Inner Core: (Stark, #2)

by Sigal Ehrlich

  “I think you should start sharing my Xanax, babes,” he murmurs next.

  Jackpot, gorgeous. Though come to think of it I’d go with right before you outed yourself was the last time your life was complex free. I search inside my head, wondering when my life was last sans-drama. Maybe the minute before I met the love of my life? I sigh.

  “C’mon, my life can be categorized in freaking neat little boxes of dullness,” says Tasha.

  Where is this coming from? Maybe we need some more one-on-one time before Barbie morphs into Chucky.

  “Did you strengthen the ginger cookies?” I ask Ian, who growls amused and shakes his head.

  “You know what, you guys? I want to be badass, not like a Hayley-style, girlie-wanna-be-badass,” Tasha continues.

  “No offense taken,” I say lazily, removing cookies crumbs from my shirt.

  “I mean Chuck Norris badass, that’s what I want…”

  “Okaaaay,” Ian says, sending me an awkward what-the-fuck look.

  “Fine, Chuck Norris. Obviously someone had just a little too much of her happy cup.”

  “Best thing that ever happened to you?” I ask Tasha. We need to rescue her from the nonsense currently holding her brain hostage.

  “Sorry Ian, no offense,” she says, turning to Ian, “but that would be you, Hales.” I grin at her and peck her cheek only to be given a loud smooch on my lips.

  “Sick here,” I say, pointing at myself, warning germs transition.

  Ian snickers at our brief display and continues the diversion I’ve initiated. “How about you, Hales?”

  “The two of you without a single doubt.”

  Tasha gives me a sarcastic look. “Ah, ah. And what about your boy toy?”

  “Pfft, totally different story…” I twist my lips. “It’s not like I'm going to marry the two of you...” Whaaaaaa?

  “The fuck, Hales?” Ian almost squeals and my hand flies up to cover my delusional mouth.

  “And here's the epitome of a Freudian slip for you...” Tasha murmurs, and snickers.

  “It was just a general saying, I didn’t mean like actually the wedding thing, just what it stands for, a metaphor, no one is thinking of… I didn't mean it like that.” Yeah, that was convincing.

  “Yes you did,” Ian says, annoyingly smug, wriggling his eyebrows.

  “No. I definitely did not.”

  “Yep,” he pops the p. “You totally did.”

  “No, really, you guys?” Tasha says, turning from me to Ian and back. “Really?”

  “Listen,” I point my finger into the air. “Mistake! If this is ever repeated there will be casualties!” With my finger still up I add, “Massacre, Kill Bill wedding day kind of casualties."

  “Whatevs, psycho.” Ian says, grinning, and I flare my nostrils. When Tasha cracks up, we follow. As our amusement calms I move on to Ian.

  “Now you, best thing?”

  “My looks!” Tasha and I sneer at him jointly.

  “What? C’mon, don’t you think I have this natural, godly beauty?”

  “Oh my gawd Ian, you are so grotesquely self-absorbed it’s borderline repulsive,” Tasha shrieks. I love Ian so much, but sometimes I really wish he would drop the mask, just for a little while. At least with us.

  “Seriously, you need to be tested. I don’t know for what, but something is definitely wrong.” I add my two cents.

  “Or just skip it and enroll directly in Aggressive-Medications -R-Us,” Tasha adds.

  “Hales,” Daniel’s husky voice calling me reaches us from within the house.

  “Oh, the groom.” Tasha says. I choose to ignore her “witticism”.

  “Back here, gorgeous,” Ian shouts back.

  “Moron.” I smack his abs in a friendly way.

  “Hey,” Daniel says as he approaches, sending the most adorable side smile my way. I watch him for a brief moment and beam in pleasure. Stubble decorates his square jaw, adding some roughness to his usual up to no good, sexy as hell face. He's wearing a white button down and faded jeans with a thick black belt. The jeans fit his pelvis in a way that makes me want to crawl over to him and unbuckle that belt with my teeth. He extends his hand for me to take and pulls me up from between my friends. When I'm standing I find myself being lifted into a warm, strong embrace.

