Born Again Page 13

  Brit took Naomi’s hand, led her into the living room. I followed furiously behind. When they came across my Doritos and wine, Naomi laughed. “I think they’re meant to be shared,” she said.

  I shot her a look loaded with bullets, because daggers simply weren’t enough.

  “She’s addicted to those things,” Brit explained. “Sometimes she doesn’t cook, she just pours a packet of those down her throat and calls it a day.”

  I’m gonna strangle you in your sleep. I don’t know when, maybe tomorrow night, maybe the night after, but it’s coming.

  “Not a very good diet, Dakota.” Naomi shook her head as though telling me off. Why did she have to be so damn sexy? “May I use your bathroom?”

  “Sure. It’s the middle room round the corner,” Brit said.

  Once I heard the bathroom door shut, I turned a venomous glare at Brit. “What the hell is wrong with you? You can’t just bring her here like this.”

  Brit helped herself to a handful of my Doritos. I resented that. “What? The restaurant was closer to ours than hers.”

  “Couldn’t you have warned me she was coming?” Judas, eating my potato chips, and she’d probably go on to eat something else I wanted... I felt like slapping them out of her hands.

  “Sorry, Daiquiri. I honestly didn’t think it would be such a big deal. You guys are cool, aren’t you?”

  “She’s my boss!” What about this wasn’t she getting? “I don’t want her in my home.”

  Brit looked taken aback, a little hurt. “And she’s my girlfriend. So I can’t ever bring her here? Dude, come on. How’s that fair?”

  I rolled my eyes, then rolled them again. It wasn’t fair, none of it was. And Naomi was to blame for all of it. She’d created this mess.

  “All right, fine. I’m going to bed.” I snatched up my wine and chips just as she went to take another handful. “Get your own.”

  I heard her cackling as I stormed off to my bedroom.

  I’m not a masochist, I swear. But what I put myself through that night by refusing to wear headphones was nothing short of masochistic. Even with the bathroom separating our bedrooms, I was still able to hear their love-making. Giggling, moaning, whispering, more moaning. I’d heard Brit in the throes of passion enough times to know she was making the lion’s share of the noises. And she sounded positively ravaged. I’d never envied anyone more than I did Brit that night.

  I would have cried myself to sleep, if I’d been able to get any. So the tears came sans the slumber. It went on for a couple of hours, then the room went quiet. About ten minutes later, I heard Brit’s door creak open. I knew it wasn’t her sneaking out. Brit did everything loud and aggressively — she didn’t know how to sneak.

  I jumped out of bed, opened my door quietly, and saw Naomi, now dressed, creeping away. Brit’s snoring travelled through the closed door.

  I confronted Naomi while she was putting on her heels by the front door. “Why would you do this?” I kept my voice low to be on the safe side.

  Startled, “What are you doing up?”

  “You might be my boss, but this is my apartment, and you don’t get to ask me questions here.”

  She raised an eyebrow. My outburst only humored her. “Okay, you’re the boss here. Got it.” She smiled to herself.

  “You think this is all a joke, don’t you? Coming here, fucking her so that I can hear—”

  “That’s not what hap—”

  “You must really hate me. And you know what, I’m starting to hate you too. But I guess that’s what you wanted.”

  Her smile faded. I stormed off to the kitchen to get some water. I heard her heels approaching.

  “I’m... sorry.”

  I slammed the refrigerator door shut. “Yeah, whatever.” I poured myself some water.

  She turned to leave, stopped, turned back to face me. “You might think this is what you want, but it’s not. Trust me.”

  “You don’t know what I want.” I swallowed the water down quickly, afraid that I would throw up. The crows were at it again. I want you, that’s what I want. I couldn’t say it, but she already knew. I said something else instead. “And apparently you don’t know what you want either.”

  She narrowed her eyes at me. “What is that supposed to mean?”

  “I know you were engaged to a guy. See, we all have false starts.”

  She frowned, then laughed as though I’d said the stupidest thing. “I don’t know who you got that idea from, though I can guess, but I can assure you I was never engaged to a man. I’ve never even slept with one before.”

