“I’m going to sit this one out.” Marlene looked disappointed, but the moment Pat Sajak came on TV, her face lit back up. If only we all had something that made everything okay, even if only for a few minutes. I stole a fleeting glance at Willow. She used to be my Pat Sajak.
When the first puzzle came on TV, the two of them fell right back into a time warp. Back in the day, the three of us would sit on the long plastic-covered couch in Marlene’s living room. We’d write down our letter picks before the contestants called out theirs and keep track of how much we’d win if they guessed our letter. What Marlene didn’t know was that Willow and I had secretly played for sexual favors. Whoever earned the most at the end of the show got whatever they were in the mood for that night. Most nights I let Willow win, just so I could hear her tell me what she wanted me to do to her.
The visuals came flooding back.
Willow at sixteen, looking up at me as I hovered over her. Her lips swollen from hours of kissing.
I hate you.
Her sitting up, her hair a wild mess, as she pulled off a white T-shirt. No bra underneath. My thumb tugging on her bottom lip, which she sucked between her teeth nervously.
I hate you.
At the sound of my chair abruptly skidding across the tile floor, Willow jumped. “Bathroom” was all I offered.
Refusing to concede my time with Marlene out of principle, I stayed for a while more, quietly sitting and trying to avoid any real interaction with Willow. When it was time for lunch, I helped Marlene into her wheelchair and brought her down to the dining room.
“I have to get going. Practice this afternoon.”
“You two work too much.” Marlene’s usual lunch table was waiting for her. I made sure she was comfortable and said my goodbyes before heading back to her suite to grab my jacket.
I heard the door creak open, but I didn’t turn around as I slipped on my coat.
“I made cupcakes,” Willow said softly. “Red velvet with cream cheese frosting.”
I stared out the window. “Not hungry.”
She took two steps toward me and stopped. I could see her reflection in the window. “Do you want me to avoid certain days?”
“Do whatever you want. Makes no difference to me.”
She nodded. “I saw the game yesterday. You know, you still do the same little celebration in the end zone that you did in ninth grade on the field at Kennedy High School.”
I hated that she thought she knew so much about me.
I hated her.
She didn’t know anything about me anymore. I made sure she knew it before I walked out the door. “I celebrated inside my girlfriend that night, not in the end zone.”
Chapter 25
Delilah
The only time I didn’t mind my boss popping into my office was when Indie was around. Mostly because Mr. CUM literally tripped over things when he came near her. Today, it was the garbage can just outside of my door.
Indie had spotted him coming down the hall and leaned over my desk like a barfly trying to attract attention in a pool hall full of horny cowboys. Her already tight skirt looked ready to bust at the seams as she wiggled her ass suggestively.
“Nice to see you, Charlie.” She stayed bent over my desk and looked back over her shoulder to speak to him. No one called Charles Ulysses Macy “Charlie.” Except Indie.
“Indie.” He cleared his throat. “You’re looking well.”
She smirked. “You’re looking at my good angle.”
I interrupted before he could respond. “What can I do for you, Mr. Macy?”
“Yes . . . Um. We need you to cut a sixty-second spot for the playoffs.”
“Really?” The sixty-second spots were always done by the big-name reporters and well-known faces.
“We need the female draw, so we’re making the spots two reporters—one of each will be a woman.”
“So you’re basically using her for her body?” Indie stood and folded her arms over her chest.
“Um . . . no. We . . . ”
“Relax, Chuck.” She rested a hand on his arm. “I was just a little jealous. No one has used my body in a while.”
Poor Charles had to adjust the growing bulge Indie was inciting. I actually came to the pig’s rescue. “I’m happy to have the opportunity.”
“Good. You’ll drive down with Michael after the game on Sunday. Do a spot with Mara in Miami on Monday.”
“Michael?”
“Langley. That’s who you’re shooting your spots with.”
It took me ten more minutes to get Mr. CUM out of my office. When he was gone, I scolded Indie. “Why do you insist on doing that?”
She tossed a pen up in the air and caught it. “I mentally give myself two points for making him hard. It’s a little game I play.”
“Gross.”
“I know. Do you think he’s jerking off in the men’s room? I get five points if he comes out and there’s a little wet spot on his pants from post-ejaculation drip.”
“Seriously, you might be more disgusting than him.”
“Serves him right. He deserves to be treated like meat since that’s how he treats others.”
“But he likes it.”
“He likes it while I’m playing with him, not while he’s stuck playing with himself.”