Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was no choice; my business was his now. I have a price on my head, I’m working it off through the print shop. The arrangements were already made with barely any of my involvement. The girls couldn’t be angry because they want me alive, but I’m livid.

It’s like it was all set up specifically to take away all the things I’ve worked so hard for. Because why? Because I did what he asked. I staged his death, got him out from under the FBI and somehow I have to pay for it?!?  Of all the ridiculous…

If you keep going down that path, Beth, you are going to be too angry to help customers.

Nothing has ever been fair with this guy. It just is. Do it, move on to the next stage. Whatever that is. Eventually, there will be enough money and you can move forward, make some investments, pay off the house. Get him off your back.

Really? Is that what you want?

Shut up, Beth.

Don’t shut up, Beth, and answer me: do you really want him gone?

And before I can analyze the fact that I am internally arguing with myself – by name – my co-worker comes into the back and tells me there’s a customer asking for me, by name.

Of course they are; that’s how they do.

And one would think there’d be some raised eyebrows at the ink and attire, but it is surprising how hard it is to tell inked-hipster-pre-distressed-denim-posh from actual gang couture. But still – face and neck tattoos? Sometimes I think the store owner is willfully ignorant.

Even so, in barely two weeks, we’ve managed to move quite a bit – enough to make a significant dent in my “debt.” Rio’s kept his distance, though. All my instructions have come through the guy with the feather face-tattoo, who still hasn’t introduced himself, even though we text almost daily.

Who the hell gives a girl a…meal… like that and then ghosts for two weeks?

I ring up whichever gangfriend – they’re all gangfriend now – take the shop’s cut through the register and mark the job done on my personal task list. I feel a buzz on my hip and look down at the phone in my hands, expecting a text. Goddammit that’s confusing.

Slipping into the back, I switch phones, I flip open the burner. It’s a number I don’t recognize, but that’s not unusual.

              1017 <

>  …

              ?? <

> STFU.

> WTH

              Tomorrow after close. Bring clothes <

> How do you even know about that?!? 

What I wouldn’t give for a fucking angry swearing face emoji right now. Stupid burners. I swear to God I will kill both of them: Rio for telling, and demon-face for knowing.

              It ain’t Mick. See you, ma <

Hunh. So his name is Mick.

I laugh out loud, high-pitched and nervous, as I realize that means Rio wants me to trust him enough to believe he’s carrying through on a promise that seems like it was made lifetimes ago.

My mind swirls so intensely, I think I’m going to fall over. I dump both phones back in my purse, and feel for the tiny coin-pocket zipper built into the lining. Opening it, I pull out the hotel matchbook from all those months back, stare at it for a second, stand up, tuck it in my pocket, steady myself, and head back to the sales floor.

===

Walkin out the shrink’s office, I decide imma do it. No way everythin better in two weeks, but we refreshed on some copin mechanisms. It ain’t ideal, comin to a head-shrinker, but Rhea insists if I wanna keep seein Marcus, an it enough to discuss my relationship issues. Like this lady in my life an the fact we got trust issues an we both recoverin from her miscarriage.

I flip open the burner, scroll down to L an text her the four digits that we just never had time for before.

Sides, I recently came into all these hotel points.

===

Leaving the house on Thursday, I’m acting more like a criminal than I ever have in all the time I’ve been doing this. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes dart back and forth like I’m hiding something…because I am I swear my children can see the gown rolled up (neatly! Inside a huge Ziploc!) at the bottom of my bag, like it’s glowing or making a constant text-alert noise, so I’m holding the extra-large leather tote close to my body.

In reality, they barely look up from their afternoon snack and videogames as I’m walking out the door.

“KB you’re in charge til Daddy gets home and you know he will be checking your homework then.”

Kenny scoffs, saying exactly what I’m thinking, “It’s not like he’ll know if it’s right!”

I stop, throw my weight on my heel, fix him with my best mom-disapproval and say, “Yes, but he will know if it is done.” I take three steps toward the door, sigh, and double back. “And don’t badmouth your father.” Keys in hand, they bang against my thigh and I head in to work.

At work, it’s the same – I imagine everyone is looking at my bag, knowing about the change of clothes, shoes, and makeup inside – like it’s the pre-walk-of-shame. Lucy, being Lucy, walks over and sticks her hand down right inside before I realize what she’s doing and yank it away.

“Fine! Then will you turn off that alarm?” she says, “I thought maybe you had earbuds in or something?” Throwing up her hands and laughing uncomfortably, she turns and walks away.

I guess I wasn’t imagining it; there are an awful lot of noises going off on my phone. The alarm to go to work, the second one to clock in, and then task reminders pinging until I shut them off. My eyes scan over the list of “print jobs” which have to be ready today and I head into the back room – with my purse.

===

Take a quick shower after “work” – no time for imaginin today an no need tonight – before flippin through the few things I have on hand. I get myself halfway decent an the facetime noise come from my phone. I consider for two rings an answer.

“Dags – yo – how’s the abuela?”

“She good, good, man, but she down for a nap. You said you needed somethin done over here? Wait, catch you at a bad time?”

“No, cuate, we good.”

“Cool. Thought with me outta state you might be thinkin of doin something stupid.” I try to make my face look natural stead a blank, but I guess it’s too many years wit my number two. “No. Jefe, no. Don’t do it.”

“Not doin nuthin cept tellin you who t’look out for in Cleveland.”

“You can’t even decide what clothes to put on, guey, I know what you’re doin.”

“So this guy, tho, he’s tryin to set up a route to Windsor through Toledo, an—“

“You said you was done with her.”

“Yeah, well, things change.”

“Like what. What changes in the six weeks I’m gone?”

I glance at the time. “You got a minnit?” I ain’t gonna give him the full report, but he can get a rundown. He sighs an tilts his head to the side. I say bout the kid, first off. Then the printin press. An how I got things in the works to gently ship-a-Theseus her an maybe she caught on an so I need her relax. An if we get seen by anyone there, it just becomes insurance.

“Pinche, Rio.” Dags shakin his head over an over. “You know how this ends.” I let out the breath I’m holdin. I know he ain’t great wit Elizabeth, but he also know a fraction of the feels I caught.

“I ain’t know shit. Turns out my body ain’t so great wit her bein round. That’s another thing bout tonight – maybe I can muscle through an get over it.”

“Maybe your body knows best.” He ain’t wrong, it’d be easier, but fore I know it there a growl deep in my throat. “But you the jefe, boss.” There a pause an he says, “You got it narrowed down to two? Lemme see.” An I flip the phone round to let my bro help me choose.

“Gracias, guey, I ain’t mean t’make this bout me. An if things get worse wit ‘granma’ you lemme know an take the time you need.”

“Nah, man, it helps take my mind off it. An the night nurse almost here so I have time to help you wit all your prollems before I hit the hay.”

“Nurse – wait, y’mean hospice?” My lieutenant look up an my hand on my head, rubbin up from my skull an down over my chin, pullin my already sad expression down even farther.

“Yeah, it’s almost time. I need somethin t’do. Make me feel better. Glad we could talk.”

“Lo ciento, compa. Give her my love, yeah?”

“Yeah, man, thanks.”

His face disappear from the screen – ain’t no shame if he was bout ta cry, but I get it he ain’t wanna audience. I ain’t really sure he pick the right shirt, either, but I wear it. Cuz.

===

Nearly an hour after close, everything is done: register reports, vacuuming, machinery winding down and cooling off, hair and makeup. I’ve been staring at myself for several minutes, wondering. Am I really doing this? Did I pick the right dress? Does this style make it look like a shower curtain is hanging off my boobs? It’s the right color at least, the deep blue-green making my hair look more red than it really is and creating a creamy paleness to my skin instead of a washed-out pallor.

Should I have worn the black-leather thing?

Only if I wanted a jillion wrinkles and to specifically light a neon sign to Dean that I am back to sleeping with Rio.

If that’s even what this is.

> Cover for me.

              Girl…. <

> He’ll believe you over Annie. I’m saying that something happened with Sarah and you’re worried and I’m with you, crashing out there.

              Don’t bring my baby inna this! <

              No, wait, that’s fine. She deserves it. <

              If I do this, you owe me details. <

> Thank you.

              Explicit.
              Details <

I laugh, she can still distract me better than anyone, and I can’t believe how much I owe her. Finally, I slip on the neckbreaking heels which will make me almost his height and I walk out into the parking lot. As I am locking the door, I freeze. No one will believe me getting out of the momma van at that hotel. And am I paying for parking – that’s almost as much as a room!

