You've Been Warned - James Patterson [19]
“Miss Kristin, where are you?”
Sean’s little voice filters in from down the hallway. Michael and I both freeze in place.
“Did you find my Jimmy Neutron socks?” he calls out.
“Tell him you’ll be right there,” whispers Michael, slowly beginning to thrust again.
Feeling every inch of him inside me, I can barely speak. The moment couldn’t be more dangerous.
Or more of a turn-on.
The socks are still in my hand, and I squeeze them tight as my body tenses, quivering.
“Miss Kristin?” Sean calls out again. “Are you there?”
Michael takes hold of my hips, thrusting faster and deeper, faster and deeper. My head whips back, my toes curl, and then my entire body completely lets go.
“I’m coming!”
5
Chapter 25
CONNIE SQUINTS AND MAKES a funny face, which is just what I need right now: funny. “They really should pass out flashlights with the menus, don’t you think?”
“Either that or pay the electric bill,” jokes Beth.
My two best New York friends and I share a knowing laugh, keenly aware that our restaurant of choice this evening — the very dimly lit and ultrahip Bond Street — is a far cry from our usual, more modest haunts. In the heart of downtown, the place offers Japanese cuisine at its trendiest and most expensive. The sake alone goes for twenty dollars a serving. Yikes!
I raise my palms. “Speaking of paying the bill, what on earth are we doing here?”
“You said you needed a night out, Kris, so I figured we’d splurge a little,” says Connie. “You’re worth it, sweetheart. Besides which, the Abbott Show is going to call any day now, any second, so we’re pre-celebrating.”
I glance down at the menu with its skyrocket prices before looking back up at Beth, the struggling actress, and Connie, the social worker with the city’s Division of Family Services.
We’re splurging, all right.
“So how’s the Pencil?” Beth asks.
“Thin and mean as ever,” I answer.
“Why doesn’t she like you, Kristin? I don’t get it. Who wouldn’t like you?”
“Actually, I’m not sure Penley likes anyone. After two years, though, you’d think she’d at least trust me with the kids.”
Connie chimes in with a smile. “She probably thinks you’re writing the sequel to The Nanny Diaries.”
We all laugh at that one.
“Seriously, if you hate this wretch of a woman so much, why do you keep working for her?” asks Beth. “This stepmom from hell.”
“The kids,” I reply. “I love them. And they really do need me.”
Never mind their father.
There have been so many times I’ve wanted to tell Beth and Connie about my affair with Michael. Maybe I haven’t because I’m embarrassed or ashamed — which I am. Or maybe because I know what they would say — “Be careful, Kristin; you could really get hurt” — and I don’t want to hear it. Especially because they could be more right than I’m willing to admit.
So I keep Michael to myself. From time to time I tell the girls about having a few dates with some made-up guy. The script is always the same: he seems so promising at first and then turns out to be a loser of one kind or another. At no point do Beth and Connie question my continuing bad luck with men because such is life for a single girl in Manhattan.
Or is that true everywhere? It was definitely that way for me in Boston.
“What can I get you this evening?” asks our waiter, almost sneaking up on us. He’s dressed in black, head to toe.
The three of us order a small feast, and when it arrives everything is delicious. At least, I’m pretty sure it is. With all the drinks we’re also having, my taste buds are getting a little numb.
And I’m starting to get buzzed.
Soon there’s no recurring dream, no weird pictures in my darkroom, and no guilt over Michael and me in the laundry room this morning.
“C’mon,” says Connie, “the night is still young and so are we. This is Kristin’s night!”
We head from the restaurant over to the Luna Lounge on Ludlow Street and check out a band called Johnny Cosine and the Tangents that Beth read about in the Village Voice. What a riot! Four