Black Widow (2 page)

If she had just talked to me before coming straight to this then I’d have more time to talk to her about it. Show her that I’m serious and not just saying it to keep her from jumping.

I love her so much. I don’t want her to do this. Would I seriously consider denying my own needs instead of living a life without her?

Yes, I would, in a heartbeat.

I reach out to her, “Come on, this is crazy. Please get down from there. Let’s talk about this.”

She looks at me. The look on her face is not one of death, or fear, or sadness. It’s a look I’ve never seen before and I literally feel my bones shake when I see it. She’s completely unhinged. Her eyes almost shine with delight, excitement even.

After looking down, she looks up, over her shoulder at me again with a smirk on her face as she clearly states, “I’ll show you what’s really crazy,” as she lets go and jumps off the bridge.

I leap forward, jumping over the railing with my arms outstretched in a vast attempt to grab her, yank her back to me but I can’t see anything. Not the water below, or even my own hand in front of me. All I can feel is the heaviness in my chest and the loneliness in my soul.

She’s gone.

She fucking jumped.

And it’s all my fault.

P
artner… I keep saying in my head, over and over again. I did it. I made partner of my firm. It’s what I’ve worked so hard for. What I’ve wanted for years and I did it. Finally.

A smile spreads across my face as I switch off my computer for the day. But I’m not heading home. No. I never head home. Why? For what? No one’s there. That’s why I made partner. Because I have nothing else in my life worth doing.

Work. That’s it. For the last five years that is all my life has been. I’m ok with it now. I’ve gotten used to the loneliness. I mean, it’s all my fault so I have to be ok with it.

I have my books now. They keep me happy. I don’t need anything else. Not anymore.

Not since I lost Nick.

He was my life. My husband. My everything.

But not anymore.

I head to the gym, like I do every night. I’m not a gym rat by any means though. I keep to myself and stay on one machine, the bicycle.

I only come here to read. Spending a few hours on the bike, peddling at a not-so-fast speed so I don’t wear myself out but fast enough so I don’t draw attention to myself. Though I could care less what people think of me. Not anymore.

I look at this as my happy place, a place where I can escape. Live my life through the characters of my stories. They make my life not so desolate and make me smile, which I tend not to do much of anymore.

That’s my life, a whole bunch of
anymores
.

I spot my normal machine, the one back in the corner, alone, where no one will walk by or bother me. Settling in, I pick up my Kindle and switch on the book I just downloaded.

It’s a dang good thing eBooks were invented. I read a book about every two days and I would be spending a small fortune on hardbacks if eBooks weren’t around.

My favorite part about them is that I can hide what I’m reading. If I actually had to hold the book, showing its cover in my hand, I would be mortified. I don’t want people seeing what kind of books I like to read. I’m not a prude by any means, but I’m a little shy when it comes to sharing what kind of books I prefer, for me, the dirtier the better. Give me a good Contemporary Romance or Erotic novel and I’m in heaven.

I don’t know why because I have no one to share my excitement with when I get really turned on but that’s another reason why I read at the gym. It’s weird but I almost like the fact that I get so aroused with people around. It’s the closest I’ll get to living out my fantasies.

My new book is not disappointing my needs as I set in for my nightly read, um, I mean workout.

A girl I’ve seen here many times comes up quickly and sits right next to me. I try to stay focused on my book, not paying attention to her but she seems set on interrupting me.

“What cha reading?” she asks, leaning in a little too close.

I look at her and smile, not trying to be rude but I don’t want to admit what I’m reading. The title alone would give it away. I reply, “
Bared
,” thinking quickly of a title that is less telling, hoping she’ll get the hint by my one word response that I’m not in the mood to talk.

I was wrong.

“Oh, by Stacey Kennedy? I love that book!” she smiles big at me.

I look over and give her a small smile, sighing. Figures she would know that book.

“How far are you? I don’t want to give anything away. I knew you were reading books like that though. I just knew it,” she bounces slightly in her seat with excitement and I can tell this is a very normal thing for her to be doing.

I eye her skeptically. “How did you know what kind of books I was reading?”

“I could just tell. I see you in here every night. Always on this bike and you have this glow about you. You smile on and off but more telling, I see a flush on your face that I knew wasn’t from the bike. I knew it had to be something more…” She leans in, whispering, “sexual.”