  “How do you feel, baby?” He asks in a low voice. He plants a supple kiss on my lips. “Much better.” I grin at him, and wrap my hands around his neck. I reach my lips to his mouth for another short taste of their drug.

  As Daniel sets me back, his eyes still on mine, Ian distracts us with, “Daniel, what’s the best thing that ever happened to you?”

  Are we still on that? Not sure D would be the ultimate social games player.

  Daniel’s response comes in a flash. Without even blinking or taking a second to consider, he solemnly says, “Hayley.” The vindication it comes out with leaves me in awe. My eyes shoot up to his, surprised, while my heart expands to an impossible size. I’m afraid it’s about to leave cracks in my ribcage.

  “Not your company?” escapes my mouth involuntarily.

  His eyes stare pointedly and intently at mine for a charged moment. “No,” he replies firmly. And without any further ado he leads me over to sit on the matching recliner that faces my friends.

  From her place at the recliner, behind Daniel’s turned back, Tasha demonstratively circles an imaginary hoop around her ring finger, bobbing her head with a wolfish grin. I shake my head dismissively.

  “Anyone want something from the kitchen?” Daniel asks.

  After a moment he comes back with a beer in one hand and a beige afghan in the other. I look at him, smirking, as he bends in front of me to arrange the soft fabric protectively over me. While he stoops, I catch Ian's mischievous, narrowed eyes checking out his butt. Ian bites his lips in a telling way, and winks at me. I send him a friendly warning stare. Tasha’s face beside him turns gushing with a he-is-so-adorable-I-am-melting-here expression and I nod in agreement.

  He is.

  Daniel takes his place behind me, embracing me tightly with one arm, kissing my temple, and then turns to take a swig of his beer, slightly inclining his head sideways.

  “Hey Daniel, would you like some ginger cookies?” Ian raises the container that’s resting in his lap.

  “Ian baked them.” Tasha beams at Daniel.

  “With freshly ground ginger,” Ian adds.

  “Of course it is,” a low dry murmur counters from close behind me.

  “And nutmeg,” I say sternly, biting my inner cheek to suppress a smile. I can just imagine what's going through his mind. “The fuck if I care,” is the runner up.

  “Later maybe,” Daniel says flippantly.

  “So, how about these two corrupted divas ditching us to fly together to the Maldives?” Tasha says. I feel Daniel’s body stiffen behind me, and his grip on me loosens.

  I haven’t even told him about it yet, and he finds out like this. Shit.

  “Don’t worry, sir, I'll take good care of your girl, especially on her birthday.” Ian adds his unwelcome comment to the evolving predicament, only for Tasha to add the final touch with, “Do you really trust her in Ian's hands?”

  God, can you two idiots stop blabbering crazily?

  I send them a blazing, threatening stare, wince, and turn my head over my shoulder to look up at Daniel’s contorted face.

  “You were running this by me when?” he says.

  I bite my lip.

  “I meant to tell you. It totally slipped my mind.” I try to put on my most adorable expression, but it doesn't seem to do any good.

  He actually looks upset.

  “Hey, you do have this tendency to distract me.” I kiss his taut cheek aiming to ease his mood, glad to see a bud of a smile fleetingly touching his lips. His eyes squint as he waits for me to go on.

  “I’ll fill you in later, okay?” His nostrils flare as he lets out a loud sigh.

  When he says “Later,” it's more an anno
yed murmur than it is consent.

  I move my hand under the blanket from its resting place on my stomach sliding it to the space between our bodies. I tentatively crawl my fingers under his belt and caress the hairy trail leading to the hem of his boxers.

  “Won’t help,” he whispers in a throaty voice. He takes another swig of his beer. “But keep going.” My lips pull up.

  Somewhere in the middle of Ian’s constant chatter about everything and nothing, we manage to squeeze in a few short sentences about an exclusive high-tech business black tie event that Daniel and I will apparently attend Sunday evening, and we find out that Tasha and her new “man of the moment” are also invited.

  Not long after, Daniel’s phone chimes. He excuses himself to take the call inside the house and heads for his office. I follow him with my eyes drinking him in til he disappears inside.

  “Earth to Hales,” Ian snaps his fingers momma-style. When he has my full attention, he clears his throat til Tasha’s eyes are also focused on him. Once he has our full attention, he starts what seems to be another full blown “Ian” anecdote.

