PullMyHair (9 page)

She felt foolish when he simply removed the copy of the
contract from her nerveless fingers. But the small contact from his fingers on
hers was electric. She felt like a heroine in one of her spicy romances she
secretly read, but she could almost felt a strange burn with the contact.

She needed to get out more and date real men. She’d
definitely, definitely, been reading too many erotic e-books.

It’s where she’d been getting her “fix” as of late.

“All those buttoned-up collars that you sport, all those
stuffy navy blue suits…definitely uptight,” he mocked gently. “Don’t you ever
just want let go, Renita?” he all but whispered, surprisingly enticing her with
his low-talking barrage.

She had to move away from him.

“I have no need to ‘let go’ Mr. Holt…”

“After a year of working together, don’t you think you could
call me by my first name?” When she only stared at him, from across the room
where she’d made her escape, he continued, “Come on, Renita…” he drawled her
name. “Say it. Say my name. Don’t be scared. I won’t bite.”

The way that he asked her to call him by his first name,
promising not to bite her, made her treacherous carnal mind come up with images
of her calling him Gaynor in a totally different setting than the office. And
her welcoming his bite. Wherever. Wherever.

She wondered if he knew the effect he was having on her.

Not only did she feel her face heat, she felt her neck,
breasts, torso, legs
and
her toes all catch fire from the look on his
handsome, scruffy face and the way he was,
staring
at her.

The look on his face confirmed to her that he knew exactly
what he was saying.

“I’m not afraid of anything, or anyone,
Gaynor
, and I
think I’ll pass on the offer,” she said, straightening her back and secured the
top buttons of her silk blouse. She caught the flash of amusement and something
more in his eyes before he closed down any telling expression.

“As I said, I’m happy where I am, but thank you,” she said
and accepted the signed copy of the contract and filed it away before she
turned back to the investigator.

“Well, the invitation is there. Think about it,” he said.

She said nothing more as she gathered her things in
preparation of leaving for the day. Work with Gaynor Holt and have to see his
strangely appealing gruff behind everyday?
No way
, she thought with an
inward laugh.

She’d stay right where she was, working at the very
prestigious law firm that her parents had pulled several strings for her to
get. One that had been willing to overlook her juvenile records, records that
to the high-powered attorneys would not have remained sealed.

She had no intention of disappointing her parents again.

No matter how appealing the thought of working with him
seemed to be
, she thought, as she slid him a sideways glance from beneath
lowered lids.

Greg took a cursory glance around the dark-lit club,
searching for Liza. He smiled when he caught site of his wife’s dark head bob
slightly up and down as she listened to the soulful strains from the live band.
He threaded his way through the small tables until he made it to her side.

“Hi, sweetheart…sorry I’m late,” he raised his voice so that
she could hear him over the music.

“That’s okay, you’re not
too
late. I went ahead and
ordered an appetizer for us,” she told him, accepting his light kiss.

Greg sat down in the maroon leather chair and looked around
the club. It was already busy.

Although it was Wednesday, the club was quickly filling with
an eclectic group, ranging from those dressed in business attire, to those
dressed more casually in slacks or jeans. Rigby’s was one of the few clubs in
Stanton that featured a live band five days a week. The band that was currently
playing was a favorite for him and Liza. No sooner had he sat in his seat, than
they announced they’d be taking a small break.

“That’s fine, baby. How was your day?” he asked, as he took
her in from head to toe. She was gorgeous.

As usual Liza was beautifully dressed, without a hair out of
place. Immaculate.

Sometimes, he just wanted to mess her up.

He longed to throw her down right where they were and kiss
her senseless, just to see her ‘oh so well put together’ self, flustered…and
completely, thoroughly…messed up.

The thought alone turned him on. Probably because he could
imagine how embarrassed she’d be and how sexy she’d look. Totally out of
control. He couldn’t imagine his wife letting go enough to do anything so
public.

He linked his fingers with hers across the small, candlelit
table. The sting of their encounter earlier had lessened and Greg was glad he’d
asked her to meet him for dinner.

“It was fine, I ended up going to lunch with a few of the
women from the club.”

“I’m sorry about not being able to make it. It was a hectic
day,” he felt a twinge of guilt over the lie, but brushed it aside.

“Ummm. It was okay. I had a decent enough time.” She pulled
her hand away from his when the waitress placed the steaming bowl of hot
spinach dip in the center of the table, next to the sourdough bread. “Thank
you,” she murmured.

He waited for her to continue speaking when he saw the way
she’d brought her eyebrows together, and pursed her lips. As though she was
trying to work something out in her mind.

He accepted his drink from the waitress and sat back in his
chair, waiting for Liza to speak. She picked up a piece of bread and lightly
dipped it into the dip, chewing thoughtfully before she continued.