I did not think this through.

“How long it take to lock a fuckin door, B?”

Pulling the key from the bolt, I stand up to my full height and turn slowly to look down into the driver’s side of the car.

“As long as I make it last, M.”

“Get in. Boss been waitin.”

“I know where I’m headed, I’ll get there myself, thank you.”

“Why is it you always think you got a choice?” He exits the car, opens the door behind his seat and wrenches my elbow until I get in. “The idea is to make an impression. You’re showin up in style.”

“And why is it you always have to make it seem forced?”

He looks at his phone, sends a text, slams my door, gets back in and drives off in silence.

“I had more things in my car…”

Nothing.

By this time of night there is barely any traffic, but it still takes a good twenty minutes of dead silence to get us there. I started looking for it as soon as we got near, the same as I always do when I’m downtown: Detroit’s attempt at the Plaza Hotel – the Book Cadillac – is the tallest, most gorgeous building I’ve seen in my life and it makes me breathless every time. I’m sure if anyone could see inside the car’s tinted windows, they would have thought me a corn-fed yokel. I know that’s not the image I should project, so by the time the car idled at the curb, I fixed my face into an expression of blind boredom.

I did notice, however, Rio’s long legs outstripping the doorman’s and opening my door for me. His hand out to help me from the seat, I want to ignore it but needing to slide over from behind Mick put me at a weird angle. “Gorgeous as always, doll,” drawls his devouring voice, while he gives me a thorough once-over and tips the doorman anyway.

A kiss dots my cheek and his eyebrows raise when he realizes he didn’t have to bend down nearly at all. He immediately looks for my shoes, twisting his head in appreciation at the heels, then palpably sliding his eyes back up my body at an amble. Another kiss – to my hand this time – before putting an arm possessively around my waist as he directs me to the elevators, giving me time to appreciate the ornate lobby in my periphery.

Ma actually tskes at me, and tilts her head in judgment. “It’s funny that you would request formal wear for me, but here you are as my escort – in jeans.” We waitin for the elevator so I ain’t able to react how I want, but the laugh I save for when someone throw shade roll out my throat without warnin.

“Say watchu like, ma, but these Brioni.” Her bambi-face make it clear she never heard of it.

“And I suppose the shirt is Armani?” He’s shaking his head, I guess I guessed wrong as he encourages me into the elevator with his hand on my back, and pushes 2.

“Nah, jus Bugatchi today. It’s a weeknight.” Apparently there’s a difference, but I guess I am too far into the Talbot’s set to keep up anymore. Still, the dark fabric is lovely, with a jacquard pattern in it, barely perceptible, but the details catch the light. I stop my hand from reaching out to trace the curling leaf at his shoulder. “Regardless, you look like a million bucks,” rasps a low rumble as his lips graze under my jaw.

Spooked, she take a step back an laugh too loud but I’m already straightnin cuz we upstairs. Since it’s polite to let the lady go first, I hang back an see if there’s anything I can take in, even though her dress is long an flowy.

Damn, I could watch that all day. She got a skin-tight sheath underneath a layer of teal sheer fabric that cut up an down her legs. It’s high at the hip and the cloth fall like a slit as she walk, flashin me the full length ov her pale skin an almost showin that the dress beneath only barely cover that full, round ass lifted up by those heels.

I don’t hear him come up behind me, but his hand is back on my elbow, steering me toward the taller seats at the far end of the Motor Bar. Thankfully, because I’m not sure this dress would let me get back up from one of the deep and low seats underneath the chandeliers.

“Now I know you a bourbon girl, but when you’re here, ya gotta get a sidecar,” I tell her so the bartender can hear, flash two fingers at him, an sit us both down. Even though the bar close soon, there still plentya people here, an her figure’d be enough t’draw eyes but the heels an dress help. Can’t help but wish it were the black number I saw in her closet, but between this long walk an me greetin her car on the street, anyone who need ta see, see.

For a show, an cuz I can’t resist, I take advannage of her irregular hem an stroke the skin right above her knee…on the side facin the crowd, a course.

“So I assume we’re going somewhere after this?” I breathe out and move my leg farther from his hand, although it takes a force of will. He’s being too nice. It’s unsettling and I keep my toes perched on the brass rail of the bar, ready to push back the chair and run if need be. Gooseflesh raises on my arms and neck as he brings his hand back to the bar and stares appreciatively, smiling. “You need a piece of arm candy for some back room poker game or business deal?” The goosebumps turn into a shudder. He’s going to pimp me out.

“Enjoy yer drink, Elizabeth.” His face gets a little harder and his eyes flash the way that makes them seem like an even darker black. I keep glancing around nervously, and there are some glances back our way, sure, but it’s probably because I’m spazzing. “You spinnin, ma. Relax.”

I turn slowly to look at him. That’s something he used to say to me, before; here we are in a place he meant to bring me, before – is it possible he’s trying to roll things back?

“So why don’t you tell me why we are here, exactly,” she say as I glance back over at her, flash two fingers at the bartender again, an try not to get pissed at her suspicion.

“Ohhhhh… there plenty reasons t’be here, ma, but can’t you just let yourself accept somethin nice fer once?” I try t’sound reasonable an sweet, but it come out sarcastic.

“And everything has a price with you, so can you please tell me why I was forced into a car –“

“An driven to the nicest hotel in town an bought fancy cocktails while we both dressed up?” There it was, again, a tiny flash of pain right through the eyes; less noticeable than some of the other times I’ve hurt him, but there.

“Are…are we…on a date?” He swallows even though his glass isn’t at his lips.

“You tell me,” was sposta come out a lil more forceful; stead it’s this mangled mumble. I look over at her, an she finally realizin that there somethin to it.

I’m having a hard time processing the fact that Rio has brought me here, in public, for a nice evening out. And I’ve just been confrontational and paranoid the whole evening. But he has not been the same since coming back and I have had no idea what was going on. How was I supposed to reach that conclusion on my own?

As I’m looking at him, letting this all sink in, he suddenly looks past me, straightens up his posture and makes a deferential head gesture. I flick my hair back and look casually over my shoulder to see one of Dean’s old colleagues, the head of a much larger dealership throughout Detroit.

Her face get the look a someone werkin out a puzzle and she ask, “How do you know Cappo?” as the bartender announce last call. Course she know him, but most ladies don watch enough Coppola movies to have his last name in their mind as anything else. An most people dunno that this hotel have mob and cartel connections from before it was built. I’ll just hafta distract her before that smart brain a hers makes the connection.

Rio looks at me and smiles, obviously overselling, puts his arm around my waist, guiding me back to the elevators. “Sgo. We got what we came for.”

Chapter Text

The elevator closes on us and I’m certain my confusion is very apparent. His hand is still on the small of my back, resting just above my ass and inching down but not being too obvious, since there are others in here with us. The smile on his face is a cross between smugly satisfied and teasing. I have no idea whether to trust him: my brain is screaming a million no’s and my body would really like it to shut up. Still, I can be civil.

She turn her face to the left an it so weird to see her eyes instead a her hairline. She almost look entirely sincere as she say, “Thank you for the invitation. I’ve had a lovely time.” Th’smile I give er feel more like a grimace, but I’m as confused bout her game as she is mine. Still, moms raised me to be polite.

“Pleasure was all mine,” comes smoothly out of his mouth and the door chimes at floor 7. Two businessmen get out, no one gets on, and we’re alone. I glance down at the panel and see we’re headed for the top floor, 23, before my sightline is interrupted by his shoulder and I’m literally cornered. His arm is blocking one side and he’s angled but not totally blocking me in; I could move away if I wanted.

Tryn ta get her eyes a lil difficult, she lookin everywhere but at me. I nudge her cheek with my nose an use my hand on her back to bring her against my hips. “Maaaa,” it’s more like a breath than a word. I pull back an find her eyes easy this time. “Yanno I want dis.”

I shift a little uneasily, but the move just nudges his hand farther down my ass. I take in a deep breath without thinking about how it lifts my chest and his eyes flick down, bringing a slight curl to his lips. When he looks up again, it’s questioning.

“It’s been very hard to know anything about what you want…since you got back.” She fidgetin, jittery, whether it because I’m cagin her in or she afraid a knife t’the gut comin, I dunno. Suckin in my own breath, I decide on it. I was goan try to not, wanted to do somethin different, move away from what was, but I can see she need a lil reassurance.