  “Ladies, you know how I let my ultrachic walls down in the bedroom.” It amazes me, time after time, how serious he can be saying stuff like this out loud.

  Tasha bobs her head as Ian resumes. “The other day I met a metagorgeous, mouth drooling, totally dark and dangerous Boricua in uniform. An officer of the law, ladies!” He stares dramatically from me to Tasha and back, expressing the momentousness of the occasion with his clear, twinkling greens. I restrain my burning need to burst into laughter so I can hear the rest of this tale, though the sparkle of hilarity in Tasha's eyes makes it almost impossible.

  “Seriously, what’s more sheet-scorching, wild, and fantastorgasmic than plowing a Latin god… in uniform?” Ian’s irises light up the entire deck with their decadent glee.

  Oh god, it’s one of those stories. D, you couldn’t have found a better moment to make yourself scarce.

  “Do I need a fan for this one?” Tasha inquires, feigning seriousness. Ian grins widely.

  “You’ll need a freaking industrial cooling system, Miss Taylor.”

  That’s about how far my ex-roommate and I manage to hold in the threatening chuckles.

  Moments later, after the crudeness makes Tasha and I squirm one too many times in our recliners, Ian wraps up his graphic, beyond X-rated tale. That is, of course, not before we get a thorough lecture of the many virtues of the Latin lover.

  God, the kinkfest. Just when I thought I'd seen it all…

  Finally I can continue living my life, safe in the knowledge that someone’s tongue/fingers/thumbs/elbows/nose/god knows what else I’ve already managed to repress can reach just about everywhere, even places I’ve never imagined before. I need to shake again to banish horrors twirling vividly in my poor, molested mind.

  God, I think even Dr. Ruth would blush at a conversation with manic sex perv here. He really needs to be censored before being allowed to talk to the public. I check my watch and declare, “Time of death, 9:45 PM.”

  “Who died?” Tasha asks immediately, full lips showing amusement. Her sleek ponytail bounces joyfully with her jumpy reaction.

  “My innocence.”

  “In which universe exactly have you ever been innocent?” Ian glows with mirth.

  “How do you get all these fuck buddies, anyway?” Tasha inquires with all seriousness, making me grin. These two should have their own headline news show.

  “Grindr,” Ian answers solemnly as if this should make sense to us.

  “Which is?” Tasha probes him for enlightenment, still too serious. I snort.

  Ian’s lips move up into a sleazy grin. “It's an app.” His grin broadens. “You tap once and get the location of every hot body ready for some action in the near vicinity.”

  We both gape at him. He snickers and motions for us to lift our jaws.

  “Seriously?” I say, momentarily dazed by the promiscuous technology.

  “Want to see?” Ian excitedly offers his phone for a demonstration.

  “What’s that?” Daniel casually asks nearing us.

  Wincing, I murmur, “An app to find hot bodies, something… ‘Ready for action,’ something...”

  Daniel’s face becomes troubled. “Thanks for sharing…” He nods at me and points to the house, then adds a pistol finger next to his temple and rolls his eyes. I nod back and smile, highly amused, sending him an airy kiss.

  When my two best friends go to say goodbye to Daniel I get our glasses to the kitchen and start the dishwasher. With the house full of peaceful tranquility again I go to find my man in his office. Standing by the doorframe I watch him til he ends a phone call with some person named Mathewson. From the bits of information I manage to hear, I learn there's going to be a trip to Thailand for Daniel in the near future. The notion immediately withers my good mood a fraction. As he tosses his cell phone on the table, his eyes meet mine. He slouches in his chair. “So... You and Ian in the Maldives, Hales?” His voice is calm but his constricted features hint at the current that runs under placid waters.

  Daniel inhales, watching me intently. He scratches the day stubble on his hard jaw. Closing the distance between us, I counter his turbulent hazel eyes with my own. “I’m not really asking a question here. I’m giving you a chance to dig yourself out of this one.” he says in a low voice. Hello, Mr. Rational…

  “As absurd as it may sound, it really slipped my mind.” I straddle his legs. His hands instinctively reach for my waist.

