Read The Caregiver Vignettes 6-10 Page 3

minutes already.”

  “It took you two hours to read it, it’s only fair that he takes the same amount of time re-drafting it.”

  “I wasn’t just reading it, I was making notes for the eventual rewrite.”

  Ferdinand snorted, a chuckle escaping through his plump lips. I couldn’t help comparing them to Romulus’ thinner ones. Actually, this guy had a very Latino look going on with the tanned skin and the long black hair. I must confess he reminded me of a younger Bobby.

  “He doesn’t do that for just anyone.”

  Okay, he wasn’t stopping for anything or anyone so I picked a table and sat at it. He followed, sitting opposite me but facing the far wall.

  “Makes me feel special.” I opened the can and sipped from it, thinking that maybe ignoring him would do the trick.

  “Tú entiendes Español pero no lo hablas. ¿Por qué?”

  “Why do you ask?”

  “Curiosity.”

  “It’s been enough for me to understand the language, no need to speak it.”

  “But you’ve lived in Puerto Rico, traveled a lot to Spain, México.”

  Smartass Alert.

  “No need to speak Spanish if you stay in the tourist area.”

  “But you don’t keep yourself to the tourist areas only.”

  “And you know this how?”

  “I know everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “Yes. Everything. I am Mr. Know-It-All.” He leaned back in his seat, put his feet up on the table, and clasped his hands behind his head. “I’m the guy you go to when you need information.”

  Cocky attitude and all, eh?

  “And I’m the gal you go to when you need to have someone killed.”

  “Oh yeah, I know.”

  “Right. You know everything.” I set the can on the table.

  “You really like your Steyr SSG 69, don’t you? More than your Romak III. You’re averaging six kills per year nowadays – less than half the amount you used to four years ago – and never use the same rifle twice but for the Romak and the SSG 69, the latter of which you’ve used two times last year and once more this one.”

  Sound calm, goddammit, control your breathing.

  “Impressive.”

  He grinned, hands raised to the sides, palms facing up, “I know.”

  A glance through the glass wall dividing us from the rest of the office space brought Romulus into view as he crossed the corridor in a hurry, a stack of papers in his hand, Douglas following close behind.

  “Is that why you’re single?”

  “I’m not-”

  “No, of course not. You’re in a one-sided relationship with your computer, Mr. Information. I bet you spend your nights here, hacking into government servers and databases to get all that intelligence needed for each mission while downing whole pizzas and six-packs of beer.”

  “What the-?”

  “That while also watching porn movies in the background.”

  “We don’t-”

  Romulus was coming back so I grabbed my can and stood. Ferdinand gave a jolt and landed on his feet.

  “Maybe Romulus wouldn’t be so pissed about people bringing food into their work areas if you guys cleaned them before leaving, like you do with your Internet browsing history. It’s just you three and still you manage to make a mess big enough for a whole cleaning crew.”

  “Miss Lang?” Romulus stood at the threshold, documents held tight in his hand.

  “He told me all about you, James, and Douglas on our way here, don’t worry.” I started towards Romulus but paused next to the gaping young man. “Although the being single part I managed to figure out myself. I can introduce you to some friends if you want. Better than the lousy ones you’re used to jerking off to.”

  I pointed a finger at him from the hand holding the can, sent a wink his way, and started again for the door.

  Romulus gave him an under-his-eyebrows stare before setting his hand on the small of my back and leading me towards his office.

  “Careful with that one,” he whispered into my ear while we walked in tandem. “He’s a tricky one.”

  “And you’re not?”

  He held the door to his office open for me, a half-grin on his face. “Well, I happen to be more, let’s say, entertaining.”

  Bastard.

  “We’ll see about that.” I stepped into the office and held out an open hand for him to deposit the contract.

  He dropped it like dead weight.

  “Call me when you’re done.” He was about to shut the door when he stopped. “And don’t take so fucking long this time.”

  “I’ll try.”

  He bit his lower lip, his fist tightening over the doorknob.

  “I’ll knock in half an hour,” he said as he shut the door, but not before I got a glimpse of a slightly confused Ferdinand staring at us from the hallway.

