question. I’d heard nothing about it.

“You’ve met my boyfriend? Tristan?”

She laughed nervously. “Yeah, Tristan. Unless you have more than one?”

I smiled and shook my head. “Not a chance. Just the one. How on earth did you meet him?”

“Your boss, Jerry. He invited me to come see the guys record their album a while ago, and I took him up on the offer. They’re amazing.”

I nodded enthusiastically. “Yes they are! Wow I’m jealous. I still haven’t had a chance to come hear them recording.”

She shot me a small, sheepish smile. “I actually went and saw them several times. I couldn’t seem to stay away.”

My mouth twisted wryly. I could see the appeal of five hot guys to a nineteen year old girl. Hell, I doubted any age woman would be immune to them.

“So…you and Tristan. Are you two actually serious?” There was something that I really didn’t like in her tone, as though she weren’t just idly curious.

“Yes,” I said simply. I didn’t feel the need to share any more. I was still feeling her out.

“He’s…a really great guy. I can see why you fell for him.”

“Thanks,” I said slowly, not liking the turn the conversation had taken. I tried to put my finger on it, but there were no definitive red flags. She was hard for me to read, which was sad, because we were sisters, and we’d been inseparable as children.

“So what made you decide to pursue acting?” I asked her, changing the subject, though I was curious. It would have been the last choice I’d have guessed for her. She’d always been such an introvert.

She shrugged, fidgeting in her chair. The question made her uncomfortable, it was clear. “A combination of things. I did one small role, and realized I liked it. Also…it runs in the family.”

I had to think that one over for a while before I gave up. I had no idea what she was talking about. There was just us and our mother, no other family, and none of us were actresses. “What do you mean?”

She cleared her throat, then looked down at her hands. When she spoke, her voice was barely loud enough for me to catch. “Our father is an actor.”

The silence wasn’t awkward this time, but it was long. I sat there, stunned, and tried to understand what she’d just said.

“You know our father?” I finally asked her. It was a mystery that had disturbed me for most of my life. Only in the last few years had I finally made peace with the idea that I would never know who he was. My mother had been stubbornly close-mouthed on the subject.

She ducked her head, flushing. “I do, yes.”

I swallowed. I didn’t know what I was feeling, couldn’t put my finger on it, but it was manifesting itself as a knot in my throat, and a burning in my chest. Why on earth would anything to do with this man, this person who had never been in our lives, had literally abandoned us from the start, bring up some strange emotion inside of me? Emotion that made the smallest news, the tiniest inkling that I might have some answers about him knock the breath out of me. I was angry with myself for feeling wounded that my sister somehow knew him, and I did not, but there it was.

Finally, “How do you know him? When did this start?”

She never looked up. “When I left that trailer with that sick old man, I found Mom. She was in bad shape, as she usually is, but I asked her if I could move back in with her. I didn’t know where else to go. She said no, but she finally told me who our father was, and she gave me his number. So I went to L.A., and met him.”

Her lip curled into an expression of distaste, but her eyes stayed down. “He was nothing like I’d hoped for. He’s known about us the whole time. He was giving Mom money, but he wanted nothing to do with us. He met with me, and gave me some money, enough to live on for years, but he made it clear he didn’t want to see me again.”

I was overwhelmed.

I just stared at her, trying to figure out where I should start with the questions.

She began to speak again, “He has a family, has four legitimate kids. The oldest is four years older than you, and the youngest is three years younger than me. He’s been a busy guy, but he’s still married. God only knows how many other children he has hidden away. I don’t imagine we’re his only dirty little secret.”

“He’s very famous, and he’s loaded, like mega-loaded.” She looked up, saw my expression, and continued, “He paid my way for a while, when I was underage and had no resources. I guess I’m thankful, in a way, but it does little to soften my resentment. I stopped taking his money as soon as I was able to get on my feet. He won’t even have a phone conversation with me. He has his assistant talk to me. There are no real ties there, and so it didn’t feel right to keep taking his money. Now all I want is to become more famous than him, more famous than his family, so I can show him what he threw away.” Her voice was passionate by the end, and I felt for her.

It was a bitter pill to swallow, to be grossly neglected by one parent, and completely rejected by the other.

It took me a while, but I finally asked the question that I had to ask. “Who is he?”

“Bronson Giles.”

I’d heard of him. He was a dramatic actor, and critically acclaimed. He was large-boned and handsome, with blond hair and striking pale gray eyes. I recalled that he’d won an Oscar a few years back, and that I’d seen him in several movies, and thought he was good.

