Since I didn’t have a car and since I was so angry I couldn’t trust my own mouth and since my Mom and Steve worshipped the ground Max walked on and they’d planned a romantic dinner a deux at The Rooster thus I couldn’t call them to come and get me, I was stuck with the facial.
So I gave myself the longest facial in the history of me giving myself facials.
The water in the tub was cool but even after the facial, I had not cooled down when I climbed out and toweled off. I lotioned my body like I’d be graded for the endeavor and then I wrapped myself in my robe, grabbed my clothes and boots and walked out.
The house was lit downstairs and up with both lights illuminated on both nightstands but I could see and hear no Max.
I dumped my clothes and boots in the closet and went in search of my underwear which I found in one of the drawers (yes, by Max’s). I snatched out a pair and put them on, pulled on my last pair of pajama bottoms and a shelf-bra camisole. The bottoms were cotton with tiny, retro daisies in sherbet colors against a raspberry sherbet background with the camisole being lime sherbet. I shrugged my robe back on and confiscated a pair of Max’s socks, the best ones I could find deciding I’d steal them just to tick him off. I yanked them on while hopping around foot to foot.
Then I went across the room, slid open the doors to the TV, selected the most gruesome horror movie I could find even though I didn’t normally watch horror movies since they were horror and thus scared the dickens out of me, even the silly, bad ones which always made Charlie laugh his behind off when he used to force me to watch them with him and put it in the DVD player. Then I curled up on the bed, shoving most of the pillows behind me, tucking one to my front and I glued my eyes to the television set.
My stomach reminded me I hadn’t had lunch and I silently told it to shut the hell up.
The movie had scarcely started before a young woman was being chased through the woods, the blood of her hacked up boyfriend covering her barely clad body when I felt Max’s presence hit the loft.
Although a part of me I was not listening to was glad he was there (simply because the movie was scaring the dickens out of me), I didn’t look at him. I kept my eyes fixed on the TV even as I felt the bed move when he sat on it and I heard one boot then the other hit the floor. The bed moved again and I stayed completely still and focused on the TV.
Max slid in behind me, his arm went around my middle and he pulled me into his hard body. With a forceful jerk I pulled myself forward and with an equally forceful jerk he hauled me right back.
I gave up and held myself completely still.
“Turn off the movie, Duchess.”
Oh, so now I was Duchess. Now, after he proved, like most – no all men (except Charlie and Steve) – that he was a world class jerk.
I didn’t move nor speak.
“Baby, turn it off.”
Now I was baby. Nice.
He sighed then he pressed closer to my back.
“It’s been a shit day.”
I stayed silent and watched the young, barely clad damsel come to a bloody end in the woods.
“Curtis knew someone wanted him dead.”
My body gave a small twitch at this news but I remained silent.
“He had death threats.”
I watched the screen and somehow, shortly after the nubile, young lady met her dastardly end, two other young, good-looking people were having somewhat raunchy sex in a cabin.
This, I knew from my experiences horror movie watching with Charlie, did not bode well. Sex was usually the last thing anyone did in a horror movie before their life was snuffed out with an axe, hatchet, a glove made out of long, razor-sharp blades or a common kitchen knife.
“Bitsy’s life has been threatened too.”
Thoughts of gloves made out of razor-sharp blades flew from my head, my body jerked and my head swiveled around to look at him.
“Curt didn’t tell anyone, he hired a PI,” Max continued.
I broke my silence and asked, “Is she going to be okay?”
“Mick’s set something up.”
I thought of Bitsy alone in that big house, unable to move around except in a wheelchair.
“I should go stay with her,” I declared to Max and his brows knit.
“What?”
I yanked out of his arm, rolled off the bed and threw down the pillow saying, “You’ll have to take me.”
“I’m not takin’ you to Bitsy’s.”
“Then I’ll call Arlene,” I stated as I threw open the door to the closet and turned on the light.
“Nina, get in here.”
I ignored him and walked to my chocolate colored cords on a hanger, pulling them off.
“Nina,” Max called and when I continued to ignore him and examine my sweater selection on the shelves I heard him mutter, “Jesus.”
I selected a cream colored, cable-knit but I barely pulled it from its position on the shelf before it was yanked out of my hand by Max. Then he tossed it on the shelf (now not folded which was a shame, Caroline was good at folding sweaters). Then, while I was still staring at the untidy sweater, my cords were yanked from my other hand and tossed on the floor.
Belatedly I turned to look up at Max and exclaimed, “Hey!”