Coco shrieked and stiffened. Chanel moaned and rolled over on his side.
The one thing her two faithful companions could agree on was their mutual intolerance of William ‘Devil’ Delancy. And as far as Molly was concerned, her babies were highly intelligent and understood everything she said.
Molly laughed. “Again, it’s like we share one mind, you guys, because that was my response, too. Except, I expressed my displeasure a little more violently,” she admitted, bending to slide the cat and dog dishes in front of her babies’ noses.
Molly petted Chanel’s head as the dog chowed down on his grub. Reaching out to slide her hand against Coco’s sleek fur, she merely smiled as the cat arched her back against her hand but barely batted an eyelash as she, too, continued eating. These animals were her two closest confidants, with the exception of her two gal pals of the homo sapien variety. “I’m not sure what I’m gonna do, sweeties,” she murmured to the animals while she stroked Coco’s head. “Hopefully, Viv and Sami can help me figure things out. They did a pretty good job of advising me when I met you guys. If not for them, you two would still be in those stupid kennels at the animal shelter.”
Chanel lifted her head from the bowl at the mention of Viv and Sami.
“That’s right, baby, the woman that named you is coming for a little visit.” Molly grinned. It had been her girlfriends’ idea a couple of years ago that she needed a distraction to get over her disastrous breakup with the college douchebag she’d been dating. After spending her entire four years at University with one man, suddenly being alone and single in Atlanta had nearly overwhelmed her. So, her duo of besties had made the unilateral decision to get her a companion.
A soft heart, Molly was no match for the sad faces staring at her from behind their cages inside the animal shelter. Finding one furry friend had evolved into finding two furry friends pretty darn quickly.
Her friend Sami was actually the one that had bequeathed both animals with their names. A model by trade, Samantha Dixon had been a little put out by the fabulous designers at Coco Chanel at the time their trio had tripped into the animal shelter two years ago. She’d been slated to appear on the runway wearing the fabulous clothes of the fabled fashion maven, but the powers that be had yanked their contract from her at the last minute when they’d deemed the leggy blonde a little too voluptuous to appropriately model their fall line.
So, when the three friends had strolled by the Pekingese’s cage and Molly had instantly fallen in love, Sami had declared that the world’s ugliest dog could go by no other moniker than the name ‘Chanel’. Her other best friend, Viv, an attorney, had argued valiantly on the Peke’s behalf, but when Sami had softly crooned “Who’s a fierce little furball, Chanel?” through the steel bars of the cage and the dog had lifted its ears in response, they all knew that the unfortunate name had been sealed. A few minutes later when Molly had spotted an abandoned brown and black Siamese cat staring at her with woeful eyes, the name ‘Coco’ had fallen easily into place.
Yeah, her peepettes had all done their best to put the fun in dysfunctional, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.
Molly rose from the floor after offering each animal one last scratch behind the ears and glanced at her wristwatch. Each of her gal pals had already texted her back after she’d sent out her brief 9-1-1 message from the parking garage of the hospital. Both would arrive any time now, and she wanted to be pleasantly buzzed before she explained the origins of her frantic text to them.
Grabbing her trusty bottle of vodka from the freezer, Molly didn’t even bother with a glass. Instead, she simply lifted the half-full container to her lips and took a healthy swig. Leaning against the counter, she heard the front door open and close and then the distinctive tap of stiletto heels against the hardwood floors of her condo.
“Alright, bitch! You’ve got five seconds to explain to me why the hell I got a 9-1-1 text during my bikini wax, and it better be good! Rudolfo is furious that I left, and my woo woo is seriously lopsided, all thanks to you! He may never give me another slot in his spa again, and I have a swimsuit shoot next week! You know that man considers his waxes to be the works of an artistic mastermind! Not to mention the fact that my flower now looks like half its petals fell off!” Samantha yelled from the empty living room. “You’d better thank your lucky stars and stripes that I’m not currently mooning over a man because my vag could be considered a serious mood killer at the moment,” she continued to rail as she stomped through the condo.
Smiling, Molly lifted the bottle to her lips again and ignored the searing burn the alcohol left in her throat as she swallowed.
Samantha had officially arrived on the scene with her trademark verve. The party was now truly underway.