“Is that his real name?” I asked her.

She shook her head. “It’s his stage name, but he’s not listed on our birth certificates, and Mom tells me that he never told her his real name.”

I didn’t know what to think, what to feel. Should I be proud that my biological father was famous? I wasn’t. I had no kinship with the man, but finally I had a face, and a basic backstory. Now I wanted to pretend I’d never heard of the man. There was nothing else for me to do.

“I’ll give you his number, if you want it, but I doubt you’ll get any closure on meeting him. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to ask him for more money soon, which I’m not looking forward to. It’s just…I don’t know what else to do.”

“Why?” I asked, troubled by her tone. She sounded so forlorn.

Her face crumpled, and she buried it in her hands. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs.

I wanted to go to her, to walk around the table and embrace her, but I didn’t know that I should. I still didn’t think she’d want me to touch her.

She stopped quickly, straightening. Her face was wet, but her expression was composed again. She took a very deep breath before she spoke. “I’m pregnant, and I don’t know what to do.” She buried her face in her hands again.

I sat frozen, not knowing what to do, or what to say. I didn’t know anything about her. She seemed too young to have a baby, but she could have been married, for all I knew.

Finally, when she composed herself again, I asked carefully, “Who is the father?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” She paused, looking devastated. “I don’t know.”

I didn’t point out that those were two drastically different things.

“Well, if there is anything I can do to help, anything at all, please tell me. I’d love to become a part of your life again. And your baby’s, too. My heart is always open to you,” I had to blink back unexpected tears, “it always has been. I’ve missed you every single day since you left. I’m here for you, however you need me.”

Her face crumpled again, and she looked away.

She reached across the table, not meeting my eyes as she put her hand over mine. “I’m sorry. What happened to us, it was horrible, and I know I made it worse for you. I wish I could take it back. I’m ashamed at how I treated you. I was shocked by what I saw, and I just reacted. I was so broken, so torn apart by all of the things that happened in that fucking trailer, that I ran and just kept running. That’s my only excuse for the way things went down, but I am sorry for it all.”

I was trembling hard, as though a great weight had been lifted from my shoulders, and my body had to move in some way just to feel its new freedom.

“Thank you,” I whispered. Some things you needed so fundamentally, so desperately, that you couldn’t acknowledge the need until it was met. I acknowledged it now.

I needed my sister. And I needed to know that she didn’t hate me.

“That man was a monster, and I’m sorry I left you alone to his mercy. Forgive me?”

I shook my head, still blinking back tears. “There’s nothing to forgive. I’m so happy you got away. The sooner the better. And I didn’t stay there for much longer after you’d gone.”

“Good. I had so many nightmares about that, about leaving you, and you never making it out of there. But even with the nightmares, I was too terrified to go back. This is the first time I’ve been to Vegas since I left.”

“The old man is dead. A heart attack.” I thought it important to tell her. The news had brought me so much relief.

She took a deep breath, nodding. “That is good. Thank you for telling me. Let’s never talk about him again.”

“Whatever you want. Whatever you need. I’m just happy to have found you again.”

She smiled at me, but it was sad. “Yes. It’s so good to see your face again. I wish it had happened sooner. What are your plans today? We should go shopping, if you’re free.”

I was free. I’d made sure I had the afternoon off for just this purpose, hoping things would work out for the best. They had exceeded my expectations though. I had never dreamed of acceptance from her, or forgiveness.

We shopped for hours at the Fashion Show Mall. Neither of us bought anything. We mostly window-shopped, and chatted about our lives. It was something we used to do as teenagers. We’d hang around the mall every spare second that we could, just to avoid going home.

We talked about our years apart, caught up on as much as we could of what we’d both been doing. I didn’t tell her about my own pregnancy, but I had every intention of telling her soon.

It was nearing dinnertime when I finally had to go. “Tristan should be in town by now. He’s home for the weekend, and he’s supposed to be cooking me dinner at his apartment.”

Her face lit up, and so of course, I invited her to join us.

“I have no idea what he’s making, but I can guarantee it will be divine,” I told her as we walked through the parking garage to our cars.

“Oh, yes, I know,” she assured me. “I’ve had his cooking before.”

That made me feel…disgruntled. What had I been missing lately? How was Tristan cooking for my sister, and I somehow hadn’t known a thing about it?

It felt wrong.

“How’s that? When have you had Tristan’s cooking?”

