I feel like a fish out of water because I’ve never known what it’s like to have a group of friends who are generally there for me. When people find out my father was a famous serial killer, they stop talking to me with assumptions I’m going to be like him. Before I moved to New York City, I had two friends, and they didn’t know about my past, but when their parents found out who my parents were, they quickly decided I couldn’t play with their daughters because they didn’t want to be in a body bag. People are judgmental and don’t take the time to get to know you. The only person who really took the time to be my friend after learning about my past is Raven.
I need a break from this intense game, so when they push their chips to the center of the table, I stand up from his lap and stroll to the kitchen to get an orange soda. I swing the fridge door open and peek out the window. When I stroll back to the gaming room and sit on Viper’s lap, they’re all talking shit to each other, even Leo. He seems carefree and loosened up.
The poker game goes on for another three hours, and Leo ends up winning twenty million from the game.
When it’s time for them to go, Amelia asks for my number so we can have a girls’ night. They all say their goodbyes, and Viper shuts the door behind them.
Exhaling, I say, “I like your friends. They seem nice.”
We curl up on the couch, and Viper places my feet into his lap. He massages my heels, and it feels so good.
“How did you meet them?”
“I’ve been friends with Fox since I was a teenager, and Leo and Amelia since my early twenties. They work for an organization that kills for money.”
“Do you and Leo get along? I sense there is some tension between y’all.”
He exhales. “Yes, he’s rough around the edges, and we never see eye to eye. He’s quiet and doesn’t easily trust.”
My insecurity gets the best of me, but I have to ask him about Amelia.
“Have you ever wanted to date Amelia?”
He shakes his head. “Why do you ask?”
My gaze can’t meet his. I’m too embarrassed that I’m slightly jealous of her and her beauty.
I adjust my round glasses on my nose. “She’s powerful, beautiful, graceful, and wealthy. She seems smart.”
“She isn’t my type. She doesn’t have your personality. She’s not down-to-earth, and she’s a bore and very high-maintenance. She requires a lot from the men she dates. She cares about status too much. She comes from a privileged family. Her father invented a luxury electric car line, and her mother is a stay-at-home mom.”
I cock my eyebrow. “Why is she working as a hitwoman?”
“Her parents cut her off from their wealth.” He leans in and rubs his nose in the crook of my neck. “Are you jealous of her?”
“Of course not,” I lie.
“You know you are the only woman for me.”
“I know,” I lie again. I don’t know what we are doing. We keep dancing around the elephant in the room about our relationship. And honestly, I don’t want to address it because I don’t want to get my feelings hurt.
He slides his hand up my thigh and his finger inside of me, and I shudder.
“You know, I thought about you today, I thought about your tight-ass pussy and me coming inside you.”
“Show me, Viper.”
He smiles wickedly, and we remove our clothes and fuck until the sun kisses the sky the next morning.
Autumn
Days pass, and I’ve been entangled with Viper every night, fucking and going out on dates. He takes me to the Brooklyn Bridge, where we run together every morning. We eat at the most expensive restaurants, and he takes me shopping for a few new swimsuits, and then we go to Southampton Beach. He has a beach home there, and it’s one of the loveliest places I’ve ever stayed at. I learned his favorite holiday is the Fourth of July, his favorite season is summer, and he was born with a heart murmur. I also learned he’s allergic to peanuts, and he’s afraid of clowns. My overgrown lover is afraid of clowns. Well, I can’t talk because I’m afraid of spiders and snakes.
Often, I wonder if the relationship between us is too good to be true and I’m waiting for something terrible to happen to us, or if Viper might wake up and not want me anymore. It’s a fear that eats at me daily, and I don’t know how to tell him how I’m feeling. Sometimes, I feel as if I’m way in over my head about our relationship.
I stack the book on the top shelf and move the cart to the next aisle. Mr. Arthur stands next to me as he hands me another book. His hair is combed to the side, and his T-shirt hugs his fat belly.
“You look radiant today.” He smiles, and he eyes me up and down, and it gives me the creeps.
