Corsets and Quartets

by DeSimone, Mercy

  Why do I feel like I've just been called to the principal's office?

  Chapter 24

  Mind Your Manners

  For whatever reason, I'm overly amused by the thought of the curious people still hanging out in the waiting room for 'Ernesto' to reappear. Instead, Heath spoils my fun by sending us out the back employee entrance, muttering about avoiding a female frenzy out front.

  Brutus takes the lead, eager to be away from the examining rooms and smells of other animals. Usually, dogs like to sniff and explore, but not Brutus—he wants to run. Luckily, Simon is there to grab his leash as I'm jolted forward, not expecting Brutus to take off with me as an unsuspecting accomplice.

  Making a beeline for the car, he stops long enough to sniff at both tires on the passenger side, thoroughly watering them and claiming them as his own. I think we'll avoid mentioning that to Mark.

  I open the back door, and Brutus whines, unwilling to climb into the back seat. Instead, he tries to put his paws on my shoulders and lick my face.

  "I love you, too, Brute, but you've got to get in now." Forcing him back to the ground, I try to push his hindquarters into the back seat as Simon lounges against the side of the car, his amusement clear. "Now would be a good time to control your dog, Simon." My exasperation is evident as I brush a few more stray hairs from my brow, where they've fallen during my struggle with Brutus.

  "You've done it now." Simon laughs. "You're going to have to get in back, luv. He wants you to ride with him."

  "You've got to be kidding me."

  "No, my big boy is actually a big baby. It's your fault really. Once you started with all the whispers and kisses and stroking, he was hooked. He takes after me." The wicked smile sends tingles to my palms, just itching to stroke a path across his shoulders and down his chest.

  Ignoring the impulse, I bend toward Brutus and grab his snout, staring him directly in the eyes as he wiggles. "Get in the car. I'm coming."

  The swipe of his tongue across my nose almost makes me miss Simon's reply as he mutters, "I wish," before rounding the car to the driver's side.

  Brutus shivers and paces the back seat as I get settled before finally flopping down next to me, head nestling in my lap with a huff of relief that quickly settles into a loud snore. My hands stroke his ears, and I meet Simon's eyes in the rearview mirror.

  "You need to teach your boy some boundaries."

  "Oh, it's a lost cause. We don't believe in boundaries. We're all about spreading the love," he teases.

  Avoiding his smile, I stare out the window, watching the crowded skyline get taller as we come closer to the city.

  "So you and Cliff…and Mark." Glancing at Simon's face in the rearview mirror again, I huff out a sigh, similar to Brutus, before replying.

  "It's complicated." Catching a flash of his crooked smile, I finally give him leave to ask what I can tell he's dying to know. "Yes, I'm seeing them both. Happy?"

  "No, luv. Jealous. How do I make the list?"

  "You don't." Cheeks flaming, I studiously ignore his eyes in the mirror. "This isn't a game, it was an error of timing. One I'm still not comfortable acknowledging. We're all trying to adjust."

  "Let me help. I'm a musician. I have excellent timing."

  "Nice try." I smile wryly at the back of his head. "But we haven't even caught the rhythm yet. I'm definitely not up to a three part harmony. "

  "Well, think about it, luv. There's nothing like a little extra bass to kick up the beat and get the head banging."

  "Nope. I'm an indie girl, I like my action acoustic. The simple melodies are the best."

  "Yeah? Tell that to Crosby, Stills, and Nash." At my ironic smile he adds, "And Young."

  "Touché." I send a small salute his way from the back seat. "I would have never pegged you for a folk hero, Simon."

  "Well, I tripped over Graham on tour a few times. Nice chap. We chatted up our songwriting one night while we got a tad pissed at the pub."

  "I didn't realize that you wrote. I thought you just played guitar."

  "Bass. And I wrote a lot of the lyrics for Speedway to Hell, The Devil’s Details, and Mind Your Manners."

  "Really? I love a lot of the songs on Mind Your Manners. They seemed much more…connected than the earlier albums. More lyrical and heartfelt."

