Dead to Her(19)

“A little runaround to tide you over until the Mercedes arrives.”

“Oh Billy, it’s wonderful!” She kissed him without hesitation, pressing her lips against his red cheek. “Thank you, thank you!”

“It’s not new but only one owner. Low mileage. The best I could do at short notice.”

Keisha traced her fingers across the hood like she would on a new lover’s skin. It was sleek and low, a proper American convertible sports car and the metallic red shone bright and clean. Even second-hand it must have been at least forty grand worth of car, and in a few weeks her delicious $150,000 Mercedes would arrive. The sums added to the tingles in her body. She’d have to make sure all the paperwork was in her name. She couldn’t stop smiling, giggling like a child. Dolly would just die. Keisha hadn’t called her back, ignoring the texts that had come in while she was sleeping. Maybe she should totally ghost her now. Dolly would only find some way to pull all of this down. She was too jealous to be happy for her.

“Well, aren’t you the lucky girl,” Emmett said. “A little red Corvette.”

“It’s very showy.” Marcie, as ever, loitering at the back as if she didn’t want to be seen.

“I like showy.” Keisha plastered on a huge smile as she grabbed the keys from Elizabeth and pulled open the driver’s door. The seats were low and the perfect leather smelled new. A rich, wealthy scent. This is why she had to keep Billy happy. She pushed the seat back to accommodate her long legs and through the windshield she could see the others looking on, expressions unreadable behind their shades. Keisha wasn’t fooled. They—well, maybe except one—liked her only because Billy did, but she didn’t care. Billy was the bank account. Her shot at freedom. He was all that mattered.

She started the engine, enjoying its throaty purr vibrating through the leather beneath her. “Can I take her out? Just for a minute? Get a feel for her?”

“If someone goes with you. She’s got some bite and remember you drive on the wrong side of the road in England.”

“Get in then, hubby!” He was the Billy she’d met in London again, kind and generous. The car was glorious. The fact that he’d buy her something like this on a whim just to tide her over was also glorious.

“If I get in that, you’ll need to call the fire department to pull me out again.”

“I’ll go with her.” The volunteer had spoken before Billy had barely finished his sentence. Jason. Of course it was.

William slapped him on the back. “Good work, wingman. Take care of her.”

“Come on!” She revved the engine. “And buckle up!” She laughed.

She was still laughing as they pulled away, wheels screeching on the tarmac, one arm waving out the window at those they’d left behind.





12.

The car, the car, the sleek shiny car. That, and the numbing buzz of the half Valium and wine, was enough to keep Keisha pliant while Billy’s tongue pressed against hers as he panted into her mouth. His saliva was thick and unpleasant, his lips cold and rubbery—old man mouth—and rather than squirm her head to one side she pushed his head down to her chest and arched her back as if it were desire and not revulsion that made her shiver. His weight shifted as he followed her silent command, his fat fingers kneading her breasts, twisting one nipple while sucking at the other.

That was better. She could get into her zone now, close her eyes, and drift into a fantasy of younger hands and warmer lips pressing her back onto the hood of her new red sports car. She pushed Billy’s head down farther. She’d come fast tonight. She was too full of heat. She hadn’t had such a crush in ages. It would keep the darkness at bay.

She moaned as his tongue worked at her and he groaned and grunted in reply. She wished he’d stay silent. She didn’t want him shattering her fantasy, not now, not while she was so close. She concentrated harder, blocking him out. It didn’t take long after that, and this time there was nothing fake about the orgasm that shuddered through her, expelling its excess energy in a loud gasp.

Billy clambered back up the bed and lay beside her, his chest heaving as if he’d fucked her senseless for an hour. She rolled onto her side to face him and smiled despite her inner revulsion, before reaching down to his semi-erect cock. The car, the money, the future. She tried to think like Dolly. His skin was soft, no hint of tautness there, and she realized that semi-erect was a flattering exaggeration. He was pretty much flaccid.

“Is it me?” she asked, wide eyes hinting at insecurity. Like fuck was it her. She could make a man rock hard from fifty paces when she put her mind to it and she knew it.

“No, no, don’t think that. You have no idea how much I want to. I didn’t take . . . you know . . . the pill. Thought I could do without it.” He couldn’t bring himself to look at her. Embarrassed. How strange it must be to be a man. So much of their self-worth wrapped up in that tiny odd-looking appendage. No amount of time on the treadmill or foul coconut water could get the blood pumping to the right place.

“You did just fine without it.” She curled up into his chest, happy in his impotence. None of his games tonight. No “trying new things.”

“I thought I’d feel younger with you.” He stared up at the ceiling, and she knew his thoughts were swirling toward death and decay. Maybe he needed the Valium. “But somehow you make me feel twice as old.”