DITW 12-9: Terza Rima (Patreon)

Devlin entered with casual flair, as if he were stepping into a work meeting and not the pressure-cooker heart of a marriage primed with an awaiting wired burner phone. Though he didn’t hum or whistle, he held the smug expression of a man who would. He closed the door behind him, waiting for the latch to click before speaking. Then: “Oh, you made it, Josh. Good. I was hoping you would.”

Josh uttered no reply, merely regarded Devlin with an unreadable mask. Devlin smiled like the used-car salesman he was, putting one hand on hip, muscular shoulder planted on the hallway wall. His unbuttoned suit jacket opened to reveal his pants held up with blue-striped braces. He was the visage of pure, unadulterated male arrogance. Wealth, privilege, cultured attitudes of contempt for those unlike him; those beneath him.

Josh spoke at last—with surprising calm baritone. “I’m here.”

Devlin’s smile grew wider, his face oscillating the room, taking her in, taking Josh in. “Looks like we’re all here. Together again at last.”

Quips formed on her tongue; sharp words cutting his presence, the smell of brimstone, and worse words, too, ones she would save for another time. She said nothing and showed as little as Josh. Nothing for this man to hold on to, to slip his shim underneath and to pry and pry and pry.

A slight look of wounding passed Devlin’s rugged, handsome face. “I was hoping for a fonder reception, really. It took so much work to get us in this room together, and I wouldn’t mind some appreciation. You don’t have to thank me, but...”

She said, “What time is Benny arriving?”

Devlin laughed and flashed her a warm and ingratiating look; like he enjoyed her barbs. “I sent your work to Kingston. They’ll deal with Benny Chan. He’s not that big a fish. Hardly worth my time.” He looked up and around at the luxurious suite in its stark color scheme. “Benny didn’t even deserve this suite. We deserve this suite. Don’t you think so?”

She said, “Did you practice this melodrama in the mirror?”

“Yes, Kimmy. You know me so well. Would you like to hear some more of the gems I crafted standing naked before my mirror wall?”

Josh looked from her back to Devlin. He was categorizing the exchanges and gleaning their relationship. But how would she want Josh to comprehend how she felt about Devlin fucking Stone, the man who’d tormented her husband in high school?

“Something about the moons and the stars,” she said, “maybe samurai philosophy, perhaps some hackneyed Nietzsche you gleaned from Twitter. Enlighten us with what you’ve prepared.”

A crack formed in Devlin’s slick veneer, and it got her smiling as smugly as he had been. Devlin’s eyes didn’t show the same glee he’d beamed when he’d entered.

But he recovered quickly. “How about this: This moment”—he used two fingers to draw a square in the air, meaning the room that would abet their sin—“was formed in time long ago, before you even worked for me. This moment existed before we went to Cayman, before you showed off those beautiful little tits and that absolutely perfect ass.”

Josh bristled at the lewd talk about her body, and she said, “Gosh, it’s even better than I’d hoped. How wonderful.”

Josh turned away and went to the window again, showing them his back, hands in pockets, morose but charged by the spectacle beginning. Devlin took it as subjugation, nodding, smirking.

She said, “You don’t get what you want from me, so you target my husband?”

Devlin sneered. “Who says I didn’t get what I want from you?”

She let it soak in, locking eyes with Devlin. There would be much he could say that would destroy the only things that mattered: Josh, her marriage, and their potential family. She would have to submit as well. The revolt she’d showed Devlin so far was enough to set the tone. She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes now.

“Just remember, Josh, this man is a liar.”

Devlin said, “Look who’s talking.”

They stayed eyes locked, grinning at each other, measuring each other. She said, “I love him, you want to hurt him.”

Devlin put out his hands, palms up, swaying up and down like the two dishes of a balance scale; Lady Justice weighing two differing viewpoints. “Either way,” he said, “we’re just two mean kids pushing him around, having the time of our lives doing it.”

Josh turned and faced them, hands still in his pockets, showing the same unbothered countenance he’d worn since Devlin arrived. “You two are unbelievable,” he said. “You both need someone to bump up against.”

“Don’t equate me with him,” she said, nodding her chin toward Devlin and taking her turn to face away from the awful troika. “We’re not the same,” she said, looking at the bed.

Devlin said, “I’m not here to hurt Josh. Josh and I have been in touch. We’ve been talking.”

She shivered, a wicked wet chill racing up her spine. When she turned, Devlin and Josh were regarding each other, Josh unsure, Devlin confident.

If they’d talked, what was said? Josh knew not to trust Devlin. There was nothing Devlin could accomplish with Josh. Other than getting him into this hotel suite for an impromptu get-together. She said, “That’s how you knew to be here?”

Josh faced her, nodding slowly. He looked guilty. Enough she didn’t condemn him for it. Not in front of Devlin.

