Bad Penny

by Staci Hart

  As I sat there in my bed with the most beautiful man I’d ever known smiling up at me, I believed every word he’d said. I heard Veronica’s voice in the back of my mind, telling me the three-date rule was stupid, and in that moment, it was.

  Bodie had said it could be easy, and being with him was fun. Being with him made me happy. Being with him was like a balm to my blistering crazy.

  But was that enough to throw my rule out the window and risk the consequences?

  There were so many reasons to say yes, including:

  1. That smile.

  2. The warmth nestled in the middle of my ribcage.

  3. That wonderful wang that had dicknotized me.

  In fact, I’d been dicknotized so hard, that list was all it took to punt my rule into the end zone and do a victory dance. It was stupid and irresponsible and I didn’t give a single shit. I wanted to be with him, and I foolishly believed I was safe and strong enough to know my limits.

  So I answered him with a kiss full of relief and thanks and absolute pleasure.

  When I broke away, he was smiling again.

  “Hit me up, Penny.”

  “I will,” I said.

  And as he left, I reassured myself that I could have fun and keep seeing Bodie with no strings.

  I couldn’t even blame him for the fact that I was already falling for him, and I was so naive that I didn’t even realize it.

  8

  EASY PEASY

  Penny

  I hit the bed with a thump and a bounce, naked and out of breath and grinning from ear to ear.

  The bed jostled as Bodie flopped down next to me, smiling just as wide as I was, looking just as sated as I felt.

  It had been four days of nothing but work and Bodie. Somehow I’d found myself at his place every night, plus once during my lunch break. Ramona had moved out, a tear-filled, horrible day that I ended in Bodie’s bed. The void of her moving had been filled by Bodie and his smile and his jock and his big, muscly arms.

  He was absolutely perfect.

  There were no strings, not a single longing gaze, not one second where I felt the itch to ditch.

  It was a goddamn miracle. I’d found the unicorn of men — a smart, snarky, magical sex creature who made me want to stay put for a minute — and I didn’t think I’d been so happy in my whole life. I didn’t feel crazy, and neither did he. It was easy, just like he’d said.

  I hadn’t laughed so much in ages. I hadn’t felt so good in ages.

  Bodie let me lead under the promise that I wouldn’t wait too long between us seeing each other. As if I could stop. I was addicted. A-dick-ted.

  I giggled stupidly to myself at the thought, and he somehow smiled wider, deepening his dimple.

  We rolled to face each other at the same time, and I curled into his chest, his arms wrapping around me as our legs scissored.

  “You sure are something else,” I mused.

  He chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest and into me.

  My smile falling as I thought about leaving. “Ugh. I wish I could stay for a while.”

  “Well, you can hang here as long as you want.”

  I frowned — in part because the thought of staying didn’t bother me at all, which bothered me, and in part because I couldn’t actually stay.

  “I’ve got to head back to the shop to film an interview.”

  “I thought you weren’t filming until the wedding?”

  I snuggled deeper into his chest and smelled him shamelessly. “We aren’t, but we have these interview things we have to do for a recap on what’s been going on since the break. They’re going to film a little for a montage at our dress fittings in a couple days.”

  “Is it weird being on TV?”

  “Not really. I mean, every once in a while someone will know who I am, which is really strange. Like, they feel like they know you because they watch you on TV, and they know all this stuff about you, but you have zero context for who they are. Mostly I just smile and listen and take the occasional picture with them.”

  He laughed again. “You have fans.”

  “I do. So strange,” I said with an echoing laugh. “Otherwise though, it’s kind of fun. I like to show people what it’s like in the shop, and our show is different from the other parlor reality shows — we don’t focus too much on our personal lives. Sometimes it’s unavoidable though. Like when Annika and Joel started banging on the sly. They had this huge blowup on film. Like, Joel ripped a camera out of a guy’s hands and threw it across the shop.”

