But she wasn’t a good actress. Lace and I had seen her in a couple of plays that didn’t do so well, the reason was partially her, partially the plays sucking, but that well had dried up due to the it being partially her part.
So I felt a strange sense of guilt I rationally knew I shouldn’t feel (and I knew, since we’d talked about it, that Lacey felt the same) that I was part of the reason she started to turn to the dark side.
I hadn’t shared this with Deke either.
He’d had no advice, just listened and commiserated, his face intent and sharing open concern, but not for Bianca.
For me and my state of mind that I had too much shit on my plate and he didn’t like that for me.
More pleasure and pain.
And last, I’d been showing him stuff my interior designer sent me, as well as other stuff I’d clocked as possibilities to buy to make my house a home (once I had walls, floors and the rest).
I did this as a joke at first.
But Deke shocked the crap out of me by not only being interested, but opinionated.
About everything.
“No one needs a white couch,” he’d shared about one of the pieces the designer was suggesting.
“It’s cream,” I corrected him, looking from my laptop to him.
“No one needs a cream couch,” he’d amended. “Not only are you fucked, you slop ketchup on it, you get a dog, the hair’ll show and bottom line, it’s butt-ugly.”
He’d been funny.
He’d also been right.
So out went the cream couch.
There was further from Deke.
“Don’t get nonstick pans. Coating always gets scraped off. Get the stainless steel stuff.”
And…
“You paint the guest bath pink, I’m taking away your cool card.”
Also…
“Why women buy kitchen towels I do not get. Why d’you think paper towel was invented? Use it, toss it, don’t gotta throw it in the wash, done.”
I was going stainless steel (or actually thinking more along the lines of Le Creuset). I also threw out the misguided whim of painting the guest bath pink (the hue I’d showed him was more of a rose, but I didn’t correct him about that).
But I was buying dish towels. They were more environmentally friendly, but it wasn’t that.
Lots of dish towels were pretty and you could switch them out for holidays and everything.
Something I’d never done. Items I’d never owned.
But I was looking forward to it.
These were my lovely, yet dismal thoughts as I took our trash from lunch to the garage and was moving back through the hall when I saw Deke come through the door that led to the great room.
He looked at me, jerked his head toward my bedroom, and before I could ask what was up, he walked into the hall and turned right, going directly into my bedroom.
Deke had never been in my bedroom.
Standing at the door had been bad enough.
Him in it?
Catastrophe.
Fuck, my bed was unmade and I hoped like hell I’d closed my nightstand drawers, or that there weren’t cords leading into them doing any special charging, because my vibrators were getting a workout, what with Deke around six days out of seven. And no girl wanted anyone, man or woman, but especially a man-bunned hot guy she was pining for to see her sex toys.
Unless she was handing them over for him to use on her.
Fuck.
I walked in with Deke already in but standing at the edge of the opened door.
A quick look while he closed the door behind me and I saw the nightstand drawers were all the way closed and no cords.
Thank God.
Deke led with, “He won’t ask, Jussy, so I’m askin’.”
I turned to him and tipped my head back to catch his gaze.
“Who won’t ask what?”
He jerked his head to the door. “Bub. He won’t ask.”
“Won’t ask what?” I queried when Deke said no more.
“Preface this by sayin’, you say no, he won’t know I asked and it’s all good. I get it. Even if he knew I was askin’, he’d get it. It’s a lot. But I’m still askin’.”
I took a step toward him, matching my voice to his that was low, and demanded, “Dude, spit it out. Ask what?”
“You know Max pays time and a half on weekday overtime. He pays double time on weekends.”
“Yes, I know this, Deke,” I confirmed.
“Get shit done faster got another man workin’ with me on Saturdays. And the bar does a good turnover. They ain’t hurtin’ but they ain’t rollin’ in it and both Krys and Bubba wanna give good to their kid when she comes. Bub especially.”
He shifted even closer to me and I had to tip my head way back and modulate my breathing, especially when his hand came out and his fingers lightly touched the back of mine.
Pleasure.
And pain.
“Those stories he was tellin’,” Deke continued, “they’re funny but if he said some of that shit in front of Krys, she would not laugh. This is ’cause he used to be known as Bender Bubba. Took off on her to tie one on, have a good time, gone more than he was home. When he was gone, did shit no way he’s gonna tell his babies and grandbabies because it wasn’t right by any stretch of the imagination, the way he stepped out on Krys and did it constantly.”
“Oh my God,” I whispered, not quite able to believe that Bubba, who obviously doted on Krystal, also had stepped out on her.