Kiss and Tell 3 (3 page)

“What was that all about?” I asked Anthony, twenty minutes later. We’d just walked out of London’s pool house calm, cool, and collected, as if, as Anthony had suggested, none of this ever happened.

After London gave Anthony the dirty dish towel, the two men went on to close things in a casual, cordial way that was just short of exchanging pleasantries. Or, in other words, things ended nicely. I couldn’t wrap my head around it—and, that’s why I asked Anthony my question.

“What do you mean?” he asked, answering my question with a question.

“You know what I mean,” I said. We sounded like an old couple bickering. “In there, with London,” I went on. “He tried to blackmail you, and you ended up offering him a job… and you offered me one earlier today. Is that how you deal with everything? You throw jobs at people to solve all your problems?”

I was asking Anthony a question, but I was also addressing my own frustrations. I didn’t understand what was going on, and I needed to vent somehow.

“No, Kirby,” Anthony replied in a smooth, silky voice. He didn’t seem nearly as disturbed as I was. “I don’t just throw jobs at everyone. But, sometimes, when I see someone who’s lost and in need of a little direction, I step up and hand them a compass.

“I never thought it was
you
that was blackmailing me, but, on the off chance that it was, I was going to give you a chance to redeem yourself and do the right thing before sicking my dogs on you. I figured London deserves another shot too. It’s up to him if he wants to take it.”

If it had been me in “control” of the situation, things would have played out very differently. Right now, I’d have been standing back, with my arms crossed, watching as the cops toted London away in handcuffs. But, instead, I was just standin’ outside of the pool house, shootin’ the shit with Anthony about his take on what’d just happened.

“How can you be so… forgiving?” I asked. I wasn’t sure if that was the right word, but it seemed fitting.

“How can I not be?” Anthony asked. I was getting sick of the way he was answering my questions with questions, and he was starting to remind me of some cult classic character… who was it? Yoda?

“He tried to blackmail you, and you ended up offering him a job,” I said, and, as soon as I said it, I realized I’d just said the same exact thing a moment earlier. I probably sounded like a cult classic character too. I don’t know which one, but I’m sure it wasn’t Yoda.

“There’s nothing wrong with trying to make something good out of a bad situation,” Anthony said, sounding like a fortune cookie. “That kid would obviously make a horrible criminal, so why not give him a chance to turn things around? Doesn’t he deserve one?”

Anthony was right… London
would
make a horrible criminal, and, sure, all things considered, he probably did deserve a second chance. Well, maybe he didn’t
deserve
one, but it’d be nice if he had one, and it was nice of Anthony to give him one.

Placidity must come with age, I realized.

Anthony started walking toward the street, where his car was parked at an uneven, hasty angle. Placidity comes with age, but parallel parking can still prove problematic. I couldn’t help but giggle at the way his car jutted in against the curb haphazardly, carelessly angling out into the street.

“I was worried about you,” he said, trying to explain his hack job.

“Now you don’t have to be,” I replied.

“And I guess we don’t have to worry about him anymore,” he said, looking back, gesturing towards the pool house.

“I guess not,” I chimed back.

“Now we just have to worry about ourselves,” Anthony said with a smile.

“Not just ourselves,” I said, looking back as well. But, I wasn’t looking back at the pool house. I was looking back at my own house.

Anthony shook his head in agreement, then stared down at the ground for a moment before picking up stride again and walking around to his driver’s side door.

“We’ll work this out,” he said, sliding into his car. “But, right now, things need to settle… I’ll text you soon, from an unlocked number. So, you’ll have a way to reach me, if you need me.”

I blushed when Anthony said that last part, and he sensed it.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said with a laugh. “I mean… you know what I mean.” Now we sounded like two young teenagers, coyly flirting.

“I know,” I said, smiling. “Talk to you soon.”

