Our business deal isn’t exactly at an end. After all, I have to get used panties from somewhere, and Katie’s been creaming so much that she’s the obvious source. But now that her mom is coming, what’s going to happen next? I wish I knew the answer, but instead, confusion swirls in my head.
13
Katie
Bruce, ever true to his word, has my new apartment set up within a couple of days.
“Here we are,” he says, his voice flat and a tad bit cold.
I cock my head in his direction, questioning him with my eyes. “Is everything alright?”
“It’s fine.” He pushes on the door, and it swings back on its hinges, revealing a beautiful two-bedroom apartment.
I walk in, my heels clicking against the hardwood floors. “This is more than I expected.” Drawn to the large, floor-to-ceiling windows at the back of the room, I cross over the area rug and gawk at the views. The Hollywood Hills roll against the horizon, covered in early morning haze.
Bruce stands just behind me, looking out as well, but I can tell that he isn’t really seeing what I’m seeing. He’s distant – in some place far, far away. Something’s off about him, that much is obvious.
I place my hand on his arm, but he pulls away and turns to another part of the apartment. He gestures at the room with a wave of his arm. “There are two bedrooms, so there should be plenty of space. If you do, in fact, decide to invite your mother to stay here permanently, it should be comfortable. I hope you enjoy the space.”
Again, his tone is flat. I’m confused because Meredith is just coming for a visit, although I had been planning to ask her to stay. It’s funny. I love and hate my mother at the same time. She was a terrible parent, but she’s also the only person I have I the world. So it makes sense that she’d move here to be with her only child, right?
“Bruce, is everything okay?” I ask, but he doesn’t seem to hear me, or he’s choosing to ignore me. “We’ll still get together so that we can, um, get my panties sufficiently dirty, right?”
But again, he either ignores the question, or doesn’t hear. Stalking quickly, he guides me into the kitchen. Just like the rest of the apartment, it’s fully furnished with a cherry-wood dinner table and a gold-trimmed dining set sparkling underneath a glinting chandelier.
A chandelier.
Whoa.
Never in a million years did I think I’d be living in a place with a chandelier. Most of the time, we had those cheap-o floor lamps from Target that were fire hazards, so the new lighting fixture is like a dream come true. I blink just to make sure this isn’t all a fantasy.
“Go on, open the fridge,” he prompts while leaning against the wall and adjusting his cufflink.
I hesitate. Why is this man so distant? It’s like he hates being here, but wasn’t this what we’d agreed upon? That I would move out after a month? So what’s the problem? I think about asking him again if something’s wrong, but then bite my tongue. I don’t want to come across as a worry wart because no one likes that.
I walk up to the fridge and pull it open. A bright smile spreads across my face when I see that Bruce has already had it fully stocked with my favorite things: fresh grapes, aged cheddar, mandarin oranges, and Greek yogurt. You name it, it’s there.
“You’re the best man in the world,” I exclaim, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my face into his shoulder. “You’re so good to me.” I breathe in his scent for a moment, my heart beating fast.
This really is a touching moment. No one has ever put this much effort into making me happy. I lean back and smile up at him, and he returns the smile, but it’s off, just like his whole demeanor. Something about it just isn’t as genuine – it’s lacking that sparkle in his eyes.
Did I do something to upset him?
As I’m thinking through our last few days together, trying to come up with an answer, Bruce gently pats me on the ass. “Why don’t you explore a little bit?” he suggests. Sad to say, but the little ass pat gives me hope.
“Haven’t you already given me the grand tour?” I ask in a lilting voice. He nods.
“Mm-hm. But maybe I missed something.” There’s a hint of suggestion in his voice.
I grin and scurry off, quickly forgetting about his fake smile. Maybe I’m just imagining things. Of course, there’s nothing wrong. And if there is something bothering him, it probably has something to do with his other business prospects because Panty Time is doing fabulous. Sales are through the roof, and clients are practically fighting with one another in the comments section.
