After an extremely busy morning, when they hadn't had a moment to start on her hair, the phone rang between customers and Angie picked it up to find an extremely excited Justine Rule on the other end. "We went to dinner last night," the older woman said without preamble.
Angie was flabbergasted and pleased all at once; she knew immediately who the 'we' was. "Are you serious?"
"Yes, and we're going again tonight."
"Wow, that's cool, Mrs. Rule."
"Justine. I've repeatedly asked you to call me Justine."
"Yes, ma'am. Justine," Angie agreed, knowing there wasn't a chance in hell she'd call Damian's mother by her first name, at least not for the foreseeable future.
"I need to ask you a question, darling. I have literally no friends who I feel comfortable having this discussion with. They're all married and quite conservative. I thought about asking Courtney but that would almost be as bad as asking Erin and I just can't bring myself to do it. Besides, TMI and all that, that's what you kids call it, right?" she rattled and then continued, "Do you mind?"
"No, go ahead." Angie held the phone between her ear and shoulder while she swept the floor, sure that the question would be about clothes or shoes and what was stylish or appropriate. How could his mother be so sweet when Damian could act like such a douche?
The other woman paused and then plunged into it, "Anyway . . . he's going to want to sleep with me pretty soon, isn't he? People don't wait long for sex anymore, do they?"
Angie choked and the broom handle dropped to the floor with a cacophonous clatter as she made a grab to keep the phone from doing the same. "I'm sorry, what?"
"Oh, dear. I probably shouldn't have blurted it out like that. But I have no one else to ask and I've been somewhat worried about the situation. And it's your fault because you're so easy to talk to and you don't appear to have a judgmental bone in your body."
Angie walked to the back room and shut the door where she'd have some privacy. "It's okay. Let me think for a minute. I didn't expect this, you know?"
"Yes, of course, darling, take all the time you need."
Angie tried to steady her nerves. Could she have a conversation like this with someone of an entirely different generation? "So, I hate to be rude, but since you're asking me about sex, I'm going to ask a probing question, but only so I can get a clear picture of the situation." She took a deep breath. "How old are you? And do you know how old Rick is? I've never asked him."
"I'm fifty-four, and he's fifty-two, I found that out last night."
A feeling of mirth took Angie by surprise. "A younger man, Mrs. Rule? Bad-ass."
"Yes, well, my husband was ten years older than me, so this is quite different."
Angie took in a deep breath and blew it out, preparing herself to answer the question at hand. "Yeah, he's going to want to sleep with you if the relationship continues."
"That's what I thought." Angie could almost see the older woman twisting her hands together. "What do I do?"
Damian would murder her if he ever found out about this conversation. Screw Damian, he was an asshole. "Um, do you want to sleep with him?"
"Yes, between you and me, it's fairly exciting to think about. I've never slept with anyone besides my husband. I was young when we married, and after he died, I was so devastated that I never wanted anyone else, even though I was pursued a bit. He's been gone for seven years and maybe it's time. I don't want to be alone forever, I need my own life. I can see it upsets the children when I'm too clingy and nosy."
Angie tried to pretend she was talking to a regular woman and not to Damian's mother. "Well, I'm not an expert on sex and relationships. I have an aunt and uncle about your age but they've been married forever, and I seriously doubt they're having a lot of sex and if they are, I don't want to think about it. So I don't really know anybody who is new to dating in your age bracket but I'm sure it's done all the time. I mean, what with all the internet dating sites and all."
"I don't know why I'm so worried about this, but I just don't know how to go on." The agitation in the other woman's voice was easy to hear.
"Okay, here's the deal," Angie tried to be forthright. "I'm assuming that at your age, there's no risk for pregnancy."
"None at all."
"Okay, but you still have to use condoms, you know? It's for protection against STDs and HIV and other diseases and stuff. That's the rule."
"Oh, damn, I knew you were going to say that."
"I know that Mr. Harris seems like a gentleman, but I saw the way he was looking at you, and who the heck knows if he's new to dating since his wife died? I know he's been carrying a torch for her since she passed away and that was a few years ago, but that doesn't mean he hasn't been out trying to ease his pain with other women, you know?" Angie shook her head at herself, not quite believing she was having this conversation.
