don’t know the true reason behind all this. Everything we have is speculation. Think about it. What the hell did these kids do to warrant such extreme violence?’
‘Or what did they see?’ Felicia said.
‘Either way, something tells me this is more than high-school politics, Felicia. A lot more.’
Felicia downed the rest of her drink, looked outside at the dark night, and sighed.
‘What?’ Striker asked.
‘I dunno,’ she said. ‘Some of the moments today, when you took charge, I resented you for it — but I also admired you for it. I wish I had your confidence, Jacob, your self-assurance.’
‘You do.’ Striker leaned forward, made sure he had her full attention. ‘There’s two kinds of people in this world, Feleesh. Them and Us. Too many of Them give in and break.’
‘That’s how I feel sometimes.’
‘Bullshit. We’re the other kind.’
‘Other kind?’
‘The survivors. And you showed that every minute of the day today, whether you were shooting it out with those gunmen or investigating Red Mask’s disappearance. You did good, Feleesh. You came through. Hell, we both did.’
Felicia exhaled and a grin found her lips. ‘It’s good to hear you say that.’ She leaned across the couch, nearer to him. ‘I guess there comes a time when you just have to let go.’
Let go.
The words hit home, and Striker nodded slowly. He looked at her for a long moment, with so many emotions colliding in his heart, ones he couldn’t find the right place for. Everything was a mixed-up jumble.
‘You never really know what someone’s made of till your life’s on the line,’ he said. ‘Well, today you really came through for me. Gave me cover when I was down and out. And I’ll never forget that.’
She reached up and placed her palm against his cheek. Her skin was warm. Soft. Tender.
‘What happened, Jacob? What happened to us?’
He let out a heavy breath. ‘You were so bitchy in the mornings.’
‘Be serious.’
He leaned back and her hand fell away. ‘It was just… just too soon. After Amanda’s death.’
‘Too soon for you? Or for Courtney?’
Striker looked away. ‘Does it matter?’
‘Everything matters. You know, Jacob, life would be a lot easier if Courtney knew the truth.’ When he didn’t respond, Felicia said, ‘She still doesn’t know, does she?’
Striker stared at the fire. ‘No.’
‘Amanda was her mother. Harsh or not, she deserves to know the whole story.’
‘I’m going to tell her.’
‘When?’
‘When she’s sixty.’
‘This isn’t a joke. It’s been — what, twenty months since the woman died, and-’
‘Leave it alone, Felicia. Please. For once just leave it alone.’
‘I want to, Jacob, I always want to. But where does that leave us?’
The words hit him strangely, made him feel empty and alone and desperately in need of companionship. He stared back at Felicia. Saw tenderness in her eyes. And the soft wetness of her open mouth. He wanted her now more than ever. He reached out and pulled her close.
And she came easily.
She was breathing hard, her ribs rising and falling against his hands. She felt good. So real, so alive. He kissed her lips, tasted the hot booze in her mouth, the slipperiness of her tongue. Heard her say, ‘I want you, Jacob.’
She straddled him, and her long dark hair spilled across his neck and shoulders, sent tingles through his body. It made him hard, so hard he could feel the blood pulsing through his body. He pulled her into him, until her firm breasts pushed against his chest, and her thighs ground into his hips. Her inner thighs squeezed him tight, and he could feel her warmth there.
‘I want you,’ she said, over and over again.
He unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it back off her body, revealing a lacy purple bra, which fitted snugly against her caramel breasts. In one quick movement, he reached up and tore the straps off her shoulders. He slid the bra down, away from her breasts, exposing the curve of her nipples. They were large, hard, erect, and he kissed them. Licked them softly.
‘I want you inside me,’ she said.
He reached down, broke open the front of her pants, and loosened them from her waist; she helped him. When they were partway down her hips, Striker reached around her waist to the small of her back, felt the silky thin strap of her panties and ran his fingers down, reaching lower and lower until he felt warmth and wetness and ‘I can’t believe it!’ Courtney screamed.
In a flash, Felicia rolled off of him and spun away towards the fireplace. She tried to cover herself up, adjust her clothes.
Striker sat there, frozen, and looked down the hall to where Courtney was standing in her sleepwear. Her hands were at her sides, balled into fists. Her eyes were afire.
‘Courtney,’ he started.
‘Mom’s dead not even two years.’
‘Listen to me.’
‘And you’re with that woman?’
‘Listen to me.’
‘I can’t believe you — you’ve already fucked her, haven’t you? Haven’t you? You fucked her!’ She threw her cell phone across the room, the device slamming against the old white plaster of the east wall.
‘That’s enough, goddammit!’
Courtney flinched at the roar of Striker’s words. Then she regained her composure; her defiance. She shook her head slowly, as if disgusted, and after a moment, she spun about and fled back to her bedroom. The door slammed shut behind her, she screamed out ‘I HATE you!’ and Striker could hear things being thrown around the room.
Striker stood up from the couch. He looked at the bedroom door and hesitated, wondering what to do. Finally, he turned to Felicia, who was still tidying herself up.
‘Should I go after her, or not?’
Felicia did up the last button of her shirt, let out a frustrated sound. ‘Just leave her be, Jacob. Give her some space and time. She needs it.’
He rubbed his hands on his face, felt the frustration spreading through him like a hot fever. This wasn’t fair. Goddammit, none of this was fair. He’d done everything right as a husband. Done his best as a father. And no matter how hard he tried with relationships, no matter what he did, he failed. Always. Utterly and completely.
And Courtney was suffering because of it.
His resilience crumbled away. He moved over by the fire and came up to Felicia. He reached for her hands. Hesitated. Then he let his own hands fall to his sides.
‘Look. I’m sorry. Really. I should never have started-’
‘I should go.’
‘Go? But it’s past midnight and you live way out off Commercial. Just stay here for the night.’
Felicia glanced down the hall. ‘That is not a good idea.’
‘It’s the only idea.’ He grabbed her gently, turned her around. ‘You can use the spare bedroom, the one in the basement. There’s a shower down there, too. Hell, I think you still have some clothes here.’
Felicia looked out the window, at the heavy darkness of the night.
‘Just stay,’ Striker pleaded. ‘I’m asking you to. Please.’
She said nothing for a moment, just stood there, as if mulling the idea over. After a long moment, she tucked the tails of her shirt back into her pants, adjusted her belt, and muttered, ‘Fine.’
‘Good. I want you here.’
