This Darkest Man (4 page)

Clay
gave me his helmet, and hesitantly I sat astride his bike, my hands gripping at
his waist for dear life. I wondered if he could feel the tension and
exhilaration going through me. Then we took off, slowly at first, then he
accelerated and the world whooshed by. He took the corners at dangerous speeds
and I might have screamed as I held onto his waist even harder. But mingling
with the fear was excitement.  Safe little me was along for the ride with this
hot man and the feeling was…almost like sex. I felt myself getting turned on
the faster we went, I nearly pouted in disappointment when we turned into the
gate and toward the old house.

“Well,
did you like that?” he asked as I handed back his helmet.

“I
loved it.” I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face, and he seemed amused by that.
He stepped closer and took my chin in his hand to tilt my mouth upward before
he kissed me. I kissed hungrily back, feeling myself getting heated and all I
wanted to do was to drag him into my bed. Horniness must have been the cure to
my shyness, because I made the rare bold move of grabbing his hand and leading
him toward the house.

But
before I could get him through the door, he stopped and pushed me up against
the side of house. “What are you doing?”

“Fucking
you.” He kissed my neck while his hands went to my jeans. He shoved them down
along with my panties and I felt a cool wind hit my skin, reminding me that I
was bare and in a very, very open place. I didn’t make him stop though. Instead
my hands worked to free him from his own jeans as all the while we kissed. It
was violent kissing, with teeth gnashing and tongues almost wrestling together.
My t-shirt was shoved up and my bra pulled down, exposing my breasts, and I
yelped in surprise as he bit my nipple. Then I laughed.

 “Again,”
I whispered and he obeyed, the pain sending a thrill through me. He entered me
roughly, before placing his hands underneath my thighs and lifting me up while
he screwed me. The hard planks cladding the house dug painfully into me, but I
relished it. He pumped into me harder and harder, and I imagined people in the
hills secretly watching us. I had that vision in my head as he brought me to
climax.

“Do
you think that you’re sexy now?” he teased as he let me down, and I could only
give him a lazy, spent smile in response as he helped me into the house.

The
rest of the day was spent naked and having sex. By that evening, I was
exhausted and we sat together in the huge old slipper bath and drank more of
Aunt Anna’s wine. Every muscle in me ached but the hot water soothed me, and
even more comforting than that, was the feel of his hard muscled body as I
leaned against him. He lathered the soap in his hands and rubbed them in hard,
slow sensual strokes across my skin.

“That
feels so good,” I murmured as he massaged the back of my neck.

“You’re
so responsive. It’s like you’re a doll in my hands, easily manipulated.” He
kneaded harder, and I nearly groaned at how wonderful it felt. “Your limbs, I
mean. Your body is easily manipulated.”

“I
like you manipulating me.” I reached for my wine and sipped it. It wouldn’t be
much longer until I’d fall asleep. It had been a long time since I had felt
this good, if ever. It was amazing how someone I had known for such a short
space of time could have this effect on me. This must have been what it was
like for Erin during what she called her promiscuous period, where one night
stands and brief flings were her aim and left her free and happy.

He
kissed my shoulder. “I’m glad.”

“So
when are you going to get started with your research? I’m dying to know the
story behind our skeleton. If she was walled up alive, it’s such a gruesome way
to die.” I shivered as I imagined her terror at dying slowly and alone.

“I’ll
take some photographs tomorrow, but I’ll need reliable Internet access for the
majority of my research.”

I
smiled tightly in response. The thought of suddenly being alone again in this
old house hit me like I’d been doused in cold water. If he noticed my sudden
tension, he didn’t mention it. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to look at your
books, any diaries, records, that sort of thing.”

“I
think there are a few things like that in the book case in the parlor.” His
arms had come around me now to sit directly underneath my breasts. A sense of
security came over me by being in his arms, and I know it was stupid because
this would be only a brief fling, but I decided to live in the now and enjoy
it. I relaxed in his arms and let the tension flow away; I wouldn’t let
anything ruin this time we had together.

“And
any old jewelry or family heirlooms. They can often tell us a lot about the
occupants of a house.”

“I’ll
open up the safe for you tomorrow. There’s a ton of jewelry in there.” Now that
I was back to feeling relaxed again, the feeling of sleep was overtaking me
again and I struggled to keep my eyes open. “You should speak to the neighbors.
Everyone around here has lived here for generations and they all know each
other’s business. If there are any scandals about my family, they’ll be all too
happy to tell you. They hate us. When my father was arrested on fraud charges I
think they threw a party.”

Clay
gave a soft laugh. “Surely not.”

He
didn’t seem to react to the fact that I had just told him that my father was a
criminal. I hadn’t meant to let that slip; it must have been the wine.

