Book 'Em Bridget

by Danielle Norman

  “I have no clue why you’re so mad. I tried to call you, but you didn’t answer, so when I saw him drop something in the woman’s drink, I intervened.”

  My knuckles were white with my effort to control the lashes of worry and frustration inside me. “You. Confronted. Justin.”

  “Not like you’re thinking. I went over to the table and pretended to know his date.” I listened as Bridget told me her story.

  “Does he suspect anything?”

  “I’m not sure if he suspects anything, but he definitely wasn’t happy. Once he realized she was gone, he started shouting. By then, the girls were there, so all he did was talk shit.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  “We are going to file complaints on Monday, though.”

  “Why?” I felt heat rising in my face once again.

  “He called us fucking whores.”

  “I’m going to kill him.” I pulled into Bridget’s parking lot and into her spot.

  “Thanks for the ride. I’ll have one of the girls or my ma come get me in the morning.” She jumped out and slammed the door. I couldn’t help but laugh.

  I got out and followed her to her door. “We aren’t done.”

  “Oh, we are so done. We are well done, flambéed, broiled, toasted, should I go on?” I chuckled some more. “Keep laughing, buddy, but you think I’m joking? I’m not.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’m not.” If she were walking up the stairs to her apartment, she would probably be stomping her foot.

  “Okay.”

  “Ugh.” I chuckled some more. “Good night, Eli.”

  She went to slam her door in my face, but my foot was there to block it before she could. “Go change, I’ll wait here.”

  “I’m tired. We have nothing left to talk about.”

  “Go. Change.”

  “Ughhh.” Bridget marched off, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

  I smiled as I moved into her kitchen and opened the fridge. I grabbed a bottle of wine that she had in there and pulled open drawers until I found a corkscrew. I’d just pulled the cork free when she walked back out, dressed similarly to last night, her hair piled up on top of her head, a pair of shorts, and T-shirt.

  Bridget plopped onto a stool and pulled one leg up. I handed her a glass as I took a sip of mine. I stared at her, something about her position, her knee bent, chin resting on it, her toes curling over the edge of the seat had me envisioning things that I definitely shouldn’t. Like, how would her toes curl when she orgasmed?

  I knew I was in trouble, and if it weren’t for the fact that she was watching my every move, I’d reach down and adjust my growing erection.

  I tracked predators for a living, but at this moment, I was the hunter and Bridget was my prey. I set my glass on the counter but never took my eyes off her, not even when she licked her lips. She was radiating heat, pheromones, like a jungle mating call and I was ready to beat my chest and answer her.

  Her foot slipped off the stool and dangled for a second before I moved to stand between her knees. She wrapped her foot around the leg of the stool, which made her sit up straighter and moved her closer to me. I raised one hand and cupped her face, then holding her chin between my thumb and index finger, I lowered my mouth to hers, kissing her just enough to taste. “Fuck, Bridget.”

  “Eli.” My name on her lips was the hottest thing ever. I’d wanted this woman for too long.

  I slid one hand under her shirt to cup her breast. “You have no clue how hard it was to leave you last night. I didn’t want to stop at just a kiss.”

  “Then don’t stop,” Bridget panted.

  “You have no clue what you’re saying.” God, her breasts felt so good in my hand, I wanted them in my mouth. “It’s been so hard not touching you all these years.” I was afraid of going too far and her regretting it.

  “Please, Eli. Please,” she panted.

  I wasn’t sure exactly what she was asking for, but I was willing to give it to her no matter what it was. She wanted all the diamonds in Tiffany? All the silk in China? Whatever it was, at that moment, I’d get it for her. I’d become a burglar, a smuggler, a robber. Anything just to have an excuse to stay close to her.

  I tugged her shirt off, exposing her two gorgeous, perfect breasts. “You’re so beautiful, I’ve dreamed of this perfect skin. You’re flawless.” Lowering my mouth to them, I licked one and then the other. She arched and pushed her breasts out, I obliged, massaging, pinching, nibbling.

  She moaned, and I continued flicking my tongue across the tight buds. Her elbows were propped behind her on the counter, her head thrown back; it was a perfect angle to give me even more access. Her hair had fallen loose from its knot on her head and was sweeping back and forth. The smell of peaches filled the air.