  He listens, though with a guarded bearing, stalling his response.

  “YOU’s summer cover will be shot in the Maldives and Ian was chosen as the model,” I say.

  Before he speaks, he nods, same expression still in place. “And it's on your birthday?” His voice takes on the timbre of disappointment, his thumbs drawing circles on my skin near the hem of my shirt.

  “Yes,” I nod, my own tone mimicking his.

  “I see.” A rushed sigh emits from his mouth.

  “I'm also bummed by the thought that I won't spend it with you.” My statement is all that it takes for his demeanor to become a few shades calmer. He slouches further and brings me over his middle. I bury my head in his chest and he enfolds me tightly, kissing the crown of my hair. “We’ll work something out.” He slides his hand under my shirt and caresses my back. I stay as he continues reading his emails.

  “Hales, there’s something I need to tell you,” he says after a while, and I raise my head to look at him, somewhat alarmed by the undertone. His face takes on an obscure edge, and I run my eyes over it trying to assess what's going on, concerned. “There was this…” But before he continues, his phone beeps once. The screen displays: “Mathewson.”

  “Fuck,” he hisses, but strangely enough his body, deflated and relaxed, says the contrary: he looks… relieved?

  “I've gotta take that,” he says solemnly, his face still hard, and I nod. When the conversation lingers and doesn’t look like it’ll end anytime soon, I decide to let Daniel be and have my weekly call with my parents.

  Chapter 12: Illegal Rush

  It seems as though the entire week was fast forwarded, only to pause on Sunday evening, the night of the black tie business event. I shake away the stressful thoughts of the crazy, breath-depriving week we’ve just had as I take a step into the en-suite and close the door behind me. Carefully placing a delicate satin garment on the vanity, I smile at the recollection of how it got to be in my possession.

  The matte black box with golden engraved letters waited for me as I entered our empty bedroom last night sapped and debilitated. I was in a bad mood at the thought of coming back to the house to face yet another solo evening sans Daniel, who was again trapped at work. This time it was due to the final legal papers from the deal. When the familiar designer label with its golden letters appeared before my eyes my spirit climbed a little higher. I immediately called Daniel. Busy as ever, he still took my call, like he always does
.

  “Hey baby.”

  “What’s with the surprise goodie bag?” My voice came out coated with childish effervescence.

  “You seemed too occupied to even think about Sunday evening this week, so I just cleared the details out of the way for you.” He mimicked my tone.

  “So you bought me a dress?” Knowing how busy he'd been himself these last few days, I was surprised that he'd had the time.

  “The wonders Ian can do with an unlimited budget,” he said sardonically.

  “You asked Ian to buy me a dress?” My tone hardly concealed my skepticism at the sudden bond between these two.

  His answer came as short, low chuckles.

  “You gals really hit it off, huh? Before we know it you’ll be braiding each other’s hair… By the way, there was something you've been meaning to tell me for a while now and we’ve been putting it off. What was it, D?”

  “Not now Hales, later… tonight,” his voice darkened and I put it down to the busy situation at work.

  I observe myself over the body length mirror as I apply some final touches and smile at the total look. The strapless fitted champagne dress that ends mid-thigh wraps my body as perfectly as if it had been custom tailored. A pair of sanctified Manolos add the final necessary touch, without taking too much attention. The nude makeup palette I chose with a little delicate glitter makes my bronze skin actually radiate.

  I can’t help but think of the last time Daniel surprised me with a dress, and I smile and shake my head at the thought. The night I wore that dress was when we actually became… us.

  “In this lifetime, Hales.” Daniel’s edgy voice behind the door snaps me out of my brief reverie, urging me to hurry.

  When I open the door I am momentarily frozen by the sight in front of me. I feel a gross spark below my waist, and 'gross' is putting it mildly. I can barely get enough of my man wearing his usual rugged look, but this look gives my heart a major systolic disorder. He is six feet three inches of smoking hot maleness.

  I need to swallow hard to get rid of the puddle of drool forming underneath my tongue. His impeccable body is draped in an expensively cut tux in complete contrast to the delinquent, sex-ridden mien that just oozes from his bad boy posture. And the combination of the two…