Page 16 of Archer
What a sleazeball.
Deciding to ignore it, I tiptoed across the kitchen, planning to sit in my bedroom until she eventually gave up and left. However, right as I was about to turn down the hallway, the woman’s voice called quietly, “Rose?”
The hair stood on the back of my neck. There was no way Archer would tell a girl he slept with about me. What edge would that give him? Whoever was on the other side of the door was probably dangerous. Although, it seemed unusual that a woman would help with such a violent crime. I bit my lip, my eyes shifting between the front door and my bedroom, trying to make a decision.
Curiosity got the best of me and slinked toward the door, grabbing a steak knife from the sink as I walked by. When I got to the peephole, I peeked through and saw a blonde woman who was beautiful, though at least ten years older than Archer. A kindness was in her eyes, and it urged me to ask her in a trembling voice, “Who are you?”
I watched her smile through the peephole, appearing relieved when I spoke. “Oh, Rose. Good, I’m so glad you’re here. I’m Evelyn, a friend of Archer’s.”
“What do you want?”
“I got a few things for you,” she said, holding up a plastic grocery bag. “Things I know Archer wouldn’t have around his house.”
In the plastic bag, I saw a box of tampons and I bit my lip, knowing I’d eventually need those. Whoever this strange Evelyn woman was, I’d rather risk putting my life in danger and accept the tampons from her than endure the embarrassment of asking Archer to buy them for me. Gripping the steak knife in my hands, I unlocked the door, but backed away several feet without opening it.
The doorknob turned and creaked open, the blonde woman’s eyes peeking around, and she said, “Hi.”
I lowered the knife a few inches. “Hello.”
Walking inside, she shut the door, set down the bags, and held her hands up. “I mean no harm.”
Inside the bag I could see some fruity shampoo and what looked like a box of chocolate. Lowering my knife completely, but still keeping my eyes narrowed, I asked, “Did Archer send you?”
“No, no, he doesn’t even know I was planning on coming,” she said, moving her bags to the island’s marble countertop. “But I just thought maybe you’d feel a little more at home if you weren’t stuck living in a complete man cave. Might be nice to pamper yourself a bit, you know?”
A tiny smile cracked on my face. She wasn’t wrong. My self-care routine had plummeted since arriving and my hair felt like straw from using Archer’s two-in-one men’s shampoo all week. I longed to have a hot, sudsy shower with vanilla body wash and exfoliating face scrub.
“Atta girl,” she said and motioned for me to join her in the kitchen. “Come on over, I won’t bite.”
Walking slowly toward her as she began pulling products from the bag, I said, “Thank you.”
“No problem, sweetie. Least I can do.” Pulling out two tall pink bottles, she said, “So, I got you some nice shampoo and conditioner. I love this stuff, here, smell it.” She shoved the pink bottle under my nose and squeezed so the scent of tangerines and grapefruit invigorated me, forcing a smile of approval on my face.
“Nice, huh?” She set it down and began pulling out the rest. “Oh, and here are some razors, tampons, body wash, hair mask, face wash with a little face mask sample attached, chocolate, lotion, perfume, candles, a couple chick flicks to watch ’cause lord knows you won’t find one at Archer’s…”
I gaped at the mound of female survival items displayed on the breakfast island. “Wow, I don’t know what to say…”
“No need to say anything at all.”
“No, seriously, thank you,” I said. “This… this helps. A lot. Thank you.”
“Anytime, sweetie,” she said. “Well, I’ll be off—”
“Wait.” I didn’t know why, but I liked this woman, even if she was involved with Archer. It wasn’t only because she brought over so much stuff, there was something genuine and pure about her. “Would you want a cup of coffee?”
Her lips pulled upward. “Sure.”
There was still coffee in the pot, warm from the morning when Archer awoke. Above the dishwasher were the mugs and I reached up to grab two. Filling them three quarters full of the rich, nutty, aromatic coffee, I placed them each on the island, then grabbed the small carton of coffee cream and the jar of sugar. We each stirred our coffees, the clinking of the spoons against the porcelain mugs cutting the silence. I had no idea what to say to her or why I invited her to stay.
Luckily, she seemed to sense my discomfort and began speaking. “I’ve known Archer for about six years now. My husband met him while he was working at a bike repair shop and he stopped an old lady from getting mugged.”
My eyes widened. “Actually?”
“Yeah.” She laughed. “Saw it happen outside the window and chased the guy all the way down the street. My husband admired that quality in him and decided he was worth keeping around.”
Sipping my coffee, I let her continue.
“My husband is the president of the Blazing Rebels.”
