Intensity by C.C. Koen Page A

pressure on my back, and arms wrapped underneath me. Grogginess didn’t disguise a thing. The contour of his body and his scent infused in every pore, he’d been branded on my brain for quite a while. So much so, that even in my sleepy state I knew Linc.
    He whispered the same phrase three times, “I’m sorry, Serena,” at my temple, in my ear, and when he tucked me against his chest, linking our hands together, he repeated the last one against my fingers.
    I fell back asleep with a tiny smile and happier heart.

Three additional clients joined the ranks today. Once again they had a typical response, mentioning a friend of a friend recommended me. Numbers were my thing, and I gained a lot of experience at Gram’s side, but in all the years we worked together, acquiring new clients in a steady stream wasn’t typical. It could be luck or a fluke, I hadn’t given it much thought before, but now, perhaps someone wasn’t telling me something. There’d be only one way to find out. He should be in his office this time of day.
    An empty lounge felt weird without loud tunes and gyrating bodies. A sense of déjà vu hit me as I approached a semi-open door. Instead of going in, I turned to leave, coming to a stop when I heard my name, said as if someone talked about me, not to me. I should’ve left but my curiosity wouldn’t let me. Tucked along the wall, I listened.
    Please forgive me for being so nosy.
    “I’ll triple the rate. In fact, I want a long-term arrangement with Serena.”
    Hell, it’s Jax again.
    “I told you she’s off limits. She’s exclusive already.”
    You tell him, Linc. I pumped myfist at my side.
    “With who?”
    “Me.”
    Yes, put him in his place—outta here, sucker!
    “What are you doing, man? That’s not like you.”
    Crap. Tell him, Linc. Tell him I’m yours and only yours .
    “She needed a job, and I gave her one. It’s temporary until she gets her finances together. It is what it is.”
    Bile tainted my tongue and a thundering brigade charged across my chest. I should’ve left, but I couldn’t. It was like the people who witnessed a catastrophe and stood there—watching—doing nothing.
    “So what’s the big deal then? I’m a paying client.”
    Every bone in my body shattered and shriveled to the ground at the thought he’d turn me over to Jax.
    “Don’t. We’re not going there. Not with her.”
    “Linc, I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’ll say it anyway because we’re friends. We’ve been through hell together, so listen up. Think long and hard about what you’re doing, and what it means. I’m guessing you haven’t known her long. You have a lot going on and just as much on the line. Have you told her anything?”
    “No.”
    “That’s what I thought.”
    “You done, Jax?”
    “For now…hey, I’m just watching out for your back.”
    “Yeah…yeah, I know.”
    I unglued my fractured body. Tears came in gusts and didn’t stop for a long time.

    My saving grace came in the form of a long walk to the mini-mart after the catastrophic eavesdropping. I bought three types of ice cream: Chunky Monkey, Cherry Garcia, and the pièce de résistance: Chocolate Therapy. Ben & Jerry’s must have a psychologist on their payroll, because I could relate each of their flavors to an event and reason to eat them. Today’s selections definitely related.
    Arms full, I jabbed the elevator button. When it opened, I hurried in and imagined splendid and gigantic combinations. My goal: get to my apartment and eat until comatose.
    One floor up the elevator came to an abrupt stop, the doors opened, and in walked B.B. Yikes! Slumped in the corner from the emotionally draining morning, I imagined my position sent an ill-intended message. Her squinty eyes and crooked smirk spoke volumes. I shifted my stance and kept my mouth shut, staring at the air vent above my head. Negative vibes wafted off her in waves. I couldn’t deal with another mental slap. Not now anyway. My shitty