Sizzle: Chapter Eleven
“You know, I might be worried about that if you let anybody other than Rudolfo near your secret garden, Sami,” Molly called back over her shoulder. “As it stands, nobody has tried to pluck your flower in…how long’s it been?” she asked as the stunning blonde sauntered into the kitchen. Even in a ratty sweatshirt and ripped jeans, the woman looked good.
Perching one hand on her shapely hip, Sami sniffed. “Longer than I like to admit in polite company, peaches. And that’s all I’m saying about that.”
Shooting her gorgeous amiga a sympathetic smile, Molly murmured, “Life without Ben still isn’t coming together for you, huh?” Sami’s break-up with the love of her life had left the other woman equal parts forlorn and bitter. And while Molly knew that Sami had ended the relationship for her own reasons, she also knew that Samantha missed her man something awful. Hopefully, one day Sami would have the courage to tell Ben the reason she’d really ended things with him was because she feared not being able to give him a biological child would kill their relationship anyway. Personally, Molly thought Ben was a better man than that, but it was her job to support Sami, and that’s what she was doing.
“Ben who?” Sami replied lightly with a careless shrug of her shoulders. “I don’t know anyone by that name,” she informed Molly with a forced smile.
“Got it,” Molly informed the other woman before reaching inside her refrigerator and plucking a bottle of Merlot from the bottom shelf. Evidently Benjamin Atkins was no longer a topic up for discussion. She could accept that; sometimes a subject was just too painful for a girl to discuss. Tossing the wine bottle to her friend, Molly grinned as Sami caught it mid-air. Not surprising, given the fact that before she’d found fame on the runway, her friend been a kickass bartender at one of Atlanta’s hotspots, Whiskey Blue. “The vodka is all mine tonight, but I’ll share my wine with you. I’d suggest you find a funnel in my junk drawer over there,” Molly advised, gesturing toward the cabinets behind Sami, “You’re gonna wanna be half-sloshed when I share my day with you.”
“You’re bogarting the Mr. Belvedere? This must be bad,” Sami conceded, turning to grab a wine glass from one of the cabinets above the stove. “And by the way,” she continued, setting her glass on the counter and tipping the bottle over it to pour a liberal splash, “It’s been longer for you than it has been for me since somebody took a tour of the garden, sister. So no more questions about my lack of labial love because if you throw stones at me, I’m gonna lob a boulder at your head.”
“Somebody already beat you to the rock, Sami. Believe me,” Molly replied, taking another hit from the vodka as Sami poured her wine in a glass. “And he throws a lot harder than you do.”
“Well, don’t keep me in suspense. I’m passing up a perfectly beautiful butterfly vajazzle in order to rush to your side,” Sami deadpanned, turning bright jade eyes on Molly expectantly.
“You were actually gonna do that?” Molly crinkled her nose at the thought of bedazzling her hoo ha. Having jewelry installed south of her equator was not her idea of a fun Friday night.
“I like to keep things interesting. Don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it, sweetie. Our woo woos aren’t getting any younger.” Sami shrugged. “Besides, you never k
now when you might meet Mr. Right and wanna impress him,” she reminded Molly with a wicked smile .
“Or plow smack dab into Mr. Completely Wrong,” Molly mumbled, passing Sami as she trudged back into the living room with her bottle in hand. “Where the hell is Viv?” she asked over her shoulder. “I only wanna tell this horrid story once tonight.”
Watching as Molly lifted the vodka bottle back to her lips again, Sami shook her head as she followed the other woman into her comfy den. Dropping her black Valentino clutch on the coffee table, she took a sip of the sweet Merlot as she got comfortable on the couch. “I talked to Vivian on the way over here. She just won some big case for her firm and was out celebrating with her legal cronies. She’ll be here in a minute.”
“Ugh! I’m a horrible friend! I completely forgot!” Molly smacked the heel of her hand against her forehead. “This was her first big win,” she groaned as she flopped back against the sofa cushions. “I didn’t even call and congratulate her.”
“It’s okay. I sent flowers and signed both our names,” Sami replied easily, propping her long legs on Molly’s coffee table. “No big deal.”