  He sucked in a breath through his teeth. “I saw that episode. I bet that wasn’t cheap.”

  My mouth popped open. “You watched it?”

  He nodded, smiling with his lips together. “I did. Is that weird?”

  “Not at all. What’d you think?”

  “Well, I binge-watched it in a day, so I guess you could say I liked it all right.”

  I chuckled as my cheeks warmed up.

  “I liked seeing you work. And I liked your pink hair, too. But I think I like the purple better.” He ran a strand through his fingers.

  I sighed, smiling like a fool. But it was gone in a poof when I remembered I had to leave. “What time is it?”

  He shifted to look, not letting me go. “Four thirty.”

  I groaned. “I’ve really got to go. I’m sorry.”

  He laughed, kissing my forehead before he let me go. “What are you sorry for?”

  I peeled myself off the bed and moved around the room, putting on my clothes and gathering my things as I spoke. “Bailing so soon. I really do wish I could stay.”

  “Penny, you can come over for a quickie anytime you want.”

  He was propped up in bed, smiling back at me in a way that made me want to jump right back into bed with him.

  In fact, once I was dressed — somehow in my mind, clothes could actually stop us from having sex again — I did climb back in bed to lie on my stomach next to him with a smile on my face and a secret in my hand.

  “I got you something,” I said mysteriously.

  One of his brows rose with one corner of his lips. “Oh?”

  I nodded and extended my hand, opening it to reveal a calculator watch.

  He busted out laughing and took it, holding it up for inspection. “Where did you get this?”

  “Chinatown. I was there buying hair dye and thought of you.”

  “I love it.” He chuckled and leaned forward to kiss me. “What color hair dye did you get? Thinking about switching things up?”

  “Oh, I think I’m happy where I’m at for now.” I raised my feet into the air and crossed my ankles behind me. “I’m off tomorrow. Maybe we can see each other?” My eyes trailed over the tattoo on his arm and shoulder, which flickered as he put the watch on.

  It capped his shoulder and ended mid-bicep, an octopus drawn to look like a Victorian-era etching, framed by swirling waves in the same style. He had a few other smaller pieces, but this one was my favorite.

  “Yeah, I’ll be around.”

  I touched his arm, tracing the artwork. “You got these done in LA, I’m guessing?”

  “Venice Beach. Do you approve?”

  “Mmhmm,” I hummed, admiring it.

  “Good. I’d hate to think I got ripped off.”

  I chuckled. “Does it mean anything in particular?”

  He shifted to look at it. “I’ve always thought octopuses were interesting. They’re the smartest creatures I’ve ever come in contact with. My dad caught one once and put it in our tank at home — he was always bringing home starfish and sea cucumbers and fish to add to the tank. I named him Stephen, and he was an escape artist. I’m pretty sure he was a whiz at game theory too.”

  I laughed, and he trailed a finger down my arm. “How about yours?”

  “Mostly they have stories, but some are just pretty, like the flowers on my stomach. Ramona, Veronica, and I all have tiny tacos here.” I pointed at the little line drawing of a taco about the size
of a dime on the front of my shoulder. “Because what says friendship more than tacos?”

  He let out a little laugh through his nose.

  “This one is for my aunt.” I ran my fingers over the two elephants that wound around my forearm, the smaller one holding the bigger one’s tail. “She collected elephant things. After she died, I sketched this up, and Ronnie tattooed me. Now I can carry her around all the time. Elephants don’t forget.”

  His smile fell. “I’m sorry, Pen.”

  “It’s okay. Cancer fucking sucks,” I said with a small smile, not wanting to get into it. “This one is self-explanatory.” I held up my arm to expose the inside of my bicep where it said, Oh yes I can.

  “What about this one?” He touched the Latin running down the back of my other arm.

  “Veni, vidi, amavi. We came, we saw, we loved.”

  His smile was back, and it sent a slow burn through my chest — it was the smallest of things, a firing of a few muscles that shot a hint of understanding at me and hit me deep. So of course I changed the subject again.

