Mustard on Top (23 page)

“Well? Aren’t you going to say something?” Agatha pirouetted.

“Huh?”

She spun again and with her back to him smiled over her shoulder.

“Oh. Um. You look nice?” He crinkled his forehead.

Agatha cut him some slack since he untying himself. “Why?”

“Why? That’s a strange question.”

Agatha batted her eyes.

“Your hair!” Moe pointed in triumph.

“Lovely of you to notice. Do you like it?”

“It’s exquisite.”

He didn’t sound entirely convincing, and Agatha frowned. A thud from the outside shook the windows.

“What was that?” Agatha asked. Another thud, sounding like it had come from the backyard, reverberated through the room. Thinking she’d untied Moe a few minutes too soon, Agatha glanced his direction. He sat ramrod straight with his ear angled toward the door.

It couldn’t be the men she’d caught on film beating Jeremy. They’d been arrested, a fact she thought Moe didn’t know, since she’d had his cell phone calls forwarded to her. Still, she couldn’t be too careful.

“Wait here,” Agatha instructed as if Moe would listen. She pulled the Colt .45 from her ankle holster. Her heart raced as she moved toward the rear of the house where there came another thud.

She peeked through her back windows, and not seeing anything, she stepped outside. The thud, vibrating the ground, came from Helen’s house. In the dim light, she made out the silhouette of someone moving on Helen’s back porch. Fear that Moe had figured out where Jeremy was hiding made her jumpy. She aimed the gun and began crossing the yard. “Helen? Is everything okay?”

The figure on the back porch stilled. She took in the bad posture, the lanky frame, and the crutches. The person wasn’t Helen, Ben, or Theo.

“Mom?” The word floated over with the scent of the flowers.

Agatha lowered her gun.

“Jer—”

“Shh.”

“Is that you?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

Agatha crept closer. As her eyes adjusted, she made out a bulge on his leg where the bucket had once been. “What—”

“Shh.” He motioned for her to come closer. When she stood a foot away, Jeremy said with quiet rage, “Why’d you leave me with this thing on my leg?”

Stunned, Agatha stammered. “I… I was trying to hide you from Moe. To keep you alive. Don’t you remember?”

“I was trapped like an animal. Worse than an animal.”

Agatha heard the anguish in his voice and shrunk back. “I thought it might help you,” she faltered, “get clean.” Tears sprang to her eyes but she held them in. She added quietly, “I… I love you. I wanted to help.”

Jeremy’s hateful gaze sliced into her soul.

“Where—” Agatha’s voice cracked from the backlog of tears in her throat. She swallowed and tried again. “Where are you going?”

Jeremy heaved several deep breaths.

Agatha touched his arm. When he didn’t flinch or move away, she inched closer. She hadn’t had her Jeremy, the real Jeremy in years. Though he smelled of vomit and sweat, she wrapped her arms around his skeletal frame and squeezed.

“Oh Jeremy. How could we let things get this bad?” She cried into his neck.

She thought she might crush him if she weren’t careful. Jeremy shifted his weight then his arms wrapped around her shoulders. The hug started loose and grew stronger with emotion. “I’m sorry,” he said and began sobbing. “I’m so sorry.”

“Agatha, oh Agatha,” Moe’s voice traveled across the yard.

“Oh no,” Agatha whispered. “Everything’s fine. I’ll be right there.” She called to Moe. Her voice sounded cartoonish in her attempt to sound cheery.

“What’s he doing in your house?” Jeremy’s signature coldness had returned, but it was too late, Agatha knew he cared.

“Do you have any money?” Agatha asked.

“Oh.” Jeremy reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of rolled bills. He held them toward her.

Agatha stared. “What’s that?”

“Money I found in your shoe.”

Agatha’s heart skittered, not because Jeremy had stolen her money, but because he was giving it back.

“Keep it. You need the money. Don’t use it for drugs though, okay?”

Jeremy said nothing.

“What’s going on?” Moe called.

“Stay clean, please?” Agatha patted Jeremy’s chest. “I better go.”

Standing on tiptoes, she pecked him on the cheek. “I love you.” She fled before Moe, who waited at her back door, walked over.

