by Warren, Rie
“Thanks for your sacrifice last night.”
“Thanks for the bro-move just now.”
We exchanged back slaps. “Think nothin’ of it. At least you got laid, man.”
He was already smiling and inviting a group of women to approach him. “You too, huh?”
“I don’t fuck and tell.” Rubbing my mouth, I looked out over the crush of people, regaining my compass point on Leelee. My heart knocked around like a loose piston in my chest.
“Since when?”
“Since Leelee. That’s when.” I patted my palm to my tat, and he knew exactly what that meant. It was right over my heart and held the other two things I loved—cars and the kid.
“Shee-it.”
“Yeah.” I met his eyes, nodding, just as surprised as him.
Nicky pulled me to him with a long, hard hug. “Jesus, Josh.”
“Yeah.” I grinned as I backed away.
I threaded my way through a cluster of teen girls and their mamas converged around a YA author, all glittery nails, sparkly faces, and too much floral perfume. I ended up face-to-face with a well-endowed woman who grabbed both my arms.
“Stone! I saw you in Guys with Balls. I’ve gotta get your autograph.”
“Mom! You are not getting your boobs signed again this year.” Her teenaged daughter sounded mortified.
I’d have been a little shocked myself if the same thing hadn’t already happened with another busty broad, right after said show.
“Oh yes, I am. It’s tradition. Besides, this is The Stone.” She shoved a Sharpie in my hand. Yanking a side of her shirt lower, she bared a good acre of tit. “Use as much space as you need. Make it out to Marianne with an i, okay?”
We were drawing a crowd so I kept it short and simple: To a beautiful lady, Marianne. All the best, Stone.
I accepted her hug then hurried off before any other body parts became available for autographs. I’d made it all of ten feet when I heard the tail end of Jules’s high-pitched screech. I thought about her promise, aka threat, to track me down in Mt. Pleasant. At the rate my day was going, maybe I oughtta head her off at the pass. Pulling out my phone, I called the garage.
“Stone’s, just a stone’s throw away,” Ray answered.
I tore the phone away from my ear and glared at it. Then I snarled into it, “Excuse me?” Oh hell no. And how the fuck had they heard that bullshit already?
“Just saw you on the convention broadcast online. We thought it sounded catchy.”
“Yeah? I catch you using it one more time and I’ll make sure all of y’all never collect another phone number from the female clientele again.” I gripped the phone harder. “It’s Stone’s, at your service.”
“Isn’t it just.” A feminine voice simpered beside me.
Christ. Missy Peachtree, not at your service.
I muffled the phone. “Shouldn’t you be signing—I don’t know—whips or something?” Hell, I was signin’ tits, why not?
She smacked my ass with a wide-open palm. “Great idea. But paddles have much more room to personalize.” As usual she gave as good as she got before melting into the crowd from which she’d materialized.
The phone pressed back to my ear, I listened to Ray ramble on. “We hooked up the laptop to the big TV in the reception area so everyone can watch the goings-on over in ’Lanta.”
I didn’t know you could do that. I wished they didn’t know either. Now all my escapades would be the talk of Mt. Pleasant.
“And just before you called I got off the phone with that Jules Gem. She wanted to check your schedule for next month. I figured we could use the publicity, so I offered her a free oil change.”
Too bad she thought I was a foreign car dealer. Thank God most of this shit wouldn’t hit the fan until after the Con. “Good idea about the oil change. Maybe we can keep her sweet.”
“If anyone can, it’s you.” I heard Ray ringing up a sale and shouting a loud hello as the bell over the door chimed.
Damn, I missed that place. “Is the garage still standing?”
“Yup.”
“Everyone still working his ass off for me?”
“’Course, boss. So long as you don’t come back and try to fuck our asses.” He snorted loud and clear.
“Keep it up, funny guy, and I got a tire iron with your name on it.” When I looked back over to Leelee’s corner of the room, I still couldn’t get a visual on her. “I’ll see you Monday. Make sure someone brings a box of condoms and a big bottle of lube. Limber up, motherfucker.”
I hung up on him wheezing with laughter. Yeah. Let’s see what they make of that.
“Yo, Stone!” Fawn flagged me down from the opposite direction of Leelee’s table.