  I slid one hand into her pants, and she arched, lifting her butt slightly off the seat and making it easier for me to reach my destination . . . her pussy.

  I rolled her clit between my fingers, and Bridget’s elbows slipped. She caught herself before moving her hands to grip the edge of the seat and holding on for dear life, as if this were a jump-seat and she was getting ready to fly.

  I leaned forward and whispered, “Good girl.”

  It had her arching and squirming as she rose to meet my touch and then retreated when the nerves got too sensitive. “That’s it, baby, you’re going to come for me. Let me make you come. I need you to call my name, I need it.” She twisted as I squeezed her clit and tugged on it before finally sliding one finger inside her. It was a combination of movements, the squeeze, the crooking of my finger, that finally caused Bridget to throw her head back and scream.

  “Eli. Eli, god yes. Eli. Only you, it’s been only you for so long. I’m so in love with you.” Her words pierced my brain, but I wasn’t sure if she realized what she had said. I stared down at her as she panted and rode her orgasm out, my heart racing in time with hers.

  She loved me? My cock was so fucking hard, and all I wanted was inside her . . . but she loved me? Me? Fuck. This brash, beautiful, infuriating girl. Mine.

  It had taken me a while to acknowledge it, but I was completely certain. Bridget McGuire was everything I’d ever wanted.

  She relaxed into my arms—sated, exhausted, and spent. I lifted her up and carried her to bed. “Don’t go,” Bridget whispered.

  I tucked her in on one side then kicked off my shoes and curled up next to her so I could pull her against me. This was something I could get used to, holding a woman while she slept was nice, very nice.

  It was almost thirty minutes later when Bridget kicked off the covers and rolled away from me. I fought to hold back a laugh when she let out an exasperated, “hurmph.” I was obviously making her hot.

  I got up and slid my shoes on and then tiptoed from her room. I stopped to check her thermostat before hunting for a piece of paper and writing her a note.

  * * *

  Bridget,

  Call me when you want to go get your car, I’ll swing by and get you. Be safe today, I look forward to hearing from you.

  Eli

  Chapter 13

  Bridget

  “Justin is definitely going to Earth Day Birthday?” Sadie asked.

  “Yes. I heard Callum telling Da that he was working overtime because Justin and another detective had put in to be off so they could go.”

  We had all undertaken tasks for this evening, but our number-one goal was to watch Justin. I was going to connect that son of a bitch with the sex-trafficking ring and he was going down hard. Piper was right, I needed hard evidence.

  “Before we do this, we’re sure that Earth Day Birthday is it?” Sadie asked.

  “No, we’re not one-hundred percent sure, but we’re almost certain. Think of all the women lately who have gone missing from public events,” I reminded everyone. “Cicily Barlow, who was taken from Spring Bash, there were those two girls who were abducted from the State Fair, and one from a DJ Loud concert. Plus, there have been
girls who have disappeared from a football game, the mall at Christmas time, the arena, this is our next chaotic event. I think it is a safe bet.”

  “Me, too,” Kat agreed.

  “It seems so risky, taking someone from a large event, you know?” Harley asked.

  “I know,” Piper said. “But from what I read, loud places are actually easier; it masks the sound of screams. And in crowded areas, it is hard to distinguish someone struggling from someone goofing off.” I glanced at Piper in the rearview mirror as she went over all of this.

  * * *

  We arrived at our first stop for the day, Bananas, which was one of our favorite restaurants. They put on huge drag-show theatrical performances while you eat. We came here for breakfast about once a month just to watch Ringo and the others don choir robes, bouffant wigs, and sing church hymns. The owner, Ringo, was one of our close friends. Since the five of us decided to spend the weekend going undercover but none of us were exactly sure how to conceal our appearances enough, we brought in a professional. Okay, not a professional makeup artist, but a professional drag queen.

  When we pulled open the back door that Ringo had told us to use, we all let out a loud, “Ahhhh.” The place was a diva’s dream. Bright lights and huge mirrors. A wall of makeup and rows and rows of wigs.

