Page 68 of Start With A Slap

In his periphery, Ivy flailed.

“She said she didn’t remember to bring it?”

“Yeah,” he said as he took another bite. “Vic had to go out and buy her one this morning.” The flailing intensified. It was downright distracting.

A lighter flared and Jason dragged and exhaled. “Huh. Guess I’ll try the hotel again.”

“Oh, come on.” Sever had to buy Ivy some time — she couldn’t possibly converse with him in this state. “She’s got less than an hour left of holiday, doesn’t need it filled with ‘I miss you’s. Can’t you wait ‘til she gets home?”

“How ‘bout I decide when I talk to my own wife?”

“Touchy,” Sever snickered. “Do what you want, all right? I’ve got a plane to catch.”

“Thanks, I will.”Click.

Little too touchy, Sever observed. He’d never talked to him like that before. Maybe the boy was more perceptive than he thought.

Oh, well.

“What the hell, Sever?” Ivy chirped, not at all appreciative. “Why would you say that?!”

Sever was shocked. Could she not see that he’d done her a service? That he’d run damage control soshewouldn’t have to?“What you want me to say, then? Don’t know where you are? Have him phoning the consulate, the hospitals? Fat lot of good that would do you.”

“No, that’s not what I?—”

“Or maybe, you prefer honesty. ‘Your wife? She’s right here, in my bedroom. Can’t talk just now though, laryngitis you see from all the screaming as it turns out she’s not been properly shagged before last night. Care for a few pointers, son?’”

"Heput the charger into my bag," she said slowly, voice and body tremulous with rage. "He said, ‘Whatever you do, don’t forget thecharger.’ That’s when Ichecked it off my listandzipped up my bag. I told him I had it when I got here!”

“Oh.” He scratched his neck. “Well, hell.” Then: “You made a checklist?” He suddenly wanted to see it.1) The rosy lip-gloss Sever loves. 2) Gray pencil skirts to fuel Sever’s new secretary fetish.“How office girl of you.”

His budding arousal was ignored, however, what with her being in the throes of a full-fledged panic attack.

She paced the room, talking to herself. “How am I gonna get out of this now? How can I possibly explain...anyof it? Oh, god. He knows. He has to know!”

“He doesn’t know anything.” Stopping her in mid-pace, he caught her gaze. “We can fix this.”

She stared at him like he was a hideous rash. “What do you care?”

“I care aboutyou?—”

“Okay,stop. Stop right there. Youdon’tcare about me.”

“Yeah, I do?—”

“Youcan’tcare about me! You lost that privilege the second you ignored my love for yourson.”

He tutted. “Don’t get self-righteous with me.Youlost that privilege the second you sat on my cock.”

“I don’t want you caring about me!”

“Why?” He cocked his head. “Because it makes you all confused inside?”

“No. Because it makes me want to strangle you.”

He chuckled, mouth closed. She couldn’t know the significance of that statement, that the mere suggestion made his cock stiff. “Knock yourself out, baby.”

“Ugh.” She pulled the towel off her head to dry her hair. “I can’t believe I let this happen.”

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