Chapter 5

Becker

I know it’s over the second she walks back into the bedroom. But it’s not for the reason I thought it would be.

She looks down at the phone in her hand and frowns. “My father is dropping by my apartment around ten. I need to get home before he arrives.”

I reach for my jeans and tug them on as she walks out of my room again, her ear pressed to the phone, I assume to call a cab. “Why don’t I drive you? I can hang around and come up when he leaves.”

She shakes her head. “I need a cab to Baker Street Art Studio,” she says.

Her eyes lock on mine as I hear the operator confirm the address. “Ten minutes, great, I’ll be outside,” she says.

She doesn’t look at me, just shrugs on her jacket. “I’ll come wait outside with you,” I say.

She buttons up her jacket and doesn’t look in my direction as she grabs her purse. “It’s better if you don’t.”

I don’t agree but I’m out of time and not about to try to convince her now she’s made up her mind. “Guess I’ll see you around,” I say.

Her back straightens as her lips tug into an uncertain smile. “Sure, but we never—”

“Fucked?” I finish for her.

Her eyes widen but she blows out a breath. “I was going to say saw each other here, but I’m glad we understand each other.”

I know I shouldn’t antagonize her, but I’m pissed things are ending so abruptly.

“I don’t think we do understand each other. If we did you wouldn’t be leaving.”

She doesn’t say anything just hugs her purse close to her. “I don’t have time to argue. You promised you wouldn’t tell my father about this, are you going to go back on your word?”

“You’re fighting a losing battle. You can’t keep this up forever. Sooner or later someone will figure out you're faking it.”

Her chin lifts and she narrows her eyes. “Goodbye, Becker.”

Without giving me the chance to respond, she spins on her heel and storms away from me.

Her heels clicking over the wooden flooring, I watch her hips sway as she yanks open the door and slams it behind her.

I blow out a breath and run my hand over my face. “Goddammit,” I mutter.

I give it a few seconds before I walk across the room and open the door. “You’re going to need my help to open the front door,” I say.

She turns and looks over her shoulder but doesn’t stop walking. “I’m sure I can manage it.”

I pick up my pace and skirt around her just before she reaches the stairs. “It’s alarmed.”

She doesn’t say anything to me as we descend the stairs, just slides her hand down the rail, and looks almost as nervous as she did climbing them on Friday night.

The warehouse is quiet bar the sound of her boots as we walk towards the door.

When we reach it, she steps back and lets me punch in the code to unlock the alarm.

I wrench the door open and squint as sunlight spills inside. I lean on the door and watch her as she steps outside.

She blinks rapidly and awkwardly extends her hand. “Well, thanks.”

I stare at her outstretched hand and grab it. “You know where I am if you want to quit pretending again for a few days,” I say.

Her brow crinkles and she jerks her hand from mine. “I won’t. Because I’m not pretending.”

I shrug. “Keep telling yourself that. One day it might be the truth,” I say.

Despite every impulse to pull her back inside and kiss her, I close the door and lock it again.

I don’t hang around waiting to see if she changes her mind this time, I just head back to my apartment, and do something I’ve been putting off doing since the second I saw her.

I slide behind my desk and open the top drawer to check my work phone. I scroll through a dozen missed calls and pause when I see a familiar number I’d rather not see right now.

With a curse, I don’t bother to listen to his messages, just hit call and get to my feet.

I stroll to the balcony and lean against the railing so I can watch for the cab. He picks up instantly, just like he always does.

“I’m sorry to call on the weekend, but I need to know when you need the report in?” he asks.

I keep my eyes on Cynthia’s back as she steps to the curb. “Not for a while, why?”

He sighs heavily. “The accountant has decided to take a vacation, so the annual planning meeting has been moved from next month to Wednesday night. Everyone involved in collecting revenue will be emailing their totals on Monday so he can go through them all.”

I glance at Cynthia and hope she’ll look upward. “So, what’s the issue?”

He clears his throat. “There are inconsistencies with the fundraising my daughters were in charge of.”

I look down at the street and watch Cynthia amble towards the waiting cab as I answer, “A few dollars missing isn’t a big deal. It happens a lot.”

He sounds almost indignant. “It’s not about the money, it’s about the scrutiny we’re already under because of Cynthia.”

I’m beginning to see why Cynthia hides so much from him.

