Good Girl Gone
Page 16

“He looks like a thug.” Emilio glowers at me.
“Hello, pot. Meet kettle,” I tell him.
He flips me the bird, which makes me laugh.
“Seriously, Melio,” I say, “I’m twenty-six years old.”
He leans toward me and says slowly, “And I’m your f-a-t-h-e-r. It’s my job to be sure you’re okay.”
“But you don’t get full access to my love life!”
“So he’s more than just a lay,” he says.
He jumps when a wet dishrag sails from the kitchen and hits him on the back of the head. “What the fuck?”
“Knock it off,” Marta snaps. Then I know the interrogation is over. Marta the referee has called the game. Thank God.
Emilio mutters something that sounds like “I’ll pay him a visit later.”
Sammy starts to squirm in my arms. He’s only a day old, but he’s strong. He starts to suck on his little fist. “I think he needs his mommy,” I tell Peck.
Peck smiles and takes him from me. She winks at me and then says loudly, “I’m going to go in the bedroom and see if I can feed him.” She nods her head at me.
“I’ll go with you.”
“You’re not going to leave, are you?” Peck asks Emilio and Marta.
“Not yet,” Marta calls. She’s elbow-deep in suds in the sink.
I follow Peck into the bedroom, and stop when I see Sam standing in the middle of the room wearing nothing but a towel around his hips. I whistle and he shakes his head. He takes some clothes out of a drawer and goes into the bathroom.
“I didn’t make him mad, did I?”
Peck waves her hand in the air, quickly dismissing it. “He’s getting used to all of you.” She laughs. Then she sobers. “So, what’s up with Josh?”
I shrug and avoid her eyes, because she can always tell when I’m lying. “Nothing.”
Her eyes narrow at me. “Spill it. You know you want to.”
I drop my face into my hands and groan. Then I look up at her. “So I kind of gave him a blow job.” I huff all the words out in one breath. The bathroom door opens halfway through my sentence and then closes quickly. Shit.
Peck startles. “You did what?”
I nod. I know she heard me. Hell, Sam probably heard me too. “I did.”
“But…you don’t…do that…like…ever.”
Like I need for her to remind me.
“Apparently I do.”
“Tell me what happened.” She motions for me to continue by rolling her finger.
I lie back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. “So we were talking and he sort of admitted that he didn’t know if he could get off. And he seemed really surprised that he was even getting hard around me. So, since he didn’t know and I didn’t know, I figured there was only one way to find out.”
The bathroom door closes again.
Fuck me.
“Sam!” I call.
He pops his head out.
“Would you come out of the bathroom already? God!”
He comes out with his fingers stuck in his ears. “I don’t want to hear what you’re talking about. Ever. Never.”
Peck laughs. “Quit acting like you’re a virgin.”
“He didn’t hear me, did he?” I mouth at Peck.
“Did you hear what Star said about Josh’s dick?” she asks him.
He looks at her. “Let’s just say that I now know more about Josh’s dick than I ever wanted to know.”
“So, does it work?” Peck asks me.
Sam stuffs his fingers in his ears and sings out “La la la la la la.” He goes out of the room and closes the door behind him.
“He’ll be scarred for life,” I tell Peck.
“He’ll get over it.”
“It works,” I blurt out. “It totally works.”
“And he didn’t know this before you?”
I shake my head. “Apparently not.”
“And he just came right out and told you that he wasn’t sure if it would work?”
Sam comes back into the room and gives Peck a glass of water. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters and he walks back out.
“So, yes, he just told me he wasn’t sure. But I knew it got hard, because I felt it. And then he was jacking off in the shower and I wanted to be sure, so I did it.”
“And you were okay with it?” She stares into my eyes. She knows about my history. She knows why sex is hard for me. She knows why I don’t do random bouts of sex with strange guys.
“It didn’t squick me out or anything.” That alone is not normal for me.
“Well, that’s good.”
I shrug. “I guess so.”
“Is it because he’s not threatening?” She takes a sip of her water.
I lean forward. “Have you seen him?” He has tattoos everywhere, including on his face. Gang signs. Homemade graffiti. He’s incredibly threatening. “He took care of me when I was drunk. If he’d wanted to take advantage of me, he could have done it then.”
“But he didn’t take advantage then, if he even could.”
“He could have made me do just about anything that night. And he didn’t. He was sweet and kind and good.”
She smiles. “You like him.”
I nod. “But then afterward, he wanted to return the favor, so I snuck out of the apartment before he could get out of the shower.”