“Maybe
not,” I admitted. “But they sure were nasty.” On one of the infrequent trips
that I made with my Aunt into town that awful summer, I heard adults whispering
as she loaded up supplies. She didn’t flinch or give any indication that she
heard, and I wondered what made a person appear as if they were made of metal.
I, myself, was as soft and damageable as a feather. When the other kids my age
taunted me, as they often did, I would struggle to blink back the tears.
Normally, their tormenting consisted of calling me a dog, or that stuck up
Larsen cunt. That summer, however, they added, “Your daddy’s going to jail.
He’s gonna get what he deserves,” in a singsong chant that had me shaking. He
never did go to jail because he died of a heart attack before it got to court.
Funnily enough, that time I didn’t cry. He was always far too busy for his
uninteresting, boring daughter who wasn’t talented, social or beautiful enough,
and after he died, it was simple just to think that he was on an extended business
trip. My mother’s sadness, if that was even what it was, turned to hatred as
she swore and cursed every day after we had to move from the penthouse to a
shitty apartment and she could no longer afford her designer clothes.

“Most
people are horrible, I find,” Clay told me. “Come on; let me take you to bed.”
I stood and let him wrap me in a towel and tried to forget about everything
that was horrible.

I’d
never liked being in bed so much. Clay awoke me in the morning with his head
buried between my legs, and that was followed by love making again and again in
between gaps where I would lie in his arms and recuperate. It was late
afternoon by the time we were showered and whipping around corners on his
motorcycle at speeds that should have had me screaming.

“I’m
just going to use the Wi-Fi at the library and then I’ll meet you at the café,”
Clay told me as he grabbed his laptop from his saddlebags. He gave me a kiss on
the lips before crossing the road and leaving me alone and at the mercy of
prying eyes. There weren’t many people around of course; the main road
consisted of farming supplies, grocery store and diner. The ones I did see, I
knew by sight but had rarely had conversation with them. Some nodded in my
direction and I did the same, before crossing over to the diner.

I
had never actually eaten in there before. Aunt Anna never would, and I had no
desire to eat alone and be subject to speculation or warrant any further gossip
or condemnation from the locals who my family had wronged over generations. At
least with Clay by my side, I for once didn’t feel so insecure. The place was
more or less empty, and I slid into a booth and studied the menu.

The
guy behind the counter came over to take my order. He was about my age and
vaguely familiar.  I couldn’t place him at first, but when he opened his mouth
to ask what I wanted and revealed crooked teeth, I knew exactly who he was.
He’d been the ringleader of the group of boys who used to call me a dog and
bark whenever they saw me coming. I felt nerves grip me, before I reminded
myself that had happened years ago and I needed to get over it and not let it
affect me. But how could it not? It wasn’t only these kids, it was the girls at
my school in the city as well who didn’t know or care about my family to
dislike me for that reason. They disliked and tormented me merely for the fact that…I
was me and they could. This guy disliked me for my family name, that was almost
acceptable, but those horrible girls…how could I not take their cruelty to
heart?

When
I didn’t answer him, the guy peered at me. “You okay?”

Clay
walked up then. “Ready to order? I’m starving.”

I
straightaway felt better and more confident in his presence. “I’ll have a
burger.”

“Good
choice. I’ll have the same.” Clay took my menu and passed it to the waiter. In
his presence, the waiter looked small and insignificant. It made me wonder how
I could ever have of let his words hurt me to that extent.

“Did
you get what you needed done?” I asked Clay while we waited for our food.

“Yeah.
I just had to check in with a few people.” He leaned back in his seat, with one
leather-clad arm slung over the back of the booth casually. I loved how he
could be so at ease and at home wherever he was. I would kill to have that
natural confidence. “How about you? Is there anyone you need to keep in touch
with regularly so everyone knows that you’re still alive?”

“Just
my friend Erin, she’s in France at the moment so we’re just writing letters.” I
had already starting planning my next letter in my head where I got to tell her
everything about Clay.

“What
about your Mom?”

I
shrugged. “We’re not really in contact. She remarried and…we just drifted
apart.” Not that we were ever together, not really. I was just one of the many
planets orbiting around her, easily missed and unimportant. “Anyway, what about
your family? Where are they?”

He
paused briefly. “They died a long time ago.”

“Oh.
I’m sorry. Were you close?”

He
leaned in closer. “Let’s not talk about depressing things. I’d rather talk
about you.”

I
leaned back against the vinyl of the seat, trying to resist the urge to squirm.
I hated questions like that. “I think I’ve told you everything already.”

“I’m
sure you haven’t.” This time it wasn’t his statement making me squirm; it was
the way he was looking at me. His dark eyes were so serious and the usual mirth
and amusement that I usually saw there was missing. There was such intensity in
his eyes that I felt like I was under a microscope, or worse as if I were in a
cage and there was nowhere to go.