  It was my turn to frown. “Then what about the baby?”

  I’d never seen someone go from laughing to scowling so rapidly. “That’s none of your goddamn business! And if you want to keep your job, you’ll remember that.” With that, she charged out of the apartment, leaving a cloud of confusion in her wake.

  THIRTEEN

  Packing light was a new concept to me. I didn’t own an overnight bag of any description, owned just one large suitcase that never got used, and had to borrow Brit’s small hold-all on the rare occasion I took any short trips. This time was no different.

  “What should I even pack for a trip like this?” I said, staring into the abyss of the empty diamanté studded pink and black hold-all on my bed. It was Friday afternoon, we’d been allowed to leave work early in order to make the two-hour drive to the hotel in good time. Saeed was picking me up in half an hour and I still didn’t know what I was bringing.

  Brit, who’d just got back from her shift at the jewelry store, sat on the edge of my bed, slurping a milkshake and being unhelpful.

  “Something warm,” was her contribution.

  I raided my panty drawer, stuffed several pairs into the bag, then did the same for my bras. You could never have too much underwear.

  “This is silly. I should just call Saeed and tell him I’m sick. They can’t force me to go on this stupid trip.” I stuffed in some jeans, some jogging bottoms. Already the bag was nearing its capacity.

  “You’re, like, insane! You get to go on an all-expenses paid skiing trip to Crystal Mountain, while some of us have to work. If you’re looking for sympathy, you won’t find it here, Daiquiri.”

  She was right, I shouldn’t have been complaining. I could still enjoy two nights in a five-star hotel, and stay far away from the slopes. I’d checked out the lodgings online, and the rooms looked amazing. The company had spared no expense.

  “Everyone’s apparently an expert skier, can you believe that? I feel so sheltered.” I picked out a couple of my favorite sweaters and loaded them in.

  “Naomi said she goes a couple times a year across the border, when she’s visiting family. I bet she kicks ass on those slopes.”

  She let out a contented sigh, her eyes suddenly dreamy. I didn’t ask, though I had my suspicions that she was in love with Naomi. In our seven years of friendship I’d never seen her this committed, this involved and invested in one person. Not with Wesley, the guy with ‘the monster shlong’, nor with Georgie, the biker guy covered in tattoos who could go for hours, nor Adrian, the guy who gave head like he’d been starved all his life and her vagina was his first meal. Everything was Naomi this, Naomi that, and they’d only been together six weeks.

  Whenever she brought her up, I bristled. She knew so much about her, the little details that you learned early on in a relationship, the things I didn’t know. I was on the outside peering in through frosted windows. Sure, we’d had sex, but I didn’t have her — Brit did. She wasn’t mine, and it killed me.

  “This will be our first weekend away from each other,” she went on, as she often did when Naomi was brought up. Once she started she couldn’t stop. “I’m already getting withdrawal symptoms.”

  I rolled my eyes but she didn’t see. “You’ve only been together six weeks, not six years. Jesus!”

  She looked hurt. Got up to leave. “Well excuse me for missing my girlfriend.”

  I said noth
ing. Truth is, had I been in her place instead of the hapless admirer who’d only been afforded one impersonal session in Naomi’s office, I would have felt the same. Naomi was a woman you missed no matter how long she was away for.

  “Well I think I’m ready,” I said fifteen minutes later, heavy hold-all in hand. I found Brit in the living room, on the couch.

  “Hey, I don’t wanna be that guy, but...” Brit started, wincing a little, “could you let me know if anyone, like, comes snooping around... Naomi? If she, like, has any company...”

  My eyes bugged. I stared at her in wide-eyed shock. “You want me to spy on her? No way!”

  “Not spy, just, you know, let me know if you see anything. That’s all.”

  “Forget it!” I don’t know why I was so outraged. The whole thing just seemed so dirty. “Anyway, you guys aren’t exclusive, she can see whoever she wants.”

  Brit sulked. “I kinda don’t want that.” It was just as I’d suspected. Brit was hooked; she wanted the real deal. How had this happened?