We’ve been quiet, staring at each other in this corner for almost 3 floors. The ding sounds again and the display shows 19. Rio’s movement catches my eye and I look back in time to see his left hand leave the wall. As his pinky trails down my face, moving my hair, everything else leaves my mind and my mouth is moving toward his gorgeous, full lips.

It slow but not timid, an I hold my hunger back. I kiss her welcome home, I kiss her how much I miss her, I kiss her showin her she my oxygen. She move in stronger an I know I’m her food by the way she consumin me. It ain’t desperate or starving or needy – just forceful. The bell ring, doors open an I back away a lil, usin my hand round her waist to have her exit in front a me again, but this time she stop two steps away from the elevator.

I pause and look at the very empty hallway in front of me: there are only two doors, one in each direction, and no way to know which to choose. Gives me time to catch my breath – and time for my brain to start screaming profanity at my body for being an idiot. He follows, quickly replacing his right arm on my back and pushing me gently in that direction before sliding his arm farther around my hips and pulling me closer in to his side.

RFID key in my front pants pocket, so the light turn green as we walk up an I only need one hand to open the door. Which s’good, cuz if her body wasn’t touchin mine right now, I might hafta punch somethin. Course, I’m also trynta keep her distracted, but there other things at play, too.

I’m really glad for the gauzy layer over the sheath I’m wearing because it obviously was not tailored to my proportions – I can feel the tighter under-dress hiking up as a result of the elevator and the walk down the hall. We angle through the room’s door and before it even latches, he has me back up against the wall, face hovering just in front of mine.

“Tell me, ma, dice -- “ his eyes search my face. “Ja miss me?” And that’s the 20 million – ha, hundred thousand – dollar question, isn’t it? No time for pros and cons, there’s only one right answer, I just have to make it sound convincing to him while my brain tries to sort it out. Easiest just to let my body answer, so I lean closer to kiss him. “Nah, Elizabeth.” He looks right in to me. “Tell me.”

Her face kinda twitch for a minute between sad an confused an torn. Finally, her head nod. “Yes.” She let out a long sigh then look up at me. “Mario, I missed you.” An you couldn’t keep me off her wit an army a Feds an a hobble. As proven.

My heart broke as I said it, and surprisingly, relief was inside, pouring out all over the inside of my body. His kisses are more fierce, insisting, voracious. I know I’ll have marks in the morning and I do not care. At least I’ve gotten to be a better liar since he left – plenty of practice – and I’ve figured out that the best lies contain emotional truth. I did miss him. All of it. All of him. I’m just still not convinced that I can live life without missing him, because I can’t have what I need when I have him.

The skin on my upper thighs feels his hands brush against them roughly, underneath the outer layer of my dress. His long fingers found the high parts of the irregular hem and are sliding up and down my legs, massaging the back of my thighs. When they tug on the edge of the tight sheath beneath, they slide behind me along dress and find just the bottom of my asscheeks peeking out from underneath.

The groan he lets out right then is almost enough to make me cum – maybe him, too, from the sound of it. His mouth moves off my neck and up to my ear. “Ah, maahhhh… at’s so fuckin hot.” His thumbs rub the hem of the fabric as his fingers cup my cheeks and squeeze. “Been like that all night?” He grinds into me and my legs part on their own. My head shakes beside his jaw as his teeth yank my earlobe.

She pantin under me an I can’t stop grabbin her ass, imaginin it half-exposed under that nice (enough) dress. Thinkin bout how she elegant on the outside an a slut for me inside. Her hands runnin up an down my body, one overtop the silkiness a dis shirt an one underneath, fingertips an fingernails soft an hard on my skin. Her breath hard an fast, pantin, pushin that chest in my face. Imma blow any secon, so I step back.

“I like it, y’bein so tall,” he pants, “but less getcha outta dose shoes, yeah?” He takes a step back and allows me room to kick off the neckbreakers and roll my ankles gently. While I’m doing that, I hear his belt and zipper unfasten. His hands are back at my sheath’s hem and he yanks it all the way up my hips to my waist. Holding my hips he bends his now-naked knees an his voice scrapes my spine, making my sex-brain obey. “Folla me.”

Leanin back, I put one hand out to catch my weight an pull her down on top a me wit th’other. Both a us bat at the flowy dress, gettin it outta the way an she’s on me so fast it like she a part a me what broke off an got reattached. She lean forward an press her hips back, takin alla me in – as much as possible.

Fucking Christ I can’t believe he’s been back so long and I haven’t demanded this. Taken it. Didn’t’ let him that first night in my car. He fills all of me and I push myself off his chest, leaning backward and shoving him in even farther, feeling him nudge my cervix and it is not pleasant but I do not goddamn care. I just need all of it.

Fuckin Christ, th’look on her face as she shoves more a me in is a thing a beauty I ain’t got nothin to compare to. This for me, only me, I know d-bag ain’t never seen this kinda need an hunger an discomfort an pleasure all at the same time. Smine. I’m liftin my hips to her an she ridin like she ain’t fucked in years. Dumbass dress keepin her tits hidden and I ain’t care – this my woman an the sight a her gettin off on me sall I need. Maybe too much…

The tap on my hips comes way too soon and sex-Beth nods my head for me. My hand finds his and locks around his wrist as I speed up and thrust deeper, harder, wanting to feel more, take more, have more of him. “Cum for me, babe,” I pant in time to our rhythm and his hips lift me off the floor, throwing my balance forward. I lean in, getting faster and faster, digging my crotch into his pelvis, rubbing my clit against his shaft and breathing so fast I’m lightheaded.

My face crush an eyes close as I let go inside her. An seconds later she so tight around me it almost hurt. Everything on her movin so fast it feel like she gonna fall out, so I grab her hips an lift mine to keep her steady even as I shrink inside her. She still vibratin, twitchin, an I move my thumb between her legs an my softenin shaft. One more loud shout come from her, a few more hard grinds, an then she lay all the way down on my chest.

A few tears pool out of my eyes, but I’m not actively crying. Fucking fuck I needed that. After all that mechanical sex with Dean, with all his impassioned speeches about how good we are, Rio can make me feel wanted with 6 words. I lay my face against the cool, soft material of his shirt, not caring that my sweat and tears and makeup are all leaking. But it hits me and I spring back up to sitting – he actually knows the name of the designer of his shirt – his shirt has a designer.

Somethin happen an she jump up, puttin her weight back on mi pito an wrenchin my hips. The groan out my mouth ain’t pleasure an I’m sure my face show it. “Shit, ma, what da fuck?” I force my hands down to t’floor instead a flyin at her, an I try to squirm out from under. I was floatin on a giant cloud til just then.

“Your shirt – I uhm, oh, I hope I didn’t – I’m just sweating and maybe crying and I didn’t want to ruin your shirt.” She gettin up, standin an my whole body cold, not just the wet parts. Without her weight on me, I feel – empty – an I ain’t like it.

“Fuckit, there more shirts.” He’s gesturing for me to come back down, but it’s the floor, in the doorway, and I’m half dressed, and the string of my thong is wedged in a very bad place and it’s getting colder. His arm’s in the air, beckoning, so I grab it and try to pull him up. The snarl and glare that result are more feral than I’ve ever heard from him. He relents and pushes himself up to standing. “Ma, y’really kilt a pretty big buzz right there.” His lips caress my jaw and laughs. “I ain’t even like this shirt that much.”

I keep laughin as she turn all momma an tell me it a nice shirt, an I shouldn’t let her ruin it til I shut her up wit a kiss. But she right, an I kick off my pants an kiss her toward the bed. Cept this a huge suite an there like four rooms t’get through. We turn the corner an I break it off t’laugh again. We standin there, her wit half her dress hiked up to her waist, me wit no bottom half cept socks, an two sides a the livin room showin the river an the lit-up buildins an miles to go fore we can reach the bed. Her gasp a fuckin delight.

An it hit me: she Beth rite now – all worried about stains an never been in a nice hotel – an I’m fuckin delighted.

Good goddam.

Not hiding my amazement, I take it all in, while trying to wriggle my dress back down my hips without using my hands. The lights shimmer, reflected in the river, and the skyscrapers are sparkling in their own office-orange light. I don’t want to get too close because this is no longer the tallest building in Detroit, and not every salesman working late deserves to see me half-naked. Rio adjusts the thermostat, but I’m still squirming. Catching my eye, he gestures back toward the doorway and I see another cracked-open door.