“Oh,
Matilda!” The door banged closed behind Marie and she swept hair out of her
face as she walked toward us. “I didn’t think that I’d see you in here.” She
smiled at me, her warmth out of place.

“Hi,
Marie. This is Clay, the historian I told you about.”

Her
eyes switched to him. “Ahh, the motorcycle owner. Nice bike.”

“Thanks.”
If he was surprised that she would be the type to appreciate a bike like that,
he didn’t show it.

She
stared at him for a second longer before saying, “You must have Irish blood.”

He
arched an eyebrow. “Why do you say that?”

“Black
hair and black eyes. I’d say your ancestors were from County—”

“Two
burgers.” The waiter interrupted her as he placed the plates down in front of
us. “Mrs. O’Shea, I’ve got your order ready at the counter.”

She
nodded to him. “Right. Well, good seeing you two.” She looked directly at me.
“If you ever need any help, Matilda, you know where I am. There’s no point
being proud.”

“Thank
you. That’s very kind of you.”

Then
Marie’s gaze turned to Clay. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You
too, Mrs. O’Shea.”

Her
gaze lingered on him for a few moments longer before she turned away to get her
food.

When
she was out of earshot, Clay turned to me. “Nosy neighbor?”

“She’s
kind. I like her.” And she had got me out of having to talk about myself. We
ate mainly in silence after that, the burgers were messy and I ended up with
ketchup all over my hands. Clay grinned and held my hands securely as he wiped
them clean. The contrast between Clay and Josh was amazing. Once, Josh had
taken me to a fancy restaurant that had perfect reviews and hosted celebrities
from time to time. I had a chicken salad that was thick with a red wine
dressing, and that dressing ended up smeared on the pristine white tablecloth.
I hadn’t noticed until he stopped in the middle of whatever he’d been saying
and pointedly looked at the mess that I had made. My eyes dropped down to the
red smear that had caught his attention.

“It’s
like dining with a child.” The words were simple but they cut. There was no
humor in them and they made me feel about two feet tall. I wiped at the smear
with a napkin while he carried on his one sided conversation and didn’t seem to
notice that I barely spoke after that.

“You
want to get outta here?” Clay asked. “It looks like it’s going to rain.”

“Sure.”
I grabbed my bag as he threw some cash on the table before following him out.

The
storm followed us home with the landscape changing to dark grey and winds
coming out of nowhere. I ran for the house and the safety of the porch while
Clay put his bike in the shed next to my car. By the time he made it inside, he
was soaking wet and started to strip off immediately.

“I’m
going to take a quick shower, and then I’ll take a look at the documents and
jewelry,” he told me before starting up the stairs. I watched him go. He wore
only boxer shorts and I loved watching how the muscles moved underneath his
skin. When I caught myself staring, I gave a small laugh at my stupidity and
turned away. I was acting like I was love-struck. It had never been like this with
Josh. With him, I had just considered myself lucky that he wanted to be with me.
I had never thought anyone would want go out with me, and while I was immensely
flattered and did whatever he said, in hindsight, I never had any real feelings
for him. He especially didn’t look like Clay. Josh was softer and slimmer; an
intellectual who had big plans to take over the world. I didn’t really know why
he bothered with me in the first place, or decided to pursue me after I broke
things off, I would never be good enough to be his wife anyway. He had made it
very apparent that I lacked so many qualities that he desired, even after I had
done that awful thing.

The
safe was in the parlor and embedded in the wall. My forebears had chosen the
very unoriginal route of hiding it behind a painting. A severe looking woman
who was probably Aunt Anna’s great-great grandmother stared down at me, her
lips pursed in disapproval as I lifted her off the wall and placed her down to
lean against the wallpaper. I turned her to face that awful floral wallpaper
which covered every inch of the place like it was some kind of virus. She was
probably the culprit who had chosen it.

The
combination was simple; it was my father’s birthday. It was weird that I never
forgot it. It was always celebrated with elaborate parties in which my mother
would dress me in a fussy outfit to compensate for the fact that I wasn’t as
beautiful or clever as she wanted me to be. Those parties, and those awful
outfits, would turn out to be paid for by other people’s stolen money. He
ripped off the old and the wealthy with his silver tongue and slick suits.
There were death threats and once a dead cat left on our doorstep once his
illicit dealings came to light. I found the cat. It was hidden in the box of a
fancy chocolatier and the doorman had handed it to me as I came home from
school. On the whole way to the top floor I had stared at that box and
salivated over what was inside. The minute I was inside, I let my school bag
drop to the floor and pulled off the top, expecting a selection of delectable
treats, the kind that my mother never let in the house for fear of ruining her
figure. Instead, I got that poor goddamn cat.