  “Does she know?”

  She shook her head, maintaining her pout. “I don’t think it’s her thing.” She laughed without humor. “Can you believe I’m the one who wants to be monogamous? Me!”

  My phone started ringing. I fished it out of my jeans pocket. Saeed. He must have been waiting downstairs in the car.

  “I have to go,” I said. I patted her on the shoulder. “Cheer up. It’s one weekend, not forever.”

  Saeed and I did a joint squee as we pulled into the driveway of the grand Crystal Mountain Excalibur Lodge. A 64-room paradise complete with a sauna, an indoor pool, and what the Tripadvisor reviews said was some of the best cuisine in Washington State. It sat just ten minutes from the slopes, a bonus for anyone interested in partaking. It could have been ten hours away from them for all I cared.

  Darkness had fallen by the time we arrived, so it was impossible to spot any familiar cars in the parking lot.

  We seized our bags and headed jubilantly inside to the front desk.

  The receptionist, a grandma type with wire-rimmed glasses and wispy gray hair she wore in a bob, grinned at us. “Are you with the Papyrus Vision party?”

  Saeed and I exchanged looks. How could she tell? Was it obvious? Perhaps the usual guests all looked like money. We, on the other hand, looked like exactly what we were: two low-paid employees who’d been treated to the trip.

  She checked us in, handed us the key cards to our rooms. A porter came to collect our bags. More squeeing ensued when we made it to our rooms, directly opposite each other. King-sized beds, balconies with spectacular views of the snowy mountains, jacuzzi-style bathtubs. I imagined this was what Buckingham Palace looked like inside.

  I put my things away, changed into something warmer, because the temperature had dropped considerably. Saeed was waiting outside my room, dressed to impress in a dark gray sweater that buttoned on the shoulder, and skinny black jeans. His jet black quiff freshly moussed. I felt like a pauper beside him. It was just dinner, so I’d opted for something casual and comfortable, but seeing him made me question my decision.

  “Five minutes,” I said to him, running back into my room to change again.

  I emerged a few minutes later in the one dress I’d stuffed in at the last minute — a simple black number, teamed with dark brown shrug.

  “Ooo, nice. Who are you trying to impress?” Saeed cooed.

  “No one,” I said. “I have a boyfriend, remember?”

  “You don’t talk about him much.”

  So he’d noticed. Ever since my stepping back from church, Colin and I had been distant. I wasn’t even sure if we were still together. We still kissed when we saw each other, but more out of habit than passion.

  I didn’t go into any of that with Saeed, preferring to keep up the appearance of my straightness. As long as I had a boyfriend, no one would ever suspect a thing about my feelings for our boss.

  The dining hall was one of two; large, tastefully decorated, with a rustic feel to it, just like the rest of the hotel. A cabin-feel. The tables seated twos and fours. A fire burned. Cutlery clattered, people chattered. I spotted Gaynor with Reece, one of our coworkers, at a four-seater. We joined them.

  A waiter handed me and Saeed a menu.

  “So this place, huh?” Gaynor said, gobbling down her meal. Whatever it was looked and smelled divine.

  “How much do you think it cost?” Saeed said.

  Unlike them, I’d done my research. Even with the discount for large bookings, it still would have set the company back a good few thousand. And that didn’t even include the park tickets.

  “At least twenty grand for all thirty-six of us. The senior executives probably got suites as well, and those were six hundred a pop.”

  They blinked big and wide.

  “Twenty grand! Wow, we’re loved,” Gaynor said.

  I recognized a few faces from Louis Sumpter and Flavio Constantini’s teams, as they found their tables. Everyone stuck to their own teams.

  As the waiter took our orders, my eyes wandered around the room, searching for Naomi. No one had mentioned her, and I wondered if she would show up.

  “So, is our fearless leader here already?” I asked as casually as I could, grabbing a breadstick and chomping on it.

  “I haven’t seen her,” Reece said. “She’ll turn up fashionably late like she always does.”

  “Maybe she’ll come early tomorrow morning, in time to hit the slopes,” Saeed offered.

