Maybe all women really sleep this way. I don’t know. I’ve never stuck around long enough to find out.
I follow the chimes resonating from my phone, and find it on the coffee table. Missed calls and text messages from Heidi. One from Diane, checking in. Another from Riku asking me if everything is ok. I ignore them all and zero in on the half-dozen Google alerts clogging my screen.
Breaking News…
This Just In…
Shocking Truth Revealed…
Same bullshit, different headline. But all I can see is a face, a name. A wolf in sheep’s clothing, crying false tears of remorse and longing.
Evan Carr’s shocking revelation: I sent my wife to the sex doctor
In a press release earlier today, Evan Carr revealed that he regrettably sent wife, Allison Elliot-Carr to celebrity sex therapist, Justice Drake, under the pretense that Drake was an intimacy professional, NOT a sexual deviant.
“When we first were told about Mr. Drake and his practice, we thought it would help Allison build her confidence and become in touch with her sexuality,” said the socialite. “We signed up with the assumption that it would be positive for our marriage. Little did we know what Justice Drake was really about. I would have never put my wife in this situation had I known.”
A tearful Carr goes on to say that he is doing everything in his power to locate his wife and bring her back. “Her place is with me,” he says. “Not with some hack that sold us a lie. I can’t even imagine what he could be doing to Ally and God knows who else.”
Evan Carr provided details of the enrollment forms, saying that the women would be sent to an undisclosed location where they could have no contact with the outside world for six weeks. When asked about Justice Drake’s identity, Carr shook his head.
“No one has ever seen him. I can’t even be sure that he’s a man. All contact has been through his PR or email.”
Drake’s publicist, Heidi DuCane, was unavailable for comment.
I dial the illusive blonde next, my heartbeat pounding painfully in my head.
“You’re lucky I have shit to do,” Heidi says after picking up on the first ring. “I wanted to storm your little love nest and drag your ass out of there.”
“Where are you?” My voice is gruff with sleep and aggravation.
“Headed back to New York, but had to make a stop first.” She pauses to give the driver instructions to a hotel on Michigan Ave. “Something came up and I want to check it out.”
“You’re in Chicago?”
“Yeah. Art is meeting me here.”
I exhale heavily and lean back on the couch. Arthur Cambridge, III is my attorney. If he’s involved, something is up. “What’s wrong?”
“You’re being blackmailed, Justice. A few hours ago, I was sent an audio recording of you having sex. I don’t know who it was with, but the woman was very vocal. She kept calling you by your name. Know anything about that?”
I close my eyes and rub the tension collecting in my temples. “No. How do you know it’s not doctored?”
“We checked it out. It’s authentic. However, my team was able to trace the IP address back to Chicago.”
I almost smirk. “You have a team of hackers, Heidi?”
“Doesn’t everybody? And even if it is from years ago, we can’t take that risk. Not with the press calling for your head on a platter. I’m texting it to you now. Listen. Call me when you’re done.”
A message chimes a second later and I hang up with Heidi to open the attachment. Heavy breathing. Moaning. A sweet voice singing my name as I instruct her to fuck, then suck me.
I don’t need to hear anymore. I was there. Just yesterday, I was there.
I call Heidi back, and she answers immediately. “I have a pretty good idea who’s behind this, and I’m sure you do too.”
Erin.
Stupid fucking Erin.
I think back to when I took Ally right here on this very couch. I remember telling her to take off her shirt and then capturing her flawed beauty through the lens of my camera phone. Then my mouth was devouring her pink-tipped nipples and demanding she take off those ridiculously oversized boxers. And then I was deep inside her, losing myself to pleasure, my phone forgotten.
How the fuck did Erin get a recording of that? Hers was the last number I dialed, but the screen was locked. Had she called? Did we accidently graze that evil, little green icon, while Ally rode me like a cowgirl?
“We’re going to bury her,” Heidi continues. “Her grandchildren will be paying you their lunch money.”
I shake my head in frustration. “How much is she asking?”
Heidi makes a tsking sound. “Two million, which technically won’t kill you but still…”
“Give it to her.”
“What?”
“Tell Art to give it to her. Give her the money.”
Heidi’s voice goes a pitch higher than I’ve ever heard it. “You can’t be serious! That bitch is in direct violation of contract, and you want to reward her? She has nothing, Justice. There’s no way she can prove it was you-”
“It doesn’t matter, Heidi. None of it matters. Retrieve the evidence, give her the money, and do what you need to do to ensure she disappears.”
The line goes quiet for several beats before Heidi chuckles. “You’ve gone completely mad, haven’t you?”
I chuckle too. I don’t know why. My business is crumbling at my feet, I’m being blackmailed by a girl who didn’t have two nickels to rub together before she met me, and I’m having an affair with a married woman that I can’t shake. I am mad. Mad, yet I’ve never felt more normal. More tied to the life I left behind—Ally’s life.
I hear light shuffling behind me, and I look up in time to see Ally leaning against the doorjamb, wearing one of my sweatshirts, sleep and sex sparkling in her eyes. She smiles at me, and a feeling too strong to fully contain bursts in my chest before sinking into the pit of my stomach.
“Take care of that for me, Heidi. And what we talked about earlier… I’ll do it. I’ll send them.”
Her voice takes on that soft, feminine sound again. Like she pities me. Like she cares for me. “Got it. This’ll be good, Justice, and everything will be ok. You can start over, rebuild. You can be whoever you want after this.”
I don’t have a response, at least one that I can voice, so I just hang up. Heidi is used to my terseness. I’m like that with everyone. Everyone except Ally.
As if she can hear her name ringing melodically in my head, she slinks over to the couch just as I set my phone on the end table. I grab her by the waist and pull her onto my lap as she squeals. I bury my face in her hair, trying to soak in as much of her scent as I can, while I can. I can smell myself on her, mixed with her perfume and sweat.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I say against the smooth skin behind her ear. “I was just about to come back to bed.”
“I’m tired of sleeping,” she sighs.
I look at her, my brow raised sardonically. “You’re tiredof sleeping?”
She pinches me on the arm. “Oh, you know what I mean.”
I snatch her hand and kiss her palm. Then we’re quiet, as we watch shadows grow before our eyes, dusk fading into night.
“Can I ask you a question?” Ally asks, her voice small in the vast silence.