No Way Back. Andrew Gross

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СКАЧАТЬ me an uncomprehending smile, slowly rising.

      “No. I’m not. I know how this must seem. But I just can’t. I’m sorry. It’s just not right.” I blew out a breath. “Curtis, you’re a totally irresistible guy, and I know there’s a part of me that is going to one hundred percent regret this in an hour on the train …” I shook my head. “But I can’t do this with you. I thought it was okay. Even a minute ago it seemed so. But it’s not.” I let my hand fall to his face, and I looked into his confused, almost incredulous eyes. I didn’t know how he was going to react. Clearly, I’d played as much a part as he had in getting us up here.

      The fire in my eyes was suddenly replaced by tears. “I’m so sorry. I just can’t.”

      He blinked.

      I wasn’t sure exactly what was going through him. Confusion. Frustration. Disbelief.

      Absolutely disbelief.

      And there was a moment when I admit it crossed my mind, Shit, Wendy, you’re up here with a guy you don’t know. No telling what he might do now.

      But all he did was take a step back and nod, slowly, resignation seeming to drown the ardor. He glanced down, his jeans undone, my skirt down around my thighs, my black panties drawn. My hand now covering my breasts; breasts that only a moment ago I was willingly offering up to him.

      “I’m totally embarrassed,” I said, putting my other hand in front of my face.

      My face that was now flushed with shame.

      He nodded. Thankfully, not the nod of someone who was about to do something crazy, which I guess, in another situation, could have been the case. More like the nod of someone caught by the total absurdity of what had just happened. Clothes strewn all over the floor. Pants down. Sweat covering both of us. Breathing heavily.

      “No chance this is simply your particular spin on foreplay?” He smiled hopefully. A last-ditch plea.

      “I wish it was.” I shrugged, pushing the hair out of my face. “It would probably make the whole situation a lot easier. Sorry.”

      His nod seemed almost dazed. “Figured it was worth a check.”

      He took the waist of my skirt and shimmied it back up, letting out a deep sigh, as if to say, I can’t believe I’m actually doing this.

      “Thank you,” I said. “You’re really a saint for not making me feel like a total shit.”

      “I’m not sure the word saint exactly applies right now.”

      “You’re right.” I just stood there covering myself, bursting with embarrassment. I shrugged. “I think I need to straighten up.”

      He nodded resignedly. “Bathroom’s over there.”

      About as awkwardly as I’d felt since maybe back in college, I scurried around, covering myself up with my bra, and picked up my sweater off the floor, my bag that had spilled over on the floor, my boots. “I can assure you, I haven’t been in this position in about twenty years.”

      Curtis just looked on and picked up his own shirt. “You can trust me, neither have I!”

      With my bra and my sweater covering me, my handbag dangling from my arm, I turned at the bathroom door, grinning. “I suppose this isn’t a particularly good time to ask you again to take a look at my novel?”

      “No,” Curtis said, unable to hold back his laugh. “Definitely not.”

      “Thought as much.” I forced a rueful smile. “I’ll be out in a while.”

      I closed the door behind me and took a deep, releasing breath as I looked in the mirror. My face was profusely blushing with shame. How had I let it get this far? I knew I could never tell anyone. Surely not Dave. Never. Not even Pam. No, this one was mine to deal with and try to rationalize. In a way I felt lucky. Lucky I had come to my senses when I did. Lucky Curtis was actually a decent guy. It could have been a whole lot worse.

      Lucky I hadn’t done something that I’d look at with shame for the rest of my life.

      I ran the cold water, wet a washcloth and pressed it to my flushed face. I put my arms back through my bra and started to brush out my hair, until I began to resemble a manageably put-together version of the person who had come up here a few minutes before—though still far too ashamed to even look at myself fully. I threw on my sweater and straightened myself out. Even dabbed on a little makeup and lip gloss. Then I took a breath. Okay, Wendy, now, you have to face him one more time and make your way home. And then go on with your life and pretend like this never even happened. And when Pam asks you about that cute guy at the bar you were texting about, it’s “What guy?” I merely finished my drink and caught the 7:39 and was home by Law & Order … right?

      I blew out a final, steadying breath and steeled myself, when suddenly, over the running water, I heard something coming from the bedroom.

      Voices. At first I just thought it was Curtis on the phone.

      Then I realized I was hearing someone else’s voice as well. Another man. I turned the water down slightly and listened. This was already embarrassing enough. The last thing I needed was to face anyone else.

      I cracked the bathroom door open and peeked out.

      My heart came up my throat at what I saw.

      There was another man in the room. Gray suit, white shirt open. Salt-and-pepper hair. The second I saw him I realized I’d seen him before. Downstairs in the lounge. He and another man, a black man, had been sitting around a table.

      Except now he had a gun pointed at Curtis, who was on the bed.

      I instantly froze, then drew back inside. I didn’t know what to do. I was worried he would hear the running water. He’d see my jacket and shoes. He’d have to know I was here. Years before, I’d been on the Nassau County police force, but that was basically as a cadet, a lifetime ago. Eleven years. God forbid he did something terrible to Curtis. His next move would be to come in here for me!

      “Pick it up!” I heard the man order him.

      Holding my heart together, I peered back out.

      He’d tossed a second gun onto the bed. It landed next to Curtis, who stared at it with growing terror.

      “I said fucking pick it up!” the intruder said again, leveling his own gun menacingly.

      “No, I’m not going to pick it up,” Curtis said, his voice in between panic and defiance. “I know what you’re going to do. You just want to make it look like I drew on you …” He pushed the gun away and it rolled to the edge of the bed and onto the floor. “You’re going to shoot me, no matter what I do?”

      The intruder just looked at the gun and shook his head. “Doesn’t matter anyway … This is for Gillian, asshole.”

      He pulled the trigger. My eyes bolted wide.

      There was a loud, muffled pop, and Curtis’s body jumped off the bed with the impact. He tried to scream “No!” Then there was a second pop, and to my СКАЧАТЬ