Anthony pulled his car door shut, started his car, and drove off. I stood in the driveway and watched for a few seconds, just to make sure he got out of there safely. The way things had gone all day, I wouldn’t have been surprised if a group of ninjas jumped out of nowhere and hijacked his car, or if a beam of light surrounded him and hoisted him up to an alien spaceship. Nothing was beyond the realm of possibility at this point.

Luckily, there were no killer monkeys or tidal waves, and Anthony drove off without incident. I turned to make my own when home, when I heard my phone buzzing. It was safe and sound, back where it belonged (in my purse, and in my possession), and it was back to being active.

I pulled the thing out and saw that I’d missed a call from Mom—and according to my screen it was the first I’d missed from her that day, which didn’t add up to me. I knew the past several calls hadn’t been from her, but I was sure that a couple earlier ones were.

I scrolled back through my missed calls and found an unfamiliar phone number on my call log. And icon that looked like a cassette tape was lit up beside it, indicating that I had a voicemail from whoever called from that number. After the day I’d had so far, I didn’t need to wait until I was inside to listen to the message, so I tapped the icon to listen… And, what I heard was the strangest thing I’d heard all day day, since I first woke up in the morning.

Hi, Kirby
, the voice on my voicemail said.
This is Michelle Robins, from Dessert Oasis. You submitted an application with us a couple weeks ago, and I’m calling to schedule an interview. We have a few positions opening up soon, and we’re looking to fill them immediately. Please get back to me as soon as you can.

Michelle Robins went on to repeat her name and affiliation and provide her phone number. It took me a moment to place the silly name of the establishment she worked for, but, when I did, I remembered that Dessert Oasis was the dessert shop I’d applied to the day I ran into Anthony and we had our impromptu date. I’d almost completely forgotten that I applied there, and I’d basically given up any hope of getting a job there—or anywhere.

But, lo and behold, I’d been called in for an interview! If I’d had Anthony’s number, I probably would have called him to express my excitement. But, then again, I probably would have felt stupid about it afterward. Who calls a billionaire genius to tell them they’ve landed an
interview
at a pie-slinging’ shop? That’s a little underwhelming, isn’t it?

Still, I knew Anthony would probably be excited by the news and would have appreciated hearing it—and, maybe that’s the greater reason I was glad I couldn’t tell him yet. I didn’t want to get his hopes up for me. I didn’t have the job yet, and didn’t want to let him down if I didn’t get it. Letting myself down was hard enough. The more people who become involved, the harder it gets—and, I already knew there were was at least
one
other person who had to be involved.

I
had to
tell Mom that Dessert Oasis called. I simply had to. She was the one who’d sent me on this wild goose chase of a job hunt, and she was the one I lied to and told I was looking for a job when, really, I was out and about wasting my time. She’d be pleased to learn I landed an interview, and telling her about Michelle’s call would be far more pleasant and bearable than telling her about anything else that recently happened.

But, before I could call anyone or tell anyone anything, I had to get back into my house first. I was still standing outside as I was going over all of this in my head, and the professional pool guy who was working next door—Luke—was starting to look at me suspiciously again. I wondered if he had any idea what was going on. In his line of work, I’m sure he’d seen a lot in his day, but had he seen anything like the shit that just went down in London’s pool house? Granted, he hadn’t seen that either, but, still, I wondered.

I smiled at look and nodded in his direction as I made my way to my kitchen door. He kind of just held the pool skimmer and looked at me before tossing his own smile back and getting on with his work.

Once I was back inside my house, I searched the fridge for something tasty to eat. Much to my dismay, Mom had thrown away most of the leftovers from the party already—but not because they were getting old and still. They were just too decadent and too tempting.

I found a container of cheese that Dad must have hidden, pulled it out, and tossed a hunk into my mouth. I grabbed a pen a piece of paper from the utility drawer, then sat down at the table. I pressed “Send” on my cell phone and waited as it dialed Dessert Oasis’ number.

“Dessert Oasis,” the woman who answered sang out.

“Hi,” I greeted. “May I please talk to Michelle Robins?”

“Can I ask who’s calling?” the woman asked.

