“Goodbye, Robbie,” I say, leaving her to head into the spare bedroom. I shut the door behind me and wait until their footsteps disappear, turning my house back into an empty void.
“You're on time,” I say, opening the door to find Audra Holiday with her arms crossed over her ample chest. “What a surprise.” I step back and welcome her in with an outstretched hand. Audra's punctuality isn't the only surprise however. Instead of her usual cheap polyester hooker outfits, Audra's dressed in a gown made of sheer nude fabric with a golden sheen to it. The long-sleeved cocktail dress is decorated with a floral motif that hides Audra's ample assets with a gentle sophistication that only serves to amplify her rampant sexuality. Down boy, I tell my stiffening cock. I suppose it doesn't really matter though – I'm wearing my best suit, the one I stole from Mr. Braxton. It's still in need of a good tailoring, but the expensive cloth falls in all the right ways, concealing any evidence of my erection with skillful seams and gloriously well-placed pinstripes.
“Good evening to you, too,” Audra says, brushing past me in a pair of five inch heels, black of course, with flowers that climb her calf in an artful velvet sweep. Her ruby red hair is gathered at the back of her head in a purposefully messy bun, and her makeup … well, that smoky eye she's always sporting actually makes sense for a dinner date. Date. Ugh. This is most certainly not a date, even though I've dressed for it. I am, after all, capable of a certain amount of sophistication myself. No one has ever accused me of being uncouth. “This is beautiful. Is this all for me?” Audra asks, pointing at the table, the crimson tablecloth, the white pillar candles. It's all so mockingly cliché. “Or maybe it's for that girl? Robbie, was it?”
“Don't you dare speak her name again,” I growl, closing the door softly and flicking the dead bolt. Somehow, I feel guilty for what I'm doing, even though I know I shouldn't. Audra's car is obviously parked in the driveway, and as far as I know, Robbie thinks Audra and I are engaged. Still … I should have told her I had a date for tonight as well. It was the polite thing to do.
I move past Audra and into the kitchen, retrieving the chilled bottle of wine from the ice bucket and pouring two glasses. To start with, we have a light sparkling wine to go with the hors d'oeuvres. For dinner, I have a bottle of Stags Leap District Cabernet Sauvignon that'll go well with the bacon wrapped filet mignon I know I shouldn't have made but did anyway. This is a meeting that was pushed upon me, not one that I planned. However, as the afternoon wore on and the clock ticked closer to six, I threw down the paintbrush and showered quickly, changing into my suit without a second's hesitation. Somehow, the idea of a date infatuated me. I haven't been on a date since Isadora left me, and before her, it was Aliyah that graced the opposite end of the table.
Audra Holiday is certainly no Aliyah, but then, she's a massive improvement over Isadora who couldn't even handle the sight of the beast's fangs, let alone his bite.
“Why not? It's a free country, isn't it?” Audra takes the glass from me with a nod of her chin and sips gently, her long fingers curled around the steam of the wineglass. In the background, I have some rock music playing on a low volume. I decided the wine, the steak, the candles, were enough of a romantic cliché that we didn't need classical music or jazz in the background.
“Robbie's not your business or your concern.”
“Are you seeing her or something because you seem a tad bit overprotective?” Audra pinches at the air with her fingers and squints at me. I ignore the question and take a sip of my own wine. I still have no couch, so there aren't many places for us to sit besides the dinner table. “Okay, then,” Audra breathes, moving past me and opening my back door without asking permission. Before I know it, she's seated herself in one of my four lawn chairs, one of the ones that never gets used. Of the four I have placed around the fire pit, there's only one that's ever been sat in.
I know that arguing with this woman is as dangerous as sticking my hand into a pit of vipers and while I'm willing to go there if need be, I don't want to make a scene outside. My neighbors have had enough to deal with between the Mrs. Braxton situation and my sudden slew of visitors.
“Why are you here, Audra Holiday?” I ask, setting my glass down on a distressed white metal table. The scenery in my backyard is just as perfect, as picturesque, as my front yard. It has to be. It's all part of my sense of balance.
“I told you,” she says, her voice echoing behind me as I return to the kitchen and retrieve a lighter, “I have a proposition for you.” I head back down the steps to the backyard and light the tiki torches that are spaced around the chairs. If there's one thing I despise, it's mosquitoes.