Chapter 19
In front of me, Lawton froze, and any remaining color drained from his face. He glanced behind him and quickly back at me. "Chloe," he said, "it's not what you think. I swear."
But then, just behind him, I saw the girl who went with the voice.
Brittney. She was nearly naked, clad in see-through panties and a matching bra.
Suddenly, it was hard to breathe. It was even harder to think. I stood, rooted in shock, as my gaze darted from Brittney to Lawton and back again.
She gave me a sly smile. "Oh. It's you."
Lawton looked ready to kill. "You were supposed to wait upstairs," he told her.
She blinked at him. "Oh. Was I?"
"And where the hell are your clothes?"
She raised her arms in a slow, leisurely stretch. "Mmm…I dunno. Upstairs?"
I wanted to slap him – her too while I was at it. Or at the very least, I wanted to say something clever and cutting. But when I opened my mouth, all that came out was an odd, strangled sound. I clamped my mouth shut and whirled to go.
Lawton grabbed my elbow. "Chloe, wait! Please?"
I whirled back to face him. "So this is why you invited me here? To throw this in my face?"
"There's no this." His expression was anguished. He turned to Brittney. "Go on, tell her." He gritted his teeth. "Right now."
Brittney smiled. "Tell her what?"
Lawton bared his teeth. "You tell her right now why you're here, or the deal's off. Got it?"
She lifted a bare shoulder. "Whatever you say."
"And for God's sake," Lawton said, "put on some f*cking clothes, will ya?"
Her lips formed a pout. "But they're dirty," she said. "And besides, it took her forever to get here."
I was shaking. This was a bad dream. It had to be. Except, in my nightmares, it was usually me in my underwear – standing at some bus stop, or maybe in the mall. That was nothing compared to this.
Lawton gave Brittney a warning look. "You've got five seconds," he told her.
"Oh alright. Fine." She looked to the ceiling and mumbled, "I'm here to apologize."
"In your underwear?" I said. "Yeah. Nice story."
"Brittney," Lawton said in a low warning tone, "you can do better than that."
Already I had heard enough. I'd seen enough too. More than enough actually. Brittney went for the clean-shaven look. All over.
"Don't bother." I gave Brittney the most dismissive look I could muster before turning away. "I don't want your apology."
"Wait," Brittney said.
Against my better judgment, I turned around.
She turned to Lawton. "If she doesn't want me to apologize, our deal still counts, right? I mean, because I tried. And she said 'no.' You saw that, right?"
Oh, that was rich. Suddenly I didn't care if she was nearly naked or wearing a clown suit. I wanted an apology, and I wanted it now.