“Kirby Miller,” I replied. “I’m returning her call. She called me earlier today, to set up an interview.”

“Just a minute,” the woman responded. Her voice was soft and sweet, much like the desserts at Dessert Oasis. If I was hired there, would
I
be expected to talk like that?

I picked up my pen and started doodling on the sheet of paper while I waited for Michelle to come on the line. About a minute later, I finally heard her voice.

“Hi Kirby,” she said, just as pleasantly as the woman who’d spoken to me before her. “It’s Michelle… Can you come in Wednesday afternoon for an interview?”

She had cut right to the chase. I liked that.

“Sure,” I said, without pause. I didn’t have to think long about my schedule. I knew I was free all day Wednesday, and all day every other day, for that matter.

“What time’s good for you?” Michelle asked.

“My schedule is pretty clear that day,” I said, trying to be both modest and accommodating.

“How about 3 p.m. then?” Michelle asked. “That’s actually a slow time for us—right before the evening rush—and we should have plenty of time to talk then… How does that sound?”

“Sounds perfect,” I answered.

I wrote down the day and time of my interview on the piece of paper in front of me, closed the conversation with Michelle politely, then smiled contently. I couldn’t believe how excited I was to be called in for an interview at a dessert shop. It was as if I’d won the lottery or something.

I folded the piece of paper and took it with me to my room, where I set it on my nightstand, next to my charging tablet. I was home alone now, and it would still be a few more hours until my parents got back home. I thought about returning Mom’s call and telling her about my upcoming interview with Dessert Oasis, but I ultimately decided against it. I’d have plenty of time to talk to her later—right now, what I needed was time to myself. I’d just been through quite an ordeal, after all, and I still hadn’t processed it all.

I removed my restrictive clothing and put on something a little more comfortable before retiring to my bed. Once I was down on my down comforter, I started reviewing the events of the morning and afternoon in my head. I still couldn’t get over how forgiving and generous Anthony had been, and how he’d managed to completely turn the situation with London around. I couldn’t believe how we’d so narrowly escaped London’s blackmail attempts, and how London had so narrowly escaped ending up in the slammer.There was so much I couldn’t believe, and so many thoughts kept rushing in and out of my head. But, through it all, one thought kept reoccurring—and, thankfully, it was a good one. Despite all the ugliness and beauty that had come from my day so far, my mind kept returning to the more raw thoughts, to the thoughts of me an Anthony, together in his office. Of all the things I couldn’t believe, I couldn’t believe I’d had such great sex that morning.

Less than a few hours earlier I’d been writhing and contorted in passion. I’d had a handsome, powerful man inside me, and we’d found the peak of pleasure together. I didn’t want to lose thoughts of
that
in thoughts of everything else that happened, and, as I called to mind the particulars of our encounter, I felt my hand, inadvertently, trailing over my body.

First, I lightly grazed my breasts. My nipples were a little hard and perky, and I imagined Anthony’s soft lips wrapped around them, gently sucking. The mere thought of his mouth on me sent shivers all over my body, and I let my hand continue to trace them.

The next thing I knew, my hand was buried between my legs, and my fingers were playfully dancing around my most sensitive regions, where Anthony’s fingers, mouth, and cock had been earlier. I hadn’t showered since being with him, and I imagined that some of his sweat and saliva was still on my body, like a territorial marking, telling the rest of the world that I was his and he was mine.

I continued to play with myself for a little longer, and, trust me, it didn’t take me long to work myself to orgasm. All the frustration, excitement, longing, and recollection helped me reach my conclusion rather quickly, and rather powerfully. My legs shuddered when I made myself cum, and, as they did, I felt as if something had been released from my body, like a geyser had erupted, or a pimple had been popped.

As I laid there, catching my breath and collecting my thoughts, I could feel myself drifting off to sleep. My hand was still in my pants, but I was too tired and relaxed to move it, and, quite frankly, I didn’t want to. I’d had a long, difficult day, and I deserved the comfort.