  “Dakota, you can get lessons before you start, if you’re still feeling uneasy. They offer beginner lessons up there,” Gaynor said.

  I shook my head. “Nope, I’m not skiing. While you guys are freezing your butts off, I’ll be relaxing in the heated pool, or drinking a green smoothie in the jacuzzi.”

  Saeed turned to me. “You know Naomi won’t let you sit this out.”

  “She can’t make me ski.”

  The whole table erupted in laughter, as though I’d told the funniest one-liner ever written.

  “Have you met Naomi?” Gaynor said, once she’d stopped laughing. “She can make you do anything.” She said it with a mixture of fear and awe. None of these people had ever challenged Naomi, had ever told her no. Well I would. I was adamant that no one would get me onto those slopes, not even God himself.

  Early the next morning the room phone rang, wrenching me from my slumber.

  I reached for it blindly. “Hello?”

  “Rise and shine,” Saeed’s perky voice greeted me. “We’re getting ready to head down to the slopes. There’s a coach leaving at eight. You got half an hour.”

  “What about ‘I’m not going’ didn’t you understand?” The sleep was heavy in my throat.

  He laughed. “Suit yourself. Have fun in the jacuzzi.”

  I went back to sleep.

  I didn’t know how long I was out for when I heard thunderous knocking on my door. Once again, dragged from my slumber, I furiously went to open the door. And woke the fuck up.

  “Why aren’t you down by the slopes?” Naomi asked, folding her arms across her chest. Her brunette locks had been styled into a French plait that hung across one shoulder, and fell right over her breast, which looked, along with its twin, succulent in a tight-fitting black three-quarter-length sweater. She looked incredible, her cinnamon colored lips full and inviting. And there I stood, teeth and hair unbrushed, in a night gown that was too big for me. What a disaster!

  “Why aren’t you down there?” I challenged.

  “I just got here. I’m catching the next coach, and I expect to see you on it.”

  “I don’t ski,” I said.

  “You start today.”

  I met her fierce glare with my own, but she always won that battle, forcing me to look away first.

  “You... you can’t force me to—”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  I shouldn’t have found any of this exchange sexy, but oh boy did it make me flustered, hot in all th
e wrong places. That determination in her eyes, like she would eat me alive if I thought about defying her.

  “Fine,” I conceded. “You wanna see me break my neck and every other bone in my body.”

  Her smirk was victorious. “Don’t be so dramatic.” As she walked away, “Half nine, no later. Right out front.”

  “Yes, Miss Pierre,” I said in that singsong way you did at school.

  We sat together on the twelve-seater coach, her leg grazing mine every now and then. I peered out at the breathtaking mountain scenery, trying not to cream my pants!

  “And here I thought this was supposed to be a treat for a job well done,” I mumbled to myself.

  She sniffed a laugh. “You’re the only person who doesn’t like skiing.”

  “I’ve had enough danger to last me a lifetime. I try not to go looking for it.”

  I could sense her eyes on me, could see her reflection in the window.

  “Why do you say that?” Softness. She was capable of it, but rarely adopted it.

  “Because it’s true.”

  “Are you going to elaborate?”

  I took a breath, then shook my head. “No.” Even now, when we were at loggerheads, I was still tempted to tell all to her, leaving nothing out. Maybe because I still, to that day, saw her as the woman in the cafe who’d listened intently as I babbled about myself.

  After a while, she said, “You’re not going to die, and you’re not going to get hurt, all right? I won’t let it happen.”

  When I turned to look at her, she was staring straight ahead. Purposefully. And in that moment I knew I could finally admit to myself what I’d always known deep down: I was madly, deeply, irreparably in love with her.

  The instructor gave me the creeps. He was an Austrian man in his fifties, sounded like Arnold Schwarzenegger, and was a bit too hands on for my liking. When he said my posture was bad, he insisted on showing me exactly how to stand by touching me every chance he got.

  “Your hips are not positioned properly,” he would say, then promptly grab me by the waist.

  On his fourth attempt to cop a feel, I stopped him. “I’m good,” I said, my glare making him back off.