Creep - Jennifer Hillier [46]
Sheila smiled. “You said that, not me.”
“Fourteen months. What about you?”
“Longer than that.” She pushed her plate away. “Is it helping you so far?”
He started to answer but was interrupted by Jean.
“Thank you. That was quick,” he said, then winked at the older woman as she set down his food and beer. She winked back, a blush seeping into her wrinkles.
When she left, he said to Sheila, “I think so. Maybe not in the traditional sense. It hasn’t been easy. But I’m better than I was.”
“Better in what sense?”
“For starters, I no longer pay for sex.”
She wasn’t surprised. She figured it was something like that.
“I had a problem with prostitutes,” he continued, dumping ketchup onto his burger.
He had long fingers, artist’s fingers, and they reminded her of Ethan’s. She felt a tingle go up her spine, thinking about what fingers like that could do. Stop it.
“It pretty much ended my marriage,” he said.
“Not too many wives can handle that.” Sheila’s smile was sympathetic. “Good for you for getting help.”
“Can I be honest?” James munched on a fry. “I don’t think I would have stopped. Not even after Cheryl—that’s my ex—left me. It was the money that did me in. I was seeing two, three women a week who charged three hundred bucks a pop. I don’t make enough money to afford that indefinitely.”
Jean came back, paying particular attention to James. Sheila watched with amusement as the waitress batted her well-coated eyelashes, giggling like a schoolgirl. Apparently Sheila wasn’t the only one who found James attractive.
“Excuse me, Jean, I never got my Diet Coke with lime.” Sheila favored the waitress with her brightest smile.
Jean pursed her lips, clearly annoyed that Sheila had dared to remind her. “I told the bar. I’ll check on it. And then I’m definitely going on break, so make sure you’s don’t need anything else for a few minutes.” She flashed a smile at James before she stomped away.
“So what about you?” he asked. “What was your problem?”
Sheila waved a hand. “Oh, you know, the usual. Poor impulse control, sex with strangers, blackouts.”
“Pardon? Did you say blackouts? It’s hard to hear in here.” James leaned forward, his dark eyes on hers. “I’ve never heard of that.”
“They’re hard to explain,” Sheila said, then paused.
Why was she discussing this? What was it about strangers that made it so easy to talk about personal, painful things? Was it because they had no stake in it and weren’t emotionally invested in anything that happened to you?
“It’s like I become someone else,” she finally said. “The next day, I can’t remember where I was, who he was, or what we did.” She sipped her soda, mostly ice at this point, and craned her neck to see if Jean was coming with a fresh beverage.
“Do they still happen?” His intense gaze dropped to her lips for a split second before meeting her eyes again.
She felt self-conscious. She’d wiped her mouth while eating and was painfully aware of how washed out she looked without her favorite red lipstick. Not that it should matter whether James thought she looked good or not.
“I don’t engage in those types of activities anymore,” she said.
“So you’re celibate?”
Sheila sucked in a breath at the pointed question.
Instantly his face was troubled. “I’m sorry. Much too personal. Forget I asked.”
“It’s all right.” She licked her lips, fidgeting with her paper napkin. “Let’s just say it’s complicated.”
“Isn’t it always?”
“I’ll be right back.” She stood up and reached for her purse. “Ladies’ room.”
“Sure. I’ll see if I can find out what happened to your Diet Coke.”
“I’ll bet if you sweet-talk Jean, it’ll be here by the time I get back,” Sheila said with a wink.
James laughed. “She does seem to like me, doesn’t she?”
In the restroom, Sheila washed the grease off her hands and applied a fresh coat of lipstick. The color brightened her face instantly and she felt better. On a whim, she dug into her purse and pulled out a small sample of perfume she’d picked up at the mall a few days before. She dabbed a little on her neck, then stood