  Simon's snort is echoed by Brutus 's snuffle as he shifts his head in my lap, tucking his nose firmly in my crotch. Like Daddy, like dog?

  "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times," Simon says drily. "That's where the party ended. Our best seller and the straw that broke the camel's back after we bodged it. I always thought we'd get a chance to fix it, but…" Simon shrugs, and I feel guilty for bringing up what must be a painful subject.

  "Hey, would you mind dropping me at my place before heading back to yours? I really need to be getting home and back to my own writing."

  "Sure thing, luv. But let me know if you get an opening in the line up. I'm happy to add some harmonies."

  "You've got a one track mind, Simon, but don't hold your breath. I'm not looking to switch players any time soon."

  "Well, you never know when you'll need a few more instruments. I'm making most of my net doing session work these days. I'm sure I could fit you in." Winking, he adds, "Or I could fit in you."

  Full out laughter shakes my body, startling Brutus from his nap, as we glide to a halt near my building, traffic honking behind us.

  Hopping from the car, I lean through the front passenger window as Brutus whines and tries to scramble into the front seat.

  "I'll see you tomorrow night. Pick me up at six-thirty? You might need to dial back your sexy self for Heath's teenage daughter."

  "What fun would that be, luv?" His laugh is all I hear as he merges back into traffic, and I realize I'm standing on the curb, grinning like a fool.

  Four part harmony? You'd have to be one hell of a conductor.

  * * *

  Slipping through the front door, I realize I've blown most of the day. Daisy's yowls are plaintive as she winds her way toward me, freezing about three feet away. Her whiskers quiver as she scents the air, her small head moving in an arc, body crouched low to the ground as she slinks toward me.

  Her delicate pink nose stretches toward me, neck extended, as if afraid to get too close. Starting at my ankle, she sniffs up my shin before scrabbling backward and settling on her haunches, staring at me as if in disbelief.

  "Don't look at me like that! It's not like I brought him home with me." Her disdain is clear as she lifts her back leg and licks down her belly to her tail, as if showing me that she knows where my guilty thoughts lie.

  Brushing past her, I head to the kitchen and grab a can of tuna cat food, refusing to even give her a choice. Choices only make us greedy and get us into trouble, I decide as I pull down a new glass bowl and plop the contents inside.

  I'm tired of making decisions as I search the refrigerator for ingredients to make my own dinner, finally pulling out a carton of almond milk and conceding that it's a cereal kind of night. I just don't have the mental capacity to decide what I'm hungry for. And if that's not a sure sign of my confusion, I don't know what is.

  As I lean against the counter to eat my cereal, I realize that Daisy is still sitting in front of her bowl as if waiting.

  "What are you waiting for? Eat."

  The soft meow of protest annoys me. We're not playing that game.

  "Damnit, Daisy! You were perfectly happy with tuna the other day."

  Small, sad eyes stare at me unblinkingly.

  "You like tuna," I beg almost desperately as we continue to stare at each other.

  Finally, I reach for another can of food, mixing some beef with her tuna.

  "I hope your greedy palate doesn't make us sick."

  Us? Throwing my bowl of cereal in the sink, I wonder if I should consider going on a diet.

  * * *

  I settle in with my laptop, but the words won't come. There's a turmoil of emotions swirling
through my mind, and I try to pick through the threads. It's like trying to decide if I should cut the red wire or the blue. One leads to safety, the other could mean total meltdown.

  A Pet Shop Boys tune plays softly, and I lift my phone to a call from Heath. Really? The Pet Shop Boys? Emma strikes again. That must mean there's a ringtone for Mark hidden in there somewhere as well. Rather than search, I think I'll just wait and let it surprise me. It does say something that Emma believes the guys are significant enough to deserve their own ringtones.

  Thumbing the on button, I answer without thinking.

  "Daisy's Doggie Daycare."

  "I find it difficult to believe that Daisy sanctioned today's activity," a warm voice teases.

  "True. I suffered the wrath of her indignity upon my return. Nothing reeks of disapproval so much as a cat in a snit."

