Page 120 of Make Me Sin (Bad Habit 2)
“Absolutely. The protective order covers your vehicle as well as you. I wish I’d known sooner, I’d have called it in.”
“I left you a message!”
He shakes his head. “No matter. I’ll report it now. And then we’re going to get a civil contempt order for that bastard, too.” He rises abruptly from the table with his cell phone in hand and stalks off, headed for the exit.
I want to drop my face into my hands, or, even better, crawl under the table and hide, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to do anything that even resembles looking like I’m as affected by A.J.’s presence as I actually am. Though I’m not dancing, my face hurts from all the fake smiling I’ve been doing, especially after Kat came by to apologize for A.J.’s surprise guest. Apparently she and Nico didn’t know what the rest of the band knew, and they’re livid about not only his cruel stunt, but the fact that nobody had the balls to tell them about it.
I told her if that’s the worst thing that happens tonight, she should count her blessings. At the last wedding I attended, a drunk guest fell onto the dessert table and destroyed the bride and groom’s five-thousand-dollar wedding cake.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I announce, knowing if I don’t tell my mother where I’m off to she’ll assume it’s to go have a good cry outside in a shrubbery and want to follow me.
Proving my point, she says, “I’ll go with you.” She starts to rise, but my brother puts his hand on her arm and gently pulls her back to her seat.
“Give her a minute to herself,” he says, shooting me an understanding glance.
I mouth Thanks to him, then grab my clutch and scoot away before she can charge after me. I hurry out of the ballroom, releasing my breath only once I’m outside in the fresh evening air. The closest ladies’ room is a short walk through a lushly landscaped garden. I take my time, replaying everything that’s happened so far today in my head, blinking back stinging tears.
I sort of wish I hadn’t told God he’d never be hearing from me again, because I have a strong urge to raise my eyes skyward and wail “Why?”
How do people survive this kind of pain?
I push open the door to the ladies’ room. Inside it’s quiet; I’m the only one here. I stand in front of the mirror and look at my reflection, wondering how long I can reasonably hide here before my parents send a search party.
The door opens behind me. I quickly look down and open the little clutch I’ve brought for my cell phone and lipstick. I don’t want to be caught crying, so I bite the inside of my cheek and breathe deeply, digging inside my bag, trying to look busy.
A voice says, “He’s never fucked me.”
Startled, I look up. When I see who’s followed me inside the restroom, my clutch falls from my hands and drops to the floor with a clatter.
Heavenly crosses her arms, leans against the side of the toilet stall, and shakes her hair off her face.
“Excuse me?”
“A.J. and I have never had sex. I thought you should know.”
Blood rushes to my face. I square off with her, my fists clenched. “Whatever kind of game this is, I don’t want to play.”
Her face remains impassive. “It’s the truth. He’s never had sex with me. He’s never wanted to; he just wanted someone to talk to. He pays me for my time, not my body.”
I’m certain I’m going to vomit. And this room feels like a furnace; I start to sweat. I hiss, “You have a really bad memory, lady, because I walked in on you both naked!”
Her lashes lower; I think she’s ashamed. “That little act was for your benefit. He knew finding me there was the only thing that would make you leave him, so he paid me to be naked while he waited for you to come home.” She raises her eyes and meets my gaze. “It was his plan for you to find us, understand?”
I’m staggered. My legs are suddenly so weak I have to lean against the sink for support. “No. No, I don’t understand.”
She sighs, straightens, uncrosses her arms. She moves to the sink beside me and fluffs her hair while looking in the mirror. She’s wearing a sleeveless, long lavender gown with a side slit practically to her navel, and no bra. Her nipples show right through the fabric.
“He didn’t look at me the entire time. I think he was too embarrassed. He thinks of me like a sister. Who wants to see their sister naked? No one.” She turns to and fro in front of the mirror, checking herself out. “Even if their sister looks like me.”
Her tone, expression, and manner all indicate she’s telling me the truth, unbelievable though it is. There’s a chair in one corner; I sink into it. I ask hoarsely, “Why? Why would he do that? Why would he want to make me leave him?”
There’s a moment of silence as she stares at herself in the mirror. Then she turns her head and looks at me. In her eyes I see pity, and also a deep, frightening sadness.
“Because he’s dying.”
I can’t breathe. I can’t move. I can’t even blink. I just stare at her, my heartbeat thundering in my ears.
She turns around, rests her weight against the sink, and stares down at the floor. “It’s a brain tumor. He’s known for years. It’s very slow growing, but he’s refused surgery. The doctors didn’t think he’d even make it this far; they thought he’d be dead by twenty-five. That’s where he was that day, when he told you he was going to see his manager. He sees his doctor every three months. And that day . . . they told him he’d run out of time.”