Dressed in a chambray shirt, cowboy boots, and a tangle of turquoise jewelry, she reached me with a smile on her tanned face. “Come meet my girlfriend. I told her all about you and Nicky.”
I liked Fawn, I really did, but people needed to get out of my way. “Can I take a rain check? Maybe meet her at the banquet tonight? I’m trying to get a book signed for my ma before this thing finishes.” I lied through my teeth.
She prodded me on my way.
Ducking and diving around the masses between Leelee and me, I slammed my hands over my ears when I heard a shriek attached to my name.
Petite Felicity was flushed to her hairline. Her catwoman glasses slid down her nose as she bounced up and down in excitement. “You’ve got to see this! I just had my picture taken with Leelee Songchild and I posted it on Twitter.” Hugging my arm, she scrolled through her photos. “She’s such a sweetie. I’m totally following her on everything.”
I was tempted to stay long enough to drink in the picture because, by God, this might be the closest I got to Leelee all day judging by my luck so far. But I had a fucking grand gesture to make.
“That’s cool, Felicity, but I’m trying to say hi to her myself before the fair closes.”
She slid her glasses back up and gave me a toothy grin. “Good luck with that. Her readers are like über crazy. You’ve got half an hour left.”
Hunching my shoulders, I maneuvered in the right direction, silently cursing every single motherfucker in the hall. Swinging my head to the left, I saw Fred leaning against a table in the Contemporary lane. He sent me two thumbs up, and I saluted him with a one finger wave. He must’ve been sweating his balls off in that tweed jacket.
I put my head down and motivated until I ran straight into a wall of muscle even bigger than me. Steadied by a pair of dark hands on my arms, I rolled my eyes.
The last of the Widows, Devon, leaned over me. “Looks like you’ve got yourself some more admirers.”
I followed his stare and thought about diving behind the slightly larger man. I was being targeted by the LolliPOP Grrrls. Devon loped away with a laugh, leaving me to face the blatant eye-fucking of the book review bloggers. Or, bloggesses, as I’d been informed.
“Hey, Stone,” Blow Pop sucker simpered.
I wondered how I was gonna get away from them as they cornered me like I was schoolboy prey to their two-fold sexual attack. “Hi, ladies.”
Hoodie grrrl plinked a tongue ring against her teeth. “Do you have plans for tonight?”
“We saw your dance with Leelee Songchild. You may be a butch gay, but it looks like you’re bi, and we’d like a taste of that.” The blonde tease twirled her tongue around the tip of the glistening red lollipop.
In the old days, pre-Leelee—precisely four days ago—I might’ve taken them up on their offer. However, no one got my motor revving like Leelee, and I surely wasn’t into easy pussy anymore.
“Sorry, ladies. I’m not available.”
I left them whispering behind me when an announcement rang out of the loudspeakers stating the book fair would close in fifteen minutes. Jesus Christ. I’d been here a full hour and a half, cockblocked north, south, east, and west by all the usual suspects. I’d yet to get to Leelee, let alone make my huge fucking gesture that would
have her turning into a pile of mush in my arms.
I skidded to a stop with Leelee’s table finally in sight. The pack gathered around her had slimmed down, but the person I saw shining from all the attention didn’t resemble Leelee. In fact, I didn’t recognize her at all until the big apple green of her eyes lifted to the person whose book she was signing.
Dear God. Another wig. I loved her as she was, but when she pulled out the wigs it made me think about role-playing. Naughty Nurse. Sexy Secretary in my office at Stone’s. She took me from zero to sixty in an instant.
This wig was another black affair cascading down her back and across her shoulders. Her blouse was sapphire blue, laced together and low cut, giving a prime view of cleavage to anyone who stood over her. Like all of her fans, for instance. I needed to get over there pronto. I wanted to rip her blouse open and tear the wig off. I wanted to stare into her eyes as she climaxed while riding my fingers.
Grand gesture as fucking her on her author table during the book fair? Probably not a smart move.
Achingly hard, my lips almost chapped from all our kisses last night, I started toward her. I was a yard away when something tall, dark and sinister slithered up to her behind the table.
