Devil in the Waters, Book 8, Chapter 10

For lunch she ordered an Energy Unagi roll and a seaweed salad from Hashi Izakaya. Crispy shrimp, crabmeat, and cream cheese, topped with barbecued eel, only half eaten, the remains stacked in black plastic trays on Devlin’s coffee table. It was 12:45 now. Devlin told her they’d meet at his place for lunch.

She wouldn’t text him. Wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Devlin wanted to play games with her, but he didn’t know who he was playing with.

On his leather couch, shoes off, bare feet crossed on the table, she flicked through her phone. Checked Instagram, checked Facebook. Her suit jacket hung inside the front door of the apartment. Devlin hadn’t moved any of his things in yet, and didn’t take possession till the first of the month. Melody gave him the key. The unit wasn’t occupied anyway. It would give him more time to move his things in.

Kimmy anticipated this apartment would be the spot she spent a few lunch hours a week. But they hadn’t met here at all last week. She hadn’t even seen Devlin. Though she texted, Devlin gave nothing away. Didn’t say or allude to anything that bothered him. But she determined from this fact the proof she needed that Devlin was playing games. It was coy and sly. Behavior she deemed below Devlin. More the kind of maneuvering she would expect from someone less confident. Unless there was something he was up to she didn’t see.

She tossed her phone to the couch, got up and strolled around the apartment, arms folded, liking the cool feel of the hardwood under her bare soles. She stood at the window a long while, looking at nothing, watching cars pass on the road beyond. Then caught herself, not realizing it at first: was she looking for his car to arrive?

Don’t be so needy.

It would be great to see him. The last time she’d spent with Devlin, they’d fucked on the hotel balcony in Cayman. She stroked her upper arms, feeling a warm tingle low in her stomach. Where the fuck was he?

When her phone dinged with an incoming text, she dashed straight to it. Then slowed the rushing, not wanting Devlin to see her eager. It would be a great idea to get back to the office right now, then when he arrived she could text back from the office like she forgot she was supposed to meet him today.

But the text wasn’t from Devlin, it was from Josh. She chewed her lip a moment before letting face recognition reveal the text to her.

Josh: Guess who I had lunch with.

Now she gnawed her inner cheek, a bizarre sense this guessing game could be part of her own current puzzle. Josh had lunch with Devlin. But that was stupid. Josh had a life of his own that had nothing to do with her nefarious activities. If it wasn’t Meyer Josh had lunch with, who would it be? Not Steve. These were both people he had lunch with all the time. He wouldn’t text about them. Sophie, maybe. Hyun and Sophie? Amy? Oh, what about Karina? She had no witty answer for Josh, and now felt guilty in Devlin’s apartment and talking to her husband at the same time. At least Devlin wasn’t here. She texted back.

Kimmy: Who?

The dots danced, and she waited for an answer. Then the debt dots stopped.

She gathered her things, threw out her Unagi leftovers, put on her pumps, slipped on her jacket, stood at the door a moment and checked her phone. More dancing dots, then a text arrived.

Josh: I had lunch with your boss. Called me out of the blue. We went to Convivium in Ajax. Had a steak. You know how it is.

She frowned, wondering when it was they had lunch. Devlin said he would be here, in his apartment.

So this was Devlin’s game.

She growled, raked fingers through her hair—reminding herself to tie it in a bun before she returned to the office. Devlin’s game was to shame her while he had lunch with her husband. The horny adulteress left unsatisfied, her lover taunting her and her husband. What was his message? that he satisfied her husband’s kink instead of hers?

She texted in return.

Kimmy: What the hell?

Josh: I know!

What would they have talked about over lunch? What would Josh have told Devlin? Her mind scanned the most dangerous things Josh could say to Devlin. Devlin would be unwise to jeopardize her relationship with her husband, knowing it would jeopardize her work relationship with him. This impromptu lunch meeting was meant to taunt Josh. Not meant to fuck with her. But then why wouldn’t he just tell her? It was a weak attempt at controlling their narrative. Devlin thought he was in control.

She growled again, lips pursed and shaking her head, looking at the happy words from her husband. Josh not knowing someone else was working him towards sexual manipulation. While she had Josh’s best interest at heart, Devlin did not.

She had to be in control.

With that, she slipped out of the apartment and locked it behind her and made her way to the elevator banks.

She texted Josh.

Kimmy: What did you guys talk about?

Josh: You weren’t kidding about amateur psychotherapy. Tried to run something on me about how humiliation is a gift

So Devlin was working that power-vacuum angle on Josh now. Trying to lure Josh into some sort of trap. Devlin sought to humiliate Josh, she sought only to deliver what her husband craved wanted. Did Josh want humiliation? She definitely didn’t think so. He wanted suffering. Not humiliation. She shook her head again, getting mad. The elevator dinged and she boarded the car, looked at her annoyed reflection in the mirrored doors as they closed. Her phone dinged.

Josh: Guess where I’m going Friday

Kimmy: Where?

Josh: Jays game, box seats with your boss.

“Oh Josh,” she sighed.

***

Later at the office, around two o’clock, she was engrossed in work again. Thoughts of Devlin subsided, and she hated what was left in its wake. Horniness. She’d built up desire, wanting Devlin to show up. She really had wanted him today. Had missed seeing him. Had counted on it. But once her computer was on, and she was scanning documents, Devlin was banished from the foremost point in her mind. A certain soggy feeling remained.