“I ran into a woman I haven’t seen since I was a teenager.”
There was a small hesitancy to her voice.

“Yes? Was that a good thing?” he too pulled a piece of bread
from the loaf and ate, as he waited for her to sort whatever was going on in
her mind, out.

“It was unexpected. And funny. And…painful. A little,” she
said with a humorless small laugh.

“How was it painful?”

“I don’t know. I guess anytime you see someone from your
past, it tends to be painful,” she evaded.

“Not always,” he countered. “What made this one so painful?”

She was saved from answering when their food arrived
simultaneously with the band striking up. He could see the relief flash across
her expressive face and gritted his teeth together in frustration.

Fuck.

He felt like shaking her ass! With every damn step forward,
it seemed as though she took two friggin’ steps back. He grabbed the napkin to
his right, shook out the utensils and stabbed into his steak, stuffing his
mouth with a forkful of the tender meat. He knew that he’d better keep his
mouth full of food otherwise there was no telling what he’d say to Liza.

By the end of the night, if she didn’t open up, he was going
to confront her about her mother. And ask why was it that he’d not been aware
that not only had she been in contact with her, but she’d been giving her
mother money since her sophomore year in college, until last week when her
mother had called him. After seven years of marriage.

* * * * *

He looked mad as hell.

She really couldn’t blame him. She’d be angry too.

She’d played a game of hide-‘n-seek long enough. But try as
she might, she didn’t know how to even start to tell him about her past. Her
childhood, the way she grew up moving from house to house whenever they fell
behind on the rent, food stamps, Medicaid…not to mention her crazy-ass mama and
their strange love-hate relationship.

Sometimes the best way was the direct way.

“You know how rough it was for me as a kid, Greg,” she
started and stopped.

“Yes. A little. I mean you’ve told me some of what your
childhood was like,” he said.

“Sometimes, it’s really hard for me to think about it, much
less talk about it. I just want to forget some of the things that happened,
it’s easier that way.”

“I can understand that, Li. I don’t want you to talk about
things that upset you. I just think you’d feel better about it all, if you did.
And who better to talk about it with than me?”

“I went to the ladies room at the club and to say I was
surprised when I saw that the attendant was a woman I’d known as a child, is
putting it mildly,” she said after she’d taken a bite of her linguine,
considering his words.

“I’ll bet.” Was all that he said, but the look on his face
spurred her on to continue. It was as though she’d given him an early Christmas
present and helped her to continue her story.

“It was a woman who had gone to the same church that I’d
gone to as a child. She asked me how I’d been. She seemed happy to know that I
was doing well. She asked about my mother.” She stopped and looked down at her
plate, swallowing.

“What did you say?” Greg asked casually and paused for a
brief moment, right before he was ready to take a bite of his steak.

Although he tried to hide it she felt his intent stare and
grew uncomfortable. He tried to hide his interest, but they’d been married long
enough that she could read her man. He carefully took a bite, chewing slowly,
methodically, as he stared at her.

“What could I say? Her guess was as good as mine.”

Greg’s face tightened and Liza
knew
that she hadn’t
imagined it this time. Something was going on. She felt that crazy sensation in
the pit of her stomach. The sensation that told her something wasn’t right.

Serious shit was about to hit the fan, as Karina’s Big Momma
used to say. A minute later it did.

“Your mother called me last week.”

Nasty thing, it was. When shit hit the fan.

Liza was taking a swallow of her tea and damn near choked to
death after he uttered those six words as calmly as if he were telling her they
were predicting rain in the forecast.

He jumped up from his chair and thumped her on the back
until she waved him away with a choked, “I’m fine. Really…”

He walked back to his seat and sat back down, calm as you
please, picked his fork back up and took another bite of his food.

“My mother called you? Why are you just now telling me this?
When did she call? Where was I…” her words jumbled and fell over themselves in
her haste to clarify and understand.

She pushed the half-eaten plate of food to the side.
Suddenly, the delicious, creamy linguine had lost all appeal as her appetite
had completely disappeared after his disclosure.

“Let’s dance.”

He pushed away from the table and walked to her side and
pulled her chair out for her. Dumbfounded, she simply followed him to the small
dance floor and allowed him to pull her without preamble, into his arms.

Normally, she’d be in heaven, dancing with Greg. He had a
natural smooth rhythm; able to keep up with her whether she danced fast, did
the bus stop, line danced, or a nice slow grind. It didn’t matter…the man could
dance.

The way he’d hold her close, his natural musky good smell
usually had her ready to rip his clothes off by the time the dance was over and
sex him up, real nice.

But this time, as he pulled her close she didn’t lay her
head on his chest as she normally would in order to get close to his heady
smell.