Padding in my bare feet, I walk back and see a bathroom, kick the door shut behind me and sink down in relief, tugging my thong down with me. I toss it across the room and think of the slightly frightening man waiting for me in the other room but it has been a long day and that shower can scream my name louder than he can right now. The knobs get yanked and twisted until they submit to my will and produce water. Waiting for it to heat up and produce actual steam, the dress gets yanked over my head – a straining seam had made a popping noise during sex and now actually rips – and joins the thong on the floor.

I curl my spine to crack my back, shift my weight and stretch my shoulders and nearly jump out of my skin when the drawl comes from the door. “Fuck, maaa, you sexy no matter what you do?” As I settle from the startle, he’s shaking his head as he goes to turn off the shower over my squeak of protest. “Cept you goan do that, you might as well use the master bath, yeah?” He lost his shirt somewhere, so at least we’re equally naked.

Turnin from the turned off shower, I come up behin her, curl my body round her shoulders an wrap my arms roun her ribs. Walkin her forward, her head looks back longingly while her mouth makes lil fish noises that ain’t words but tell me she wan what we leavin. Yeah, I heard that before. “But … “ she finally splutter a word. “That’s a nice shower!” an it is: big massage head, long cord, walk-in stall.

“Aight, is a nice shower,” he says, leading us quickly through three (!!!) empty rooms of furniture – who needs a dining room in a hotel? – and into the master suite. “You can go back to it if y’want,” but he can see I won’t want to. The heat lamp is already on, the floor isn’t cold under my bare feet, and both shower-heads are running full blast in a walk-in shower longer than a full bathtub. “Try the left one,” he smirks.

I think it the left one; I turn around in my head an yeah, it left. I can tell by the moan comin outta her, almost make me jealous. “Fuck it is just right.” Good goddam you’d think bein that fair would make her heat-sensitive, but she rollin in that surface-a-the-sun hot water like she born inside a volcano. Even with the heated floors an lamp, I’m startin ta pimple, so I decide she have enough alone time an join her on the right – where the water a lil more reasonable summer day stead a frog-pot boilin.

His hands reach across the length of the enclosure and I resign myself to the idea of my tits being washed sparkling clean again, but no, he goes for my ass. I snort. “Was two months in the hospital enough to change your allegiance? You’re team big-butt now instead of big-tits?” He surprises me by pressing his strong thumbs against the vertebrae just above my tailbone.

His voice is directly over my shoulder, saying, “Ma, they ain’t no part of you I don like. But nothin gonna change mi amor por los chichochotas.” His hands slide up and around to give my breasts some of that amor and I laugh for real.

Suddenly, the air behind me is empty and my throat makes a danger-noise as my left foot is lifted up and he’s rubbing my arch. “Oh my god that feels good but showers are slippery! Give a girl some warning!” Which turns into a guttural groan as my foot relaxes, then a giggle as he gently bites down on the curve. He puts it down, then pats my right ankle, and I lift it up as eagerly as any horse with a rock stuck in its shoe. It’s repeated but this time the bite is on my Achilles’ heel, making me laugh and nearly fall over.

I’m there t’catch her as the twitch throw her off-balance – I knew what t’expect. “I got you,” I say, literally holdin her up.

“You do.”

“You know dat?” He’s behind me, so I can’t see his eyes, but I can hear the sincerity. Again, I honestly don’t know if I believe that, but I know it in this instance. I nod.

“Yeah, I know.”

“Good.” I kiss the top a her hair an pull her over to my side, jus holdin her. A second later, my eyes snap open because her teeth fuckin chatterin. I spin her round.

“Your side is so cold….” My arms are wrapped around myself and he shakes his head, pushing me gently back over to my side before exiting the shower. I watch him dry off his long, muscular body and wrap the towel around his waist. Once he leaves, I wash a few sensitive areas with the “Heavenly™” bath products. No false advertising, there. Reluctantly, I turn off the shower, stand in the steam for another minute more, and exit through the glass door.

I don’t see the box on the counter until after I’ve got my hair up in a towel and am reaching for a larger towel for the rest of me. A very deep sigh blows out and I’m reluctant to even open it. Totally team young-guy when it comes to extended stamina and multiple rounds a night, but I’ve been dreading the thought that he might want to see me in some complicated porn-poodle lingerie with boning strips or balconette cups or any other torture device for women my age and size.

But just looking around this shower and hotel room is enough self-imposed guilt to make me look. A single layer of tissue enfolds a lovely sapphire, satiny teddy, which, when picked up, flows and doesn’t poke. The gathered arm straps widen until they meet at an elastic empire waistline, covering up some support materials, and the rest of it is just skirt. I happily pull it on over my head and it hits mid-thigh, not making me feel too slutty, but with enough plunge to give it a li’l va-voom. I feel sexy in it, and barely insecure at all. I was exhausted before I got in the shower but standing here, fluffing my hair in my new nightie, who knows what I might get up to.

“Thank you for my gift,” she turn out the light as she come from the bath, “it’s especially nice since yer boy Mick didn’t let me get my bag from the car and I had to take my emergency shirt out of my bag to make room for the dress.”

“Ain’t it a thing thatcha can be sayin thank you an complain at t’same time?” I walk over to the bed where he’s lounging in some long black pajama pants and an open long-sleeve shirt made out of the same material as my teddy. He puts down his smartphone. “At’s rough, tho, cuz your dress rip at some point tonight.” I’m drawing back the covers on the bed when I remember my pile of clothes in the other bathroom and drop the duvet, turning to go get them. “Sallright, I got it hung up fer ya. Needed to make sure that shirt ain’t get ruint, so I did em both.” I smile and drop my eyes.

It feels shitty to be this wary, but he is being way too fucking nice.

“I guess I have plenty to be thankful for, then,” she say, but there somethin under it. “The car, the hotel room, the drinks, the nightie…” I look up at her, fold my arms an raise an eyebrow. She take a big, long breath. “It’s just … you were going to kill me. Even though I did what you asked. You came back all scary and aggro and just being near you put me on edge.” She get into the bed an pull the covers up, but not too far, I still got a view once I turn t’look at her. “This is like, a complete U-turn from that, and I’m not …un…nervous.” She put her hand on my chest an even though she just emerged from the center of the sun, her fingers fuckin cold, makin me twitch back. At least she have the decency t’look embarrassed.

“Damn, ma,” he says, taking both my hands in between his palms and rubbing them together. “It 74 in here, how --?” and he cuts off, shaking his head and rubbing my hands more after I mumble an apology. “You know there somethin wrong witchu…those fingers…crissakes.” He pauses to blow warm air through them, it’s kind now but he’ll get tired of it…shut up, Beth, when will he get tired of it? Before he kills you, sure, it will be the last straw. “Ya spinnin, ma, come back.” And he waits til I look up. “I ain’t know what t’tell ya. You know I run hot,” he laughs a little, still pressing my cold fingers together, “an yeah, I wanted t’kill ya. Might still have to,” he holds on to me as I pull back, scared again, “but tonight ain’t got nothin to do wit any a that.” He looks down at my chest and smiles again. “I thought y’could use some pamperin after watcha been thru, an I thought we could use some time t’get straight.”

“Soooo… you want us to ‘get straight’,” she pull her hands away t’do air quotes, “by telling me you still might kill me?”

I gotta shrug. “It an uncertain bizness, but it bizness. Might havta kill ya if things go sideways. Or if d-bag try ta turn me in. Or ya flip on me again. Any number a reasons,” my head cock to the side, confused. “I thought you unnerstood that.” Her breath leak outta her slow an her head nod. I take her chin in my hand an stroke it wit my thumb. “But tonight tonight an tomorrow tomorrow. Got some things planned since it yer day off, if ya still wanna be here. But you can wait an see how ya feel tomorrow.” Her eyes look up while her face still turned down but she nod real small, over an over. Processin, I think, instead a spinnin fer once.

Ugh, he had to twist the knife, didn’t he? This – all this – is because he thought I lost a baby. His baby. I am a shitty person: a good liar and a bad person. And I’m taking these things from him in exchange for a life I never had to give. Then again, he might kill me any time, so I might as well enjoy the things. If nothing else, it’s like getting some of my $100K back. Except I would use that to pay for things I need and not luxuries that I can’t use at home. And he still might kill me, but not tonight. And probably not tomorrow.

