Her pretty lips arch up in the corners. “Your parents don’t know what you do for a living?”
“My dad runs a gambling rehabilitation center just outside the city,” I say. “Promise Makers. Have you seen the TV commercials? They run nonstop.”
Her shoulder lifts. “I don’t watch TV.”
“Then perhaps you’ve seen one of our fifty thousand billboards?”
She smiles, shaking her head side to side.
“Anyway, yeah, if he knew his only son was a card playing son of a bitch, he’d lose his shit.” I smirk at the thought of my straight-laced, conservative father losing his cool. I’ve only seen it happen a few times in my life, and it isn’t pretty. And now, with his heart condition, Dad losing his cool runs the risk of being lethal. “Wouldn’t be good for his business either. He’s building this whole empire with a church for reformed gamblers and recovering addicts. Not just gamblers. Sex addicts, drug addicts. Anyone with a problem and family members willing to cough up thousands of dollars? My father finds them.”
Her eyes flutter before she glances down at my feet. She probably doesn’t know what to say to that.
“Shit, I’m sorry,” I say. “Here you came to drop off some books, and I’m giving you my life story.”
“No, no. It’s fine.” She waves her hand.
“I don’t even know your name.”
“Calypso.” Our stares lock again.
“Calypso . . .”
“No last name,” she says.
“Wait, what?”
She halfway smiles, the apples of her cheeks warming. “My parents are like modern hippies. They don’t believe in anything that keeps you anchored to anyone. They believe we should all be free, floating through life with nothing to tie us down.”
“Huh.” My lips tighten as I wrap my ahead around what it must be like to go through life with just one legal name. “Never met anyone like that before.”
“I’m Crew,” I say.
“Yeah, I remember from the shop,” she says. “I’m guessing you have a last name, though.”
“Forrester,” I say. Forrester is definitely an anchor of a moniker. I envy Calypso’s freedom in that respect. It’s not easy being the son of Conrad and Susan Forrester.#p#分页标题#e#
“Like the Subaru.”
Haven’t heard that a million times before. I give her a free pass because she’s pretty.
“Kind of.” I fold my arms, widening my stance and finding myself not in any particular hurry to move this conversation along. Calypso is nice and unassuming. She’s not like the other women in this city, with makeup-caked faces and hairspray-scented hair extensions.
She yawns, covering her pretty lips with the back of her hand.
“You stay up late reading, don’t you?” I ask.
Her expression fades. “Nope.”
“Oh, so, that, uh, neighbor who keeps you up late,” I say. “The one your associate was referring to . . .”
“That’d be you.”
I figured as much, but at the time, playing dumb seemed like my smartest bet.
“Your headboard smacks the wall we share,” she says, her arms folding and her head cocked. “All night. Almost every night.”
“Shit, Calypso.” I drag my fingers through my hair. I rack my brain, attempting to come up with some kind of appropriate apology.
“I don’t know how you do it.”
I can’t tell if she’s flattering or attacking me.
“Do what?”
“Never mind.” She waves me off. “I need to head back to the shop.”
“You don’t know how I do what?” I’m curious more than anything.
She turns to leave, takes three steps, and pauses. “Just, please try and keep it down. I really, really need some sleep.”
“Of course,” I say. Naturally. I don’t plan on bringing women home anytime soon. “But what were you going to say a second ago?”
I’m a dog with a bone, refusing to drop this until I get what I want. Noelle hates this about me. I find it almost always works to my favor.
Calypso exhales, though she won’t meet my gaze. “I don’t know how you can bring women home every night and fuck them all night long while you’ve got a baby sleeping in the next room.”
I smirk.
“Calypso.” I take a step toward her, but she’s already out the door. I can’t chase after her because I can’t leave Emme. “Wait.”
She turns toward me, but she continues walking backward. “You asked. Now forget I said anything.”
“You’re just going to walk off?” I’m not sure where I get off expecting her to stick around, but I’m not about to end the conversation without getting a chance to explain.