“I visited the band’s house for dinner one night, and he was cooking. He made lasagna, and it was to die for.”

That was better, but only a little. I still couldn’t believe that Tristan had met her and not said a word to me about it. There was no way I wouldn’t be grilling him about it later. Not a chance in hell.

I gave her the address in case I lost her, but still had her follow me to the apartment. I sent Tristan one brief text on the way.

Danika: We have an extra guest for dinner.

I didn’t check for a response, and put my phone away, as I always did, before I started driving.

It took us forty-five minutes to get from the strip to Tristan’s Henderson apartment with the traffic, and I was thinking about Dahlia the entire time.

Something was going on with her, something troubling, beyond even her accidental pregnancy. Even after hours of opening up to each other, she hadn’t given away even a hint about how it had happened.

Dahlia was right behind me when I parked. She’d trailed me with diligence for the entire drive.

She followed me closely up the stairs, and to Tristan’s front door. When I opened it, unexpectedly, she rushed in first.

Before I could even close the door behind me, she was in the kitchen, throwing her arms around a surprised Tristan, giving him a huge, exuberant hug.

His own arms went slowly and tentatively around her, giving her a ghost of a hug back before he tried to disentangle himself.

“Tristan! It’s so wonderful to see you again!” she gushed.

I just stared, feeling a little queasy.

He set his hands on her shoulders, moving her gently away from him. “Nice to see you, too. Excuse me.”

He strode to me, wrapping me in his arms, pulling me very close, and kissing me, long and deep. It was nothing that my kid sister needed to see, but that didn’t stop him from doing it, and it didn’t stop me from reacting. I never had been able to tell the man no.

By the time he pulled back, my brain was near to mush, but that still didn’t distract me enough to keep my questions in.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d met my sister?” I asked him, watching his face carefully.

His brow furrowed, and he shot Dahlia one unreadable look before he answered. “I barely met her, so it wasn’t such a big deal. Can we talk about it later?”

That answer wasn’t what I’d wanted, but I held my tongue, not wanting to have this strange confrontation in front of my sister.

Dahlia and I sat on the couch, chatting it up while Tristan cooked dinner.

He’d come out of the kitchen every so often, sit down beside me, and kiss my on the forehead, the hand, the cheek. He’d always been like this, but my delicate state had seemed to send his natural inclinations into steroid levels. I loved how demonstrative he was, but the fourth time he did it, I noticed the way it made Dahlia look down and, a few times, grimace.

Finally, I had to ask. “Are you okay? Is something the matter?”

She shook her head, but just kept looking down at her hands. “No, no, I’m just fine. You two are really affectionate, huh? I didn’t realize how serious you were.”

“I told you it was serious,” I said carefully. I wondered if I should just tell her how serious, but then I thought of the Jerry connection. I didn’t know how good she was at keeping secrets, and I’d just as soon wait and tell everyone when we were ready to. If Bev didn’t hear it directly from me, she’d be so hurt.

“Yeah you did. Did you fall in love with him the second you laid eyes on him?”

I pondered that. “Just about. He and I…we always had chemistry. We tried to fight it at first, but here we are.”

She nodded. “Yes. Tristan plus any woman would be mad chemistry.”

I didn’t appreciate that. And she wasn’t done.

“I assumed you’d be head over heels in love with him. Who wouldn’t be? But I didn’t realize that he was mad for you, as well.”

“You didn’t? What did you assume? Tell me, what impression has he given you?”

“Well, he’s just…I don’t know, out of town so much. He’s as good as living in L.A., away from you. I just thought that if he was serious, he’d try to be here more.”

“You think either of us have a say in the recording schedule? We don’t, but it’s a temporary problem. I guess he could quit the band, but they should be done in a matter of weeks, I’ve heard.”

She shrugged. “If you say so. It just seems to me that you don’t just turn that lifestyle on and off. I don’t know, I guess that when I heard he had a girlfriend, and then saw the kind of life he leads over there, I just assumed it was a casual thing. The things that go on in that house would test any serious relationships. I don’t know how you can stand it.”

“What kinds of things? Do tell.” I felt my cheeks flushing, my temper rising.

She glanced at the kitchen as though she wanted to be sure that Tristan didn’t overhear what she was about to tell me. “Drinking, drugs, constant parties…women,” she said quietly, pointedly.

I felt bile rising in my throat, but I held my composure. “Are you telling me that Tristan’s been unfaithful to me?” The drugs concerned me too, and even the drinking, when he took it to extremes, but that last one caught my attention like nothing else could.