That’s so reassuring.
Still, tonight’s tonight, and I did just get that second wind.

“So, the hundred thousand – that’s no guarantee against future acts.” My arm fallin asleep, so I shift an put my weight on my elbow wit my head on my hand. I know she ain’t wanna see the grin on my face, but it so cute, the way she think sometimes. She’ll grow outta it, I hope.

“Nah, ma. Why would it be?” He looks…pleased with himself. “It reparations.”

“Reparations.” I take in a long breath and hold it. Tamp down my anger, but spit out through clenched teeth. “For successfully carrying out your plan to evade the Feds.”

“Ma, we had dis fight already. You ain’t ready t’be done?”

“Explain it again, how it is my fault that you didn’t tell me to not free Turner from the loft?” He at least has the decency to look a little sheepish.

“Splain it again why you think a free Fed an a dyin king a good combo?”

“Explain it again, why I should have been able to think clearly after having a hood shoved on my head and being forced to shoot my lover?”

I’m furious, clutching the linens hard enough to bend my nails, just so I don’t scratch his stupid face off. And his stupid face gets all grinny, which just makes me angrier.

“Lovers,” he says, with a dumb tone of voice, “is that what we was?” He reaches out with his free hand to grab my waist and I push away from him. “Sound so fancy when you say it in suburban momma.”

“Shut up! I am being mad at you right now!”

“I know, an it totally adorable,” he uses that dumb tone of voice again but it is not working to change my mood. He lets go of my waist and moves back, making his face more serious but I can still see the grin peeking out. “Aight, you wanna be mad, momma, while we spendin time here together – not in some warehouse back room or bar breakroom – you be mad.”

“I don’t want to be mad. I just am mad.” I get her, an I nod. Wish it were different, but wishin never changed nothin. I roll on my back, put my hands behind my head an stare at the ceilin. I try…it hard, but I try…to ackshully talk.

“Kay. You got every reason t’be mad, and so do I. I ain’t dead, but I got shot. I ain’t dead, but the Feds got me anyway, an I spent two months away tryin ta give them enough to let me go witout gettin you. An I ain’t dead, but I lost a kid, too, an you rejectin my attempt t’offer repair.”

The astonishment on my face grows with every syllable he utters. I assumed he was recuperating from the bullets this whole time. I had no idea Turner had him. He…he tried to protect me? Even with Turner breathing down my neck?
And how the hell does he know the phrase ‘offer repair’?
Fuck off, snobby Beth. You know he pays attention – fuck, he’s probably more educated than your high school-diploma having ass.

“This… this is an offer of repair?” Her voice sound shocked. I guess I get that. “It isn’t just you being horny? I mean, you ghosted me for two weeks.”

“Rite, well I had things to sort, dinnit I?”

“Ok, well it still was confusing as fuck to receive mind-blowing oral and then not hear from you except through stooges until you just text out of nowhere. Difficult to not interpret that as a booty call.”

“I can see that.” He rolls back over and looks at me. “I’m sorry I left y’outta it for so long. I shoulda at least text yer burner.”

“I appreciate the apology.” I can’t keep my eyes steady, they keep looking anywhere except at him. But I suck it up and look back, “And I’m sorry about what happened as a result of me freeing Turner. I had no idea. And I was… I was too scared to try to talk to you.”

“Ma, y’always can talk t’me.”

“Well, I didn’t have your number.”

“Yeah, but we talked.”

“We did. You’re right. I’m sorry, I should have talked more. That one time, though, I was really drunk.”

“Damn, ma, you was wasted. Whadda they say in Wypipo? ‘Blotto’?” There’s that dumb tone again.

“Rio.”

“Yeah, ma?”

“Is that your white person accent?” She got giggles bubblin up from her an it feel so good. I’m fuckin drained – mentally, sexually, physically – but it so good t’see her laugh.

“Why yes ma’am, it is. Should I try something different?”

“Oh my god, never do that in front of me again.”

“Of course, ma’am, I shall endeavor to never do it again.” Her lil fists poundin at my chest an I laugh, hard. “Aight, aight, I won’t.” Pushin down the laughs, I gotta know. “Izzit cuz you like slummin it? Got a lil fetish for a piece a’ rough?”

My giggles break off suddenly. Is that what he thinks this is? Just a mom’s day out, fucking the pool boy?
Well, isn’t it, Beth? Aren’t you just pretending? You’re not ready for this world – his world – with you and him in it.
Whichever bitch’s voice that is, I punch it in the gut and slide in close to Rio, pulling his arm around me.

“No.” She kiss my mouth but I hol back. This important. She pull back an look up at me. “Don’t think that, Mario, no.” She kiss my closed lips again. “It’s because you don’t sound like you.” She put her hand – fuckin cold hand – on my chest.

“An who I am’s a banger from south the border wit neck tatts an a cheesy-ass gold gun.”

“It’s part of who you are, sure. And you’re a father to Marcus. And you’re the owner of several pieces of prosperous real estate. And you’re the manager of a network of hundreds of employees. And you’re a studier of the human psyche. And for whatever reason, you’re a 90s film aficionado. Just like I’m more than one B…Elizabeth.”

Hearin all that, I’m glad she buried in my shoulder, cuz somethin bout hearts growin three sizes or whatever. Dammit, Dags, you right. I know how dis ends.

I bend down an kiss her damp hair. She turn her face up to me, an the kisses comfort us til we fall asleep.    

Chapter Text

I startle awake, confused, with the room pitch black. My heart’s racing, so I guess it was a nightmare, as usual. Unusual, though, is that my leg hurts?

Weird.

I roll over and see Rio has moved away toward his side, which on a King gives me plenty of space. Until his leg spasms backward and kicks me in the calf.

That explains that. Not my nightmare, but his.

I’m moving to shake him, because he’s sweating and his breathing is fast, when he shouts himself awake. His head and shoulders are lifted off the bed, and I can see the highlights in his eyes from what little light comes through the window this late.

He takes a second, looks around, then adjusts his weight and sees I’m also awake.

“G’back t’sleep. S’nothin.”

“I was already awake – nightmare.” I don’t say whether it’s his or mine, because honestly, it could be both. I suffered nightmares all through my childhood with mom… and since Rio – and guns and pills and Feds – entered my life, they’ve been flaring up pretty fierce.

“Did I kick ya?” I hear her nod agains th’pillow stead a seein it, since it still dark an my eyes half-closed, tryin t’get back t’sleep witout goin back t’the same dream. “Yeah, you’ll have that. Sorry.”

“It’s not like you can control it,” she slide over an put her body nexta mine. I pull back – I sleep better wit some space, I think mostly cuz I don wanna kick whoever in bed wit me. “C’mere,” an my arm aroun her whether I like it or not cuz she put it there. I tighten up an pull her closer, smellin the hotel shampoo she use earlier, an her own smell that haunt me for months, but specially the nights I was holed up for the Feds. “Will it help to tell me the dream?”

He shakes his head and I can feel it against mine. His heartbeat is slowing; I can feel it against my back. But other things are waking up against me, at the same time, and his breathing isn’t slow enough for sleep. “Sleep. Sleep’ll help it go away.”

“Ok,” her tone a voice sweet but not like a momma, which good, cuz if she start takin care a me right now it would feel gross bein in bed wit her. Her hand cover mine round her ribs, and she wiggle like she settlin in for sleep. But the motion bring her lower, rubbin her culo against me an movin my hand to cup the bottom a her breast.

I keep countin my breath like I was taught, ta try t’get myself back t’sleep. The satin a her nightie feels so nice against my hand, her smell so comfortin, it feel so good t’have her here, it all workin to help put me under. My thumb strokin the fabric under my hand, my face buried in her neck.

But after a minnit, m’thumb stop because somethin in the way an I realize her nipple hard cuz where I been rubbin. And mi verga hard because what I been smellin. And her deep breaths ain’t sleepy.

“Still wake?” the gravel of his nighttime voice is even deeper than his waking one. I nod against him, knowing he must feel it with his head so close to mine. He shifts something, then I feel his fingertips between my hip and the bed. They bend a couple times and I lift up. He’s surrounding me, with his right hand still on my left nipple and his left snaking around my pelvis to grab my right hip.

I slide my hands down his pajama arms and give a pleasurable mmmmm. “I like this.” I push back against his hips, and move my top leg between his. “This is nice. If you feel like more, though, that could also be nice.” He tightens his arms around me for a breath or two, then pulls his hands back.

