Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 127476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 637(@200wpm)___ 510(@250wpm)___ 425(@300wpm)
Karissa has friends over again.
Unlocking the door, I step inside, immediately seeing the three of them. Karissa is sitting on the living room couch with Melody on one side of her, a surprising face on the other. I stare at the blonde visitor for a moment, stunned by her presence. Brandy.
Ray's girlfriend.
Guess befriending Karissa took precedence over Ray today.
"Hey," Karissa greets me, her voice tentative. "Look who we ran into today."
I'm not sure if she's nervous about my reaction, or if she's just not at ease with her company, but her apprehension is clear. Instead of questioning it, I offer a strained smile. "Hello."
"Vitale," Brandy says as she glances around. "Nice house."
Before I can respond, Melody chimes in, jumping to her feet. "Well, it's getting late, so I ought to get to getting, you know." She strolls my way, pausing in front of me. "Looking good, Ignazio. Can't wait to see what you look like in a penguin suit."
I regard her warily as she pats my chest, running her hand along the folds of my suit coat. Karissa grumbles, telling her friend to stop it, but Melody laughs it off.
"I should go, too," Brandy says, standing up. She avoids looking at me as she brushes past, heading for the door behind Melody. "We should share a cab back to Manhattan, Mel."
"Absolutely," Melody says, flashing a smile back at us. "You be good, kids. Drugs are bad, m'kay?"
I stare at them, watching as they leave the house. Karissa stands up once they're gone and strolls over, relocking the front door behind them.
"Sometimes I'm not sure if I even speak the same language as that girl," I say, pulling off my coat. "It feels like she's speaking in code."
Karissa smiles sheepishly. "I don't think even Melody knows what she's saying most of the time."
I unbutton my cuffs. "Penguin suit? Is that what I think it is?"
"Yeah, we were, uh..." Her cheeks flush. "They asked about the wedding."
"Did you set a date for it yet?"
"No."
Nodding, I walk past her, into the den, and kick off my shoes right in the doorway. I drop my coat down on the arm of the couch before plopping down on the cushion, stretching my legs out as I lay my head back. A slight pain knocks at my temples, the onset of a headache from hours of stressful interrogation.
"Are you okay?" Karissa asks, following me.
"Just a bit of a headache," I respond, watching her as she sits down beside me. "Long day."
"I bet," she says, tucking her feet up on the couch beneath her as she shifts her body to face me. "I thought you'd be home early, but I figured… well, I just assumed you were… working."
Working. She says the word tentatively, barely a whisper from her lips. Her eyes are peeled to my face, narrowed contemplatively, like there are questions she wants to ask but might not want to hear the answers to.
"I had a drink with Ray this afternoon," I offer, hoping she won't ever ask me the tough questions about how exactly I fill my hours. "I would've been home hours ago, but I ran into a little predicament."
"What sort of predicament?"
"The law enforcement kind."
Her eyes widen slightly, but she doesn't push for more of an explanation. Instead, she shifts around on the couch, positioning herself to lie on me, settling under my arm with her head against my chest. Sighing, I pull her tighter to me, kissing the top of her head before closing my eyes.
"I hope you don't mind I had company," she says quietly. "I made sure they didn't go in the den… or anywhere, really, except for where they were."
"It's fine," I say. "I was just surprised to see Brandy here. I wasn't aware she was a friend of yours."
"She's not… not really. Melody and I ran into her at the café. Turns out her and Melody know a lot of the same people. She actually knows Melody's dad, oddly enough, met him through work ages ago. I guess she worked with the Wall Street crowd or something. I don't even know what she does for a living."
"Ray."
I feel her lift her head up. Peeking an eye open, I see she's looking at me incredulously.
"Ray?"
"She does Ray for a living."
A moment of silence passes before it seems to strike her what I'm saying. She gasps, shoving against me. "Really?"
Laughing, I shrug a shoulder. "He pays her bills and gives her an allowance in exchange for being at his beck and call. She doesn't have to work, since Ray takes care of her. And before Ray, there were other men… one, I assume, being Mr. Carmichael."
"You mean she, uh… that she's a…"
She can't even say the word.
"She's a professional girlfriend," I say, choosing the nicest of the terms. I'd usually call her a whore, but I'm not in the business of offending Karissa's potential friends. I have nothing against Brandy, per se. I barely know her, have no interest in knowing her, but Ray trusts the girl for some inexplicable reason, so she can't be too terrible. After all, it might help Karissa to befriend someone connected to the life, and maybe it'll help Ray come around to my side of things. Ray's a sucker for his Baby Doll. If she likes Karissa, Ray will be more likely to warm up to her himself.
"But she seems so… sweet," Karissa says incredulously. "I mean, I knew she was with Ray and all, and that he's, well… and she's his, you know… but I thought what they had was genuine."
"It is," I reply. "We do what we have to do to survive, Karissa. Ray won't marry her, but it doesn't mean he won't give her a good life. And they're not alone. Men like Ray view wives as obligations. They're possessions. They treat them like work, like it's their job to care for them. Ray probably fucks his wife once a month, if that, but he's with Brandy almost every night. Because Brandy is where he wants to be. She's not an obligation. She's his happiness."