“Is everything okay?” Moe asked as she drew near.

She hurried past him into the house. “Fine, fine.” Wanting to clean the tears off her face and repair the damage crying had done to her makeup before Moe noticed, she added, “Dinner is waiting on the dining room table. I need to freshen up.”

“I am hungry.”

Agatha went into the bathroom and closed the door.

“You got Hot Diggitys,” Moe exclaimed.

His obvious excitement made her smile.

“Agatha, you are a woman of mystery,” Moe called out.

Agatha washed her face and reapplied her makeup. She was giddy over seeing Jeremy clean and the fact Moe hadn’t seemed to notice. Opening the bathroom door, she called out, “Take the food in the bedroom or you won’t get my next surprise!”

When she heard him chuckle then the sound of his footfalls moving toward the bedroom, she sighed with relief.

“Hurry up woman!” Moe called.

Chapter 13

Agatha laid snuggly in the crook of Moe’s arm with her head resting on his chest. Acting like love-struck teenagers, they’d made love three times that evening, and she was exhausted. With one eye open, she traced the outline of his chest hair with her index finger. When she let her finger follow the thick line of hair heading south, Moe protested, “That tickles.”

“Sorry.” Agatha’s hand came to rest on Moe’s abdomen.

“I could get used to this,” Moe said.

Agatha tilted her face toward his as he looked at the ceiling. “Oh yeah?”

“Not the tying up part. Why’d you leave me lying there so long anyway?”

“I was busy.” Agatha yawned. She’d gone to her lawyer, her hairdresser, and Hot Diggitys. What had consumed most of her time were the spa services. A massage turned into an exfoliating body scrub, which turned into waxing. She still couldn’t believe she’d gotten a Brazilian wax. She’d blushed to her toes when the aesthetician had described it, but had gotten one anyway.

“Your skin feels like satin, and your hair smells like heaven.”

Agatha smiled. “Surprised?”

“I’ve been surprised many times today.”

The two fell silent. Agatha thought about whether they could actually merge their two worlds. She envisioned them together and smiled.

“Why are you smiling?” Moe asked.

“How’d you know I was smiling?”

“I can feel your cheek pushing into my chest.”

Agatha laughed. “Everyone in my life is going to think I’ve gone crazy.”

“Why?” Moe asked.

“The fact you had my son beaten to within an inch of his death should rule you out as a potential suitor.”

Moe’s muscles grew taut, and Agatha realized her blunder. They’d been skirting the Jeremy topic. Moe hadn’t inquired about him, and she hadn’t offered. “I had no choice, you realize,” Moe said.

“That’s not how I see things.”

Moe sighed then kissed her forehead. “I suppose there were other options, but before I met you, I had no reason to change.”

Unsure if they were still playing a game, and whether she should take his words at face value, Agatha said nothing.

“So where is Jeremy going anyway?” he asked.

Agatha stiffened. “Excuse me?”

“You were talking to him. Forget it, I don’t want you to think I’m still after him.”

****

Helen had nervous energy. Riding in Ben’s car anticipating sex was familiar, but new. Sex. Yay. She refused to calculate the years that had passed. Ben turned onto Carnival’s main street. He drove by two motels, and Helen sensed he wanted something classy, but in a town dedicated to cruise ships, there weren’t many choices.

A Holiday Inn came into view, and Helen swallowed. Hard. In her thirty-five years, she’d never stayed in a hotel room with a man. Not even Kenny. For their three-day honeymoon, they’d gone camping. But this wasn’t any man, it was Ben. Her first love; her first everything.

Ben pulled into the parking lot. “Do you want to come in or wait in the car?”

Helen sunk low in her seat, embarrassed the clerk would know what they were up to. Aware she was acting eighteen, rather than thirty-five, she forced herself to move. “I’ll come in.”

Ben checked them in while Helen feigned interest in the tourist brochures.

On the ride up in the elevator, Ben reached for her hand. The contact was comforting and helped calm Helen’s unease. He unlocked the door, and he held it open.