Pretty sure her nipple gotta be close to irritated by now, though I been moving round other parts, but I move my hand to her other side. Lower, I comb my fingers through her short peach fuzz…thinkin it might actually look peach color, too…but I hesitate til she put her own hand on top a mine an move it between her legs.

“Show me how y’like it, Elizabeth. Teach me how ya touch yerself.” My eyes open wide and my lips part in a tiny gasp. “Go on,” his hand leaves mine for a second and moves my top leg over both of his, “I wanna learn.” I feel his hand slide under mine again.

She try to move my hand at her waist, but her hip pinnin it down make the angle weird. “Maybe, maybe switch hands? I’m a righty.” We move a lil and she keeps my hand off her breast but bring the other down, foldin back all the fingers cept the pointer. She guide it slowly all the way round th’edge a her outside lips from bottom to top, pausin when she get back to the bottom, pressin down to put pressure near her asshole. Her hips lift up to meet my finger, addin more pressure. Next, she push my finger in, just to the knuckle, an glide it up an down, gettin wetter as she do. Each time we hit the top, she put extra pressure above the clit as we come down, sometime in a slow circle. Her other hand have me circle far round her nipple witout touchin it. After just a few strokes, she push my first finger in just a lil more, an it so hot an wet, I breathe out hard an grind against her ass. “Shhhh, calmate,” she say, an kiss my lips over her shoulder. She move my thumb above her nub, again puttin pressure behind it stead a on it. Then she move my finger inside up an down, not in. Guidin my thumb down to get wet in her juice, then she slide it up underneath her hood an push my finger down as far toward her ass as possible. Her hips rockin, now, she take my whole hand out, curl my pointer into a hook, pull my pinky out an fold down the others. She take my thumb an pointer in her hot mouth an swirl her tongue all roun before puttin my han back tween her legs.

I always been a good student, catch on pretty quick. I slide my hook finger up an in, feelin for the back of her nub, slide my thumb under her clit an over, circlin round stead a touchin it, an use my pinky to put pressure on her perineum, getting close to her asshole. “Yeah?” I whisper. Her nod, whimper, an hips answer yeah back.

It doesn’t take long for him to get me close like this – after all, I’ve practiced getting off quickly and quietly while my kids have naps. There’s nothing quiet about me feeling him do it to me, though. Soon enough, I’m twisting my other nipple, hard, and I’ve taken my hand off his. Clawing at the elastic of his pajama bottoms, I get them down off his ass and over his hard cock. I’m just barely touching him, afraid I’ll clench too tight or rip it off.

Tween what I’m doin t’her an her response an her touchin mi verga dura, in the wake of a nightmare, my head floatin. I’m dizzy an blurry an not thinkin, so I snarl when she grab my wrist an rip my hand outta her pussy. “I want you to fuck me.” Take a minute for me to translate, an her hips thrust in the air against nuthin. “Fuck me, Mario, please.” She sit up an put my head in her mouth quick an let go. “Quickly.”

He’s over me and on me and in me in a second after I suck him. My legs are around his waist and pulling up so high it’s like I’m bridging in Pilates. The surprise on his face is clear, but he starts thrusting and I’m coming just a second after – hand against the headboard, face contorted, trying to buck in time to him and failing I know, but the clench is so hard I stop caring.

She done already. I ain’t even close. I guess it more repair, an as she slow, I slow with her, helpin her lower her hips. When she lay all the way down, I sigh heavy an start to pull out. She grab my wrist an shake her head. “Keep going,” through her panting breath come out – or maybe I just hope it did?

“Ja say keep goin?!” the incredulity in his voice is understandable. I nod until I can open my eyes again.

“Slllooooowwwwww,” I breathe out. “Very, very slow,” and I put my hands on each of his hips to emphasize.

I ain’t wanna pull out but I ain’t wanna rub her raw, either. Still, she the boss a her own body, so I slow it down an feel her closin over every inch a me. Aftershocks clench at weird times, an I groan each time cuz it so good. I curl down, pull aside the cup of her top, lick an suck around her nipple witout touchin it an she moan an grind her hips in a circle.

Comin up for air, I cup her cheek an look at her, takin her in, not sayin anythin but not breakin eye contact. Goddam I want this every night. I say it in my head as I thrust all the way in an pull all the way out.
I want her in my bed.
I want her by my side.
I want her, me an Marcus.
I want her gun an mine.

And there’s that feeling again…as he’s looking at me, taking long, slow strokes inside my body… whatever he’s feeling it is too big for me. I can hardly bear it. But I know if I turn my head away, it will hurt him. And the sex will stop.
The lies I’ve told.
The Dean I fuck.
The resentment I feel at him taking over my business.
The thought he put into this weekend.
The shower.
The nightie.
Asking me to teach him how to touch me.

She start raisin her hips again an I take it as a sign to start goin faster. Leanin in closer, I put my weight on a hand near her head. She reach up with her head an I lean down quick to kiss her. Move my hand to the headboard cuz I ain’t wanna break the kiss but I buildin up speed til I’m poundin that pussy an she lovin it. I fuck her an feel the anger come back – nameless, wordless anger at everythin – her, no kid, Dean, money, Feds, I slam each one out.

CRACK.

The sound cut through everythin an my body throws back. My throat shout out. Taste blood in my mouth. Hear her shoutin. I’m on th’floor, coughin. Ears ringin.

Rio’s on the floor, laughing, sobbing, and coughing. I saw him rear back after the noise an anger flooded me, I was so close to orgasm. But he clutched his chest and started coughing. It reminded me so much of that night. When I shot him. Fear froze me immediately, then I looked around taking in every detail as fast as I could. On my hands and knees on the bed, analyzing every detail of the scene.

No bullet hole in the window.
No blood on Rio.
Picture frame face down on a shelf over the bed.

Grabbing a pillow, I run over to him on the floor and tuck it under his head.

“Rio – Rio – MARio.” I slap the back of his hands, then the inside of his wrist.

“MARio, you’re having a flashback.” Nothing.

Fine. I pinch the web of his hand between his pointer and thumb. He blinks and looks at me.

“MARio, you’re having a flashback.” I put his hands palms down on the carpet. “We’re in the hotel. Feel the carpet. Not hardwood, carpet.” I rub the backs of his hands. I rub his bare chest. “These are my cold fingers on your chest.” I rub up and down the length of his torso and his coughs get slower, lighter. “There’s no blood on you.” I touch his scars, which I haven’t really looked at until now. I did that. “You’re all healed from those wounds.”

He takes my hands in his and his breathing has calmed.

“Fuck yeah those are your cold fingers.” His head is shaking back and forth. “What the hell wrong with your circulation?”

I laugh a little, relieved, and to hide the tears I didn’t know were brimming. “Well, in emergency situations your heart pulls blood from the extremities and directs it to more necessary locations.” I look down and laugh harder.

“Plus ya tits hangin out.”

“Whose fault is that?” She take her hands back an use em to tuck herself away. Shake my head to clear the vision a her shootin me, an because she fuckin see me. I sit up fast an try to spring to my feel like I would if I fell. My face go blank cuz it weak t’be laid out like that. Gettin up ain’t graceful but it happen, an she notice I’m unsteady but she look over her shoulder instead. “It was a picture frame. It shook and fell flat down.”

“I see.” His expression is actually unreadable this time…not one of the blanks that is covering some other obvious emotion. “How ya know?” I shrug, it’s a hundred reasons, none of them easy.

“Hypervigilance.” My face soften, I feel it. Course she got trauma, too, an not jus from that night. “One of the useful gifts of PTSD… as you know.” Dammit, she always been too smart for her own good. Still, I raise an eyebrow as if I ain’t know. “C’mon, people who don’t know what it is ask what it means.” My chin raise quick cuz she right an I misstep. Again.

I got no guard round her an it ain’t good.

“Fer what it’s worth, I know I was havin a flashback. You ain’t gotta tell me. I got a way to get through it.” My face falls, again, I did the wrong thing by trying to help. I get up anyway, raise my hands and let them fall to the side, slapping my bare thighs.

“That’s my way to get through it. I say I’m having a flashback. I ground myself. I ride it out.” Of course he’d see it as a vulnerability. And of course now that I know… “Does anyone else know this happens?” His eyes narrow. Fuck.

“Turner knew.”

Fuck FUCK.

“An my shrink.”

