Sketch of a Murder

Chapter 21

Chapter 21

Nita sighed and snuggled closer to Daniel's shoulder. After the kind of day she'd had it felt good to lay there, his fingers gently combing her hair away from her face.

"My dad's planning a big barbeque this weekend. Won't tell me why, but it must be pretty important. He hasn't done anything like this since my sister died." He let her hair drift through his fingers.

"Mmmm," she responded sleepily.

"He's quite the chef. Dinner's bound to be special. What do you say?"

Close to dosing, she mumbled, "'Bout what?"

"Dinner Saturday night. Will you come? My father's been asking when I'm going to bring my girl home to meet him." His gentle voice cut through the pleasant after-sex fog enshrouding her mind.

"Not a girl. Hear enough of that at my job," she muttered, though her words held no real force.

"That's just how my dad talks. He doesn't mean anything by it." The tiny bedroom settled into a comfortable silence. "Hey, you still awake?"

"Uh-huh."

He wound a strand of her thick hair around his finger. "Well?"

"No way. Told you that." The sleepiness was fading from her voice.

"Come on. I really want you to meet my father."

She rolled away and swung muscular legs over the side of the bed. "I don't do families."

When he tried to curl around her naked back, she slipped away.

Moments later he heard the shower running in the minuscule bathroom.

He raised his voice to overcome the sound of water pelting against the shower wall. "Come on, hon. It's only dinner. I won't even make you play basketball with us."

The water cut off. Moments later she stepped into the doorway wrapped in a light cotton robe. She waved her toothbrush, endangering the toothpaste that clung tenaciously to the bristles. "Don't you ever quit?"

He crossed the room, leaned down and trailed butterfly kisses across her face and along her neck onto the stiff muscles of her shoulders. Between kisses, he coaxed, "Don't be like that."

She shoved hard against his shoulder, sending him stumbling several steps. "What's with you guys? You think sex and kissing's going to get you what you want?"

He straightened, his body going rigid. "What do you mean, 'us guys'? I thought you enjoyed what we did together as much as I did."

Hands fisted on her hips, toothbrush jabbed against the side of the robe, toothpaste smeared. "Yes, I enjoyed what we did, but I don't enjoy a man using intimacy to soften me up so he can hit me with something we've already discussed."

"You're always carrying on about men stereotyping women, yet it's okay for you to stereotype men, huh?" He stomped around the room, snatching his clothes off the floor.

"I don't stereotype anyone. I simply tell the truth." Her voice could have instantly frozen boiling water.

"Oh, so women don't lie or manipulate or ever tell anything less than the truth?" He yanked his jeans up and jammed his socks in his pants pocket as he shoved his feet into his shoes. He stepped in front of her. "If you only tell the truth, Nita, tell me this-why are you so afraid to meet my dad?"

Eyes narrowed, she bit out, "I am not afraid to meet your father. I don't choose to meet him. There is a big difference there."

His words barely above a whisper, he replied, "Liar. Lie to me, if you have to, but don't lie to yourself." He stepped back, turned, and walked out the door.