She was tense, uneasy and wanted to know when and why her
mother called him.

“Greg, what do you mean my mother called you? When did
this…?”

He put his finger over her mouth to still her nervous
prattle. “Just dance with me, Li. We’ll talk later.”

He pulled her snug against his body and despite her
nervousness, despite the fact that she was on edge, wondering what in the hell
her mama had said to her husband… his nearness, his smell, his overall
masculinity forced her to close her eyes, lay her head on his chest and sway
with him to the soulful sounds from the female lead vocalist of the band.

* * * * *

“When did she call, Greg? Quit screwing around with me and
tell me. When did my mother call?”

Liza had had it up to her eyeballs with his refusal to talk
about her mother’s phone call.

“She called almost two weeks ago, Li. She called asking for
you, said she lost your cell phone number but was able to find our home phone
number.”

Liza sat on the edge of the bed as she massaged the last of
the lotion on her arms after her shower. She stared at Greg as he lay propped
up against the headboard, his eyes looking so cold and distant that she didn’t
even recognize him.

She automaticallywent on the defense.
Automatically
.

“What do you want me to say? What? That I’ve spoken to my
mother? That she’ll occasionally call me when she’s hard up for money? What?
What the hell do you want me to say, Greg?” she yelled and jumped up from the
bed in nervous agitation.

“You sure do have a hell of a lot of nerve yelling at me,
Liza. You’re the one at fault. I didn’t do a damn thing. Just tried to be the
best husband that I could be. I had no idea my wife had been lying to me for
seven years, telling me her mother was gone and she never heard from her after
she graduated from high school.”

Greg jumped up from the bed and damn near stalked her. She
walked backwards as he slowly, menacingly strode over to her.

Her back hit the wall. She had nowhere else to go.

“Listen. It’s obvious to me that if you feel the need to lie
to me about your mother, it makes me wonder what else you think its okay to lie
to me about.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she asked despite
the quiver in her voice, she stood her ground.

“It means whatever the hell you want it to mean. It means I
don’t know how much I should trust you. It means you sure in hell don’t trust
me,” he said, his face inches away from hers.

“It has nothing to do with you! It’s my business, Greg. If I
don’t want to talk about my crazy mama, then I don’t have to. “She shoved him
away from her with all of her might. He didn’t budge.

“No, Liza. That’s where you’re wrong. Your business
is
my business. That’s what being a part of a married couple is all about.
Sharing. Or didn’t you learn that growing up? Oh that’s right. It’s none of my
business what you did or did not do prior to the day we said ‘I do’…isn’t that
right, Li? Why even be married? Marriage is a partnership, Liza.”

She didn’t have to try and push him away this time. He moved
away from her willingly and moved back to the bed and flopped his large frame
on the mattress and covered his arm over his eyes as he lay down. Her heart
ached at the look of mingled anger and sadness she saw plastered on his face
before his arm covered his eyes.

Liza swallowed hard and slowly walked over to Greg’s side of
the bed and perched hesitantly on the edge, near his feet.

“I’m sorry, Greg.” She said and waited for a response. When
he made no immediate reply to her apology, she scooted up farther on the bed,
nearer to his head.

“Baby, I’m serious. I’m so sorry. It’s hard,” she felt as
inadequate as the words she uttered. The words were stuck in her throat that
would free her from her fears of how he would look at her if he knew how her
life had been like as a child.

She moved closer and felt hope spring when he scoot his body
over, allowing her room as she lay down in front of him.

“I love you, Liza. You don’t have to be embarrassed of
anything with me. If you feel embarrassed, this makes me think that you don’t
trust me.” He pulled her closer to his chest and crisscrossed his arms in front
of her.

She nestled closer to him, considering his words. She
trusted him. It had taken a lot for her to tell him what she had at dinner. It
hurt in a strange way, but at the same time was liberating. As small as it was,
the disclosure helped. As though some ugly weight had been lifted from her.

It was a beginning. There was so much to tell him, so much
she’d suppressed, that even she had a hard time trying to bring the suppressed
memories and the feelings associated with them to the surface.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Greg. It’s just…” she
allowed the sentence to trail off. She didn’t know how to finish the thought.
She didn’t want to say the wrong thing after the progress they’d made at
dinner.

“I love you, baby.” She felt him kiss the back of her head
and tighten his arms around her. “I wish that you would just believe that
there’s not a damn thing you could tell me that would make me think less of
you, or love you any less than I do.”

She felt the sting of tears threaten to fall and quickly shut
her eyes to ward them off. Soon, she felt the even rise and fall of Greg’s
chest against her back, signaling that he’d fallen asleep. She ached with the
need to make love with him. He had every right to be angry with her. Although
they’d made progress at dinner, he deserved more. She knew that he wanted more.