Page 13 of Lust

I shrug. “There’s nothing to do but laugh.”

As the first bite of loaded burger sinks into my stomach, a small measure of relaxation spreads through my limbs. It seems like the first time I’ve truly breathed in weeks.

“I hate this fucking job.” I shake my head, then glance at Manny. “Not you, though. You’re awesome.”

“Of course.” He waves a hand. “I get it. Gary sucks. Convincing people to buy overpriced crap sucks. Why don’t you just start singing again?”

“It’s not that simple.” Wishing I’d never told Manuel I used to be a singer, I stuff a couple of French fries into my mouth and imagine a world where I could reclaim both my name and my songs.

“We’re still on for the talent show, right? Just Give Me a Reason? I’ve been practicing. The Christmas Party is in two weeks.” He holds up a crisp fry like a microphone. “I’m ready to win ourselves a Big Dill Pickle!”

“Yes, we’re still on.” I roll my eyes at his mention of the corny prizes Henchley’s gives out. “I’ve been practicing, too,” I confess.

Manuel pops his French fry microphone into his mouth and reaches up to give me a high five.

“We’re going to kill it,” he declares.

When I finally get home at six-thirty in the evening, it’s already dark ,and the driveway is empty. I check the mail, knowing my husband never would have remembered. Nothing but a dark green envelope. For once, there’s not even any junk mail.

Just as I’m about to close the box, the glow from a street lamp catches on something deep inside.

My heart thunders in my ears.

A surprise from the Fioravantes? An explosive planted by Brent?

But when I pull the thing out, it doesn’t look like a bomb. It seems too… pretty. Too symmetrically wrapped. Too much like something you’d see in a Christmas display at a jewelry store. Heart still racing, I carry the little box and the dark green envelope into the house.

It’s not until I’ve set them both down on the kitchen table that I see the metal tag fastened to one of the ribbons on the box.

Merry Christmas, Gorgeous.

Who the hell is Gorgeous? I don’t remember Delilah using that nickname in any of her chats with Brent. She doesn’t seem like the type of person who’d call a man Gorgeous.

Could it be from Manuel? He’s the only man these days who’d ever call me gorgeous. Certainly not my husband. Unless, of course, it’s some kind of explosive after all. Cautiously, I shake the gift, listening carefully for telltale rattling noises.

Silence. Nothing but expectant silence.

Well, fuck it. I untie the shiny red ribbon, then grab a butter knife and carefully slice through the tape. If it is for Brent, I’ll be able to wrap it back up. He’ll never notice the difference.

The black velvet box opens silently. My heart stops, then races, vacillating between terror and excitement. When I see the contents, I gasp. Pear-shaped droplets of rich red dangle on gleaming gold posts. They glow like fresh blood against the pearly white cushion beneath.

Rubies.

Who the hell would send me ruby earrings? Someone who knows my real name, that’s who. The fear takes over. It must be the Fioravantes. But what a strange, expensive way to let me know they’ve found me. Each facet of the gems captures the light and reflects it back in a brilliant gleam. These look real, and if they are, they cost a lot of money.

Feeling a little dirty, I take the gift to my room and replace my signature little gold hoops with the ruby droplets. Before even going to look in the mirror, I fold the wrapping paper, carefully peeling off the tape, then wind the red ribbon into a little ball. Both will go in my gift-wrapping bin. I’ll leave no evidence of this mysterious present, not even in the trash. After tucking the metal tag into my underwear drawer, I finally look at myself in the full-length mirror.

The earrings glitter in the dim lamp light of my bedroom.They would look incredible with my old red hair.I tug wistfully at a strand of blond. If this is how the Fioravante brothers decided to remind me of everything they stole from my life, they’ve succeeded. But I don’t care. Let them find me. Meanwhile, I’ll be looking like a million bucks. Merry Christmas, Gorgeous!

The roar of Brent’s truck breaks my fantasy.Shit.I place the ruby earrings carefully back in their box, then tuck it away in my underwear drawer next to the metal tag from the gift. I’m still fastening my gold hoops back into my ears when Brent stumbles through the front door.

“What’s for dinner?” I hear him before I see him. The springs of the sofa creak as he sits down heavily, then the metal tab on a beer can pops and the yeasty tang of cheap beer wafts from the living room.

“I ordered delivery,” I lie, standing in the doorway to the living room. “From the Chinese place we like.” Hastily, I pull out my phone and type in the name of the restaurant.

“Chinese?” Brent huffs. “Fine.”

He finally looks up, a scowl on his face.

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