  “Thinking about getting more?” I asked.

  “I actually had another one on the books, but then I lost my job and moved out here before I could get it done.”

  I perked up at that. “Really? What of?”

  “A Japanese woodcut design of a wave, here.” He gestured to his bicep and shoulder that wasn’t inked.

  “With the wave curling around your shoulder?”

  He smirked. “Yeah.”

  “Still have the design?”

  “I do. Why?”

  “Because I can do it for you,” I said, chipper and grinning. “Tomorrow. I’m off, remember?”

  He laughed, and his cheeks flushed a little. “Yeah, but I can’t ask you to do that for me, and not on your day off.”

  “You didn’t ask. I want to.” The thought of making my mark on his body sent a tingle through me I couldn’t ignore. I silently did the math to see if I had time to jump him again before I had to go. I didn’t.

  He didn’t look convinced, staring at me like I was a quantum physics equation.

  “I mean it. And I want to see you tomorrow. Meet me at the shop, and we’ll do your piece. Can I have it?”

  “Are you sure, Penny?”

  I shrugged. “Why not?”

  He shook his head and swung his legs off the bed, making his way to his closet. I watched his butt like a creep without a single fuck to give. Then I watched his dick as he walked back.

  What? It was a very pretty dick.

  He handed the artwork over, his eyes twinkling.

  “Thank you.” I stood, stepping into him until I was pressed against his chest. “Let me know what time works for you tomorrow, and I’ll be there.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck, and his wound around my waist.

  “I’ll see you then.” And with that little sentence, he kissed me like he was trying to make sure I never forgot him.

  As if.

  I was all warm and tingly again when he pulled away. He slapped my ass with a pop and stepped into Jersey pants before walking me to the door, leaving my body singing his name as it did every time we were together.

  I felt like my feet were barely touching the ground as I walked the few blocks to the shop, daydreaming about Bodie’s body and his smile and his dimple.

  He was right; things didn’t have to be complicated. I didn’t have to answer to him, and Ididn’t expect him to answer to me. Although I did find myself telling him where I’d be or what I’d be doing, and he seemed to do the same. It was just so easy, just the two of us.

  Of course, we’d spent every minute we could together, though it didn’t feel unreasonable. We’d never spent the night together, but we’d spent late nights and full afternoons all tangled up with each other. I knew the amazing noises he made, knew what he liked, what he wanted from my body. I knew his laugh and his smile, knew his hands, knew every inch of his body. I’d spent over a week exploring it, and what a glorious week it had been.

  I was struck for a moment that I hadn’t even considered being with anyone besides him since I met him. But the thought didn’t freak me out — how could I want something other than absolute perfection? What could possibly lure me away?

  I was struck again when it crossed my mind that he could be seeing someone else, so struck that I nearly tripped over my own feet and hit the sidewalk.

  Surely he felt like I did. I mean, we hadn’t discussed our relationship or defined anything. He’d said I didn’t owe him anything, including exclusivity.

  The thought made me irrationally angry, so irrationally angry that I fantasized about hunting down an imaginary bitch who had tried to touch him and scratching her eyes out.

  I frowned as I crossed the street.

  It had been a very long time since I was jealous, particularly of a made-up thieving man-stealer.

  This confused me on levels I wasn’t ready to admit existed.

  So instead of admitting anything, I reminded myself that he had been with me daily. We’d had so much sex that there was no physical way he’d be able to have more.

  At least I had that. The thought cheered me up.

  I bounced into the coffee shop to grab goodies for everyone before heading to Tonic. I made the rounds once I got there, passing out everyone’s usual drinks along with a few lemon bars — they were the best in the city, I swear — stopping at Joel’s booth last. The Clash was playing over the speakers, and I smiled, thinking about kissing Bodie as a hundred people sang along with “Rock the Casbah” all around us.

  Joel eyed me, smirking a little from behind his dark beard. “You okay?”