Andrew LaForge. I couldn’t believe he had the cojones to corner her at the book fair. No one messed with my woman, not after she’d walked through fire all morning doing the meet and greet with a beautiful smile on her face. I stalked forward. When I saw Leelee swivel around and stand up, her expression undaunted, I stopped.
Holy shit, my girl was gonna give him what-for.
Close enough to read her lips, what came out of her mouth made my blood race. “Get the fuck away from me, you creep.”
Sliding nearer so I could hear, I made myself stay put a little distance away. Leelee needed to do this. Leelee could do this.
She stomped forward and LaForge backed up, hands raised. “I’ve had enough of your dirty remarks, and this latest attempt at bribery? You’re worse than slime. You have a reputation for being a prowler of new talent. Don’t think for one second all the women you’ve oh-so-innocently fondled during group pictures while giving promises of sweet deals between the sheets and on paper haven’t spread the word. Just because I’m new doesn’t make me naive.” One stabbing finger went to his chest and pointed there. “You might have your cloak of decency, your offers of contracts, your people who play off our complaints and try to make us look like ‘oh-those-silly-women-writers are at it again’, but we’re strong. We’re successful. We are not gonna put up with dickheads like you anymore.”
Surprise melted into shock on LaFuck’s face. He bowed from the waist, taking his leave to jeers and claps scattered around from those who’d witnessed his beatdown at Leelee’s hands.
Once he disappeared, her shoulders fell. The smile she gave her remaining fans was shaky. I wanted to kiss her softly. Hold her close. Tell her, atta girl.
The final bell ringing, the book fair over, I started my approach.
Leelee looked up. Her gaze hooked mine and didn’t let go. Everything I felt was reflected back at me: hope, want, need. Then her pain and distrust. She dropped her gaze, shaking her head. Because of all she’d been through, me to blame for at least part of it, I remained where I was, several feet away.
She packed her books and materials, exchanged goodbyes with her tablemates. I wanted to be right beside her, doing the heavy work, easing her hurt. I wanted to be able to tell her I’d take care of everything. Run her a bath, massage her back, and hold her while she slept off the exhaustion of being on show.
I didn’t say a word when she swept past me, but I damn sure tagged her heels. The midnight black wig bobbed up and down, her rolling suitcase pulled behind her. At one point the crush of people swallowed her up. I was tempted to pull a Rocky Balboa Adrian move, but she was spit out again, just a few yards away.
Shadowing her all the way the elevators, I knew she was aware of me. The protective starch melted from her shoulders. Before she stepped into the elevator, her eyes dragged back to mine and they were teary.
I planted a hand on the door, keeping it open. I reached inside to her, cupping her face. “You did so good, babe.”
A single tear dripped over my fingers.
“Not now, Josh. Please. You are everything I want and nothing I can have.” She stepped back with a gasp.
I withdrew my hand. The door closed. With my forehead thunking against the wall, I swallowed hard. What the hell had I been thinking anyway? What could I have done during the book fair, besides screw up an important event for her? My grand gesture was an asinine idea and I was an ass, straight up.
And it wasn’t that I wanted her to need me to look out for her. But goddammit, I wanted her to need me, full stop.
Fourteen
Saturday: Sex Shop and Write-Offs
LIFTING MY HEAD FROM my head-butt move against the wall, I glanced at my watch. It was only one o’clock in the afternoon, too early to drown my sorrows in bourbon or dunk my head in a barrel of beer. In my room, I stripped off, hauled on my shorts, and yanked on a pair of sneakers. I grabbed a towel, a bottle of water, and pounded to the basement-level workout room.
Work it out, that’s what I needed to do. Work Leelee out of my system . . . what a joke. One delusional part of me hoped I’d find her stretching out on the blue mats in the gym. No such luck and just as well.
Pouring with sweat through the punishing CrossFit reps, I cursed myself to infinity . . . and beyond. Dumbass. Asshole. Fuckhead. Jerk off. That was me. I finished with two sets of fifty crunches, squats, and pull-ups each. Only when my mind shut down and my lungs inflated for O2 intake did I stop. I downed my water, crushed the plastic, and tossed it into the recycling bin. I wiped off in front of the mirror. The muscles on my chest flexed, giving life to the chrome pipes, the stylized heart, and my little anchor in life: JJ.
