Page 17 of Demise

I’m sure Mae could see the disappointed look on my face. After all, she was not the woman I wanted to see. I tried to be kind. My intent was never to hurt her, and from the time when Bexley mentioned I’d been cruel, I told myself that I’d be more careful with her feelings.

Is it because of Bexley or because of Mae?

That’s cloudy to me.

Nevertheless, I informed Mae there was no need in her visiting any more. One time was enough. I simply didn’t want to lead her on when it’s unnecessary. Obviously, I’d been doing that for quite some time, as Bexley also pointed out.

Truthfully, I’d been lonely. I didn’t enjoy the cheap women at the clubhouse as some of the others did. Their perfume and trashy outfits didn’t appeal to me. I don’t have to guess as to why. The only woman I’ve ever wanted is far from cheap.

I look over at Sweep. “Enough goddamn flowers in here to fill a funeral home.”

He doesn’t look away from the window.

“Hmm,” he agrees. “Everyone wanted to pay their respects. It’s custom.”

“I know it’s custom.”

He stares ahead.

“Sweep, if you keep looking out that goddamn window, I’m gonna smack you in the back of the head.”

He looks over at me with narrowed eyes, and then he lifts his chin. “Come give it a try,” he says, signaling with his fingers.

I chuckle, regretting it instantly. I readjust myself, wincing when I do.

“You okay?” he asks.

“No,” I say. “I’m not okay. You keep tiptoeing around me like I’m going to break. I got hurt, but by God’s grace, I’m going to heal. So, get the fuck over it.”

“If I would have gone missing…” he begins, but then he shuts his mouth.

“It goes without saying, Johnny.” It’s not often I use his birth name. We tend to stick to our given names, the ones Moretti bestowed upon us.

Moretti.

Hmm. That’s another matter.

Where is he? Where are his respects?

Sweep sighs, his eyes going to the floor.

Moretti will wait. First,mywoman.

“How is Bexley?” I ask.

He looks to me. “She left,” he says.

“Left?” I feel my brow furrow. “The fuck you meanleft?” I go to move, but wince once again.

“Take it easy, man. She’s fine.”

“Where is she? Who the fuck is watching out for her?”

He doesn’t respond, clearly annoyed with my assumption that he would let her go out into Postings without surveillance on her.

I settle, realizing I’m overreacting. I exhale, disheartened that she didn’t say she was leaving. I would’ve liked to have seen how she was doing. How she looked. Obviously, the feeling wasn’t mutual.

Of course not. She’s probably glad to be home and away from me. She probably can’t wait to go back to her and Samuel’s house and get back into a routine, or hell, maybe she’s thinking about selling the house and moving away from me altogether.

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