Page 17 of Angels & Whiskey
“I’m … fine. Thank you.” I stepped passed him, Brandi right behind me.
He smiled again and walked inside, but not before turning around again so our eyes could lock.
“Who the fuck is that?” Brandi asked as if I knew, looking at where the mystery man stood staring at me.
“I have no idea,” I said finally breaking our gaze.
Brandi walked me to my car. “If you need anything, call me. No matter what time. Call me. I’ll be there in a heartbeat and ready to cut the major’s balls off.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
We hugged goodbye and then I drove home, speeding down the streets so I’d make it home in time for Rich’s call.
By the time Rich arrived home after work, I’d thought about how I was going to leave him a hundred different ways. I couldn’t just leave because he’d find me. I had no doubt. I couldn’t come up with a good plan and needed more time to think, but as I stirred the pasta sauce for dinner, Rich walked in.
“Hey, princess,” Rich greeted, opening the garage door that led into the house when he saw me standing at the stove. I tried not to shudder at my nickname. I hated it. At one time, I’d loved thinking I was his princess, but no anymore. Now I felt as if it were all an act and he said it simply to make me feel at ease.
“Hey, honey. How was work?” I plastered a smile on my face, pretending as if nothing was wrong.
He shrugged walking toward me. “You know—loaned some money and made sure others paid me back.”
I never wanted to know how hemadesure people paid him back. “Good.” I smiled, tilting my head back so he could kiss me like he did every night when he came home.
“I have good news.” He stepped around me, walking toward the bar for his nightly drink.
Our kitchen was massive. My old apartment could have easily fit in it. A black and brown marble granite breakfast bar sat in the middle and beyond that was the family room. The cherry wood bar with a matching granite top sat along the wall to the left that led to the family room that housed our giant flat screen TV.
“Oh yeah?” I returned to stirring the pasta sauce.
“I’ve decided to run for mayor.”
I turned around, the wood spoon still in my hand. Rich was smiling as he poured himself a finger of amber liqueur. “The mayor of Las Vegas?”
He smiled the smile I fell in love with. “Yeah.”
“Wow … Honey, that’s—”
“I know. It’s going to be good forus.”
I had no idea what he meant by that. I wasn’t a political person. I had no idea what would be involved in running a campaign to manage a city—especially a large city like Las Vegas.
I set the spoon in the spoon rest and walked over to him, a fake smile on my face. “I’m proud of you, honey bunny.”
“We’re gonna run this town.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I like the sound of that, Mr. Mayor.”
“I like that name; Mr. Mayor—Mayor Jones—Mr. Richard Jones, Mayor of Las Vegas.” He nodded his head as he tried the names on for size.
“Me, too.” I kissed him again then went back to the stove.
“Hurry up with dinner so we can celebrate and try to get you pregnant. It would be perfect timing. A baby would win me some votes.”
I had no idea, but I agreed to keep him in a good mood. I wasn’t sure how it would look for a mayoral candidate to have his wife leave him without a trace.
And I didn’t care …
“I want you naked and ready for me when I get back,” Rich barked, pointing a finger at me as I stood at the end of the bed. “Don’t disappoint me.”
