Two Can Play Read Online Free Page A

really is sorry.
    I look for signs of real emotion but can't see any.
    I'm going for the actress.
    “Abbey, I'm so sorry...I couldn't help it...I don't know what came over me. I'll never, ever do anything like this again, I promise...,” Regan tries to appeal through her sobs.
    “ Ree, you're such a slut. Why couldn't you find your own man instead of stealing mine?”
    “ I didn't steal him...it was all Aaron's fault. He hit on me so much. I caved in....” She gives me a desperate look.
    I did WHAT?
    I'm incensed. But then I realize, I may not have initiated it, but it was half my fault. More than half my fault. I should have stopped her. Said that little and so important word “no” to her, before she stripped off her clothes and I became incapable of it.
    Hell, I may as well take the rap, I'm burnt to a cinder here anyway...might as well go nuclear fallout while I'm at it.
    “Yeah, well. Never could keep it my pants when there's pretty women like you two about, sisters are kind of a fantasy of mine... You don't want a threesome, do you?” I drop my nuclear bomb with a forced, lecherous grin.
    I'm doing this for Abbey, not Regan.
    I hope they'll be able to sort it out when I'm gone.
    “ What? I'm not hearing this, please say I'm not? You're the absolute pits, Aaron Garcia. You know that? You bastard! For God's sake! ” Abbey spits out with venom.
    I sigh in resignation. Never a truer word has been spoken.
    “’Bye then, Abbey. It's been real nice knowing you,” I reply sadly.
    “ Get the fuck out of my apartment, you animal. What I ever saw in you, I really don't know,” she adds nastily.
    I don't like things ending this way with her; she was sweet and fun to be with. I liked her. I force myself out of her life, grabbing my carry-on and trainers from beside the door, and walking out with the small pink towel wrapped around my hips.
    I collect my soaked clothes from the street and put them on in a secluded spot behind the building. I feel disgusting in mind and body. I get out my cell and call for a cab.
    No celebratory dinner for me tonight. I'm definitely not in the mood anymore.
    Not that I have anyone to go to dinner with, do I?
    I'll go home and get fucked-up drunk on my own.
    I've got a bottle of fizz chilling and that's all I need for company.
    I stand waiting under cover for the cab to turn up.
    There's no sign of Regan emerging in any case. That's got to be a good thing.
    Hopefully Abbey will calm down and forgive her. Not that she deserves it, in truth, but whatever. She might have learned a lesson from this. I know I have. I don't like feeling like a real shit.
    Hopefully I haven't created a deep family divide over me, because I'm really not “that” guy.
    I have a reasonably decent code of conduct normally. This was all a bad mistake I want to forget ASAP. I'll put it down to hormonal overload. Being sex starved for a whole week, and Abbey getting me going, leaving me strung out and susceptible.
    Godammit. Women are a lot of trouble, one way or another.
    Not that I'd consider giving them up for a second.
     
    I arrive outside the family house and walk across the small forecourt. It's a beautiful old, and very large Venetian building arranged over four floors. I have a self-contained set of rooms that I use when I'm here. My own apartment. It seems to suit everyone fine this way. We don't get to see each other much.
    I divide my time between my family in Venice and my work in New York.
    Things may change though now that Dad's gone. I've not got so much of a reason to visit anymore. But I suppose I ought to keep things going with my sisters. What little there is to keep going.
    I put my key in the lock and turn. It doesn't budge. I look at it confused. It's definitely the right one. I try again and turn it with more force. No luck.
    Very odd.
    I take the key out and study it for damage, but it looks okay to me. I press the button for the housekeeper, the ancient and long-serving Maria.
    A minute