  I smiled and leaned on the wall around his booth. “Peachy keen, jelly bean. I’m here for my interview with Annika.”

  His eyes sparked at the mention of her name. “She’s upstairs in the control room getting everything ready.”

  “You excited to start filming again?”

  He shrugged. “You know how I feel about all that. But I’m glad Annika has something to do. Without an objective, she comes unglued. I think she reorganized every book I own, color-coded my closet, and rearranged my sock drawer twice. And that was just in the first week.”

  I laughed. “Well, I’m glad she has a sweater to knit now, something to keep her busy.”

  “Me too.”

  “Hey, I wanted to run something by you. I was going to do some work on a friend of mine tomorrow, if it’s okay. You don’t need my booth, right?”

  He shook his head. “You’re good. Who’s the friend?”

  I couldn’t even play it cool; I found myself grinning. “Bodie.”

  One of his brows rose. “The guy who was supposed to send you flowers but didn’t?”

  I waved a hand, dismissing him. “No, I didn’t want him to send flowers, but if I get flowers, yes, I’d like them to be from him.”

  He narrowed his eyes in concentration. “It’s like you’re trying to tell me something.”

  I laughed. “Yes, that’s the guy.”

  “Hmm,” he hummed, watching me.

  “What?”

  He shrugged and rearranged things on his desk. “Nothing. It’s just you’ve never brought a flowers-not-flowers guy around.”

  “It’s no big deal. He was supposed to have work done in LA and moved here before he could. I’m not even drawing it.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I mean, that makes it completely impersonal.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Ugh, Joel. You’re such a drama queen.”

  He laughed extra loud at that.

  I pushed off the counter and winked at him. “I’ll tell Annika you said hi.”

  “You do that.”

  The bell dinged as I left and turned into the door right next to the shop, climbing two flights to get to the control room. Joel and Annika’s apartment was on the second floor, and the third was rented out by the network to set up as an on-site base of operations. The door was unlocked, and I walked through th
e monitor room, which was usually bustling with PAs and producers, but it was relatively empty since we hadn’t really started rolling yet.

  Annika was back in the green screen room, waiting for me with a cameraman. She slipped off her director’s chair and glided over to me, smiling.

  I swear to God, she was the most beautiful woman I’d ever seen. If Joel were a dark, grumbly bear, Annika was like a porcelain doll — all icy-blue eyes and ruby-red lips and long legs, her hair blonde and skin like milk.

  “Penny,” she said, cheerily — at least for her. She wasn’t overly emotive.

  “Hey, Annika,” I answered. “Look at you, working that skirt.”

  I gestured to her black and white business clothes, which sounded nerdier than it was. Her clothes were immaculately cut, the lines clean and simple and modern and flattering. She looked straight off a runway.

  She laughed. “I learned this summer that casual wear and free time don’t suit me.”

  “I swear, I almost passed out when you came into the shop in leggings a couple of weeks ago.”

  “If a pipe hadn’t burst, you’d never have seen it.”

  I chuckled and took my seat across from hers as a PA entered the room and miked me.

  Annika sat and flipped through the sheets on her clipboard. “So, we’re pretty basic today, just a little bit of catch-up. What have you been working on, how’s the shop, how’s life — that sort of stuff.”

  “Cool,” I said, settling back into my seat as the camera started rolling.

  Annika smiled. “All right, let’s start easy. What’s the weirdest tattoo you’ve done since we saw you last?”

  “Well, weird’s relative, right? Like, you’d think it was super crazy to get a tattoo of a gun, but I have two on my stomach, pointing down to my I-can’t-say-that-on-network-television.”

  She laughed. “That’s true. That’s the whole point of a tattoo, right? That it means something to you. Lessons I learned from your boss.”

  “He’s a smart dude. But to answer your question, I did a Care Bear tattoo on the back of a girl’s calf that made me salute her bravery. Everybody has their thing,” I said with a shrug.