Molly beamed at her dismissive friend. Sami liked people to think she was such a cool ticket, but beneath the tough exterior was a heart of pure gold. “You’re a good friend, Samantha.”
“Hmmmfff, don’t spread that around,” Sami ordered with a mock glare while she took another sip from her wine glass. “I’ve got enough friends. I’m not looking for more.”
Molly could empathize. Because she was gorgeous, men and women alike were attracted to Sami like moths to a flame. Few were interested in anything more than what they could see on the outside and could have cared less that beneath the flawless exterior, her friend possessed a huge heart and a sweet soul. Most of those around the gorgeous woman were just hangers-on who wanted to be seen with the popular model. Molly pitied those idiots because those vain fools didn’t have the slightest interest in getting to know the woman beneath the glossy surface, and she knew that hurt Sami more than she’d ever admit aloud – even to her best friends in the world. Sami’s ex-fiance, Ben, had kept those cockroaches away from his woman as much as he could, but now that he was gone, all those locusts had descended on her pal like some kind of biblical plague. “I hate that for you, girlie,” Molly grumbled under her breath.
“Don’t worry about me, Mols. You and Vivian keep me plenty busy,” Sami continued. “Hence, my half naked v-jay jay,” she said, gesturing airily toward her crotch.
“Sorry ‘bout that, but you don’t wanna miss what I’ve got to share. Trust me when I tell you that you’ll want the dirt,” Molly promised the other woman as the front door opened again.
“Dirt?” Vivian Miller questioned as she kicked the door closed with her spiky heel. “Did I hear that there’s the promise of dirt on the horizon?” she asked, blowing her hair back from her face as she dumped her purse and briefcase on the floor beside the door.
Jumping off the couch and crossing the room to the newest arrival at her little soiree, Molly hugged the slender brunette tightly. “Hey, lady! Congrats on your big win today! At this rate, they’ll be making you a partner at your firm in no time.”
“Oh, please,” Vivian replied with a smile, tucking the short hair of her cute bob behind her ears, “It was one case, ladies.”
“Yeah, your first case,” Sami pointed out, lifting her wine glass in a silent toast to the other woman. “And you nailed it.”
“Thanks, guys.” Vivian grinned, sliding off her fitted suit jacket and draping it over the back of the sofa. Unbuttoning the first few buttons of her white silk blouse, she leaned toward Sami to steal her glass. “Mmmm, merlot,” she groaned after she took a fortifying sip.
“I’ll go grab you a glass,” Molly offered, already on her way back to the kitchen.
“Grab the bottle,” Sami corrected, jerking her thumb toward the kitchen. “From what our Molly has told me, I think we’re all gonna need to be buzzed for this,” she told Vivian with a knowing look. “Here’s a helpful heads up, though! She’s refusing to share her vodka and that hasn’t happened since we caught He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named fucking that waitress in Molly’s bed two years ago.”
Viv shuddered. “Ugh, now that was a long night.” Frowning when Molly disappeared from her sight, Vivian mouthed, “What’s going on?” as she curled into one of the deep recliners in the living room.
Sami shrugged and shook her head as Molly returned with another glass and the bottle of wine in her hands.
Turning her gaze to Molly as she poured the wine into the stemmed glass, Vivian shifted in her chair. “Okay, spill it, Mols,” she demanded, watching the other woman’s face. “You didn’t drag us over here just to drink cheap wine and dish about our day. What’s going on?”
Belting back another shot of vodka, Molly blinked as the hard liquor blazed a fiery trail down her throat. It was liquid courage, but at this point, Molly would settle for what she could get. “Well, girls, I think you might be looking at the future Mrs. William Delancy. If we don’t do something fast, I think I’ve been doomed to become the Devil’s bride.”
Sizzle: Chapter Twelve
Fifteen minutes later, the whole sordid mess had been spilled between them and both her friends stared at Molly with a mixture of horror, amusement and curiosity – heavy on the horror. “Well, say something!” Molly yelled when neither of them uttered a word a full minute later. “You’re supposed to be my sounding board, ladies! Sound off already!”
“You’re engaged,” Sami managed to choke.
“To…to… the Devil,” Viv sputtered.
“It could be worse, right?” Molly questioned, looking from one woman to the other and back again. “I mean, he’s not so awful, is he?”
