Victim of Love by Darien Cox Read Free Book Online

his sunglasses so I could now see his eyes when he glanced my way. They’d been alluring in the dark on the beach last night, but in the light of day, simply dazzling, and I had to summon my bravery to continue on my mission to verbally ambush him.
    Shrugging, he looked back down at the table, picking up a carved, laughing Buddha. “You’re not gonna find The Venus of Willendorf in here, that’s for sure.”
    I nodded. “Okay. I’m gonna pretend I know what that is.”
    Beck gave me a small, cute grin, then set the Buddha down and moved on, picking up an oddly phallic looking statue, brass or maybe old gold paint. As he held it up I realized it was a nun, head shrouded in a veil, hands molded to her chest in prayer. “The Venus of Willendorf is a statuette some schmuck found while digging in 1908. Looks like one of those little, you know.” He cupped his hand before his chest. “Booby fertility figures. Ended up being about twenty-five thousand years old.”
    I wanted to ask him how he knew this, inquire about his interests, his work, his life. But my brain was dominated by a more pressing question. “So, do you remember meeting me last night?”
    Going still, Beck’s gaze slid my way. “Excuse me?”
    “We met last night. On the beach.”
    “What are you talking about?”
    “You’re telling me you don’t remember.”
    “Remember what?”
    “Last night. On the beach. We met.”
    He gave me a skeptical look. “If you say so. Kind of had a blackout, my friend. I didn’t give you a hard time, did I?”
    Hmmm. A hard time.
    “No, you were...fine.” I desperately wanted to tell him that we’d kissed, but it would come off as just that—desperate. And I wasn’t one hundred percent sure I believed that he didn’t remember me. But at least I had some sort of answer. If he was lying about the blackout, then he didn’t want to remember me, and that was now clear. I decided to take the conversation in another direction.
    “So how come you didn’t call Laurie when you got here last night? Why’d you get so drunk?”
    Beck’s arm lowered, and he gave me a surprised looking scowl that wasn’t altogether friendly. For a moment I thought he was going to beat me with the nun statuette. “That’s a bit personal,” he said. “I don’t even know you.”
    “I’m sorry. Forget I asked.” Shit, I was making a mess of this, and making myself look like an overzealous ass in the process. I’d never been a smooth talker, and suddenly I felt twelve years old again, trying to hang with the cool kid and stumbling over myself.
    Beck still studied me, his brow lowered over his eyes. Suddenly his brows rose as he focused on something over my shoulder. Turning quickly back toward the table, he leaned in to me. “Don’t make it obvious, but I want you to look over to your right, seven rows back. Do you see a tall, thin black man with a shaved head, behind the displays?”
    I began to turn and he grabbed my wrist.
    “Be subtle,” he whispered.
    I figured he was trying to change the awkward subject I’d brought up, but I played along, mainly because he was touching me and I couldn’t think straight. So I pretended to be interested in a creepy porcelain doll, then stole a glance to my right. Through the space between two cabinets I did see a tall, bald black man, but he wasn’t looking our way. He seemed fascinated by a painted vase.
    “Okay,” I said softly, setting the doll down. “I see him. What of it?”
    “I’ll explain later, right now I need you to do something for me.”
    “Um...what?”
    He handed me the gold nun, then moved in close. “I’m gonna give you some money. And I want you to go to the register and pay for this. Then I want you to go outside and wait for me.”
    I stepped back. “Say what?”
    He grabbed me by the back of the neck and pulled me in, pressing his forehead against mine. “No, stay cool, make it look like we’re speaking conspiratorially.”
    “We are speaking