  Sadie’s eyes were huge as she looked at all the lavish costumes. “I’ve never been behind the scenes in the dressing room, have you?”

  “I have,” Piper said.

  “Me, too,” Harley agreed.

  “Not me.” I scanned the room. “I’m afraid that I’m going to come out looking like the result of Cher and Bette Midler having a love child,” I said to no one in particular.

  “I don’t want to hear it; I have hooded eyes and dark hair. You know that he’s going to make me look like the queen of queens.” Harley held her hair back to see what she’d look like with short hair.

  “Don’t you be disparaging Liza Minelli.” We all turned as Ringo entered the room, he was a tall, thin, mocha-skinned blond beauty, with a personality as fabulous as his shoes. “Now, I’ve agreed to make all of you hunties look fabulous and unrecognizable, but no one—and I mean no one—can be Liza Minelli but Liza Minelli. Oh, and you can’t be Debbie Reynolds either. You know how I love Broadway.” Ringo went into a chorus of “Oklahoma,” and continued singing until I threw one hand over his mouth.

  “Love you, pretty boy, but you need to get to work. We don’t have all day.”

  “Hunty, calm your tits, I have backup coming in.” He snapped his fingers and four other queens entered.

  “Hey, y’all.” I waved to Gypsy Rise, Ivanna Swallows, Charmaine, and Anita. I had always felt sorry for Anita, thinking that she had a boring name, until she explained to me that she could change her last name to whatever she wanted, literally. Anita Dick, Anita tall hot man, Anita stiff drink or a stiff man. She was ingenious. Maybe I should adopt the name Anita because I-need-an Eli.

  I moved to take a seat in front of one of the mirrors along with Harley, Kat, Sadie, and Piper. “And, Ringo, will you stop calling us hunty? I hate that word.”

  “I kinda like it.” Harley gave Ringo a fist bump.

  “You would,” Sadie and I said in unison. We mimicked Ringo and Harley and gave our own fist bump.

  “Fine, would you prefer that I call you honey cunt? ’Cause you know that’s what hunty means, right? It’s a combo of the two words.”

  “No. How about another one of your off-the-wall words?”

  “Big pink furry box?” Gypsy Rise offered. I shook my head.

  “Charisma Uniqueness Nerve and Talent?” Anita smiled.

  “No. I watch RuPaul’s Drag Race, I know that’s his way of saying the C-word on television. I always, C-U-Next Tuesday.”

  “I always said, ‘Can’t understand normal things,’” Piper said, joining into this totally horrid conversation.

  “Fine, we’ll just go back to calling you fairy princesses, cause you ain’t never gonna be a queen.” Ringo snapped his fingers as he cracked up laughing, and then stuck out his tongue. “You know that I love you all, right?” We all nodded. “Okay, enough chit-chat, it’s time to be in-cunt-spicuous.”

  I pointed at him. “I see what you did there.”

  “What? Inconspicuous is a normal word.” Ringo acted all innocent.

  “Sure.”

  I sat in Ringo’s chair as he added makeup. He was also going to add lashes, and a wig. I was mesmerized watching him. “How long did it take you to learn how to do this?” He used a pencil several shades darker than my natural skin color and drew all over my face, making lines and half circles. “How the fuck are you going to blend this into my skin?” I pointed to my face, which resembled a McCalls sewing pattern.

  “I’m not going to blend it in, this is plastic surgery without plastic surgery prices. Trust me, now pucker your lips. And to answer your question, years. When you come out as a drag queen, you usually get a drag-momma, someone who is more experienced to show you the ropes. I was lucky, my drag-momma was a makeup artist at Disney Studios.”

  I did as he ordered and tried to hold still as he continued applying makeup. “Haven’t you ever wanted to try out for RuPaul’s Drag Race? You’re so good, I’d love to see you win.”

  “Mmm, you never know. Maybe.” Ringo whistled and looked up toward the ceiling. He was hiding something.

  “Oh my god, are you going to do it?”

  “Do what?” Piper, Harley, Kat, and Sadie asked in unison.

  “Shhh, keep yo damn mouth shut, girl. I’m just thinking about it.”

  “What are you thinking about?” Piper asked.

