Page 55 of Bad Enough

When they reached the landing, Sylvan immediately went to the circular window bed and climbed onto it to pull up the shade. She remained there, sitting cross-legged, clutching a pillow, too exhausted to move.

He had said he wanted to look around the space, but his attention was caught by her in the bed. His next words sounded stuck in his throat. “You should try and stay away from the windows as much as possible.”

She watched as he stared at her there, his Adam’s apple going up and down as he swallowed. She wondered if he was imagining her there on the night he directed her masturbation sequence.

Serves him right, if he is.

“So”—he cleared his throat—“do you sleep up here or in your room?”

Crawling to the edge of the bed, she put the pillow off to the side. She stepped down to the floor and stood next to the bed, her left hand crossed over, grabbing her right elbow. “Most of the time, up here. When I get deep into my writing, I tend not to leave. The stairs seem like too much effort. So I just curl up in that bed, nap, and when I wake up, go back to work. I live by myself, and I don’t usually let anyone in except for Kai, so no one really cares. It’s just easier.”

“You’ve locked yourself away.”

“Excuse me?”

“That’s what your house tells me. Layers of protection. The downstairs level is worthy of a glamor magazine. Everything is perfect and in its place. All laid out to the best viewing options and functions. And like those pictures in the magazines, it’s too beautiful to touch.”

He turned to face her full-on. “The second floor is utilitarian. Neat. Still looks nice, but it’s not like downstairs. Functional. But it’s a facade of normalcy. A firewall.”

“This room, though.” He looked around it again. “This is the heart of you.”

Holy Snapchat!

He took slow steps until he was directly in front of her beside the bed. “It’s like the clothes. All the unrestricted, flowing window dressing that creates an image. Then the boning and shaping to keep everything that’s real trapped inside. Strip that all away, that’s when I find you.”

Their eyes met. She felt something trying to escape from inside her.

A yelling of “Yoo-hoo!” from the second floor and a clattering of heavy feet as they came up the winding staircase broke the moment.

“Jumpin’ Jo’Burg, you climb these stairs every day?” Nemo asked Sylvan. Then he turned to TB. “And you? How the hell did you fit up that thing, Incredible Hulk?”

“What do you need, Nauseous?”

“Nothin’,” Nemo answered. “Just letting you know that Henrietta hasn’t seen anything out of the ordinary except for us.” He grinned at his teammate, all teeth and gum-chewing, as he smiled and rocked back and forth on his heels.

“Henrietta?” Sylvan asked.

“Yeah, your neighbor. Nice lady. Said I was very handsome. Said the other boys were, too, but that you”—he clapped TB on the shoulder from behind—“looked like you weren’t feeling so good and maybe needed some castor oil to lighten your mood. Get things moving again.”

Sylvan put her hand over her mouth, but she couldn’t keep the giggle back.

Nemo winked at her. “You need anything, Rapunzel?”

“Rapunzel?” she asked.

“Yes. Beautiful long hair. No other name for ya.”

TB coughed to interrupt the conversation. “Thank you for the update; now go away,” he told Nemo.

“You sure you don’t need anything, Rapunzel?” Nemo directed at her. “Hair brushed out? Shoulders rubbed? Glass of wine?” He looked over at TB, who looked like he might actually be smoldering. Nemo looked at Sylvan and said in front of his hand with a fake whisper, “Need me to help you research any sexy scenes for your books?”

She suppressed a laugh, but just barely. “Thank you, Nemo, but I think I’m fine.”

“Oh, darlin’,” Nemo said. “You are definitely F-I-N-E fine, but this lug? He is not. Henrietta’s right. He really does look like he’s got an upset stomach.” He fake whispered out of the side of his mouth to TB, “I told you not to eat those tourists for breakfast.” Then, to Sylvan, he added, “Maybe I should go get that castor oil Henrietta offered up.”

TB just rolled his eyes.

“He does that a lot,” Nemo told Sylvan, pointing a thumb in TB’s direction. “So grumpy. Very cruel to me in particular. We tried to house-train him, but… they wouldn’t let me put a shock collar on him. Said it was cruelty to animals.”

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