At one point, thinking about her horniness encouraged a small, curling smile. At first she thought she was going to fuck Josh’s brains out when she got home tonight. And when that didn’t sate the desire she felt, a kinkier thought: Josh couldn’t fuck the way Devlin did, but what could really make her come was tormenting Josh to bring out the worst in him. To bring out that dirty awful orgasm he hated. Make him fall in love with it. The plan was devious, but since Cayman, it was the thing really getting her off.

She almost jumped when Tami knocked on the glass of her office door. She pushed her chair back, and waved Tami in. Tami looked concerned and harried, her posture stooped.

Kimmy asked her what was going on.

“Sorry to bother you,” Tami said in a hushed voice. “Have you seen Devlin?”

“No, I haven’t. You haven’t seen him?”

“I thought maybe you had lunch with him.”

She bristled. Was that the kind of thing Tami thought? Was she being surveilled by her secretary? “I didn’t have lunch with Devlin.”

“You went out, I just thought maybe you met up with—”

“No,” she said, wanting to argue the point more, but knowing that somehow would make her feel guiltier and maybe give something away to Tami. “Why?”

Tami stepped further in but kept the office door open. She whispered louder, “His dad’s here.”

“Devlin’s dad?”

“Yeah, he’s looking for him.”

“I don’t know where he is. What does his dad want?”

“I don’t know. I think it’s important.”

“Oh,” Kimmy said, and snapped her fingers, a lifesaver thrown to her out of nowhere. She wasn’t at lunch with Devlin, not at all, Tami. “I think he’s coming into Toronto. He had lunch with my husband.”

“He had lunch with Josh?”

“Yes. We all went to high school together, remember?”

“Oh yeah.”

“So Devlin was in Ajax an hour ago. Tell him Devlin will be here later, probably. He’s not answering his phone?”

Tami shook her head no.

“That’s strange.”

Tami was still perplexed. Devlin’s father was intimidating and she’d come in here for some news but didn’t think she got enough. “You want to talk to him?”

“Talk to— Oh, you mean talk to Devlin’s dad. . . . Only if he asks for me.”

Tami leaned in closer and whispered even quieter now, making elaborate mouth movements so Kimmy could lipread. “I think he’s pissed at Devlin.”

Kimmy nodded, understanding that Tami wanted someone else to take care of the problem, someone with more authority. Kimmy rose from her office chair, straightened her jacket, and gestured for Tami to go ahead. Tami scooted behind her front office desk, and got busy with work. Devlin’s father stood facing away, hands on hips in that same Superman pose Devlin often assumed. He studied an original piece of art in their foyer, a six-foot wide landscape of nothing but swirls and patches of color.

Kimmy addressed him and he turned to regard her. While Devlin was a devil in black, his father was all in silver. Silvery Glen plaid suit, white shirt, steel tie; thick waves of long, graying hair brushed back from his tanned and chiseled face. But his eyes were as dark as his son’s, gleaming with sly intellect. And while Devlin’s eyes often showed an exuberant malevolence, his father’s showed the same, but honed by wisdom.

Under his gaze, she re-introduced herself. “Good afternoon, Mr. Stone. I’m Ms. Chang, the—”

“I remember. Kimmy.” His gaze stayed firm and uncompromising. “How are you doing?”

“I’m well, thank you. Devlin hasn’t been in today, but I assume he’ll be here shortly. He was in Ajax about an hour ago.”

“That’s where you live.”

She didn’t know what to make of that. Didn’t know what relevance Devlin’s father construed, enough he would mention it now. And didn’t know if she should mention Devlin’s lunch with Josh. Was that a frivolous thing? Would Devlin’s father see his son painted as a gallivanting flâneur? Devlin wasn’t lazy, but she also wasn’t quite sure what he really produced. He always seemed to know where the business was going and what needed to be done, but he didn’t ever get caught with his hand on the wheel. Then again, maybe Devlin needed a challenge. She said to his father, “That’s right, he took my husband out for lunch.”

Devlin’s father received it without reaction. “When was that?”

“I talked to my husband about an hour ago, so if Devlin left Ajax to come to Toronto after lunch, he should be here soon.”

“What does your husband do?”

“Market research at AJ Swanson.”

“Good outfit.”

“He’s happy there.”

Now Mr. Stone surveyed her. Not lecherously, nor appreciatively, though she assumed those perspectives existed in Devlin’s father—why else would his eyes roam her body? He said, “When you see him, tell him to call.” His tone was dry and calm yet commanding.

“I will certainly do that, Mr. Stone,” she said with no hesitation.

“Take care, Mrs. Chang,” Devlin’s father said, and dismissed their conversation with a hand wave. The gesture wasn’t insulting. It was authoritative. A top-down command missing from the Toronto office. It might take years for Devlin to earn the gravitas his father showed.

Mr. Stone departed with no more said.

Once he’d descended in the elevator, the glowing light showing his cab heading down to the ground floor, Tami said to Kimmy, “He’s so intimidating.”

Kimmy shrugged, returning to her office. “That’s a man you don’t mess around with.”