Dust Eva Everson (story reading txt) 📖

And it had all come so easily.

Then again, Cindie Campbell wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box. Cute, yes. Absolutely adorable, quite frankly.

Beautiful, really.

But just not bright enough to recognize a wolf dressed in sheep’s clothing.

He’d orchestrated everything. First, contacting one of his old high school friends—one whom he’d gone off to college with … joined a fraternity with … graduated with honors alongside—one who’d kept his finger on the political pulse of Atlanta while living, mainly, just outside of DC. Leesburg, Virginia, he thought it was. Not that it mattered. What was important to Patterson was that his old buddy furnished a home in one city and kept a small apartment in another. An apartment he’d visited once or twice a few years back.

And Patterson had been honest with his old friend. He’d give himself that much. He’d asked Ronald if they could possibly talk the next time he came into Georgia and, as luck would have it, his friend said that he was coming in that weekend. That they could meet for drinks at an Irish pub known as Connolly’s, located down the street from his Atlanta place.

How did five o’clock sound?

Patterson said it sounded perfect and he’d see him there.

He was spot-on time. They shook hands, then embraced in that type of hug male friends do when they haven’t seen each other in a while. A clasp on the shoulder. A pat on the back. A chuckle for old time’s sake. Afterward, Patterson followed Ronald to a table near the back where a candle offered scant light in the dusky, smoke-filled room. Patterson couldn’t help but notice that Ronald was a favorite among the staff—they called him by name as he passed, one young lady dashing over to take his order. “Jameson Irish Whiskey” he said, then looked at Patterson, brow raised.

“I’ll have the same,” Patterson said.

They exchanged small talk as they waited for their order—but once the drinks had been placed on the table and the customary sláinte had been given, Patterson dove right in. “I’m going to be honest with you,” he said. “You remember Mary Helen, of course.”

Ronald nodded. Yes, of course he did. He’d been one of the many guests at their wedding.

“My home life is … well, it’s not as good as I hoped it would be. As I believe it could be.” He waved a hand as though he could dismiss the words, but continued with, “The girls are fine. More than fine actually. But they are their mother’s daughters. I’m just …” He took a sip of his drink, swallowed slowly, then returned the glass to the table. “Sometimes I feel like an afterthought.”

Ronald studied him; Patterson could feel the gears of his brain clicking way down to the marrow of his bones.

“You probably—probably don’t know what I mean. What I’m saying.”

Ronald’s fingers twirled the glass and its napkin beneath it in a slow circle. “I know exactly what you’re saying.” He smiled, but the upturn of his lips dropped nearly before they’d fully risen. “Look, Patterson … we’re men. We have needs.”

Patterson leaned in, rested his forearms on the table where the candle cast dancing shadows. “Exactly. Maybe—maybe women have needs, too, but they’re a different kind of need. Maybe what they need is—you know—the nice house and the family-sized car and the children to look after. Some need to work. And I’m not talking about those who need money to survive. There are women out there who actually want to work.”

“I hear what you’re saying. And I know quite a few in Washington. But I don’t think you brought me here to talk about women’s lib and all that.”

“There’s someone.”

“I gathered that.” He sipped from his glass. “Anyone I know?”

“No. She’s a student.”

Ronald brought his glass down, though not quite to the table. “Good Lord, man.”

“She’s—she looks like—don’t laugh, but she looks like Stevie Nicks.”

He laughed anyway. “Well, that would certainly explain it. Remember that girl you kept on the side in college? The one you always said looked like Grace Slick?”

“Dani … and she did look like Grace Slick.”

“Maybe.” Ronald smiled at the memory. “Go on. I interrupted you.”

The memory of Dani wrapped around Patterson and wouldn’t let go until he shook it free with the thought of Cindie. “It’s more than the way Cindie—that’s her name—looks, quite honestly. It’s … she seems to have something to offer. She—I don’t know—when she’s in my classroom I feel like she’s wanting something. Or … someone.” He shrugged for good measure. “Wanting someone the way I want someone.”

Ronald studied him again. “So, why come to me with this?”

“Straight up?”

“Have we ever been any other way?”

“I don’t want stolen moments in a hotel or a motel and I remembered that you’ve got—”

“The apartment.” He tilted his head in understanding. “Of course.”

Patterson extended a hand, palm up. “If the answer is no, I’ll understand. I will. I’ll rent my own apartment. I can certainly afford it, but—”

“No, no. I’m only here once or twice a month and then only for a couple of days and typically on weekends.” He drained the rest of his drink. “You know where the place is, right?”

Patterson sat back. “Yeah. I remember.”

“I’ll give your name to the doorman. He knows—ah—how to be discreet. Especially when he’s tipped on the way out.”

“Got it.”

“I’ll leave a key for you with him. Just return it to him … afterward.” He smiled. “It’s nice, you know?”

“What is?”

“Having someone who loves you. In … that way.”

Nice. Yes. Patterson hoped he’d soon find out. Step one had been accomplished with success. Now, all he needed to do to convince Cindie that passing calculus and a little of her time—a little of her warmth—went hand in hand.

Sure enough, that had gone well, too. At first, she seemed perplexed at his offer, which he’d laid flat out on the line. No pretenses. No “let me tutor you” lies. Just raw honesty. “You’re beautiful,” he’d said. “And I want to spend some time