How he had her underwear pushed aside and found his way inside her with such deft speed she’d never know, but he was panting and shuddering, and she was right there with him. It had been so long. Good Lord, it had been too long.
With another heavy grunt he spasmed with almost youthful force, and she looked into his eyes. For one endless moment they filled with such intense pleasure, she forgot where they were. Then his eyes rolled up, and rolled up, the black pupils widening even as the blue irises disappeared into his lids. With another massive shudder his hands slipped off her, and his body slackened and went limp under her.
Things started to move in slow motion. He slid to one side, his back slipping against the couch, the fabric bunching under him as he slumped over. Then, with one last shudder, he went as still and heavy as a corpse.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CULLIE
At first I thought I was the flame to her moth. But the burning came when I lost her. I can only hope that the people who got to be in her life knew what they had.
From the journal of Oscar Seth
What do you mean, Binji killed someone?” Cullie was used to her mother and grandmother bickering since Binji had moved. But they would both basically throw themselves in front of bullets for each other.
Her mother never sounded so . . . what was the word she was looking for? So . . . bewildered, knocked off her feet. It was Mom’s voice from when Cullie had dropped out of U of I’s computer engineering program.
“I didn’t say Binji killed someone,” Mom said. “I said she might have caused someone’s death.”
“Oh, that’s totally different, then.” Sometimes having a journalist for a mother was the most annoying thing.
“Cullie, is this really the time for cheekiness?”
“Cheekiness? Now you sound like Granny Karen,” Cullie said before she could think better of it.
“There’s no need to hit below the belt,” Aly said before she could think better of it apparently. Then she cleared her throat. “Let’s focus on Bindu and not my mother, okay?”
Oh, you don’t have to ask me twice, Cullie wanted to say. But Mom would feel the need to lecture her about respect and all the reasons behind why her mother’s mother was such an inflexible, bitter grouch. Strange, because a constant state of bitterness pretty much defined Mom’s relationship with Granny Karen. Fortunately, Mom’s parents had packed up and moved back to India a few years ago, and it had stopped the day-to-day onslaught of Granny Karen’s constant criticism and Mom’s resulting blue mood.
“Tell me what happened. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be sounding so calm if Binji had actually committed homicide. Wait, is Papa back in America?” The only person Cullie’s grandmother was angry enough with to kill was her one and only child, Cullie’s father.
Aly groaned. “Dear Lord, I don’t know what I did to raise such a cynic. That’s your father you’re talking about.”
“I know he’s my father. And you’re my mother. And Binji is my grandmother. That’s why I know how badly Binji has wanted to kill Papa since the divorce.”
“Cullie, can we please not make jokes right now. This is serious.” She sounded serious enough. Then again, Aly Menezes Desai, anchor wannabe, always sounded serious, far more serious than Aly, Cullie’s mom, who was probably the one Cullie had inherited her ill-timed humor from, not that she didn’t work hard to hide it.
“You do sound like someone died,” Cullie said, and her mother made a frustrated sound. “Fine, sorry. Tell me who died and why you’re blaming the mother-in-law you secretly adore for it?”
As it turned out, Binji’s “hot date” had just keeled over and died. “During sex. Or after sex,” Mom explained in a tone that made it obvious she couldn’t believe the words she was having to say.
“Was it during sex or after sex?”
“Cullie!”
“You’re right. Both of those scenarios are equally horrifying. But it feels like an important distinction.”
“I can’t believe you’re laughing,” Mom said, her own voice shaking with that thing that masqueraded as mirth when unbelievably bizarre things happened, even tragic ones.
“It’s really just my horror manifesting,” Cullie said, even though there was an element of the absurd here that was pretty funny. Every person who knew Binji had made some version of a joke about her looks being killer. “Is Binji in trouble? Where is she? Are you with her?”
“I’m in her condo. We just got home from the hospital. The cops and EMT came, and we went with them when they took the body—”
Cullie gasped. “A b . . . body?”
“Cullie, honey, usually when someone dies, there’s a body.”
Things suddenly felt too real. “Okay, I’m leaving for the airport and getting on the next flight. Get Binji out of there, please.” Binji loved that condo. This just wasn’t fair. Well, even less fair to the man who’d died, obviously.
“She’s refusing to go anywhere else. I tried to take her to my place, but she insisted on coming back here.” Cullie tried to ask why, but Mom cut her off. “I’ll explain everything later. The HOA is not going to make this easy. They’re already trying to use this to drive her out, and . . . well, she’s not going anywhere. I’m staying with her tonight.” Her voice trembled, but she got it under control. “Are you sure you can get away? What about work?”
Shit, this was going to mess things up with what Cullie had promised CJ.
“Cullie?” her mother nudged. “You don’t have to come. Ma seems fine. She hasn’t said much.”
“Binji hasn’t said much?” Binji’s constant state was saying too much. “Of course I’m coming. Will she talk to me now?”
“I think she’s shaking her head.” Mom sounded unsure.
“You can’t tell if Binji is shaking her head or not?” When you didn’t know if Binji was shaking her head, that was bad. Everything Binji did was dialed up. Her gestures and expressions weren’t loud, exactly, because there was an elegance to them, but they were visible, in your face, in this inescapable way. Cullie had always thought of them as Bollywood mannerisms.
“She hasn’t said much to me yet. She tried to talk to the cops, but they realized she was in shock because she kept opening her mouth, and nothing came out. The doctor gave her something to calm her down, and the cops said they’d be back tomorrow.”
Before Mom had even disconnected the phone, Cullie had bought tickets to Fort Myers and was checked in. The flight left in two hours. She could be at the airport in half an hour if she hurried.
Crawling to the back of her closet, she retrieved her overnight bag and stuffed it with a few black tights, tanks, and tees.
Have Binji get on Shloka, Cullie texted her mother. Have her use the Tranquil++ track. That should help her relax.
Knowing that she’d created something that could do this, help someone in crisis, relaxed Cullie. The stress she’d been feeling about the deal she’d proposed to CJ had disappeared when Mom called. Now it was back full force and clamoring for attention. Needing to protect Shloka was a flood inside her. Binji in crisis only made the flood swell.