  "Oh, I know," Heath laughs, "and I have the scars to prove it. So, what was that all about today?"

  "What was what all about? You were the one who outed us! I can't believe you said that in front of him!"

  "Why wouldn't I? Is there a reason he shouldn't believe that we're seeing each other?"

  Burrowing further down into the couch, I clutch a cushion to my chest, as if I can hide behind it.

  "Well, only because he knows I'm seeing Mark, too, so…awkward."

  "Awkward for whom? Let's face it, he's clearly sniffing around to see who's the big dog and if he can work his way into the pack. I was just subtly staking my claim."

  "He was not! And you call that subtle? But hey, thanks for all of the dog analogies. You guys make it sound like I'm in heat or something."

  "Josie. I don't think you realize how quickly you've gone from saying you want to date a guy, to being the queen bee in a hive. I'm trying to take the high road here, but I can tell you, the hive is beginning to feel a little crowded."

  I'm shocked by the slight hint of steel that has entered Heath's voice, bringing my guilt rushing back.

  "I'm so sorry." The waver in my voice betrays me every damn time. "I really had no intention of stringing Simon along. I ran into him outside Mark's. He looked like he needed a friend, and I was just trying to help him out. I thought it was a great opportunity to pop in and surprise you by tagging along. He seems like a good guy, and I feel bad that he's all alone."

  Heath's deep sigh lies between us in the silence. I can't bring myself to defend my actions, because I know I'm in a somewhat indefensible position, whether unintentional or not.

  "Josie, that soft heart of yours is going to be all of our undoing. I wish I could tuck it under my arm like a football and sprint to the end zone, but honestly, I don't like having to defend my position from all the other hands trying to get a piece of it. I'm trying to accept that occasionally someone else gets to carry the ball, but I thought we already designated the team."

  "We did! And I'm not looking to add more players. I've put Simon firmly in the friend zone."

  "Did you tell him that? Because I'm pretty sure he's looking to take the field! You're so busy making passes, you don't even realize how many receivers you have. Just remember, they issue penalties for too many players on the field at once."

  "Okay, this is yet another totally ridiculous discussion. First, I'm a dog in heat, and now, I'm a football. Choose your analogy and stay there. I'm not throwing passes, I'm not adding to the team. What is it with you guys? Your brains have gone to your dicks, and there's no talking sense to you."

  Loud laughter greets my disgruntled defense.

  "Did you just call me a dick?"

  "Maybe. Well, not in so many words, because I would never say something that crude."

  "You never cease to amaze me, Josie. Well, save that one for Mark, because I'm pretty sure he is one. Speaking of which, how was your lunch?"

  Remembering my lunch and my lunch, I'm not certain what to say to that.

  "Ahhhh. Mark proved something with his dick again, didn't he?"

  "Heath! I don't even know how to answer that."

  "You don't need to, your silence was confirmation enough. Damn Lori for ruining our night! Mark is at the buffet, and I'm still stuck with appetizers. Don't worry, I thought maybe we could have brunch this weekend—in bed."

  The quiver in my thighs betrays my eagerness to have Heath anywhere near my bed.

  "Deal. You're place or mine?"

  "Let's let Daisy decide." No, the irony is not lost on me.

  "Do you want me to bring anything tomorrow night?"

  "No, it's my time to cook with Tracey."

  "I didn't realize you like to cook."

  "I don't particularly, but Tracey has been learning some tricks from Mark." I blanche at the thought of the kitchen tricks I've been learning from Mark. "Anyway, it's a good activity to spend some time together. I play sous-chef and let her lead. She was excited at the thought of having people to impress, so do me a favor and make a fuss, will you?"

  "Of course I will. I'm sure Simon will, too. Besides, nothing says friend zone like cooking with someone's kid."

  "Right. Keep telling yourself that, Josie, because I guarantee he's going to try to prove you wrong. I've seen the look in his eyes, and I can tell it's the same hungry expression I have every time I see you. I promise you, he's going on a diet if I have anything to say about it."

  Uh oh. Why do I think that Simon practices dirty keto?

