Learning To Swim For Real

Chapter 36: Her Head In The Lion's Mouth

Kelsey sat at the little table near the window, debated getting herself a drink from the minibar, and decided against it. She would need her wits about her for the conversation she was going to have. She wiped her hands on her thighs again, then picked up her phone to check the time.

She stood after only a minute, unable to stay in one place, and saw herself in the mirror. She was literally wearing Jack's clothes from head to toe. She needed them today, she needed their comfort. She'd commandeered his oldest, rattiest jeans, rolled them up to mid calf, and cinched them in at the waist with one of her belts. With them she was wearing an old, soft, gray tank top from his high school days under one of his pink button down shirts. Only her underclothes and sandals were her own.

She had skipped breakfast to lessen the chances of throwing up, though it hadn't been easy. Jack watched her like a hawk, and he'd only relented and agreed not to make her a smoothie when she told him she was meeting JJ and Wendy for brunch at the Bel Air.

At a few minutes after noon, there was a polite knock on the door, and she opened it, steeling herself for the sight, the smell, the odious presence, of Don Simonsen.

"Hello, darling," he said with a smile, entering the room and leaning in to kiss her.

She accepted his kiss, though she did turn her head so his lips landed on her cheek instead of her mouth, his intended target.

"Kelsey," he said, his voice full of reproach. "You're not still upset about what happened that night?" He grasped her by her upper arms and rubbed them. "If anyone should be upset, surely it's me?" He gestured at his face, where the scar over his eye glowed red.

He walked to the minibar and perused his choices, finally settling on a small bottle of whiskey. He held the bottle out toward her, but she just shook her head, so he poured himself an ample shot and took a few swallows before turning back to face her.

"So, to what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Carlisle?" he asked, smiling as he sat down on the edge of the bed. "I assume you didn't invite me here for an assignation, a reprisal of our night of passion?"

Kelsey, too, sat down on the bed, though she sat on the other side, well away from Don.

She shook her head.

"No," she said, shaking her head. "I asked you to come here because I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to ask you to do something for me."

Don's eyebrows went up in surprise as he finished his drink. The ice cubes clinked against his teeth, and he rose to open another little bottle. "I see." He smirked at Kelsey as he came back and sat down, on her side of the bed this time. His movements were sinuous and vaguely serpentine to Kelsey, though she'd never noticed it before. "Interesting." He took another swallow of his drink, never taking his eyes off her. "And what makes you think I want to do anything for you, hm?"

Kelsey shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe you will, maybe you won't. But like you said in one of the interviews you gave, we were together for a long time. Maybe you still have a little affection for me or something." She was coiled spring-tight inside. She was walking such a fine line here. If he even suspected what she was trying to get him to do--

He lifted his forefinger from the glass he was holding and rubbed her arm with it. "Kelsey, darling, you know I feel more than affection for you. You know that." His eyes moved slowly up her body, starting at her feet, lingering on her front, ending finally at her face. Kelsey was glad she was wearing Jack's clothes, she felt like they were some kind of armor, like they protected her from Don's disgusting, anthracite eyes and their slimy gaze.

She moved her arm away, knowing this would annoy him, but willing to risk it. She had to, she told herself. She couldn't let things go down that road and get raped again. There was absolutely no way in the world she could explain how she reserved this room, invited him here, and didn't want that to happen.