36. 🍸 French Connection

**KEKE**

The warehouse, filled with cars, vans and even a camper, is huge. It would take the good part of the day to explore. We have to be at Joe’s house by two, a couple of hours from now, and the Sayles’s house by five. If it weren’t for the promises we made and the kids disappointment at us not showing up, I wouldn’t leave this paradise of old metal.
The first classic I sit in is a 1975 Ford Bronco with a silver and blue custom paint job and mag wheels. It’s so clean, it smells new. Justice points out its features with one hand and rubs my naked thigh with the other, pushing up my skirt higher and higher. I stop his hand by folding mine over it, giving him a falsely cheerful smile.
There’s no time for sex. I want to see more. This may be my only chance to do so. I’m not sure where Justice and I will end up. He says “I’m his”—during sex—which I equate to saying “I love you” when drunk.
I exit the vehicle and head towards what I used to call an Austin Martian when I first took an interest in cars all those years ago. This pristine Aston Martin, a maroon 1977 V8 Vantage, makes my already racing heart jump in my chest. Next to it is a Delta eighty-eight with a blue body and a black top.
Tears spring to my eyes.
My father owns the same model and color.
I slip inside the unlocked vehicle as quick as I can, hiding my emotion. I don’t want Justice to call me on it.
No need to worry.
I watch him through the windshield as he stops in his tracks and pulls his ringing phone from his pocket.
I already can tell who he is talking to. His stoic resting face produces the most beautiful smile that radiates a happiness not duplicated even in bed. His eyes take on a special glow with the brightness in them reserved just for her.
Snatches of his conversation come floating to me as he walks closer. “Yeah, I talked to them yesterday, right before I called you… until Sunday? Are you sure? I mean I can take them…”
A sharp pain pierces my chest. My breathing turns shallow with the weight of it.
He talked to Pippa yesterday. He called her and didn’t think to call me. He probably told her what he was doing, who he was seeing.
We were so busy having sex, the subject never came up again.
Be patient with me, Keke. I’ll tell you everything.
Bullshit and lies.
And I let it happen.
I promised myself to reserve judgement on Pippa until I met her… but damn does she make it hard.
No… he makes it hard.
From the time I met him and to this day, Justice hasn’t told me… has never explained how this woman fits into his life. What am I supposed to think when he is so closed off with me, yet so open to her?
“Yeah, Pip,” Justice says, opening the door and folding his tall-ass self into the passenger seat. His tone is warmer than a freshly baked cinnamon roll and just as sweet.
My insides froth with jealousy and curl in disappointment.
Angry tears replace my sentimental ones and a tremor rips through me. That’s my defense mechanisms kicking in, coloring my mood so dark, it doesn’t let in any light.
Encased in my hurt, I’m not even startled when Justice booms out, “What? He’s in New York?”
Ignoring my curiosity, I pretend not to listen to their conversation. Instead, I turn my focus to my clasped arms encasing my knees. My beige sweater bunches around my stomach bloated with anxiety. My dark brown skirt grows uncomfortably tight. Heat pools into every pore.
This morning, I wished there had been enough time to go back to Lilli’s apartment for my sweats. I’d wanted plenty of room for all the food I would consume.
No need.
My appetite has disappeared faster than the realness of a reality TV show.
“Well, there is nothing I can do about it.” Although Justice is talking to that woman, he rightly sums up the wrongness of our union.
These past two days I’ve been at the top of the world—only to plunge into an abyss each time I thought we’d moved forward.
As distrusting as I am, I put my inhibitions aside and put my faith in Justice in a way I haven’t with anyone else, including Krish.
In turn, he’d wrung such ecstasy from me, I must have screamed his name a dozen times.
Last night was incredible. He gave no quarter and showed no mercy. Just how I like it.
I was wild. Greedy. All sorts of needy.
And in the light of day, all the trust I’ve built up scatters like confetti in the force of hurricane Pippa. She sweeps in and with one phone call shows me I’ll be nothing more to Justice than what I am already: a paid employee with the added benefit of sleeping with the boss.
Justice, oblivious of the tension between us, continues with a deep growl of annoyance, “He’s your guest. I don’t have a say in who comes to your home, Pip.” She says something that makes his pitch change to the dulcet one he uses with the kids when they argue with each other. The one designed to smooth over any ruffled feathers. “It will be okay, don’t worry about it. Yeah, we’ll still be there around five. Okay. See you soon.”
In my periphery I see Justice turn to me, a deep frown on his face. I do my best not to shy away. “Uh, that was Pip. She says an unexpected guest is coming to Thanksgiving dinner.”
I ignore him, shifting my gaze to the Mustang just outside the open door, hoping the sight will calm me down.
It doesn’t this time. Not even close.
The anger… the sheer disappointment I feel at being duped again burns my gut.
True, I had begun to think differently about Pippa’s role in Justice’s life. Sebastian had me convinced they were nothing more than friends. That was a lie. The rapture on Justice’s handsome face debunks it.
“Keke? Did you hear me?”
Giving him a passing glance, I say, “Who’s coming?”
His mouth puffs into a pout. “Xaver’s friend.”
“That gives me a lot of information.” I conjure up a smirk. “Does his friend have a name?”
“Jake Cameron.”
“Jake Cameron? The movie star?”
“Yeah, him.”
Damn!
I wasn’t counting on this bit of news. Not only will I have to be on my best behavior towards Princess Pippa, I’ll have to play nice to some stuck-up pretty boy.
Judgmental much?
Damn my voice of reason.
Before meeting Justice and catching feelings, I’ve never been the type of low-class to put a stamp of dislike onto someone before I met them.
I need to reign in these emotions and chill.
That doesn’t keep me from getting to the bottom of Justice’s dislike of Xaver’s friend though. “Sound like you don’t like him. Why is that?”
“I like him well enough.”
Could have fooled me.
“Then what’s wrong?”
“The guy gets more ass than a proctologist and I don’t want him eye-fucking you. He’s been known to do that. Even did so with Pippa before she and Xaver got together.”
The mention of that woman’s name brings all of my ire to the forefront. I let out a derisive laugh, more at myself for falling into the same unrequited love hole I fell in with Krish. “Justice, you’re one to talk. You are the biggest manwhore this side of the Mississippi—”
“What the fuck did you call me?”