Page 63 of Revive
She pouted, eyes narrowed, and nose scrunched. “Testing me?”
“Absolutely.”
“For how long?”
“I don’t know yet.”
“Then I shall endure. Although,” she cocked an eyebrow. “Paul did offer his services earlier.”
“Oh, did he! And what did you say?”
“I said.” She booped him on the nose. “That I was good with the guy I’d got, so thank you, but no thank you.”
“Good answer.”
“You approve.”
He leaned close so that his lips moved against her ear. “I think I told you, that pussy is mine, and so is your arse, and these lips, and your tits. All of you, in fact. What’s more, I heard you agree.”
“Possessive and territorial. I like it,” she whispered back. “That’s as long as you’re not going to piss on me.”
“Watch it, or I just might…”
Alle went to bed that night wondering why she wasn’t half so perturbed by that thought as she thought she ought to be.
Midway through the following day, a puzzled-looking Ronnie found her working on her laptop in the recording studio. He had two red puffy eyes, and not a hint of make-up on. After getting used to his heavy on the eyeliner look of recent times, it was weird seeing him bare-faced. He looked so young.
“Hangover?”
He nodded and groaned. “Spook asked me to give you this.” He plonked a mid-sized box down before her.
Alle nudged it off her touchpad so she could finish up what she’d been doing before pulling her headphones off. “What is it? Any ideas?”
Ronnie gave a zombie-like shrug. “I was banking on it being a kinktastic gift, so you know, I’d have a reason to get my shit together and be alive.”
“Aw, you poor baby.” She ruffled his hair. “Take some pills.” She fished some out of her purse and handed them over. Ronnie dutifully washed them down with the dregs of her cold tea, while she rattled the package.
Relatively light. Plain box, with no identifiable markings. The lid had a hinge with a magnetic fastening, which opened to reveal a froth of purple tissue paper and a silver envelope. From within it, she drew a small notecard.
“If you can find me, you can kiss me, and touch me in a place I’m very wary of being touched,” Ronnie read the note aloud over her shoulder. “Intriguing. Where doesn’t he like being touched? Why doesn’t he like being touched there?”
He’d woken.
“Ronnie,” she stuffed the note back into the envelope. “Will you piss off?”
He groaned like a teenager who’d just been ordered to put their games controller down and come sit at the table for a family dinner with the grizzlies. “Must I? I’m really fucking bored. Not to mention really curious about what’s in the box. And I have a headache. You can’t be mean to a man with a headache.” His voice warbled in a sing-song fashion.
“I can after I’ve given him pills.”
He fell to his knees before her, hands clamped together as if in prayer. “Please, Alle. Please. Pretty please. I’ll be a good boy, and not comment.”
She sighed, which was promptly taken as consent. The top sheet of tissue paper went sailing out of the box as he snatched at the wrappings. Alle slapped the back of his hand, making a sharp crack.
“Ow,” he complained. “I thought we were friends.”
“My gift! And it’s because we’re friends that I’m allowing you to see what this is, despite all my finely-honed instincts telling me I’m a fool for doing so. So, be a good fucking boy, okay, and keep your mitts away from the box.”
What she got in return was an elastic grin, and him taking a perch on the couch beside the box, one spindly leg crossed over the other, and his back straight, hands in his lap, like he was busting for a pee but about to be called in for a job interview.