She shook her head quickly, eyes wide, lips pursed. “No, no, that’s not what I’m saying. He’s not like that. But he’s lonely, I can tell. How long will he be lonely before he caves to temptation over there? Every man has needs.”

My jaw clenched. I loved my sister, but I hated that she assumed that she somehow knew Tristan better than I did, that she somehow had an intuition into his needs that I did not.

“Thanks for your concern,” I told her, trying hard to keep my tone nice, “but it’s my job to see to Tristan’s needs, and if you’ll notice, he’s not complaining. As soon as they get this record done, he’ll be back in town, and everything will be back to normal. We just have a few more weeks left of the long distance relationship.”

My mind avoided the fact that we’d been saying this for months now.

She didn’t look convinced, and I wondered why she needed to be. How did any of this affect her, and why did she feel the need to make it her business? I was getting more agitated by the second.

“And what about when the band goes on tour, to promote the new album? How will things work out then? Would you go with them?”

I blinked. I hadn’t heard anything about a tour from Tristan, though I had heard it mentioned. “Go with them?” I repeated blankly. “Well no, I wouldn’t go with them. I have too much going on here. I couldn’t just quit school, quit working, quit everything to go on tour with them. The idea is ludicrous.”

“I’d do it,” she said passionately.

My hands clenched.

She continued, “I’d do whatever it took to keep a guy like Tristan, even if it meant leaving my whole life behind. Don’t you think he’s worth it?”

It was a much stronger effort this time to keep my tone polite. “I know better than anyone what he’s worth. He means the world to me, but he wouldn’t ask me to do something like that. And besides, he hasn’t said a word to me about the band going on tour.”

She shot a pointed look Tristan’s way. His back was to us as he cooked, oblivious to our conversation, in the kitchen.

“Well, you should ask him about it. I don’t know why he hasn’t told you, but the band is planning a three month tour just as soon as they finish recording.”

“Three months?” I burst out, loud enough to turn Tristan’s head. He shot me a questioning glance, but I just shook my head. I’d bring it up to him later. It would be ideal if we could have that conversation when we were alone.

I gave Dahlia a rather stiff smile. “He and I can discuss it later. Let’s you and I find something else to talk about, huh?”

Tristan made us enchiladas, which he knew were my favorite.

I set the table, getting all three of us tall glasses of ice water.

He brought the bottle of Jack to the table, pouring himself a generous amount. He’d been much better in general since the pregnancy, but his drinking was hitting new levels.

I stared at the bottle. The drinking was becoming more and more troublesome. There was a time when what I thought was his occasional, casual drug use bothered me the most, but the drinking seemed, to me, to be turning into the bigger problem.

“Just to take the edge off,” he explained with a charming smile, flashing me his most dangerous dimples.

I thought about how he hadn’t used to need to take the edge off around me. It used to be just my company was enough to do that, especially for an evening spent at home.

We ate, and the food was wonderful. I wondered how it was that none of Tristan’s cooking ever seemed to set off what seemed to be my constant nausea.

I lasted until dessert before I had to ask, but it was a struggle. “So what’s this I hear about a three month tour?”

Tristan froze, a spoonful of chocolate cake halfway to his mouth. He set it down, looking sheepish, then stern as he shot Dahlia a reprimanding look.

Now that I didn’t like. If they had spent enough time together to have some sort of silent language, that wasn’t good for my peace of mind. What the hell was going on here?

“The record producer is trying to put something together, but I haven’t signed on. I haven’t committed to anything yet. I’m not sure what I’m going to do. I was going to ask you what you thought about it.”

“You know, it’s funny how you always say you don’t know what you’ll do, but you always seem to do whatever the hell they ask you to. I’m thinking you have your decision already, you just don’t want to tell me, because you know it’s a terrible idea, and I won’t approve.”

His hand covered my clenched one on the table. “Sweetheart, my decision is made, now. I can see that you don’t like the idea, so I won’t do it. Simple as that. Like I said, I’d never agreed to it. It was just something that the record producer wanted to do. I have no problem saying no.”

He sounded so convincing that I let myself be convinced.

Dahlia wound up crashing on the couch, rather than driving all the way back home late at night, and it wasn’t until Tristan and I were alone in the bathroom adjoining his room, brushing our teeth, that I brought it up again. “Why didn’t you tell me you had met each other? Why would you keep that from me?”

He spat, setting his toothbrush down, his eyes meeting mine in the mirror. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

“What does that mean?”

