"What are you bitching about now?"
"I'm being helpful."
Rolling my eyes, I gesture for her to continue.
"Darla is in a bad spot, and she's attached to you. Soon Locke will be dead, and she'll be free. Then maybe she won't be so attracted to you anymore. You're her rebound guy except in this case you're the guy who helps her transition from a pervert to a nice man like Vernon."
"She doesn't want a guy like Vernon. Who would?"
"Her sister does, and Shelley is just as Barbie doll hot as Darla. You'd be smart not to underestimate the allure of a man with a big bank account."
"So you're saying once I kill Locke and make life better for Darla that she'll dump me for a dork with a trust fund. Yeah, I should totally dump her first."
"That's not what I'm saying."
"You're really jealous of her, aren't you? Poor, Minka."
"Snotball."
"Only you could make that insult scary."
Minka grins. "I like Darla, and I want her to work out. I've always feared you'd end up with someone like your sister-in-law. You know, because of your mommy issues. Now I have no real issues with Heather. She's a fine woman, but her constant happiness would make me homicidal. So if you ended up with someone like her, I'd have to avoid you two, and we'd stop being friends."
"But Darla passes your test?"
"Yes, and not because she's quiet a lot. The other night before you got whipped and couldn't leave her side, Darla and I were sitting on the couch talking about ballpark hot dogs. Don't ask why but she gets really lively when debating appropriate wiener toppings."
"Darla likes you too. She thinks you're a super sexy badass. Ah, to be young and foolish."
Minka thinks about flipping me off, but her finger never fully extends. "I hope she wants you because you're her Ken doll, not because you're the first single man to exist around her after Locke."
Exhaling roughly, I struggle not to say something that'll piss off Minka as much as she's pissing me off.
"You dated me," I finally mutter. "I must have some decent qualities."
"Are you fishing for compliments?"
"Not from you, no. I'll wait until Darla wakes up and then quiz her."
Minka frowns. "I can do it. I mean, you have plenty of great qualities. You're tall, and you tan nicely. You're not bald, and your dick is nicely proportioned with your balls."
Laughing, I throw a ketchup packet at her that Minka easily smacks away.
"You're a good man, Troy. In fact, I warned Darla not to hurt you."
I think of Darla under me earlier in bed. Her eyes were so bright and beautiful as if she hadn't a care in the entire fucking world. Locke never crossed her mind while we moved together. Her heart and mind were right there with me the entire time.
Until Darla, I required little comfort in my life to be whole. Now I really only need her. Not for right now or a few weeks. My chest hurts whenever I think of losing her. If she outgrew me, I'd fucking die. Or would I turn into a psycho like Locke and keep an unwilling woman?
39
~~~
Troy
Instincts
Darla awakes from her nap and walks around in a dream state the rest of the evening. Even though she's willing to have sex, I only want to hold her. The pills make her spacey, and I don't know what she's really agreeing to when she says yes.
My mind racing with thoughts of Darla and Locke, I'm up until four in the morning. I consider how he scouted her on the cruise. I can't imagine him on the ship, so he must have people searching for replacement Roses.
Or had he picked Darla out of a swimsuit catalog? Did he see her in a boat show ad? Had he grabbed her from the cruise because he knew the authorities would waste time searching the ship and local area, not realizing she'd been spirited away to one of Locke's properties?
I try to imagine Locke's thought process, but he's a weak, rich freak. He's also likely mentally fucked. There's no understanding a man like him. I can only track and kill him.
Sleeping finally, I never hear Darla get up from the bed. She's long gone when I wake up and caress the cold side of the bed. In the living room, she and a sleepy Minka discuss the age-old question of whether dogs or cats make better pets.
"Troy doesn't like cats," Minka says, clearly knowing I'm awake and listening nearby.
Darla doesn't answer, and I sense she's bothered by Minka's comment.
"Cats make for crap protection," I mutter, pouring coffee. "Cats make better pets for lazy owners like me."
Darla twists on the couch to see me. I don't know what she's thinking, and I hate how I can't read her. She's digging into my every pore until I can't breathe without thinking of her. Yet she remains a mystery to me.
"If the lazy bum is finally ready to do his job, I'm heading home to catch a few hours of rest," Minka says, standing up and stretching. "I'll be back early this afternoon. I have a few things I want to bring over, so I'll need your muscles later to haul the crap from the car."
"Crap?" I ask, too grumpy to pretend otherwise.