Truce and Lies

Chapter 8: exes

The hotel was much fancier than any we had stayed in on our trip to Chicago. Our things were carried up to our huge room that was as big as the kitchen back home. I snooped through everything, looking at the tiny bottles of shampoo and conditioner and the refrigerator full of candy and alcohol.

"Can you drink alcohol?" I inquired, pointing to the bottles.

"I can," Stefa said, still hanging up my shirts in the closet. "But it's like coffee or tea, the flavor is different now. And I can't get drunk or anything. Why, are you thinking of cracking open a bottle?"

"Oh, no," I laughed. "Coffee makes my heart pound and I feel sick. I'd hate to see what alcohol does to me."

"They are different, you know," she replied.

The door to the next room knocked and I opened it. Jenny stepped around.

"Ma'am, I was going to put gas in the car before it gets too light outside," she said.

"Do it. We'll leave here at eleven or so; the meeting is at noon."

Jenny bobbed her head and headed out of the room. Stefa sighed and turned to me.

"You should sleep now," she said. "I'll wake you in time to shower and change. And eat."

"I don't really sleep on command," I told Stefa as I shut the adjoining door. "And I slept some in the car; I'll be fine."

Stefa raised an eyebrow and then took both of my hands in hers to pull me over to her. I kissed her as she carefully unbuttoned my shirt.

"You still worried about my silk shirt?" I teased.

"Always, pretty boy," she told me, hanging it up in the closet before returning to me.

She pushed me to the bed, but I caught her wrist, spinning her around in my arms to plant kisses down her neck and arm. Stefa was cold to the touch and I still wasn't used to the fact that she didn't have any scent, but I did not regret my decision to stay with her. I leaned back onto the bed, Stefa taking my face in her hands to kiss me deeply.

Someone knocked on the door just as Stefa pulled her dress over her head. She paused as if hoping that whoever it is would go away. The door sounded again.

"Seriously?" she muttered and then called: "Who is it?"

"You even stayed in our old room," came a voice. "Come on, Stefa. I know it's you."

"Seriously?" she repeated, kissing me once more before rising from the bed.

She dressed as she headed to the door. I reluctantly followed her. Stefa sighed, turning to me before answering the door.

"This is Jackson," she said. "We were lovers before. He's...well, he's nothing like you. And obviously the two of us are over."

"Why would I need to be jealous of anyone?" I questioned.

She rolled her eyes and opened the door. A tall blonde man with a nose ring and blue eyes was standing with his hand on his waist, waiting impatiently. He didn't look at me at all.

"Jackson," she said. "Figures you would stay in the same hotel. What are you doing here?"

"Aren't you going to invite me in?" he pouted.

"Not when you're rudely knocking down my door. I was busy."

Jackson's eyes slid over to me, inspecting me from head to toe. I resisted the urge to bristle. Who Stefa had been with before me was her business, but I didn't like the way he seemed to ponder if I would make a good snack.