At Peace Page 42


“You need to get home.”

“You can do me up the ass for two hun’red.”

His lip curled and he wondered how many times she said that to how many guys, strangers, anyone who was willing to pay to get off with her. Looking at her he doubted she did good business.

Then he felt it and looked to his left to see Violet standing in the hall, wearing his t-shirt, her dark hair a tumbled mess around her face and shoulders. His tee fell long on her, over her h*ps but he could see most of her long legs. The whole of her, even in the middle of the night, looked vital, alive and sexy as all hell, polar opposite to the sad case in his kitchen.

But she was leaned against the doorway into the living room, her eyes on Bonnie, her face pale.

She’d heard.

Cal clenched his teeth and looked back at his ex-wife.

“You got a choice, you can let me put you in a taxi, I’ll pay, or I’m takin’ you to Indy and droppin’ you off at the first place I can stop.”

“Got a car, Joe.”

“You aren’t drivin’ in your state.”

“Doan wanna go home.”

“That’s not one of your choices.”

Her body jerked and she looked to her right, belatedly feeling Vi’s presence.

“Hey,” Bonnie called, smiling drunkenly at Violet, “we ‘avin’ a pardee?”

“Can I help, Joe?” Vi asked softly, walking into the living room and Cal looked at her.

It was useless, she was there, she’d heard, he could no longer shield her from this scene but still he tried as he spoke softly back to her. “No, buddy, go back to bed.”

“You wanna drink?” Bonnie asked Vi.

“No, thanks,” Vi replied, not going back to bed, moving into the kitchen, her eyes glued to Bonnie as she moved.

Bonnie jerked a thumb to herself. “I’m Bonnie.”

“Violet,” Vi whispered, her tone uncertain.

Bonnie looked to Cal. “Shiz preddie, Joe.”

Cal wondered what Violet would do but he didn’t have to wonder long.

Though if he’d have guessed he wouldn’t in a million years have guessed she would do what she did.

She walked to his side and shoved into it with her shoulder pushing back his arm then she plastered her front to his side, sliding her hands along his body, one at his stomach, one across his back and she wrapped him tight. He didn’t know what she was saying with her action, whether it was a claiming, telling Bonnie her thoughts on the state of play with Cal, a show of support for Cal or both. At that moment either way worked for him but both was better.

Other than pushing her away, he had no choice but to drape his arm around her shoulders which was what he did.

Bonnie’s upper body swayed back as she took them in.

Then her eyes drifted up to Cal’s and her face was disbelieving when she asked, “She yours?”

Bonnie’s tone was now not only drunken but surprised, her face twisted with hurt and uncertainty. Even after all these years, this was a blow to her. Cal saw to his pissed off amazement that somewhere in that f**ked up head of hers, she still laid claim to him, even after what she’d done.

She’d never been to Cal’s when he’d had a woman there. But even Bonnie couldn’t be so far gone as to see all that was Vi in his tee pressed possessively against his side and not make the comparison, not see that this time it wasn’t just going to be a no because she had wasted her life away, and her body, but mostly because of their f**ked up history but because she’d obviously been replaced by a far superior model. Even wasted, she couldn’t twist that messed up head of hers into thinking she could talk him into a trip down memory lane, if he paid for it of course. She had to know he’d never want her mouth on him, his dick in her, when he had Violet.

Cal didn’t answer, he was too angry and he wanted this done. Instead, he looked back down to the phonebook to find the number on the ad and he curled Vi closer.

His head came up when Bonnie suddenly declared, “Thiz iz mah house!”

Her eyes were narrowed on Vi and she’d swayed forward.

He knew this drill too, when she got pissed. He’d been living with that a long time, even before what she let what happened happen. He was reminded of the vicious, out-of-control way Bonnie could get pissed every time he looked in the mirror.

Cal gave Violet a squeeze and murmured, “Go back to bed, buddy.”

Before Vi could move, Bonnie lurched forward, shouting, “Mah house!”

Then she lost her footing and dropped gracelessly down to her hands and knees on the kitchen floor.

Violet’s body jolted at his side and she stepped back, swinging Cal’s torso with her in what seemed to be an effort to move him to safety but only his torso went because his feet stayed planted. He’d seen this all before.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his eyes on Bonnie.

“Joe –” Violet whispered and he knew she was watching Bonnie too.

“Mah house!” Bonnie screeched, her head snapping back, her lank hair drifting. “Mah man!”

Cal hit the buttons on the phone to call the taxi.

Bonnie crawled toward them and lifted a hand when she got close. Cal moved Violet behind him, dropping his arm and stepped into Bonnie as she took a clumsy swipe at their legs and missed.

He put the phone to his ear.

“Shouldn’t we get her up?” Violet whispered, her hands on his lower back, fingers curling into the waistband of his jeans. She was so close he could feel her tits in his tee brushing against his skin.

“Yeah, I need a taxi, one one eight Elm. Pre-paid, it’s goin’ to Indy,” Cal said into the phone after the dispatcher answered.

“Joe –” Violet whispered, pressing closer.

Bonnie lifted up to her knees, still swaying, her eyes slits and they were on Vi. “You thin’ your shid doan stink.”

“Soon’s you can get here,” Cal said into the phone.

“We should help her,” Violet said at his back.

“Id stinks jus’ like mine!” Bonnie declared.

“Give me a second,” Cal told the dispatcher and turned to Violet. “Go get my wallet on the nightstand. I need my credit card.”

She looked up at him and opened her mouth to speak.

“Do it, buddy,” he ordered gently.

She closed her mouth, nodded, glanced down at Bonnie and then rushed out of the room.

“Id stinks!” Bonnie shouted after her, reeling to the side and down on a hand.

“Christ, Bonnie, shut it,” Cal clipped.

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