“I can bump you to the top of the list. And prioritize Trudy’s application, but I’ll need to interview both your daughters,” I say.

When he doesn’t answer I remind him it’s not personal. “It’s standard procedure and don’t worry I can be discrete,” I say.

He blows out a breath and sounds resigned. “Alright. But please, I explained this to you before, but my youngest has made some bad choices. I don’t want her to think I don’t trust her, it could be a genuine error, either way I need to know,” he says.

I strum my fingers on the railing as I watch the cab disappear. “I’m going to need some background on both your daughters. I can find out on my own, but it’ll be quicker if you fill in all the blanks for me,” I say.

I can hear voices in the background while he seems to be considering. “Alright. Speak to Trudy first and I’ll catch up with you after lunch tomorrow,” he says.

***

Cynthia

Saturday 9.23am

I slink back inside my apartment and let out a sigh of relief I made it home without anyone seeing me.

At least I don’t think anyone saw me. And other than coming home with no underwear on, and a slight headache, there’s no evidence of my one-night stand.

I glance around my messy apartment and decide I definitely need more caffeine if I’m going to see my father.

I fill the kettle with water and leave it to boil while I go get a change of clothes.

Since I usually sleep in on Saturdays and have a lazy day catching up on housework, I shower and pull on my jeans, and twist my hair into a knot.

I swipe the steam from the mirror and check my face and neck over to make sure Becker didn’t leave any unwanted love bites I’ve missed till now.

When I’m sure I look like I spent the night at home, I make a coffee and dump honey into it before adding some cream from the refrigerator.

I can’t remember what time Becker made pancakes, and I still have some time, so I look inside my near-empty cupboards and realize I need groceries.

I’ve been so busy trying to help with the church fundraising and manage my own job I’ve forgotten to get food.

I pour myself a coffee and pull out a container of yogurt three days past its best before and take a seat on the sofa.

In an attempt to look relaxed, I switch the TV on, and put it on a Christian Channel, and pull out my Bible.

I clear my throat and pick up reading where I left off in Song of Solomon.

Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth!

For your love is better than wine; your anointing oils are fragrant;

your name is oil poured out; therefore virgins love you.

When my cheeks start to heat and I’m no longer thinking about the Bible study questions I’m supposed to be answering, I know reading the words between two lovers is absolutely not the right thing to be doing right now.

I give up, and check the time, and decide it’s safer to make a shopping list instead.

Since my phone is broken, I grab the notepad on the coffee table and start jotting down essentials.

When I’ve scrawled a few items and I realize they aren’t essentials, but ingredients to a meal I obviously want to repeat.

Flour

Eggs

Maple Syrup

Blueberries

Whipped Cream

I groan and scribble them out and scrunch the paper up and toss it in the corner where my trash can should be.

As I hear the paper hit the floor and I check to see why I missed it; I frown as I see the can is closer to my desk than I realized and it’s empty.

I don’t remember moving it, but I’ve been so busy it’s possible I just forgot I emptied it.

I lean forward and move to pick up my coffee cup. When my fingers meet air, and I have to move closer from the couch, I glance down and my confusion only grows as I note the depression marks on the carpet are slightly misaligned.

I place my hands on the edges of the coffee table and pull until it’s sitting in its usual spot.

Growing more worried, I’m losing my mind, I pick up my coffee, and go wandering around my apartment checking to see what else seems to have been moved.

I don’t find anything else that seems off, and I’m half convinced I’m imagining things when I step back inside my kitchen and freeze.

My trash can has been emptied in here too.

I know for a fact I didn’t empty it because Lacey commented on the smell when she picked me up Friday night.

Mouth suddenly dry, I back up, and retrace my steps, double-checking to see if I missed anything else being moved.

When I don’t spot anything obvious and it’s just before ten, my anxiety about being found out only increases.

Someone has been inside my apartment without my knowledge while I was busy across town with Becker.

Considering this apartment belongs to the parish, and only a few people have a key, someone knows I wasn’t here.

But why empty my trash? And why shift my coffee table and who knows what else?

Hands now shaking, I place the coffee down and stare at the items on the table.

I have no time to think about the who or why’s when a knock at the door makes me jump.

“Cynthia? It’s me, dad. I’m with your sister. We have a new phone for you,” my father calls out.

***

Becker

I’m scrolling through bank records, bored on a cellular level and about to take a break when the intercom buzzes.

