“You sure you both saw her that night?” I ask carefully.
“Of course, honey.” Melody snuggles up to me, her tits brush against my arm. I pull away.
Since Faith, she’s been dropping big fat hints that she wants us back together. I’d rather sleep alone for the rest of my life than get back with her, so I keep my distance from her, obviously, clearly, unambiguously, but now it looks like I might need to talk to her, tell her we’re never fucking happening, even if we were the last two people on the planet.
I drive to Nectar two nights later and wait in my truck.
I see her walk out at four in the morning when the place closes. There’s a hunched quality to her. She looks like she’s holding herself as she walks. The usual grace, the alacrity in her step, isn’t there.
If I didn’t see her face in the light of the back door when she stepped out, I wouldn’t know it was Faith.
This woman is not the one I remember, the one who was spry, cheerful, lively.
She’s not the one who sat across from me on a bench outside at Ripley’s on a quiet Tuesday afternoon, reading a book she borrowed from the library during her break.
“What’s the new book?”
“Cicero.”
Will this girl ever cease to surprise me? “The Roman orator?”
She grins. “This is the last book in the trilogy by Robert Harris. He’s the same guy who wrote the book the movieConclaveis based on.”
“Three books? That’s a commitment.”
“I’ve read them twice. Have you? You should. The library has the books.”
Does she still read, I wonder? And if she does, what is she reading now?
Crime And Punishmentby Dostoevsky?
11
WHAT’S LEFT OF HER
CAIN
I’m not a strip club kinda guy.
Have I been to Nectar? Yes. That was when I was a dumb kid, but as a grown-up there’s something gross about seeing men watching women take their clothes off. It’s worse being one of those men.
Feeling hot under my collar for all the wrong reasons, I walk up to the door below the flickering neon sign that saysNECTAR: Come In For A Drink.
The bouncer nods at me. He knows who I am. The pleasures of living in a small town.
Depending upon who’s inside,everyonewill know that Cain Ripley went to Nectar, and after that, God knows what story would be spun.
They’ll say, “He got a lap dance” or “He was drunk as a skunk.” Or maybe they’ll get closer to the truth—that he was there to see Faith.
Ricky’s eyes widen when he sees me. He’s sitting at the bar, watching the show, with a drink in hand. He lets out a low whistle.
“Well, well. Cain Ripley, slumming it with the rest of us.”
I grunt and sit next to him. I put Faith’s coat, which I brought along, on the empty stool by me.
“Onyx, whatever he wants, babe, you charge him double, yeah?” Ricky instructs.
I glare at him. He winks in response, amused as hell.
