I take a deep breath and I can’t even look at her when I speak. “I want you to tell me if you’re hungry. I’ve rode by myself for so long that sometimes I forget about your . . . needs.” My voice is calmer, but I want to hit something. I hate apologies and even though I didn’t give her one, it was something like it, and I hate those too.
“Okay, Dirk. It won’t happen again.” Her voice is so full of regret that I have to punish myself by looking at her. But she is lost in her own thoughts. And I want to know what they are. And when she repositions and faces me, I know she is fixing to tell me.
“I’m gonna try to say this without scaring you. I don’t want you running for the hills.” I want to laugh at her words. She doesn’t scare me and I wouldn’t run from her no matter what she said.
“When people have feelings for one another, sometimes all they can think about is them. Not eating or sleeping or . . . well, really they don’t think about anything. It’s like the excitement they have for one another outweighs their body’s need for the basic essentials. That’s how I feel. The high I get from being with you has me forgetting to eat, sleep, or even think. Then, when I do eat, I realize I’m starving. When I do sleep, I find myself crashing with so much fatigue, I don’t even move in my sleep. And when my thoughts are somehow not centered on you, that’s when reality steps in and I have one of my crazy episodes.” My mind is running a hundred miles an hour. And there is only one thing I want to do: scream and run for the hills.
“I’m going to smoke,” I huff, hearing her laughter as I walk out.
If I had Oprah’s number, I’d call her right now and give her my left nut for some advice. I heard every word that Saylor said. I’ve run the lines in my head over and over, and they still have me all twisted up on the inside. But what’s more fucked up is that I feel just the way she does.
I try to remember what life was like before she slept with me every night, and what I recall is a little disturbing. In five years, there has never been a woman who I didn’t compare to Saylor. There has never been a night when I didn’t see her face in my dreams. And the more I remember, the more I realize these feelings aren’t as foreign as I thought—now they are just real.
—
I don’t know how long I’ve been outside, but when I come back in Saylor is sitting at the table, writing in her diary. We’ll be in Jackpot soon and there are some things we need to discuss before we get there.
“We will be meeting up with the club tonight.” I guess that’s a good way to start. When I don’t get a reaction out of her, I continue. “Don’t ask questions, and if you are asked any questions don’t lie, but be as evasive as possible. I don’t want them knowing any more about you than they already do.” Saylor finally looks at me. By the way she is fidgeting, I know she is nervous.
“I really messed up when I told them who I was, didn’t I?” Saylor is smart. I never had to confirm her fuckup; she knew the moment she answered the phone that it was a mistake. But she needs to know the truth and I now know that she can handle it.
“Nationals are a group of higher-ups in the club. They call the shots and they are the ones who give me my orders. By having you with me while I’m working, it makes you a liability. Nationals will stop at nothing to ensure club business stays club business. My word should be enough to convince them that you don’t know anything, but I don’t know how this will be handled.” I wait for her reaction to my words and get exactly what I expect: nothing.
“So, are you in trouble?” she asks, and the nervousness is back. Maybe she doesn’t understand the severity of the situation.
“This isn’t about me. It’s about you and your safety.” I’m growing impatient, and the tone of my voice shows it. She needs to have a better regard for her own well-being and stop fucking worrying about me. When she speaks, it’s clear she is exasperated.
“Just tell me, Dirk. Are you in danger with the club?” I take a deep breath and sit up, trying to find the right words. Maybe I need to scream at her to get her to understand. Maybe I need to shake the shit out of her. Or maybe I just need to answer her infuriating fucking questions.
“No.” That’s all she is getting. I can take care of myself. The only way I would be in danger is if Saylor did something stupid, which I know she wouldn’t. Or if they ordered me to do away with her, then I would have to fight a losing battle with them, or do as they said—which would never fucking happen.
Saylor doesn’t seem nervous anymore, just complacent. And I’m not sure how that makes me feel. “I got this, Dirk. I won’t disappoint you, I promise.”
I watch as she walks away, her ass swaying with every step until she disappears into the bathroom. She could never disappoint me. But I can’t dwell on that heart-swelling feeling I have about her trying to make me proud, because another feeling is overpowering it. Curiosity. Because I know my beautiful mess of a goddess has a plan forming in her head.
—