It’s highly unlikely it’s anyone I want to see, but on the off chance it’s Cynthia, I abandon the records, and walk over to the front door and press the talk button. “Yeah?”

“Are you alone? I was in the area and I need to pee,” Britt says.

With a smile, I press the unlock button. “Come on up,” I say.

Britt takes her time, so while I wait I put on a pot of coffee and prepare for my sister to interrogate me.

Sure enough, Britt breezes in the door and looks sheepish as she searches the apartment. “Is the coast clear?” she says.

As she takes a seat, I smirk at her. “She’s gone,” I say.

She pulls a face. “You kicked her out first thing?” she says.

I don’t even bother with a reply, just slide a mug of coffee towards her. “Ah, like that is it. You’re not going to talk,” she says.

I shrug and drink my own coffee. “Why were you in the area?”

She wrinkles her nose as she adds more sugar to her coffee. “Okay, that was a fib. One of my students recommended an affordable electrician. I thought maybe you could give him a call?”

When I just frown at her, she pulls a business card from her pocket and pushes it towards me. “You can’t put this off any longer. And I promised the wiring would be fixed by next week.”

Impatience grows as I stare at the name. “You should have talked to me first. This week isn’t going to work for me. I have a job, I won’t be here,” I say.

She opens her hands and looks at me like I’m crazy. “You don’t need to be here Mr. Paranoid. He’s just going to look at the wiring.”

I toss the card on the counter. “I told you I’d take care of it when I could, you need to stop nagging me.”

Her face sets hard and she glares at me. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

I glare right back at her. “You have this idea in your head this is a quick fix. It’s not. That’s why I’ve spent the past few months trying to keep it from falling down around me.”

“But—”

Frustration now ebbing freely through me, my voice comes out clipped.

“The entire building will have to be checked. That’s sixteen thousand square feet. And once we start the process, we can’t stop till it’s all done. That means no one in or out, not to mention what will happen if they find anything else like asbestos, which given the age of the building is a very high probability. I’ll be homeless and you’d lose a place to teach.”

Her face pinches then she gives me an apologetic smile. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I tried a bunch of times. In one ear and out the other,” I say easily.

Rather than admit she doesn’t listen, she decides to change the subject.

“I’ll have to find a way to make it up to them. Or maybe get generators in just in case it happens again?”

I nod and refill my coffee from the pot. “And you’re going to pay for that are you?”

A mischievous look crosses over her face. “Well, no. Not until I can increase the number of enrollments. I know one way I could. You were a hit. Even if you did fall asleep. They want you to come back again.”

I nearly spit out my coffee. “Yeah, that’s a giant fuck off.”

She pulls a face then grins. “Why not? You might get lucky again,” she says.

“That’s not likely. And not enough incentive,” I grumble.

Her eyes narrow. “Wow. You actually like this woman, don’t you?”

“Why is that a surprise?”

She shrugs. “Just never saw my little bro brood over someone before.”

“I’m not brooding.”

“Yeah, you are. And I’m trying to decide if it’s sweet or nauseating.”

“It’s neither. Because I’m not brooding. It was just sex.”

She chokes out a laugh. “You’re such a dick. Why can’t you admit it? What’s the big deal? Not like I’ll get the chance to tell her.”

“No, but if I tell you I’m into her, you won’t be able to help yourself. You’ll interfere and be a giant pain in my ass.”

She flips me the bird. “Or maybe I’ll call her friend and see if she and Cynthia would like another look at your junk?”

“Don’t. I’m still working with her old man, things will get messy.”

At the expression on her face, I know what she’s thinking before she says it. “Even messier than they already are, you mean?”

I blow out a sigh as I nod. “Yeah, probably not the smartest thing inviting her up here.”

Britt gives me an almost sad smile. “But you just couldn’t help yourself, could you? You see something you want, you take it with no regard to the fallout.”

I don’t answer her, I’m too busy trying to justify my actions.

Because no matter how I look at this, I know I went too far.

The second I laid eyes on the hot pastor’s daughter, I wanted to see if I was right about her.

I can spin it any way I want to, but the bottom line is I didn’t even blink before sleeping with her.

“Guess it’s hardwired into me. I don’t think I could stop myself, even if I wanted to,” I say.

Britt releases a sigh. “Yeah, you can. You just don’t have any reason not to,” she says.

I’m still thinking on that an hour after she’s gone.