The Brute Read Free Page A

Ang,” he said.
    I smiled. He did too. But I couldn’t think about that, about him. Not tonight. “Let’s catch up tomorrow. I’m really tired and need sleep now. I’ve had a long day.”
    He nodded, and I turned and walked into the bedroom.
    “Sweet dreams,” he said, as I closed the bedroom door.
    I tossed and turned all night. James was on my sofa. James. Sigh.
    Perhaps it would be fine. I’d deal with The Brute, and no one would find out about each other. My life wouldn’t crash around me.
    I was kidding myself.

7
     
    I slept late the next morning. Later than normal. Later than someone who supposedly had a job at an accounting firm should sleep.
    A chink of a metal pan. Something sizzling. Wafts of melted butter beckoned me from my slumber. I crawled out of bed, tentatively opening my door a crack.
    James was already up. He was frying some eggs and had buttered bread waiting on the table. I didn’t even think I had eggs in the apartment. I walked into my kitchen.
    “Bought them down from my folks farm,” he said. “Nothing like barn laid eggs first thing in the morning. Starts your day, right. You know?”
    He was right. They were delicious. Farm eggs are just not the same as store bought carton eggs. These had a rich yellow yolk that was firm, but as soon as you put your fork into it, it burst into sunshine and flowed over your plate. I dipped my toast into it, not wasting a single part.
    “Not working today?” he asked as he cocked his head to one side.
    “I’ve got a few days off,” I said, not meeting his gaze.
    “Great, you can show me the sights around here. Nothing like a local tour rather than those cheap buses. Where shall we go first?”
    He wanted me to take him around the town? Oh this was going to be difficult.
    “Sure,” I said. (I know - I think he must have put something in those eggs, I have no idea why my brain wasn’t working and I didn’t tell him I was busy.)
    We started at the museum’s and worked our way through art galleries, libraries, and other sites of interest — the usual tourist traps. I really didn’t know where to take him to be honest. When you live in a city you don’t see it the same way someone new does. He seemed pleased enough, delighting at the new sights and sounds. Commenting on various people, what they wore, how most of them avoided eye contact. We laughed and conspired for hours. Looking at the city through his eyes made me remember why I liked Charlotte so much and didn’t want to leave.
    I thought it’d be a safe bet if we stuck to large crowds. I kept checking my phone, but luckily I had no messages.
    We stopped for lunch at a little cafe I had begun to love. They ground their own coffee there, and added spices of cinnamon or chocolate. One of the coffee’s even had a touch of chili. That one was my favorite.
    “You didn’t tell me what you are doing in Charlotte?” I asked.
    “Came to see you.”
    “Me? Why?”
    “Don’t you remember that pact we made?”
    I didn’t.
    He laughed. “You said when I turned twenty five, you were going to marry me. Today’s my birthday.”
    The blood must have drained from my face. He was looking at me with such amusement, and there I was with my mouth open, still with a half eaten bit of cake in it.
    “I can’t get married!”
    He laughed again. “Aw, Ang, you pinky swore. That’s as good as a contract.”
    I remembered now. He was twelve and I was nine. We vowed that if neither one of us had found a husband or wife by the time he was twenty five, then we’d get married. Kids say the darndest things, don’t they?
    “But…”
    He laughed again. If he didn’t have the most infectious laugh that made you want to join him, I would have hit him. “Relax. I’m messing with you. Got some business here tomorrow, then I’m back home. But I did look forward to seeing you as well. Call it an added bonus.”
    I think my mouth was still open, but I can’t be sure because I was still reeling from the