Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5), стр. 47

“You found your calling, my friend.”

“I guess I have.”  After intertwining his hands, he stretched his arms out in front of himself, cracking his knuckles as we continued walking.  “What about you?  Have you figured out what you’re gonna be when you grow up yet?”

“No.  It sucks.  And it’s crunch time.  I’ve got to figure that out before spring registration.”

“Better hurry.”

“Yeah.  You’re lucky you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”

“How’re you holding up, by the way?”

“Okay.  The psychologist is promising me that she and Sarah are still making good progress, even though she doesn’t have any definitive answers.”

“Give it time.”  When we reached the parking lot, we paused next to my van, and then I noticed that Justin had parked his truck in the spot right next to my vehicle.

And to think I’d been worried.

“So how was your date, Rascal?”

I laughed with the realization that now I finally had an opportunity to talk about what had happened and yet I wanted to confide none of it to him.  But we’d always been so open, so honest, so upfront with each other because we had nothing to lose—and that made it impossible for me to hold anything back.  “Shit.  Weird.”  Opening the passenger door to the van, I tossed in my backpack after pulling out a cigarette.  Then I leaned against the van.  “Really weird.”

“Yeah?  How so?”

“Oh, God.  Where do I even start?”  I lit the cigarette and took a long drag.  “First of all, we went to that French restaurant downtown.”

“Yeah?”

“The whole menu is in freaking French.  I don’t know French.”

“Uh, it’s a French restaurant, darlin’.”

“Yeah, but Mexican restaurants don’t have all Spanish in them.”

“So you think enchilada is an English word?”

His silliness made me chuckle and helped me relax even more.  After sticking my tongue, I said, “You know what I mean.”

“Okay.  So what else was so strange besides the foreign menu?”

“Well, this guy, who, up to this point, seemed pretty laid back—you know, sweaters, khaki pants, loafers—wore a suit.  I felt really underdressed.”

“That’s weird?  Well, maybe the loafers…”

“It just added to the whole strangeness of the evening.”

“What else?”

My cheeks felt slightly warm and I debated with myself if I wanted to say more.  Already I felt loads better just talking to Justin about the evening, so I decided to leave it at that.  “Just a bunch of other crazy stuff.”

“That’s not vague.”

Blowing another puff of smoke from my mouth, I looked down at the pavement as the words simply gushed out of my mouth, my brain unable to stop them.  “He fucking tied me up.”

“What?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re serious.  Where?”

“On his bed.”

“Oh.”  When he didn’t say anything else, I finally looked up, dreading to see his expression—but the only indication that he also thought it was weird was the way he’d raised his eyebrows.  “Hand me one of your cancer sticks, wouldja?  Guess that is pretty weird for a first date.  How long have you known this guy?”

I handed him a cigarette and lighter.  “Not long enough for that shit.”

“So I take it there’s no second date?”

“I’m not planning on one.”  Fucking A.  I’d really said all that.  To Justin?  Damn him.  Why was he so easy to talk to?

“Yeah, I mean, save the tying-up shit for at least the third date, right?”

In spite of myself, I laughed hard and couldn’t answer at first.  “At least.”

“How come you and me never did anything like that?” As he sucked down smoke, he gave me a sideways glance.

“Are you into that?”

“Not really.  But I’m game for trying anything once.  Twice even.”

“You mean to tell me none of the girls you’ve ever been with haven’t tried something like that with you?”

“I didn’t say that.  Once I dated a woman who liked to play dominatrix.  So I’ve been tied up pretty good once or twice.”

“TMI, man.”

“Fair’s fair, Rascal.”  Tossing the cigarette butt on the ground, he stomped on it.  “Guess I better let you go home to your kiddos.”

“Yeah.  I need to.”  After I threw my spent cigarette butt on the asphalt as well, Justin hugged me, and I probably held on longer than I should have.  “It was good talking to you.  I mean that.”

“I know.”  We finally released one another.  “See ya later.”

I slept a whole lot better that night.  My friend was back.

* * *

The next day, I wasn’t quite sure how it happened, but Kevin and I were chatting and planned a second date.  This time, though, it was going to be a family game night—I’d cook and he’d bring something to go with.  Because he really was a nice guy, even with his strange bedroom proclivities, I needed someone nice in my life.

This was good.  This would help me keep Justin firmly in the friend zone so maybe my heart could let him go.

The rest of the universe, however, had other plans.

I was into my second hour of studying late that morning when my cell rang.  It wasn’t a number I recognized, but with all that had happened with Sarah lately, I wasn’t about to ignore any calls.  When I answered, there was silence on the line for a few seconds, long enough that I almost hung up.

But then a female voice asked, “Is this Randi?”

“Yes.”

“Or, should I say, Rascal?”

“Who is this?”  I refrained at the moment from using the F word.

“This is Chelsea, Justin’s girlfriend.”  My hackles rose at the emphasis the little twit placed on the last word.  Girlfriend.  Sure, Justin had girlfriends, but I’d seen him blow through at least a dozen of them in the short time we’d been friends.  The word girlfriend didn’t have as much import as this woman seemed to think.  No matter.  I bit my tongue while she continued chattering.  “You were in his cell with just your first name and a hell of a texting history.  I’d like to know why you rate all that, Randi.”  Chelsea said my name with so much contempt that I found myself glaring at nothing in particular in my kitchen.

But I managed to