Only silence came across the line and Angie continued, "I'm not saying he's for sure been out messing around, but we don't know either way, so you have to make him use a condom." God, she felt like a mother preaching to her daughter. A daughter who she didn't really want to have sex, but needed to make sure she was careful if she did. Oh, God, she was going to make a terrible mother. And truly, Angie didn't care if Mrs. Rule was sexually active or not. Actually, she thought it would be kind of cool if she did have a real life; it was nice to think you could still be a sexual creature even after menopause. But Damian wouldn't like it. What did she care? She'd been upset the night before and he'd cared so little that he'd promptly fallen asleep.
"Should I have condoms on me? Just in case?" Mrs. Rule asked, somewhat breathlessly.
"Oh, dear Lord," Angie breathed out in a sigh, foreseeing a shopping trip in her future. "Are you brave enough to buy them?"
There was a heavy silence on the other end. "I'm not sure."
Angie tried to imagine being fifty-four years old and about to have sex for the first time in seven years and took pity on her. "Okay, look. I'll go buy them tonight. Come by tomorrow and I'll have a box for you."
"Thank you so, so much, darling. I'll owe you one, okay?"
"Sure, but keep him at arm's length tonight, okay? Because you won't be prepared. We're really busy today and I can't get away, or I'd go get them now."
"That's okay, I'll be there tomorrow, and I appreciate it more than you know. I knew you'd be the perfect person to talk to about this. Now what else do I need to do when the time comes?"
"Do?" Uh-uh. No way. She wasn't going there. "I have no clue. You can probably just follow his lead, you know?" Angie replied, desperately ready to get off the phone.
"Okay, yes. That's what I thought. And after tonight, I'll hide a condom in my purse just in case."
"Right. Just in case," Angie agreed.
"Now darling, where do I buy really pretty underwear? I mean the really nice stuff, matching sets. Lace. You know what I mean."
Angie imagined Damian finding out she'd told his mother where to buy lingerie with a man in mind and she reached up and began rubbing her temples where a stress headache was beginning to form. Yeah, there wasn't a chance in hell that she'd be telling him about this phone conversation. Luckily, his mother spoke again before she had to. "There's a store at the mall called Victoria's Secret. I've never been inside but do you think that's the place to go?"
Angie breathed a sigh of relief, knowing she was about to get off the phone and put this uncomfortable conversation behind her. "Sure, definitely try Victoria's Secret first."
They'd been so busy at work that day that the black dye was still in Angie's hair when she walked inside her apartment that evening with a pharmacy sack in her hands. She tossed it on the small dinette table and went to take a quick shower.
She was feeling particularly edgy tonight, still upset at Damian's callousness from the night before. She didn't want to be here if and when he showed up. And she knew he would. Well, she didn't know for sure, but she figured. With that thought in mind, after she dried off and threw on jeans and a t-shirt, she picked up her phone and sent him a text. I won't be home tonight. Catch you later. That was easy enough, right?
Wrong. His text came back three seconds later. Where will you be?
Angie didn't stop to think, she just began to key in her response. Out.
Where?
She stiffened her spine as she focused on that one word demand and began keying again. There's nothing casual about you asking me where I'll be.
His response came back instantaneously. Fuck casual.
She sucked in a breath. To say she was floored was an understatement. And on top of that, she had no idea how to respond. Suddenly more antsy than she'd been five seconds ago, she slid on a pair of flip-flops and grabbed her bag and her keys, preparing to leave the apartment that very second.
She opened the front door and immediate trepidation slid down her spine. Damian stood in the threshold, over six feet of pure testosterone, leaning into hands that were propped on either side of her door frame, effectually imprisoning her inside the apartment.
She had a wild idea of darting under one of his arms, and before she could think better of it, she made a hasty dash for freedom.
He swooped down and caught her around her midriff and lifted her off her feet. Holding her in midair with one arm, his strength was indisputable as he walked inside her apartment and kicked the door shut behind him.