“Thank you. I . . .” I encounter Sylvia’s inquiring eyes just beyond his shoulder. I turn my head and collide glances with Torrie and Shelia. “Why is everyone watching us?”
August casts a discreet look from the corner of his eye, and the dark line of his brows falls.
“I think they see the same thing Caleb saw at the game that night.” He surreptitiously links our pinky fingers. “They see I can’t stay away from you. That I don’t want to.”
“August.” I reluctantly untangle our fingers, sweeping the room to see who might still be watching. Everyone seems to have found other things to occupy their attention, but we should separate. “I’m gonna go restock the drinks. I’ll see you later.”
He catches my elbow and bends to whisper in my ear, “Meet me on the basketball court once they start playing games.”
I shake my head and scoot away as quickly as I can because that’s the smart thing to do, but I already know I’ll find a way.
We’re cleaning up after lunch while the kids play games when Torrie broaches the subject I have no desire to discuss.
“So, you and August West,” she says, pulling a bag from the trash can. “You know each other?”
I don’t glance up from the sink of suds and the few dishes there were to wash.
“Not really.” I give her my most innocent smile. “I mean, the way everyone else knows him. That he’s a great player.”
“You two should get on the same page.” She laughs and shakes her head. “’Cause he’s not even trying to fake it, and you’re not very good at it.”
My hands go still over the steamy water.
“I don’t know what you mean.” I look at her, clear-eyed, before I pick up a dish towel to dry the dishes.
“Oh, don’t feel bad,” she says “Not with his fine ass. His nose is wide open for you, girl. Stevie Wonder could see that.”
“Wow. That’s not exactly politically correct.” I feel guilty for the giggle that slips past my lips despite the inappropriateness of her humor.
“I’m not very good at beating around the bush,” she says, her expression going from uncertain to defiant to don’t give a damn. “Get yours, Iris, because Caleb is definitely getting his.”
The mere mention of Caleb’s name runs my blood cold. He won’t be back from China until next week, but I still feel the specter of him like an ill-intentioned ghost haunting me, dogging my every step.
“Look, guys talk.” She grimaces. “At least, mine does—to me he does. He’s not exactly your fiancé’s biggest fan.”
Neither am I.
I don’t volunteer a word or even a breath that might stop her.
“He says people have no idea who Caleb really is.” Torrie lays a hand over mine, and the smile she offers me is kind. Her fingers brush the very wrist that only a few weeks ago Caleb fractured. I’ve had so little kindness, so few gentle touches lately, that hers pricks tears behind my eyes.
“Don’t feel guilty if you and August West have a . . . a moment this week.” She gives me a direct look before going on. “At first, I thought you might be a little bougey, but you’re alright. If it was me, I’d want someone to tell me so I’m telling you. He cheats on you left and right. Sticks his dick in anything that moves.”
I know Caleb cheats, but for him to be so blatant that even the other girlfriends know is galling. It’s not enough he humiliates me in private. He has to make a laughing stock of me publicly, too. I don’t give a damn if he cheats, but I’m nauseated over how he’s exposed me. He rapes me at gunpoint and won’t even use a condom. God, what might I have? An STD? Worse? Resentment and hatred boil under my skin.
“Excuse me.” I toss the dish towel onto the linoleum counter and turn to leave. At the door, I look back over my shoulder to meet the sympathy in her eyes. “Thanks, Torrie.”
She nods and turns away to finish dumping the trash. Rage and bitterness descend like a haze over me, and I’m stumbling down the hall. I tell myself I don’t mean to wander into the gym, but that’s a lie.
August shoots from several feet beyond the three-point line. He releases the ball, and it falls through the net.
“Show-off,” I say softly from the gym door, but with only the two of us present, he hears.
A smile spreads slowly over his full lips and calm eyes the color of storm clouds.
“If I’m such a show-off . . .” He bounces the ball to me, and I catch it on reflex. “. . . come show me you can do better.”
I dribble the ball to the center of the court, turning my back on him to release it. It swooshes through the net, and I face him, wearing a braggart’s grin.
