When I reach the front of the building, I realize that I don’t know Carly’s last name. When we were here two years ago, she let us in with her key. Now, I’m supposed to use the buzzer to announce my arrival so she can release the door lock. Just as I’m about to start pushing the buttons for the three C’s listed on the board out front, a young couple exits through the door. They look at me expectantly before letting me pass through the door. “I’m here for Carly,” I tell them. They must register the name, even though I don’t give a last one, and allow me to pass through the open door.
Inside the elevator, I push the button for the top floor. My hand is surprisingly clammy as I shift my weight back and forth between my left and right feet. Rubbing my hands down the sides of my jeans, the elevator opens on the top floor. Memory carries me towards the apartment on the left. I give the floor a quick sweep with my eyes before raising my hand and knocking on the door.
Carly answers just before I get ready to knock a second time. When she swings open the door, it’s as if all of the oxygen is sucked out of the atmosphere by some huge vacuum. She’s every bit of the goddess I remember. Her dark hair is pulled up in a high ponytail on top of her head. What little make-up she was wearing earlier appears to be swept clean. Her amazing body is wrapped snuggly in black yoga pants and a tight white t-shirt. The entire look is topped off with bare feet with bright pink polish poking out from under the pants. I have to flex my fists several times to keep from reaching out for her.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d come,” she says softly before taking a step back and allowing me to pass. My entire focus is on the woman in front of me. My body is firing on all cylinders instantly. My blood is pumping, coursing recklessly throughout my body before heading to one concentrated area straight below the belt.
“I told you I would,” I reply, submerging myself in the soft timbers of her voice.
“Do you want something to drink?” she finally offers as she leads me towards the living room. The room appears to be organized well with little clutter. I spy a few baskets in the corner, but am unable to investigate further when Carly clears her throat.
“Oh, sure. Water’s fine.”
I watch her walk towards the kitchen. Her long, lean legs carry her towards the cabinet. As she extends her hand upward to grab a glass from an upper shelf, I can clearly recall what it felt like to curl up against her lush body. Pulling down two, she fills them with bottled water from the fridge. Taking one of the glasses, my fingers brush against hers. I hear her audible gasp which tells me instantly that she feels the same spark of hunger from our brief touch. We felt it together that night, and it’s amazing to know we still feel it now two years later.
Carly walks over and takes a seat in the chair leaving me to follow suit, sitting down on the couch. “So,” she starts, but doesn’t quite seem to know where to go from there.
“So.”
“So, I guess you can start with telling me how long you’ve worked with my father,” she says, wringing her hands together in her lap.
“Two years,” I answer honestly. It’s probably one of the real things I can tell her.
“So, when you said you were starting a new job, you were telling the truth? You were starting to work for my father?”
“Yes, though I didn’t know he was your father at the time.”
“Yeah, well, that makes two of us,” she says, turning her attention towards the blank television.
“I work in your father’s repair shop.” I don’t think that’s giving anything too big away either.
“First Class Auto, right? I was just there to have my car repaired,” she says absently.
She was there? I know I’d remember seeing her in the shop, so I can only assume that I wasn’t there at the same time. Then things start to fall into place. My mind starts to take the little pieces and strategically move them around until they begin to line up properly. C. Mathewson. She must have been the woman that Gage met, the hottie with the nice ass. The car I delivered a little over a week ago. The woman who signed for it and the…
A loud piercing cry startles me from my thoughts. Carly’s eyes go as wide as the steering wheel in my Camaro as she jumps up from the chair and hurries down the hallway. My mind is stunned into utter shock as I watch her disappear around the corner. As if my ass were on fire, I jump up off the couch and follow the sounds of frenzied cries from a child. Rounding the corner of the darkened bedroom, I stop in my tracks when I see Carly holding a small child against her chest. My lungs struggle to pull oxygen into them, making me wonder if I’m going to drop dead any moment from asphyxia.