“He’s the Devil,” Vivian breathed, her brown eyes shining huge on her pixie face.
“That’s really not very helpful, Viv,” Molly huffed, holding her bottle tucked tightly between her breasts as she sat cross-legged on the middle of her couch. “His nickname is Devil. He’s not actually Satan incarnate.”
“I’m gonna need a hit off that vodka bottle before we go any further,” Sami warned, holding out her hand and wriggling her fingers.
“You’ll have to wrestle it from my cold, dead hands, sista” Molly replied tersely, tightening her grip on the mostly-gone liquor.
“You hold her down, and I’ll pry it out of her hand,” Vivian told Sami, only half joking as she warily eyed Molly.
Snorting, Sami ran a hand through her naturally wavy locks. “Well, let’s look on the bright side. At least he’s got that whole eye candy thing going on for him. You may have to look into the face of evil every morning across the breakfast table, but the view will be pretty since your betrothed is a certified hunk.”
“Not helpful,” Molly snapped at Samantha, shooting the woman a scathing glare. “Seriously, what am I going to do?” Molly groaned, leaning her head back against the thick cushion of her sofa as the throbbing in her head increased.
Shaking off her shock, Viv straightened in her chair. “Well, first off, you’re not going to panic. You’re a strong, self-assured young woman. You can handle this. Besides, Devil can’t actually make you marry him. As an attorney, I can tell you that that would be hightly illegal. Coercing someone into a binding agreement can be seriously litigious business.”
“Okay, okay, cool your jets, Ally McBeal. Nobody is suing anybody tonight. But Vivi is right, Mols. He can’t force you to marry him, but he can pressure the unholy hell out of her,” Sami argued, frowning at Vivian. “I mean, you heard her, Viv. The asshat is holding his dying grandmother over her head, for crying out loud. How much more compelling can the guy get?”
“Well, that could sort of be seen as kind of touching. Devil loves his Nana so much that he’d do anything to make her happy. I think that might actually add to his character. It’s sweet.”
“Are you deluded? Because I know you haven’t had time to get drunk,”
Sami retorted, frowning at Viv’s glass of wine. “It’s not sweet; it’s creepy as all hell. Besides, Devil’s got an entire harem that follows him around, salivating at his heels. Why can’t he ride off into the sunset with one of them and make his Nana’s dreams come true? Why does it have to be our Molly that pays that price?”
“He’s known her forever, remember?” Viv reminded Sami with a roll of her eyes. “They’ve got shared history.”
“Yeah, one where, recently, he’s made her life a living hell with his bevy of botox-filled beauties. I agree with Mols. He should get one of the Stepford beauties and leave her alone. In fact, I think you should look for an entirely new job,” Sami returned bitterly. “Honest to God, what kind of asshole expects his personal assistant to break up with his girlfriends?”
“In fairness, I don’t actually break up with them so much as run interference when they come banging on his door again,” Molly interjected, lifting her head for a second. “And in the state of Georgia, there are exactly zero jobs in my field right now. Trust me, I looked. Plus, nothing else would pay nearly as well as working with Devil does. He might be a pain in the butt, but he does compensate me with a ridiculously high wage. I’m not going to make 30.00 an hour anywhere else.
“Still,” Sami grumbled, shaking her head, “It’s twisted. He’s twisted. Hence, calling him the Devil.”
Turning to face her friend, Vivian asked gently. “What do you want to do, Molly?”
“Honestly? I don’t know.” Molly shook her head unhappily, letting out a long sigh. “Part of me wants to flip him the bird and tell him where to put his idea of matrimonial bliss. But, another part...”
“Finds the whole thing incredibly romantic?” Vivian supplied knowingly.
“Are you kidding me?” Sami balked incredulously, visibly recoiling as her head jerked upright. “Romantic is a moonlight walk on the pier or a kiss at sunset, Vivian. It’s certainly not a surprise proposal at a dying woman’s bedside. What I wanna know is what did the jackass have to say for himself after you got him out of Nana’s room? What’s his grand plan for the two of you, long-term? A divorce after good old Nana finally departs for the Hereafter?” she surmised sharply.
The Sizzle Saga Page 7
