How he’d gotten back to his room, he had no idea.
“Good morning, sir,” Emily said, apparently having seen him wake up.
He groaned as he made himself open his eyes, and there she was, kneeling beside the bed in her little pink cut-off unzipped coveralls, his favorite of her costumes. She was smiling, which she seldom did. He forced a smile back. “Heya. Fuck my head is killing me.”
Instantly, she produced a saucer from beside the bed, atop which was a glass of water and some aspirin. “I thought you might be hung over, sir.” She held it out to him, and he swallowed both gladly. “Perhaps sir needs to build up more of a… tolerance?” She grinned. DJ was pretty sure she hadn’t been consciously aware of his gift until Ashley took to discussing it openly in front of her. It didn’t seem to bother her, but then, the girl was unflappable.
DJ chuckled as much as his hangover let him. “Nice one.”
She helped him dress himself—not something she usually did, but maybe she was trying to go the extra mile because of last night. Did she even know? From the shouting match they’d had right after he’d caught her, the whole floor probably knew by now.
Once he was dressed, he checked his phone; there were three texts from Ashley and a voicemail, all of them apologetic. “Please, please can I come talk to you?” she ended the voicemail with. He’d never heard her sound contrite before. About anything.
He deleted it and put his phone away. If only there was somebody to talk to about it, vent to, only… who was left for? He hadn’t seen Derek in weeks, and Logan IMed him periodically but usually as a nearly transparent veil to get DJ to let him fuck Rachael again. Poor Rachael. There were the guys on his floor—few of whom he was even remotely close with, and he didn’t especially feel like owning his girlfriend’s infidelity to them. He could call his family, but they didn’t really talk about this kind of thing, on the rare occasion they talked at all.
Well, Emily would have to do. She may have all the personal graces of a cardboard box, but she would at least listen patiently, and he just wanted to talk it through.
“So I guess you heard. About Ashley.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I can’t believe she cheated on me. What that fucking twerp Anthony, no less. You know, his girlfriend just broke up with him last week? Guess he got over it pretty fucking fast.” Emily was listening, nodding, but not responding, so he just went on, letting flow his stream of consciousness ranting.
“I don’t know what I’m going to do to that guy when I get my hands on him, but… man, it’s going to have to be something creative. ‘What’re you thankful for this year, Anthony?’ ‘I’m thankful DJ didn’t rip my asshole six fucking inches wide for fucking his fucking girlfriend.’ Fucking asshole.”
Still no response. “What did she even see in him? What was missing that she let that prick talk her into his bed? Do you think he might have rufied her or something? So help, if I find anything even remotely illicit in that fucker’s room…”
Emily nodded.
“You know, feel free to chime in here.”
“Your slut apologizes, sir. She was unsure if you would rather blow off steam, or have a conversation.”
“Well, both, but give me something to work with,” he grumbled.
“Of course, sir. Humbly, your slut suggests that perhaps it was not Anthony’s doing, so much as mistress’s.”
“What? You think this was Ashley’s idea?” He stood up, scowling down at where she was kneeling at his feet. He felt foolish, directing his anger at the top of her head. It was like yelling at a cat—improved nothing, and served only to upset the cat. Still, what she was suggesting…
“Why would she want to cheat on me?” DJ continued. “I’ve been good to her, right? I gave her everything she wanted, everything I thought she could want. What could that prick Anthony give her that I can’t? Nothing, that’s what—I’ve got the world in the palm of my hands, and you think she’d pass up on that just to mess around with some fucking freshman?”
Emily lowered her voice, taciturn. “Your stupid little play thing apologizes, sir. She did not mean to offend, only offer another perspective.”
DJ sighed. “It’s fine, Emily. I’m sorry I yelled. I’m just upset.” He sat back down, then snapped his fingers and gestured; immediately, she obeyed him and sat beside him where he pointed. He didn’t even notice the oddity of the gesture any more. Ordering Emily around had become second nature.
“Sir never has need to apologize, but your slut is glad you are not cross with her.”
“Emily… I tell you, you’re much too good to me.”
He’d not intended it to give her the little thrill that his praises seemed to give her—those were words he just doled out like one would throw a treat to a dog when she’d done something simple but praiseworthy—but nonetheless, she groaned happily at it. “Thank you, sir.”
“You know, maybe you could leave off with the third person yes-sirring shtick, just while we’re talking here.”
“As you wish.” She smiled softly—that made twice in one day now—and spoke as though she were choosing her words very carefully. “It will take some getting used to. Your sl—err, I am not used to speaking with s… you. Like this.”
He patted her leg. “Not that I mind the other thing—you know I don’t—but it’s nice.”
“Do you mind if I ask you a question, sir? Err, DJ?”
“Shoot.”
“Are you going to break up with her, do you think?”
“I don’t know. I should. I know I should. Every time one of my friends or residents or my sister has been cheated on, that’s the advice I’ve given them, and I’ve never seen anyone ignore that advice and have it work out well. Part of me wants to dump her, for sure—a big part. I’m just not sure.”
“What about the other part of you?”
He considered. “I think the other pieces of me are still too hurt to have an opinion. I still don’t want to believe it’s true.”
“But it is true. You saw it with your own eyes.”
“Yeah, I sure did.” He sighed. “Still, maybe there’s more going on than what I know. Maybe they have some kind of history, like it was an old fling in a moment of weakness? Or maybe he drugged her like I was saying, or… I don’t know. Maybe it’s my fault.”
“An old fling? He’s only been in college for three months. She…” Emily’s jaw clenched for a long moment. It was as if now that she were speaking like herself, her poker face was weakened.
“You have something to say?” She hesitated again, and months of handling her like an extension of his id asserted itself. “Tell me what you’re thinking. Now.”
“I… Well look at it this way. Suppose you were a normal relationship like most folks have. How many times would you say you’ve fooled around with another woman since you two hooked up?”
He frowned. “She told me she wanted me to. I didn’t cheat on her—you can’t cheat on someone who’s telling you to fuck another woman. That’s not cheating, that’s just… her little kink. Hell, more often than not it’s her idea, not mine.”
“I didn’t mean to say you were cheating. Only that maybe she thought that if she lets you sleep around, maybe she felt she deserved the same privilege.”
There it was again, that evasive expression, not quite able to meet his eyes. “What exactly are you saying?”
“Nothing, sir, DJ—nothing, I just… I just wanted you to see you’re not to blame, that’s all. Honest. I swear.” She looked down at her lap, hands fidgeting.
He eyed her suspiciously. “I think you know something. Emily, if you’re holding out on me, so help me… I order you to tell me what it is. Right now.”