His brow furrowed as he scratched at his jaw. “Don’t get upset—“

“That’s never a good way to start off.”

“Yes, I know. It’s not good. Dahlia started coming to the house maybe three months ago. She was hanging around a lot. I tried to warn her off, and I made sure all of the guys knew that she was off-limits, but, I don’t know. I thought you’d worry about her, hanging around the guys that much, getting into that scene. She’s a very nice girl, but she doesn’t listen to me.

“I was hoping,” he continued, “when she met up with you again, that you could talk some sense into her, but she just kept putting off the meeting. She stopped coming around the house in L.A. a while ago, so I thought the problem was solved, but I was worried it would hurt your feelings that she’d spent time with the band, and still hadn’t so much as called you. I’m relieved you two seemed to hit it off, after all.”

“You two seem to have hit it off, as well,” I muttered.

He grimaced. “Yeah, I guess. When she came around to the house, I was usually locked up in my room to avoid whatever mess Dean was cooking up, but I did see her a few times. I just assumed she was there to visit one of the other guys, though I couldn’t have said which one.”

“And she told me you still have groupies visiting the house.” I wasn’t exactly shocked by this, but even so, I wasn’t pleased.

“You know I wouldn’t—“

“Yes, I know, but that’s not the point. The point is that you promised me you’d make some house rules over there.”

“I did, but that doesn’t mean I’ve been able to enforce them. Every time Dean does it, I refuse to work in the studio the next day, but I’ve got to tell you, that seems to be just what he wants. He’d love it if we were stranded there inevitably. The first three times he brought random chicks back, I left, went to a hotel, but that didn’t change a thing either. I try to kick them out myself, but they’re girls. I’ve kicked Dean’s ass, but he doesn’t give a shit what I do. I could leave, but at this point, I’d owe the studio more than I can afford to pay back if I back out of this deal. I’m sorry, but it’s become a mess that I don’t know how to clean up. Right now I just want to finish up and get the hell out of there.”

“How come you didn’t tell me about any of this before? It’s been going on for months?”

He shrugged, looking unhappy. “You have enough on your plate. What kind of man would I be, if I can’t even handle my own problems, especially considering your condition?”

“Just don’t go back,” I said suddenly, decisively. “It’s bad for you. This thing is taking its toll on you. We’ll figure out a way to pay back the studio, and if they try to sue, we’ve got Bev and Jerry to help you fight them.”

He moved behind me, both hands going to cup my belly very, very gently. “I can do this. I’ll finish it and walk away. We’ll need all of our spare money when this little angel comes along.”

I smiled, my heart in my eyes. I couldn’t help it, every time he talked about the baby, I melted into a puddle at his feet.

“She has a huge crush on you,” I told him after a time my voice very quiet. I did not want to be heard through the walls.

He winced, which told me that he already knew that. “Trust me, I hate that even more than you do. But what am I supposed to do? I have to be nice to her. She’s your sister. I’ve already asked her to back off twice. She stopped hanging around the house, so I think she got the picture.”

That satisfied me, at least on his end, but I had no clue what to do about her. Hopefully she’d just get the picture and move on.

He kissed my neck, one hand going up to palm my breast.

“Tristan,” I told him, trying to sound stern, but falling far short. “We can’t. Not with my sister under the same roof.”

“Oh, hell no. I’ll kick her out right now, if it’s going to be like that.”

I rolled my eyes.

“You’re just going to have to get over this type of shyness. We’ll be living in a house with a baby soon. Are we going to abstain just because our baby is under the same roof?”

I mulled that over. I hadn’t thought about the logistics of it yet.

“The answer is no, Danika. There’ll be no abstaining. If you need to, you can try to be quiet, but I’m not keeping my hands off you tonight, or any night. And think about how silly you’re being, considering all of the times with Bev and the kids under the same roof?”

He had a point, but so did I. “But this is different. The apartment is much smaller, and the sound carries in here.”

“I don’t fucking care.”

This was also a good point. I could see when I’d lost a battle, and this one I conceded gracefully, and unfortunately, loudly.

He stripped me, splayed me out on his bed, and worked on me with his tongue until I was biting my hand not to scream. He was relentless, and finally, when one small shriek burst out of me, he moved up my body and took me hard. There was no mistaking what we’d been up to by the time we were done.

I doubted the neighbors hadn’t heard.

“You’re an ass. It’s like you wanted her to hear.”

“Well, let’s put it this way. I don’t care if she knows, and now you won’t be as embarrassed the next time.”