  On Scarlett and Bobby’s split

  I’d been in London for exactly three weeks when someone came banging on the door of my recently acquired apartment.

  “I know you’re in there.”

  I recognized the voice the instant it pronounced the first word. A look around the empty place, a deep breath, I pulled my shoulders back in time to hear Bobby call again.

  “Scarlett! Open the door!”

  “Oh hi.” I flung it open to reveal the dark-haired man standing on the other side. “So nice to see you-”

  He cut my greeting short by curling a hand around my neck and pulling me into a kiss that left me dizzy.

  “You haven’t answered any of my calls.” He stormed in and it was then I noticed he was carrying a suitcase.

  “Did you come here straight from the airport?”

  “Yes.” He shrugged off his coat and threw it over his luggage since there was no furniture to do so otherwise. “Nice place.”

  With a slow, deliberate movement, I shut the door and locked it.

  “A little bare but I know how much you hate shopping.”

  “What are you doing here, Bobby?”

  He turned to me, closing the distance between us, and his hand was caressing my face before I could push him away. “I came to see you.”

  His fingers busied themselves with the hem of my T-shirt and I slapped them away. “I don’t need you crashing into my place like this. Does your wife know you’re here?”

  “She knows I’m in London.” He went for my jeans’ fly this time, his lips brushing my forehead. “Let’s not talk, please.”

  Yeah, better not talk. I knew him too well to even believe he’d let me say another word until after he blew off some of the steam trapped inside him. So I undid the buttons of his shirt while walking backwards into the bedroom and let him pull my T-shirt up my head and unclasp my bra before landing on the mattress set on the cold floor. He kicked off his shoes and got rid of his trousers, all the while biting my lips so hard I thought he’d draw blood.

  Typical of him. He couldn’t stop himself from getting angry every time he felt he was losing his grasp on me. Selfish man. He wouldn’t marry me yet I knew the day I married another he’d morph into a two-headed monster.

  His thrusts were wild, forceful, anger-driven. His fingers dug into my skin, burrowing every time a tad more, to the point of hurting. I wrapped my legs around his waist, raising myself to give him better access, and it wasn’t long before he was grunting into my ear.

  Once we’d been lying spent on the crumpled sheets for a while, I dislodged myself from his grip and made my way to the kitchen for a glass of water.

  Something warm touched my shoulder and I almost spilled my drink. “Fuck!”

  He was standing behind me and was quick to snatch the glass from my hand and swallow its contents. “I’m sorry if I came in all of a sudden.”

  “Oh, now you apologize?” I folded my arms over my naked breasts. “I’m never confiding in Rafael again. To think I said no to that detached house he offered me just so you wouldn’t know your way into it.”
r />   The smile on his face said he wasn’t sorry for his intrusion, both literal and figurative.

  “I’m taking you out tonight.” He wound his arm around my middle and pressed me against him. “Have anything pretty you can wear?”

  “Don’t think so.”

  “There’s that blue dress I gave you.”

  “It’s too cold out there for a dress.”

  “Then wear whatever you want but it has to be something nice because we’re going to an art exhibit.”

  “Oh no!” I pushed him off. “Not that opening Rafael has been going on about since forever.”

  He put the empty glass in the sink and went to pick up his suitcase. “Yes. That one. He’s expecting to see us there and you know how he gets when one doesn’t show up to his parties.”

  “I already said I was busy.”

  “He didn’t buy it.” He was making his way back to the bedroom and when I joined him, he was spreading his clothes all over my bed. “And I thought we could use a night out.”

  I didn’t think it wise. For many years we’d had this no-strings-attached relationship but he’d gone and gotten married while I sat in the bleachers, not getting myself into any kind of commitment.

  That was about to change, though. This whole new job and moving to London thing was giving me a much-needed push towards the better. Or at least towards the different.

  “Okay,” was my answer and I set to get ready while having to swat Bobby off every couple of minutes or we’d never make it out the door.

  The exhibit was for this young artist for whom Rafael had become a sponsor. Knowing him how I knew him, he was searching for a way to make himself look more classy in front of his colleagues. Knowledge that was confirmed the moment we entered the extra fancy gallery.

  “So glad you made it!” He gave me one of his awkward hugs and thrust a glass of wine into my hand.