At this news, Cheryl’s eyes got even wider. “No joke?”
I shook my head again. “No joke.”
“Wow,” she whispered.
“Wow is right,” I returned.
“What happened to your husband? Divorce?”
“He was shot in the head by a gangster.”
Her mouth dropped open, her face went pale and I felt like a shit, telling her like that. I’d never told anyone like that, hell, I didn’t think I ever told anyone. Barry, Tim’s partner, and Pam, Barry’s wife, had made all the calls.
“It was awhile ago,” I explained, my voice gentler. “He was a cop.”
The surprise slid out of her face, her hand came out and she gave my knee a quick squeeze before it moved away.
“Rough,” she murmured and I nodded to that understatement. “How long ago?”
“Year and a half.”
“Then not that long ago.”
I looked at my feet. “Nope.”
“You wanna talk?”
I looked at her and repeated quietly, “Nope.”
“You do…”
Seriously, the folks in this ‘burg were so nice.
It was my turn to squeeze her knee so I did and muttered, “Thanks.”
She turned her head and her gaze went to Joe. My gaze went to anywhere but Joe.
“Was he good?” she asked curiously.
Good wasn’t the word for it, in fact, there were no words for it.
I decided not to tell her that, instead I said, “Yeah.”
Her head turned back to me and softly, she said, “Be fun to play, hon, been awhile for me and let’s just say I’ve had a few more boys in my bed than you. But only…” she paused, “you done with him?”
I wasn’t done with him, he was done with me which totally made me done with him.
“Oh yeah, I’m done.”
“You mind?” she asked.
“Have at it,” I invited, though I had to admit it hurt, thinking of Joe moving on even though I knew it shouldn’t and I didn’t even know why it did.
It was sex, just sex, he told me so his damned self. I was an adult, I knew the score. My girlfriends who hadn’t found the man they adored at fifteen years old had been telling me stories like this for ages. Apparently, since Tim was dead, it was my turn to get fucked over by an asshole.
However, since I liked Cheryl, I added, “But check your heart at the door.”
Her brows went up. “You didn’t?”
“What?”
“Check your heart at the door.”
I shook my head again. “I didn’t fall for him but I thought there was something there. I was an idiot. It had been… losing Tim…” I licked my lips and Cheryl waited silently while I pulled it together, took a deep breath and finished. “Let’s just say, he made me feel like a moron because there wasn’t anything there. Nothing. Just sex. He was done with me fast, it lasted only a coupla days and he’s my next door neighbor.”
Cheryl was staring at me when she said, “Jesus.”
“Yep.”
She looked back at Joe, mumbling, “Maybe I’ll steer clear.”
“That’d be my advice.”
“Still, he’s hot,” Cheryl was still mumbling and I forgot about Joe and me and looked at her.
She was very pretty, a lot of blonde hair cut to hit her shoulders, fake boobs, long legs, attractive meat at her hips. She dressed kind of slutty but she worked it and it looked good on her. Her black skirt was super short, her white tank was super tight, she had on a black bra you could see through the tank and she was wearing high-heeled silver slut sandals even though we were at a backyard barbeque.
But the look she was giving Joe after what I told her made me think she might not be so good at picking men.
This was confirmed when she asked curiously, still checking out Joe, “You know how he got those scars?”
“Nope. Don’t know much about him. We didn’t talk.”
She looked at me and grinned. “Action man?”
More like Superman but I didn’t tell her that, I just said, “Yeah.”
She leaned into me. “My advice, though you didn’t ask for it, I’m still givin’ it to you, enjoy it for what it was. It was obviously good and a girl needs to get her some. Nothin’ wrong with that.” Her eyes went back to Joe then came to me. “He reopens that door, Vi, walk through it and take what you want. You find another man who’s good to you and wants more, you can walk away. But that was my booty call and he lived next door?” She paused, her head having jerked toward Joe and she grinned again. “I wouldn’t waste that opportunity.”
This idea was so preposterous, I laughed out loud.
She laughed with me and when we were done laughing, she lifted her margarita glass.
“I’m dry, babe, you want another?”
I handed her my glass. “That’d be cool, thanks.”
Her eyes slid across the yard to the grill again and she went on. “I’m thinkin’ I want a brat.” She looked back to me and her look was wicked when she suggested, “Maybe you wanna come with?”
I shook my head.
“You look hot in that tank,” she encouraged.
“Joe’s seen the tank. He was at my house this morning and he was with me when I bought it.”
Her head tilted to the side in confusion. “He was at your house this morning?”
“He’s installing a security system at my house, not by my choice.” I sighed when she looked even more confused and explained, “It’s complicated.”
“I thought you said it was a couple night thing. He took you shopping?”
“Shopping was after he was done with me, before the security system.” When she just stared at me, I finished. “It’s a long story, also complicated.”
She nodded and got up, saying, “I’ll get our margs and my brat then come back and you can tell me.”
“It’s not interesting,” I warned.
She looked down at me on the grass from her slut shoes, high-heeled height and remarked, “Known a lot of men, mostly assholes and players, so got some experience, so much you could pretty much say I’m an expert. Don’t know a single player who takes a woman shoppin’ and installs a security system in her house after he’s done with her.” She leaned down a bit and smiled, saying, “So, babe, gotta say, this complicated business sounds all kinds of interesting.”
Before I could reply, she walked away, somehow managing to walk through grass in high, spiked heels without looking like a fool and I decided Cheryl was very cool.
“Momalicious!” I heard shouted from beside me and I turned to see Keira running into the yard, her arms wheeling, her hair flying, her face in a full-on smile.
She threw herself at me and I caught her because I had no choice and went down on my back. She slid off my side and got up on a hand to look down at me.
“Get this!” she shouted.
“Hello, my darling Keira,” I cut her off and my eyes went up to see Heather, Keira’s friend (who, incidentally, looked exactly like a Heather, petite, tons of curly-to-frizzy red hair and about seven million freckles all over her body). I came up on both elbows and said, “Hey Heather.”
“Hi Miz Winters,” Heather smiled at me.
“Mom!” Keira called my attention to her. “Guess what?”
“What baby?”
“Heather’s dog had puppies!” she shrieked.
Oh fuck.
Keira had always wanted a dog, always. She’d been at Tim and I since the minute she knew dogs existed and she could speak intelligent English. Tim had wanted a dog too. It was me who held back because I loved dogs and my Dad got me one when I was nine and she’d been run over when I was fifteen and that had been the worst day of my life, losing my dog (until two years later, when I found out I was pregnant and Mom and Dad had thrown me out of their house). I didn’t want that for my daughter (or Tim, for that matter), the inevitable day when your beloved family pet would go away. I wanted to shield Keira whose heart, like mine and her sister’s, was too big for her own good, from that hurt.