“And how did this come together so fast? I guess you”—she looked to Devlin—“set it in motion.”

Devlin smiled too broadly.

She regarded both of them in turn, and they stared back in silence. Two men with a plan, and her with none. Were Josh and Devlin in this together? Was that possible? Were they secretly mocking her? Were they trying to back her into a corner, get her telling lie after lie, encouraging an indexed catalog of spun stories and false confessions to slip from her tongue? Make her lay all her cards face up on the green felt? They could pick through her lies and compare all the contradictions.

Josh’s heartfelt offer to her—for his own reprieve—told her otherwise.

The request he’d made was an honest need. One she understood. The sin is the penitence. She’d been reluctant, hesitant—but now with Devlin here, she knew whose side she was on, and Devlin’s malevolent energy was a force she would shield her husband from. If Josh went to Devlin, it must have been a dark and awful time for him.

She looked only at Josh now, and she nodded, her head inclining with love and sympathy for the man she’d hurt for no reason at all. Fighting with Devlin wouldn’t produce anything beneficial. And it was, in fact, risky. She crossed the room to join Josh, standing before him, handling his jacket lapels.

She spoke to both men but only looked at Josh. “What did you two have in mind for this sudden meeting?”

Josh didn’t speak, only lay those hurting eyes on her, tired and hooded. She cupped his cheek again and kissed him. He was receptive.

Devlin closed their distance, coming behind her. She flinched at his hand touching her hair. He worked open her bun, and she fought the urge to express the great displeasure of him handling her hair. But she let Josh know through various facial responses.

“First,” Devlin said, “this meeting isn’t so formal. It’s casual. We all know each other.” He tried to fan out her hair, and she grunted and worked away from him, taking her hair in two hands over a shoulder and doing it herself.

She stood beside Josh, both facing Devlin, who now smiled and walked backward until his back touched the wall. The sunlight filtered from the street-side window, casting him in flattering light, painting all the hard edges of his face and neck but leaving his black eyes shaded. He raised his chin, and like he took great pleasure performing this in front of her husband, he said, “You’re an incredibly beautiful woman.”

Josh looked at her, but she didn’t face him, didn’t want to meet his eyes. The moment was charged and dangerous. Devlin could tell lies about her right now that would destroy her. He could tell the truth and do even worse. Everything Devlin said must be seen as some sort of purposeful taunting meant to rile Josh.

Her arm slithered underneath Josh’s, Josh with a hand in his pocket, and now they were close and touching, standing as one. Devlin smirked at the sight of her, and she knew if she and Devlin were still together, he would make fun of her later when they were alone and in bed.

You play him like a fiddle and he sits at your feet listening to the music.

But those days were gone and they never should have existed. She never should have trusted Devlin Stone, and now she might pay the price.

She said, “Since you two have been talking, why don’t you tell me what you’ve planned.”

Josh muttered, “It’s not like that.”

“But it is kind of like that,” Devlin said, lifting off the wall and coming closer. “Tell your wife what you want.”

In her periphery, she could see Josh roll his eyes up, disgruntled, shaking his head. She said, “Tell me, Josh.”

Josh closed his eyes, lips parted, looking for how he might phrase it. “I want to see. I want you to show me.”

“What would you like to see, Josh?”

His face quarter-turned her way, eyes dipped low. “Don’t make this harder. Don’t make me lie, please.”

Her compassion faded and guilt weighed on her shoulders. Her chin dipped. Josh didn’t want to play games where she coaxed him to state what he wanted. He wouldn’t be able to phrase it without saying the truth. Show me what you do with Devlin behind my back.

With only her eyes, she tried telling him in any way she could how she was sorry and how she wanted his love and how she wanted to make it up to him. He could barely look at her.

She’d told him she would do anything.

She said, “You know I don’t want him.”

He nodded, looked her way now. “Then pretend.”

His answer was cold and unemotional. A directive uttered without care. The wound it delivered to her heart surprised her. Her brow lowered, her chin dimpled; she wanted to plant her feet before him and make him see her the way he used to.

But that was impossible.

Her arm retreated from under his and then she adjusted her suit jacket. She steeled herself, looking away from Josh, determined now and bound by some strange duty, crossing the half-dozen steps in her heels to stand by Devlin. Devlin watched every move she made on the way, eyes lazy and amused, mouth corner tugged in a sly smile. As she approached, he raised his chin, looking down his nose at her, reaching for her neck. She stopped and as he nudged a hooked finger under her chin—an enticing action he would use to lure her kiss—she turned her face away. She said, “No kissing.”

This made Devlin’s smile even slyer. He would get off on her reluctance.

Devlin said, “Take off your jacket.”

She slipped it off her shoulders and tossed it to the nearby chair. Devlin admired her, eyes roaming, her standing in heels, high-waisted pants and a pure white dress shirt. Her nipples had pushed out the tight fabric.