Page 241 of Fury

She took the coffee from me and sipped on the straw, placing a hand over mine on her leg. “That massage the other night was very soothing and very stimulating. Those hands of yours have major skills.”

“There’s a first time for everything.”

An eyebrow skidded up her forehead. “Uh huh.”

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. “You naked in that light. Those oils, those scents.” I nipped her earlobe. “Got inspired.”

A small moan rose in the back of her throat, a slight tremble going through her.

“A good reminder,” I said.

“Reminder? Of what?”

“That it’s been a long, long time since you. My heart was pounding real fierce, like it was our first time being together. I liked it. I don’t want to let another moment of another day go by and not feel that way. Even when it’s just us talking, holding hands. You think what we have is common, just happens all the time? I don’t. I know it doesn’t.”

“I know,” she murmured in my throat.

She kissed the side of my jaw, and I closed my eyes, my heart thundering, my body charging with heat.

“You need to get back to your store?” I asked.

“Nope, Mimi’s got everything under control.”

“Nice ringtone, by the way.”

“It’s Beck.” A smile lit up her face. “From one of his latest songs.”

A twinge went off inside me. I couldn’t help the surge of jealousy that came over me whenever his name was mentioned, or when I passed by his room here at his mother’s house.

His mother.

She had another man in her life forever. And he was a part of her. The twenty plus years she was cut out of my life, she’d had him. I tried to ignore the tightness in my neck. These stupid, childish feelings kept creeping up, rolling through me like the blob in that old horror flick. It was asinine, I knew this. But those feelings were there like a fucking virus that wouldn’t die and only balled up inside me injecting my organs with its poison. Jealousy of a life not lived, and at its core pulsed dreaded inadequacy.

I’d seen the photos of the two of them. There was one photo she had in a mother of pearl frame in her room of him as a toddler, her holding him from behind. She was young and tired. The two of them looked sort of sad, the same full expression in their eyes, her clutching him for dear life. Another of him as a ten year old playing the guitar and his mother, her eyes closed, a dreamy smile on her face, her head bent toward the guitar, listening, appreciating. In every pic of him through high school, becoming a young man, she was confident, glowing. Beaming. They had grown up together, they were close.

“He’s on tour now. His band is one of the opening acts for The Heave,” she said.

“Oh yeah? I’ve heard of The Heave.”

“Beck did some major songwriting for this tour, not just the music, but lyrics too. He didn’t think it was his thing, that he didn’t have it in him, but he does, oh he does. I’m really disappointed that I’m not going to get a chance to go see him play on this tour, though. I have these meetings I can’t cancel with the makeup manufacturer.”

“That’s happening?”

“Yes. Just a few pieces to begin with—a liquid lipstick, a face powder, an eyeliner. Ronny, a friend of mine who’s a tattoo artist, had designed the Lenore’s Lace logo, and we did the makeup packaging together. Now the company has the samples ready to show me.”

Empire of Lenore, all the way.

“It’s crap timing, but there’s no getting around it.” She chewed on her lip. “I’ve never missed a show before. We’re both disappointed.”

“Have you told him about us?” I asked.

“I did. He’s glad. He’s been after me to be open to a new relationship for a long time.”

“You haven’t been?”

“No. His dad got remarried and had another baby pretty quickly after the divorce.”

“No kidding.”

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