Tangled(72)

“You want to hear that Kate has me whipped? ’Cause she does. She’s got me on my knees and under her thumb, and I don’t want to get out.”

We’re both quiet after that. Delores just stares at me. For a while. Searching my face for…something. I’m not exactly sure what it is, but I know the moment she finds it. Because something shifts in her eyes. They become softer. Just a little. And her shoulders relax. And then she nods.

“Okay, then.”

Some battles don’t have a winner. Sometimes the best a good general can hope for is a ceasefire.

“Kate makes her own choices,” she says. “And if those choices turn out to be rotten, then I’ll help her clean up the mess. Because that’s what best friends do—help bury the body.”

She stands up. Walks a few steps to the door. Then she stops, and spins around with her finger pointing in my direction.

“You just remember one thing, buddy. I don’t care if it’s ten days down the road or ten years, I’ll be watching you. And if I ever find out that you’ve fucked her over? I’ll make you sorry. And I work in a lab, Drew. With chemicals. Odorless, tasteless chemicals that can permanently shrink your nuts so small, you’ll have to start calling yourself Drewsilla. Are we clear?”

Matthew is out of his fucking mind. Delores Warren is scary. Definite psycho-bitch potential. She and Alexandra should totally hang out.

And she’s put way too much thought into that little plan for my liking.

I swallow hard. “Crystal.”

She nods again. “Glad we understand each other.”

And with that, she breezes out of my office. And I collapse back into my chair and stare at the ceiling.

Christ.

This relationship shit is exhausting. I feel like I just ran a marathon. With hurdles.

But you know what? I’m pretty sure the finish line’s in sight.





Chapter 24

AFTER DELORES LEAVES, I pick up my briefcase and head out the door. To my meeting with the skywriter. I still have to figure out how to get Kate on the roof. Speaking of Kate…

Want to swing by her office on the way out? See how her and the good Sister are getting along?

Her door’s open. I brace my hands on the frame and lean in. Can you see her through the balloons? Sitting at her desk, with her hands folded on top—a smile stuck on her face as she nods obediently to whatever Sister Beatrice is saying.

“Ladies. How are we doing this afternoon?”

Kate turns to me. And her voice is strained. “Drew. There you are. I was just thinking about you”—from the way she’s gripping her hands together, it looks like she was thinking about strangling me—“while Sister Beatrice here was telling me the fascinating tale of glass houses. And how those of us who live in them shouldn’t throw stones.”

She’s still smiling. But her eyes say something else entirely.

It’s a little creepy.

You know in Texas Chainsaw Massacre when the old man smiles just before he slits the girl’s throat? Yeah—it’s kind of like that.

Sister Beatrice looks at the ceiling. “We are all imperfect in the eyes of the Lord. Katherine, may I use yer facilities, dear? Nature is calling.”

“Of course, Sister.” They stand, and Kate opens the door to her adjoining washroom.

And as soon as that door closes, Smiley Kate goes bye-bye. Mad Kate takes her place. She marches toward me.

And the balloons run for their lives.

“I’m going to ask you this one time, and if you lie to me, I swear I’ll let Delores poison you.”

“Okay.”

“Is she a real nun? Or some actress you hired?”

I laugh. I didn’t even think of that. “No, she’s real.”

Kate is not pleased. “God, Drew! A nun? A fucking nun? This is low. Even for you.”

“I think she’s technically a Mother Superior now.”

I lean in closer to Kate because…well, just because I can…and the smell of her lotion hits me. Hard. I resist the urge to put my nose against her skin and sniff like a cocaine addict.

“Is there any level you won’t sink to to get your way?”

Nope. Sorry. Not a one. I don’t mind getting down and dirty.

Actually, I prefer it that way.

“Desperate times…I had to call out the big guns.”

“You want to see guns? As soon as the Flying Nun leaves my office, I’ll show you guns! I can’t believe—”

God, she’s beautiful. I mean, look at her. She’s like a volcano going off—fierce and fiery and breathtaking. If she doesn’t find a way to ugly herself down, I’m going to be spending an awful lot of time pissing her off.

Which might not be such a bad thing in the end. Angry sex is awesome.