Ok, well, ostensibly, that person isn’t dead. Yet. And the shrink probably knows lots of things. But is also legally bound to never tell or lose their license. I take a deep breath and look at him, awaiting a verdict.

“Imma take a walk.” I go t’the closet an pull out my gym bag, pull on a pair a black trunks an a black tee, grab some thongs an the keycard. I ain’t trust my mouth t’say the right thing so I jus leave.

He just leaves. After a few minutes of staring at the door, I turn to the enormous TV, pull up youtube –mute it an turn on captions because the display tells me it’s 5am-- and queue up one of my favorite pilates instructors. Two videos and a shower later, with the nighty in the laundry bag, I slide back into bed naked.

Before I can drift off, the door clicks closed and I feel his weight on the bed. I leave my eyes closed and my breathing slow and shallow. His skin smells faintly of chlorine, and I’m glad he was able to work out some of the adrenaline which must have flooded his body.

“I know you awake,” she good at it – better’n most – but I’m good at tellin when people fakin sleep. I pull her hair back over the ear I can see, slide in behind her. A million things go through my mind while I was swimmin laps, but kept comin back t’one. She turn an lookit me over her shoulder. I look back. “Why dinnint you have one?”

My shrug is probably imperceptible from this twisted-up position, so I roll over more.

“Who says I didn’t?” His eyes widen an I get the ‘you cray’ facial expression. His head twitches slightly, disbelieving. “It wasn’t as intense, probably because I wasn’t the one getting shot. And I’ve actively dealt with it – and my guilt – over the past three months.” He’s still looking at me like that. “And because I have dozens of traumas and have been working on this for dozens of years.” His head bobs back and forth, considering. “And because if nothing else, at any moment, I am programmed to help the person in the most need, and that overrides anything going on inside me.”

I take a minnit to chew on that. It a momma thing? Or somethin else? Izzit a thing at all?

She seem t’think so.

“Don’t worry, I had a good cry in the shower after you left.”

I lean down an kiss her softly, spoon in beside her.

The pause is interminable. I still have no idea if he’s going to kill me for knowing this about him. Small noises and breath gaps tell me he’s trying to say something but it isn’t working. He draws in a very, very long, deep breath. It holds for several more seconds.

“Thank you.” Can’t manage more’n a whisper. Can’t believe how much it costs ta say that t’this particular woman. Woman I was just feelin so big about til all this go down. An she wave it away.

“Of course.” Like it so obvious. Like it so simple. Like anyone, even Rhea, ever do anything like that for me before. Nah, chica, no of course, here.

“Jus sayin, yer in a unique position.” My body stiffens in his arms. “An th’only way someone like you get hurt is if you talk. You’re not gonna talk, rite?” I violently shake my head quickly back and forth on the pillow. “Rite. Cuz you gotta lot t’lose if ya do.”

It takes me a minute. A very long minute. Probably more like ten. To keep repeating to myself that threats are how Rio counters vulnerabilities. My body is scared. Very, very, scared. Fight-flight-or-freeze is saying fleefleefleeflee but I consciously choose freeze.

And then fight.

I flip over and he’s peacefully resting, like that was what he needed to let go of this. But I can’t. It’s stupid, but I can’t. I jostle him.

“Hey.” My eyes open even tho I was bout t’drift off after a long night a no rest. “I hear you, and I believe you,” an she look scared as she talk, so I believe her. “But please don’t do that.” My face confused again. “I know you’re Mario and Rio and the King or whatever. But when we’re like this, I don’t respond well to threats.” She looks down a lil an snorts. “I gotchu.”

He breathes out long, and nods, but says nothing. I think I’m awake for good after all that, but it’s surprisingly easy to drift off for a short time.

I ackshully sleep for another hour, then my body clock wake me up like usual close to 9. Quiet as possible I text a few things fer bizness an call fer room service. Tell em jus to come in rather than knock. I think the noise of the cart wake her anyway, or maybe the smell.

“Cofffffffffffeeeeeeeeeeee,” she say, maybe like a zombie but I thinka the dude from the Black Lodge.

I’m up and walking around, not awake enough to be self-conscious. There’s coffee and croissant on the dining room table and I pour myself a glass mug from a silver carafe without even looking at the pastry.

“I know ya usually do a spread fer the brood, so if ya want somethin else, I’ll call down.” His voice sounds tentative, maybe like he doesn’t know where we stand. Which is good, because I have no idea, either.

“I rarely eat, actually. The locusts devour it all and I got out of the habit.” She sip her coffee an stand there, takin in the corner view – river on one side, skyscrapers on the other – as if she was fully dressed. It’s a lil surprisin, after all the times she try ta hide parts a her body from me. “Another little known fact,” she turn around an pour more into her half-full mug, “I get very irritable and out of sorts all day after getting driven to the edge of orgasm and frustrated.” Her face on the border a angry; it pretty fierce.

If neither of us knows where we stand, the no one has the power. I might as well take it. And if it distracts him from considering my imminent death, that helps, too.

“Well I ain’t know how many people know that, ma, but it ain’t lil-known t’me.” I forcefully set my coffee mug down on the table, without spilling, thankyou, and lock my eyes on to his. He moves to the wardrobe and pulls out a full-length robe the same color as my nighty and starts to pass it to me, but I wave it away even as my eyes widen at the shock of another gift. But I’m on a roll.

“No, it isn’t little known to you, is it? You have had plenty of opportunities to learn that particular lesson.” Not entirely sure what she gettin at, here. Yeah, we have bad timin sometimes. Life’s complicated. “I think maybe it’s time to put several of your lessons to use.” An she walk over to the corner winda, bold as fuck, naked as anythin. “It’s 10am. Some businessmen are on break, some water coolers are near the windows. Some workers are hard at work.” Her hands on her hips, ass toward me, cocked to one side cuz she got all her weight on one leg.

“Yeah?” He’s a little nervous now, but definitely intrigued. I turn back to him, shoving down the nervous nausea that is threatening this posing. I cock an eyebrow and flip my hair over my shoulder. “Maaa…whatchu up to?” I walk over to him and wordlessly pull his tee over his head. Then I grab his hand and pull him back to where I was standing at the window, place my hands and weight on a desk in the corner, and look back over my shoulder at him.

This…this so fuckin outta character for her. I ain’t trust it. But I can’t resist that ass. I pull it toward me, an even after everything, mi pito is a traitor an it want to finish up, even though I got off in the poolroom shower this morning. Her voice low an throaty an the sound of it make me even harder – when my brain process the meanin a the words an play em back t’me, my shorts off before I even realize what my hands doin.

“Remember when you said I’d look good on top of my desk at the dealership?” He’s moaning in my ear, cock already between my legs. His head nods against my neck.

“I said I wanted all the employees an people on the sidewalk t’see how lucky I am I getta fuck this gorgeous mamacita,” my hands everywhere on her, but especially her tits. My tongue lickin everywhere it can reach as my dick strain to get even harder.

I lower to a whisper, “I think about that all the time.” I stand up straighter, spread my legs, and touch my clit in front of the window. With my thumb on my button, I reach farther back and tug his cock closer, catching it under my hood. He bends backwards, pressing farther into me. “Just do it.”

I say the same words I said to Dean that night while looking out the window into our back yard, imagining Rio on the picnic table. That moment needs to be re-written, and Rio does phenomenally.

Grabbin her shoulders, I pull her back to me, shovin her tits high into the sky for everybody at their desks t’see. I turn her to the right, where there nothin between her an the glass, keepin her a few inches away so I can grab giant fistfuls and squeeze around her nipples. The top a her spine right in front a me, I put my lips on it gently, lick it hard, then bite down hard enough to make her shout an slam her hands into the glass. Then I press my whole weight against her, movin my hands so her entire front is touching the cool surface. Her gasps are part terrified an part thrilled – I hope. I hope by now if she ain’t like somethin, she say.

My face, my palms, my nipples, my stomach, my pubes are all shoved against an unbroken pane of glass and I can see into some windows of the nearest building. I can’t contain my fear and my need to get fucked right now and they somehow work together. Rio’s so sensitive to my reactions, I try to throw some entirely positive ones in there, but at this point my brain is focused on baser instincts.

His hand taps behind my knee and I lift my leg, letting him place my foot on the arm of a nearby chair. My whole pussy is on display to anyone at this height and I can’t tell if the flush in my cheeks is humiliation or horniness. And I do not give a shit. He adjusts his angle and enters me fast, thrusting upward hard, dragging my body with it, making ridiculous squeaking sounds on the glass that somehow just make it better.