  “Sending in an audition for RuPaul’s Drag Race.” I squealed with everyone else, even though I had known what he was going to say. I just hoped he would do it.

  “He so should do it,” Anita added in. “We keep telling him. You never know, maybe he will find the one.”

  “The one what? Girl, it would take a lot more than one of anything to satisfy me.” Ringo snapped his fingers and I snorted at his comment. “Did you just snort?” I nodded. “Hasn’t anyone ever taught you to breathe through your mouth for two things: one is laughing and the other is—”

  “Got it, know the other.” I held up a hand. Ringo laughed as he pushed his tongue against the inside of his cheek and made that universal gesture of a blow job. I groaned.

  Kat was sitting next to me and cracking up laughing. Without turning my head, I side-eyed her, she had a lot of the same type of lines as I had. Harley was on the other side of me and she had also been drawn on.

  “Keep your eyes on your face.” Ringo bonked me on the nose with the end of a makeup brush. “No peeking until we’re done. We planned this out based on what little info you gave us.”

  For another hour, my face was rubbed, massaged, sponged, brushed, and tweezed. I had just closed my eyes, and was nodding off, when he ripped the vinyl cape off me. “Voila, you’re done.”

  I studied myself in the mirror. “Holy fuck.” Gone was twenty-six-year-old Bridget, the Irish girl. “I’m biker Barbie, the clubhouse bitch.” My skin appeared weathered, and I looked older, those half circles turned into bags under my eyes, and heavier hoods above my eyes. The lines made my nose look almost Michael Jackson thin, while my chin had a small dimple. And those hairs he had dragged across my face had created the shadows of fine lines. My wig was an overly processed blonde, poker straight, with a headband tied around my forehead.

  I turned my chair to take in the others. “Holy shit.” I started laughing. “I would not recognize you all to save my life.” Kat still had dark hair, but she had been aged more than all of us. Her wig was long and poofy, with at least an entire bottle of hairspray to hold it up. “You look as if you’ve been ridden hard and put away wet.”

  Ringo cackled.

  “Betty at your service,” Kat announced and took a bow. “I’ve been there, done that, and probably have the tattoos to prove it.”

  Piper l
ooked more like me, with the blond hair, only hers was in braids. And her face was made to look fuller—her shading gave her the appearance of a pug nose and her eyes looked huge, as if she were in this perpetual state of astonishment. Sadie had black hair that was Liza Minelli short, but her face was hard, making her look like someone you wouldn’t want to meet in a dark alley. “You look evil, Sadie.”

  “I know, right? I think my name is going to be Santana.” I shook my head at her words, having a hard time getting over how she looked.

  “I think you should be Joan Jett, we’ll be your Blackhearts,” Harley said, laughing.

  I stared at Harley, she had red hair, but it was a shade of red that could only come from a bottle. It was in long spiral curls and reminded me of one of those child beauty pageant queens. Her makeup was over the top and it totally fit the whole beauty-queen look. “Please tell me that your name is Heavenly.” I put my hands together like I was begging.

  “I was thinking Brittney, but Heavenly works.”

  After pulling on the outfits that Ringo had brought for us, we headed for the door. “Oh, by the way, how do I get into the car with this hair?” I asked before Ringo closed the door.

  “Practice, darling, it takes practice.” He waved us on as we headed out to the Tahoe I’d borrowed from my ma so we could all ride together.

  We got in, and I glanced down at my phone, which I had left in here. I had four missed calls and three texts. I didn’t have to look, I knew who it was. Eli had called and texted me early this morning as well, but I hadn’t answered. He was seriously on my shit list today. Part of the reason was that stupid fucking note, who leaves a note about picking up a car after a night like ours? No, it was wonderful, everything I’d ever dreamed of, you make my heart beat. Okay, I was totally going non-guy with those but, car?

  My phone dinged again. How was it that he had a way of knowing when I was up to something? Well, I couldn’t take a chance, not today, especially since I did have plans, and regardless of what he said, I wanted proof that Justin was involved in all of this, then I would hand it over to him and he could take it from there. Sorry, Eli, I’ll just have to ignore you or leave you a note.