The Difference

Chapter 10

If he lived to be a hundred years, he would never understand what evil force had propelled him to follow her.  It made no sense.  He had reached his goal.  Success was his after his admittedly horrible behavior had finally penetrated her civil mask.  Lisa always thought she could outwit and outplay him, usually realizing too late that she herself had been played and had lost.  What had she expected?  Did she really think she could corner him, force him to deal with her in public, and not get burned?  She must have lost her touch dealing with all those wimpy losers over the past years. 

After her hasty exit, he had made his apologies to Julia and Bret, telling them he felt unwell and needed a second to pull himself together.  Part of that was true.  His chest was burning and he felt like coming up from a very long dive.  Julia attempted to read his eyes, but he averted contact.  Maybe he had known he had to steal one more glance at Lisa, making sure she was indeed leaving.  Was he scared she would stay or was he terrified she would leave? What a familiar feeling.  Familiar and unwelcome.  Briefly, he wondered if he felt guilty, and discovered that concern for Julia was at the very periphery of his mind.  It was like Lisa’s presence had drowned out any and all other images in his consciousness.  He just needed to make sure she was really out that door, so he could return to being the gentle and polite person Julia thought him to be. 

Coming down the long hall, he immediately had spied Lisa and Riff Raff, who funny enough shared his first name, by the exit.  They were talking, then Lisa leaned in.   He held his breath, watching them kiss.  Something inside tripped a switch and emotions rushed in, drowning him.  The hall converted into a glass tank.  He was trapped inside, quickly running out of oxygen yet refusing to pull the lever promising a quick rescue.  What was this?  Anger? Hurt? Jealousy?  Possessiveness?  He felt his brain shutting down.  This was not good.  Not good at all.  

Still, this was more than cute.  She had shown up here, obviously having browbeaten Bret into inviting her.  Knowing he had company in New York, she had dragged her newest puppet along with her to rub in being engaged for the hundredth time.  She had forced a conversation, had hinted at their history, had insulted his date, and now was sexing it up with her boy toy?  Right here?  Who does that?  Oh yeah, that’s right, he forgot her penchant for public dalliances. He flashed back to a hot hand on his crotch in an elevator.  His security team was right there, standing in front of them, facing the door.  His back had been against the wall, in more ways than one, when she had reached down there and started to play.  God- he had been so horrified.  And so turned on. 

Michael! Walk the hell away.  She is no longer your concern.  She’s outa here.  She’s gone from your life.  Let her have her blissful happiness with this milky dude.

He had been this close to listen to that well-meaning, rational voice inside.  Sadly, this close was not close enough.  Lockwood left.  Her whole posture changed after the loser closed the door.  Very interesting. When she disappeared into the bedroom, he glanced behind one more time to ensure he was not being watched.  He did not need an audience following her into the bedroom.  Not that he had anything to hide.  He only wanted to find out what the hell had been behind all her attempts to reach him.  The otherworldly sexual pull toward her had nothing whatsoever to do with his behavior. Or the hard on in his pants.  Totally irrelevant.

Entering, he leaned against the door.  The water was running in the bathroom and she had the door pulled, but not shut.  The glare from the ceiling light gave him a headache, so he switched on one of the small lamps, turning the brighter illumination off.  He heard the water go off, and heard her calling out, obviously expecting to see his name sake.  Then she finally appeared at the door, stopping, staring at him as if he had two heads.