If this what get into her when sex get broken off, maybe that’s gonna be a thing. I fuck her against the glass, sure her front a grotesque, weird mashed thing to whoever watchin. She lovin it, though, usin the leverage a the chair arm an fuckin me as hard as I am her. After a minnit, tho, the angle too weird, an I drag her hips back about a foot.

She keep her hands on the glass, but double over so I can reach deep. Her back arch an she press against me, using the surface in front a her to push back stead a just resistance. I can see in the reflection, her tits swingin as I keep fuckin her, an that make me closer. Just as I about to tap her, she shout that she cummin an I let loose.

Unnnnh, it feels like my pelvis is splitting apart as he shoves in deep four or five more times and I am making every kind of noise I have ever wanted to as my orgasms milks him dry. Everything is gushing down my legs and I feel like what I had stored up and what was released by this exhibitionism exploded all at once.

I’m panting so hard it feels like every breath tears the roof of my mouth open, but when he pulls out and thunks to his knees, I still whimper.

She still supportin herself gainst th’glass – I might hafta help her stand up straight again. But for now my legs don work an her glorious, soaking cunt spread out in front a me, smellin like th’best meal I ever ate. I shove my face innit, makin her yelp, but I gotta taste us together, slurp us up from behind, stayin away from her clit. Shakin my head back an forth, I ignore what I was taught an talk with my mouth full.

There’s nothing left in me but my toes are curling and raising me higher as he muffles something against my muff. I call back for a repeat an he does it again, nearly making me scream.

“So I can hear you, jackass!”

She laughin, so I know it good. It might be hysteria, though. I pull back, an rested, rock back on my heels an stand up. Placin one hand on her lower back an liftin her up by her shoulder wit th’other, I help her stand as I repeat it.

“Damn, ma. Ya fuckin gorgeous.”

Her big eyes blink those long lashes, her cheeks fulla color from the O, but maybe from the compliment, an I see her actual smile. A real, genuine smile. For me.

Course she don say thank you.

“Shower?” I am so glad he helped me up because otherwise I would just be there when housecleaning came by, still naked, still stuck. In fact, as I try to take a step, I am not thrilled to find he needs to rush in and catch me, helping me to the master bath.

“Rio?” she ask sweetly, as we get to the shower.

“Mmm?” I ain’t happy she takin my sex an my help for granted, but I give her a chance. She turn on both taps an wait for they t’warm up.

“As much as I lovvvvvvvvvvvve,” my ears prick up even though I ain’t wanna give nuthin away, “this shower,” sure, yup, there it be. “And even thoooooooough…you are the best lover I have ever had…” low bar, I may have muttered out loud but under my breath because she pout a lil. “Can we agree to just shower?”

He snorts and rolls his eyes like I implied we should stand on our feet or hear with our ears. “Yeah, ma, I ain’t got nuthin left.” He turns his back to me and sticks his hand under his water, then walks in. I follow, even though I know it won’t be warm enough for me. Takes me a second to figure out why he’s salty after I gave him such a good morning.

I’m soapin up, back turned, doin worst first an trynta get all the sex off my dick and balls. Scrubbin so hard an thinkin so loud, I almost miss it.

“Thank you,” she say serious-like. “Thank you for the sex and the hotel and the nighty and the robe. But especially for the talk and the honesty.” I keep my back turned and nod as I keep soapin up. When I rinse though, I turn toward her an she half-turn away. I got a bit a smile, but I keep my voice even. I still think she gamin me. But I got game.

“Day ain’t over, ma.” I’m surprised; it’s almost eleven, most hotels have checkout times. “We got lunch in the Executive Lounge an then massages at 2.”

“No,” come out sharp an fast, enough t’make me turn too fast in th’shower an put out my hand for balance. “No massages." Her lip quiver and she take a deep breath. "Sorry, sorry. Thank you, it’s a lovely gift and thought but no thank you. I can’t…” she stops soapin an hugs herself wit her arms. “I really don’t like strangers touching me. I never feel relaxed afterwards.” She look up like she confessin t’murder. “It’s one of my triggers.”

I didn’t realize I was actually going to say that, and I see his eyes betray his astonishment. Just as well, though, now we’re even.

“Lunch would be lovely, though, thank you.” I jerk my head up in response.

Things a lil tense as we dry off an move inta th’suite. I ain’t know how this last part gonna play out, but I gotta end this on top. She dig aroun fer her tote an walk over t’the closet all the way by th’guest bath. Shakin my damn head, that a coat closet, woman.

“Yer tote in th’wardrobe in here, ma,” he calls from the master suite. I could have sworn he said he hung my dress in the closet, but neither are here. I walk back, glancing under the same chairs I did as I walked over. Just in case. Mom habit.

“Dammit, hotels like this have laundry, don’t they. I should have put these out last night,” she eyein the wrinkled blouse from her bag. Her pants ok cuz they was rolled an prolly they some wrinkle-free fabric or sumpin.

“You was a lil busy last night, tho,” his smile implies he’s in a better humor than he was in the shower. Last night was pretty good, too. He gestures with his head toward the wardrobe again. I open the other door, and my bag from the van is in there! I sigh heavy and fast. I want to be angry/betrayed/violated but I know he can get to me wherever, he’s done this since the first night together. My shoulders relax and I slowly open the bag.

“Yeah, I’d be disappointed, too, if thass all I had t’wear.” I look up and there’s something close to a real grin on his face. My astonishment is almost as much for that as it is for the fact that the fabric in my hand feels nothing like anything I own.

She look down at her han like she just realizin it ain’t her clothes innit. Gotta admit, surprizin her is nice. She never lookin fer good things happen to her – an cuz a me, they almost never do. Well, t’be fair, it been goin on long before me, I guess.

The black shirt is both soft and firm, a button-down long enough to be a coat, but light enough for indoors. There’s a white ballet top in the same style as I get from Target but a much, much better brand. And the jeans are the most beautiful red I’ve ever seen, with some give to them.

Underneath are my regular clothes. And the difference between these things sinks my heart to my heels.

Her face fall an I ain’t get it. They her size – why wouldn’t I know her sizes? What else wrong?

My mouth is making the gotta-say-something gesture, and those small unspoken noises come out.

“Y’ain’t like em? They ain’t suit you?” His weight shifts and his jaw sets and I know he thinks I’m rejecting another gift but I can’t find the words. “I know I took a risk wit th’pants but…” his nostrils flare and fist clenches and I know I have to say something NOW.

“They’re so gorgeous.” She bring her head up wit a smile, but shake it. “They’re not practical. They’re not…momma clothes. And if I wear them home… Dean will know.” Fuckin d-bag. Buttin in even here.

“Y’ain’t think I thoughta that?” He blows air through his cheeks. “I needja t’wear em t’lunch. At’s it. Ya gotta look like…” My hackles raise. Like what, like I’m at his level? “Aw, shit, I mean, we in a nice place. I can give ya this nice thing. Les do this an worry bout later later.”

She take a deep breath an I know she considerin. Slowly, she get dressed in her own underthings an put on the clothes. The look on her face when those pants fit perfect is worth alla it. She astonished an I just raise my eyebrow an offer her my arm as we walk down to the elevator an t’lunch.

“Really, though, I can’t keep them.”

“I know.”

“Okayyy…”

“I’ll keep em for ya.”

“Okayyy...”

“You need em, Mick’ll bring ‘em.”

“And you’ll decide when I need them?”

“Maybe.”

We get seated, I look around and he’s right. If I was in my regular, worn-yesterday clothes, I would not fit in here. The style really isn’t that different, but once you’ve seen quality things, you can tell.

“Ya gotta decide, ma.” She look up from her menu like I mean what ta eat. Aight, let her do that first.

We place our orders and I chew on the last thing he said. And the last time he said it to me. At a simulated hotel much, much crappier than this one.

“I need time.”

Fuck, bitch, what there t’think about? I give you the nicest ‘weekend’ you ever have, an you gotta think about what? What?

But I know what, an I know I stay here an make some bad mistakes cuz a Marcus. An sayin any a that will not make her mind swing my way.

“Aight. Take some time.” His nostrils have been flaring for minutes and I can imagine all too well the fight going on in his head. Smart to bring me here, for lunch, so we don’t get into it. “Y’aint got long, tho –“ he looks up from his drink. “Once you paid off, I got other interests t’pursue.”

And just like that, we’re off-balance again.