A harsh laugh cut out of my throat. I’d already pictured a beautiful scroll of Leelee wrapping around the tattoo, maybe even going flowery and shit with small, colorful songbirds and vines until the tat spread into a sleeve over my biceps.
Dumb shit, asshat, fuckwit—maybe I’d have those inked instead.
Upstairs, I shoved everything off, including the boohoos, and slipped under the hot shower spray. My muscles loosened. My cock did not. We were at a standoff. Every-fucking-time I gave in to the urge to whack it, somebody interrupted, so I wasn’t even going to tempt fate. I gingerly toweled dry, avoiding my dick. It could misfire with a mere touch, and I already had enough messes to deal with. My last clean pair of jeans pulled on, I left the fly undone for breathing room. I ordered room service on Nicky’s tab, slipped a Benjamin into his shaving kit for damages done, and studiously avoided all social networking outlets.
As soon as my cock subsided, I buttoned up. Breathing a gargantuan sigh of relief, I dialed Ma.
“Joshy!”
“Hey, Ma. The kid around?” Christ, I wanted to hear his little pipsqueak voice.
She returned with a whisper, “He’s snug as a bug beside Viper. It’s naptime.”
I looked at the clock, two-thirty on the dot. All routine, one I was used to. I swallowed past the large lump in my throat. “Okay, that’s good.” He didn’t even need me to sing him to sleep anymore.
“He’s adjusting.” The sliders whooshed as Ma stepped out onto the deck.
“Well, damn, Ma.” Not that I wanted the kid tied in knots about me being gone, but it would’ve been nice to know someone missed me.
“Oh shoot, don’t be all glum like that. What’s crawled up your behind and made a nest there?” A clink of ice against glass came from over the phone—Ma was enjoying her afternoon refresher of bourbon and water.
“It’s this girl.”
“Speakin’ of girls, I just couldn’t wait. Now, you got me that signed book from Leelee Songchild, right?”
Yeah, she’d autographed it all right, and I’d scrawled my name in come all over her body several times since then.
Nicky walked in mid-conversation. He dumped his stuff on the floor, mouthing, “Gigi?”
I nodded.
Shoving off his boots, toeing off his socks, he padded over on bare feet. “Viper and JJ okay?”
I gave the A-okay sign. The kid was probably snuggled side-by-side with the badass bitch in her dog bed.
Ma said, “I downloaded it to my Nookie thingy, and mah Lord, that girl can write! Her book’s hotter than my kitchen on a ninety-degree day.”
“It’s called a Nook. And you can follow Leelee on Facebook, Twitter . . . everywhere.” I planned to do exactly that once I got home if she still wasn’t speaking to me.
As I rummaged through my bag, searching for the paperback I’d gotten for Ma, I thought about the clothing explosion from Leelee’s suitcases. I imagined her napping the morning off, cuddled between all those dresses and wigs and books. The idea of her sleeping amid her mountain of stuff made me smile. The Princess and The Pea. Goddamn, she’d wreck my house, turn it inside out just as she’d flipped my heart upside-down.
“I already Googled her, so don’t treat me like I don’t know anything about The Machine, sonny.”
“Sorry, ma’am. And yes, I got your book right here.” I unearthed her copy of Ride from my duffel.
Ma added more ice to her glass with a chink-chink. “Why, she’s just as pretty as a picture, could’ve been a starlet back in the day.”
Turning the book over in my hands, I studied Leelee’s headshot. “Yeah, she’s gorgeous.”
“Oh my. Are you blue over this Leelee?” I heard her hissing away from the receiver, “Shoo now. I said scat! I don’t have nothin’ for you vermin.”
“Did that family of coons come back?” I held the phone out, speaker on, and Nicky heard her telling off the latest round of scavengers that came from the woods surrounding her house. We both kept our laughter quiet.
“This time it’s that damn garden snake, Mr. Bojangles. Now I don’t care if he comes around and eats the moles and mice, but I will not have him in my rafters.” Mr. Bojangles had once been found hanging from the support beams in the garage area beneath the house. She’d named him Mr. Bojangles because she liked to tell folks she had a real live boa constrictor on the property. “I just threw my glass at him from the balcony, almost hit him too. And you didn’t answer my question.”