  Chapter 25

  Of Dogs and Men

  The gardens are so beautiful and serene. I know the others believe me to be unsociable, but really, what do I and some naïve young ladies looking to snare a husband have in common? Their mamas at least are happy I'm not there to tarnish their virtue by simple proximity.

  I should have stayed at home, but occasionally, I crave the society of others, if only in silence and from a respectable distance.

  Startled by a loud woof, I turn to find Major Percy's large dog bearing down on me, something clasped between his jaws. I do hope it's not a rabbit or a bird. While I'm not naturally squeamish, I don't enjoy seeing small creatures preyed upon by larger beasts, even if it is in their nature to do so.

  Major Percy limps slowly through the trees, trying to call his companion back, but there's no stopping the brute's animated gait as he reaches me and drops my book at my feet.

  In horror, I reach down to grab the cover, only to have the dog grab it between his jaws with a growl, as if establishing ownership. Tugging from the opposite side, I watch his saliva stain the pages, great teeth tearing through the words on the pages, as if hungry to establish dominance.

  Major Percy nears, eyes alit with wicked laughter, egging on the brute's efforts as I stand helplessly by…

  * * *

  Jerking awake at the sound of the loud beeping, I knock the alarm clock off the nightstand with an impetuous swipe. The momentary satisfaction of hearing it crash to the floor immediately turns to guilt as I see Daisy dart into the bathroom at the clatter.

  "I'm sorry, Daisy. Come here, baby!" I whisper, trying to coax her from the doorway as she hunkers down, regarding me as if I'm a lunatic. And maybe I am. It's not like me to be so short-tempered. Guilt is getting the best of me, and I haven't done anything wrong. Not really.

  Temptation is just that—a desire for something. It's not a precursor of immoral behavior. Or a self-fulfilling prophecy. Rationalization? Maybe, but impure thoughts be damned.

  Needing an outlet for my anger, I text Emma.

  Me: I hope you're happy! When I get burned, you better be standing there with a damn fire extinguisher.

  Gathering the pieces of the alarm clock, my reading glasses, cell phone, tissue box, lip balm, phone charger, and—is that a catnip mouse?—into a pile, I peek under the bed and find a rogue tube of lube. I wondered where that went to.

  Dumping everything on the bed, I tuck the lube back into my 'toy box' inside my nightstand and vow to put everything else back later.

  The ding of my phone heralds some googly eyes and question marks from Emma. Feeling gui
lty, I text back a quick answer.

  Me: Ignore me. Temporary insanity

  I know that will only fuel her curiosity, but I need to get to work and stop obsessing about things I haven't even done. At the rate I'm going, my insanity plea will soon be less temporary and more reality.

  Compartmentalizing is a wonderful thing, and it will be a busy day. There's plenty of time to censor myself tonight when I try to circle the rabbit hole without falling in.

  * * *

  Running through the front door, I drop my purse on the couch and speed past Daisy to the bedroom. If I'm going to meet Tracey, I need to look approachable. Not like someone who treats her Dad like a DILF and lusts after his friend and, if I'm honest, apparently others as well.

  My work clothes aren't overly provocative, but the large stain from the clean up of today's culinary class is going to take a good soaking. Not for the first time, I kick myself for not having the forethought to have put on one of the aprons. Tomato juice is a bitch to clean, but that was some excellent salsa.

  I need to look like a soccer mom. Okay, even my mind rebels at the thought. I am not, nor will I ever look like a soccer mom. Maybe I should just try for the cool aunt vibe. That's what I am. I just need to play down the cleavage and avoid flirting openly with her dad.

  No one wants to think of their parents as sexual beings. There's just an ick factor involved that never leaves you when you realize that at some point, your conservative parents had wild monkey sex.

  My phone dings with a text from Simon to let me know that he's waiting. Replying quickly, I beg for five extra minutes. Who would have expected him to be an early bird?

  Slipping on jeans and low-heeled boots, I pull on my favorite Dr. Seuss t-shirt—don't judge The Lorax—and an oversized cardigan. Daisy's pathetic meow reminds me that I still need to feed her.