I look at her, trying to hide my shock but her laughter shows I didn’t do a very good job.

“I’m sorry. Too forward? I can be that way,” she shrugs. “I’m not ashamed of it. If you like sex, or like to read about sex, then own it. It’s fun. Everyone should love it and speak freely about how amazing it can be.”

She’s smiling from ear to ear and I’m a little jealous that she can be so open, so free about sex.

I’ve never been open on the subject. Not even with Nick. We had an amazing sex life but I was always afraid to share with him what I really wanted.

My fantasies...

I tried to hint to the fact but I guess it was never enough.

Now it’s too late.

I sit silently, not sure what to say.

She smiles, “So what other books have you read? You know Stacey wrote an entire series of Club Sin right?”

I smile, yes I know all about the series, they’re my favorite. “Yes, I’ve actually read them all.
Bared
is my favorite. I lied, too. Sorry. I’m actually reading
Touch Me
.” I pause, feeling my face flush, as I’m suddenly very embarrassed.

She must not have noticed my disdain because she acts like it’s nothing, “Who’s that one by?”

“Olivia Cunning, it’s in her
One Night With Sole Regret
series.”

“Oh yes, I loved those. Who’s your favorite?”

“I love Shade. I can’t wait for her to finish the series so I can hear more about him.”

“Yeah, I liked his story. It was sweet with his daughter and all, but man, Gabe and those toys got me. Or wait, which one is in the sex club?”

“That’s this one with Owen.”

“Oh, just wait. You know places like that actually exist right?”

I look at her surprised at first but as the idea sinks in I start to smile, “Really?”

“Of course they do! Everything in every book you have ever read actually exists. Where do you think these authors get their info, their muse per se?”

“I guess I’ve never really thought about it. This is all just a fantasy world to me.” I regret the comment as soon as I make it.

She smiles a knowing smile, “Fantasy, huh?” She winks at me.

What the hell am I doing? I don’t even know this girl and here I am sharing my book fantasies with her.

She senses my discomfort and thankfully changes the subject, but to my second least favorite subject, me.

“So, tell me about yourself. What do you do besides sit here and read every night, pretending to workout?” she smirks.

I reach over, my manners and professionalism getting the best of me, so I offer to shake her hand in greeting, “I’m Kamii. And you are?”

She grabs my hand softly saying, “I’m Becca.”

“Hi Becca. I’m a criminal defense attorney here in the City. How about you?”

“Wow. That must be crazy. You must hear some pretty crazy stories. Have you ever defended someone you knew was guilty?”

I give her a squinted don’t-ask-me-that look that she reads clearly and moves on. “I’m a cosmetologist,” she shrugs. “I do hair,” she says with a big smile on her face. “I love it. I get to chat all day long with some of my closest friends while making them look pretty.”

I can totally see her doing that for a living and I bet she’s good at it if her own hair is any sign of her quality. Even though she’s at the gym working out, it still looks stylish the way her blond hair is pulled up in a messy bun with a thin black headband wrapped around her head, plumping the front up just a bit instead of slicking it back. She has a body to die for and her beautiful, soft complexion makes me jealous that she can look so natural yet stunning.

“So where’s the salon you work at?” I ask just because I can tell she’s not leaving anytime soon and I have no clue what else to say. I still don’t know why she’s even talking to me.

“It’s a great place not far from here. Right next to the Transamerica building.”

“Really?” I look at her surprised. “I work in that building.”

“You do? What a coincidence. You should come in. I can do anything you want.”

I stop the bike and think, running my fingers over my hair that’s pulled back in my standard bun. It has been awhile since I’ve treated myself to an actual stylist. My hair is long, straight and I just trim the bottom on my own. Sad, I know. Maybe I should do something new.

“Maybe I’ll do that. Do you have a card on you?”

She laughs, looking down at her skimpy, leave nothing to the imagination, workout outfit. “Um, no, not on me. Here,” she grabs my phone sitting in the cup holder and puts her contact info in then I hear her phone ding that’s attached to her arm acting as her iPod. “There, now you have mine and I have yours.”

I smile.
What just happened? Did I just make a friend?

I don’t have friends, but here this girl is programming her number and wanting mine in return…? Why?

“Ok, I’ll let you get back to the book. You better call. Enjoy Owen!” She winks as she walks away just as fast as she arrived.