Angels of Detroit by Christopher Hebert Read Free Book Online

surprises …” he began. And then again, “How’d you get in here?” He spoke slowly, the better to control the anger he felt rising in his throat.
    She rolled over onto her back, fluttered her eyelashes. The sheet had slid down below her breasts. They were smaller than Sylvia’s but firmer, and they made it impossible for him to forget how young she was. Violet’s skin was a deeper, richer brown than his wife’s, and soft—the softest living thing he’d ever touched.
    “Sylvia let me in to borrow an egg—” Violet paused, adding a moment later, “As she was leaving.” Then she sighed, dramatically, her chest rising and falling. “Looks like I forgot to lock the door when I left.”
    He saw her arm move, and then he felt her hand between his legs.
    “I remembered there was something else I needed to borrow.” Her fingers fumbled in the fly of his boxers. She gripped his shorts by the elastic and gave them a tug.
    Darius held on to the side of the bed, and she let the elastic snap back against his hip.
    “What’s your problem?” she said, turning away.
    From behind he could see the outer swell and lift of her breast, and he felt regret. He reached out and put an arm around her waist. She allowed herself to be pulled toward him, even helped. Their bodies came together, stopping only when they both felt the length of his erection between her buttocks.
    “So you are happy to see me,” she said.
    He was, in part, and it was that part that ruled the moment.

    They finished just seconds before the alarm went off. Darius was glad when its wail gave him an excuse to let Violet go.
    He was a stupid, stupid man. As they lay silently, several inches of sheet between them, Darius swore to himself that it would never happen again. But then again, not only could he remember each of the reasons he’d already thought of for breaking off the affair—finally and completely—he could recall himself on this bed, in exactly this position, making the exact same pledge.
    Violet stood naked before him, her body strong and confident and intimidating.
    “Shouldn’t you be at work?” he said.
    She slipped on her panties, a faint sliver of fabric that somehow seemed to make her even more naked than before. “I switched.” She pulled on her sweatpants and a T-shirt that had been washed almost to transparency.
    “Otherwise I never get to see you.” She reached out and touched his toe, and the sweetness of the gesture only increased his misery.When she bent down to pull up her socks, Darius ducked under the blankets. He allowed a minute to pass, pretending to search for his underwear. When he resurfaced, Violet was gone.
    He leaped out of bed, still undressed, and sprinted to the living room. As he locked the front door behind her, Darius felt again the loss of those fourteen minutes. There’d be no getting them back, not when every minute of the next five hours was accounted for in advance. He’d already promised Sylvia he’d do the shopping. They’d talked about it the night before. He always called her during his break, just as she was getting into bed. He’d been careful to set aside just enough time to get to the store, but that was before Violet.
    He walked over to the window and lowered himself into the recliner with a sigh. Now, on top of everything else, he’d have to wash the sheets, too.
    The vinyl cushion squeaked against his naked skin as he reached out to raise the blinds. The afternoon sun washed through the glass, pouring over his body. He didn’t bother to cover himself. There was nobody outside to see him. The street below was empty. The building across the street was empty, too. There’d been a fire a couple years ago. But if it hadn’t been a fire, it would’ve been something else. The emptiness was everywhere. All across the city it was the same, a landscape full of monuments to loss and oblivion.

    He stood in the shower just long enough to rinse off the smell of Violet’s perfume. He passed a