Helen’s stomach flip-flopped as she stepped across the threshold. The room was big enough that her kitchen and living room could fit inside. In one corner, by a set of windows, was a Jacuzzi.

“This is very nice,” Helen said.

“I got the honeymoon suite.” Ben treated her to one of his megawatt smiles, and Helen’s stomach lurched.

“Want some champagne?” Ben asked.

“Champagne? Fancy.” Tipsy from the wine, she said, “Maybe later.”

Unsure how to act, Helen moved to the bed and sat primly on the corner. How should she act on her pent-up desire now that she’d gotten the green light from Theo?

“Are you okay?” Ben sat next to her.

“I don’t know,” she answered truthfully. “I’m…” She blew out a breath. “I don’t do this—normally.”

Ben’s gentle smile reassured her. Again, he took hold of her hand. “What’s going through your beautiful head?”

Helen shook her head and chuckled, she was determined to stow her insecurities in a drawer in her mind. Her gaze dropped to their clasped hands. Would she even remember what to do? Would Ben inwardly laugh at her naiveté?

Ben tucked her hair behind her ear. “How have you kept the men away?”

It seemed as if he’d read her mind. “Wasn’t easy. A baseball bat and some bug spray,” Helen joked. “What about you?”

“I don’t like men, so it’s been easy.”

Helen pursed her lips. “When was the last time you had sex?”

Ben took two breaths before answering, “About a month ago.”

Helen nodded, surprised by the sting. “What about the woman you were with? Aren’t you cheating on her?”

“No.”

“So you had, what, a one-night stand? Is she married?”

Ben frowned. “No and no. We have a working relationship. An understanding.”

“A working relationship? What does that mean?”

“We work together. I’m single; she’s single. We have sex maybe once a month, for the physical release. To fill a need.”

Helen’s stomach churned. Her own needs were never part of the equation. Why did she care what Ben did in his free time anyway? “Does she know that?”

“Yes.”

“So you have a number of women you call up—”

“Why are you asking these questions?”

Why indeed?
Helen thought for a few minutes.
“I guess I want to know what this”—she gestured around the room—“means to you.”

“I’m not the boy you dated in high school.”

“I wasn’t say thing that…” Her voice trailed off. “Sex isn’t casual to me. I don’t want to be a notch on your lipstick case.”

Ben’s jaw clenched causing a neck muscle to bulge. “That’s not how I think of you. I’ve never serious, long-term relationships because I could never be honest with anyone. I had a son and a whole other identity I couldn’t admit to.”

Ben squeezed Helen’s hand. She didn’t return the gesture. “I became a workaholic because it’s mind-numbing. There are a few women who are also workaholics for their own reasons. With them… business is the best description. With you, everything is different. I’m not hiding in the shadows. You know me. The good, the bad, and the ugly.” Ben cupped her chin and turned her face toward him. “I adore you whether or not we follow through with our plans tonight.”

His bittersweet words tugged at her heart. “But you’ll be leaving soon and…” She sighed. Why couldn’t she enjoy sex for sex like Ben and his workaholic women?

He pressed her hand to his heart. “You own a part of this and always will.”

His chest was warm, strong, and inviting.

Ben went on. “I can’t make promises about the future, but I don’t want us to end once I go back to Chicago.”

“Part-time lovers?”

“Better than not lovers at all in my humble opinion.”

He was right, so why hesitate?

“Helen, whether it’s me or someone else, you deserve companionship. To be honest, I hate the idea of another man touching you, and believe me I’ve noticed all the men sniffing around Hot Diggitys.”

“Sniffing?”

“Men are dogs, they sniff, but that doesn’t change my point. You should fulfill your needs.”

To give Theo a stable home, she’d given up men. But Theo was grown, and there was no logical reason to deprive herself further. “You talk too much. Kiss me.”

Helen wrapped her arms around Ben’s neck and stretched up for a kiss. After their conversation, she expected the kiss to be awkward; instead an instant, deep longing settled in her groin, and she found herself writhing, trying to scratch the itch. Without breaking the kiss, Ben pulled her onto his lap. He tugged at her shirt, his fingertips grazing her skin.