by Billie Dale
He still waits in the open door. With a little extra sway to my hips, I approach.
His eyes track up and down my body. “Damn, you’re gorgeous.” His tongue wets his lips and the movement sends my pulse thrumming. Chest to chest, his hands land on my hips and his face drops into the crook of my neck. Between his deep inhales, his lips pepper kisses along my collarbone. “Hmmm, you smell good enough to eat,” he groans between pecks. His fingers clench the fabric of my dress, raising it so he can palm my backside. With his thumbs under the strings of my thong, the splay of his digits knead my flesh. A flush of want soaks the thin cloth between my legs. I tighten my thighs in response. He reads my wanton cue. “Preslee.” My name hisses from his lip’s half prayer, half pain. I feel him harden against my stomach.
When he’s this close, I can’t keep coherent focus. My brain shuts down and I merely feel. There is nothing simple about his kisses. His scent and taste swirl in a vortex where I’m anchored to the world by the facial hair brushing my skin and the press of the softest lips.
“Yo, J-Man, we gotta jet,” Hendrix calls from the living room.
A growl emanates from his chest as he lowers his forehead to mine. Eyes squeezed shut; he fights to rein in his body. I plant a soft kiss on his lips before stepping out of his embrace. Before I’m out of his reach, he grabs my hands. “Promise you’ll stay alert. No bitching about Seth and Miguel,” he orders.
“Yes, master,” I sass.
“I show you a master later,” he warns, making me squirm. “For now, give me your oath to keep me a little sane.”
“Fine. I swear. Now go collect your little boy.”
He pulls me in, laying his mouth to mine. Goosebumps prickle my skin with his flicks at my upper lip. Tongue licking inside, he tastes and owns. My heart pounds in my chest and my entire body comes to life. As fast as he dove in, he pulls away leaving me breathless.
The bulge in his pants says he’s not unaffected. My inner woman hoorays over his reaction to a kiss. A sinful smirk rises on one side showing his deep dimple. Hands to his nose he fills his lungs. Through a low rumble he hums, “It’s like living in Christmasland with Charlie Manx. Painful but worth every candy cane laced second.” With one last warning to be careful, he throws me a panty-destroying wink before leaving.
The resort forbids cars at the cabins. Instead, the beefy twins and I head out to the Cart Port where the provided golf cart sits. The second you step outside, Mother Nature bitch-slaps you with her sweaty palm. This is how the Wicked Witch felt after Dorothy soaked her with the bucket of water. Yes, a nice warm dog-breath wind blows off the ocean. It’s a little cooler but still miserable. We drive next door, grabbing Sammy before traveling the path to the parking lot holding our rentals.
The chilled lobby is an ice bath shock to my skin. Seth jogs out to cool down the vehicle. Hot leather and bare legs equals scorched flesh. Anna Beth and Dani exit the elevator. I’m standing over a vent in the floor, welcoming the chill on my exposed lady parts.
“Are you practicing your best Marilyn Monroe?” Anna Beth asks.
“Nah. Trying to dry my ass.”
With a snorting chuckle, she shakes her head. Seth signals the go ahead and we all rush out to the waiting SUV.
Thirty-Six
Preslee
An hour and a half later Sammy Lee is four lemon drops in. She claims this outing as her bachelorette party and says wine just won’t cut it for her last hoorah, thus why she’s liquored up on shots. For the last thirty minutes she’s been rating the men in the café on their stripping potential.
“Pres… Pres…” She thinks she’s whispering. She is not. “Look at him. The ugly stick didn’t merely hit him, he was whooped by the whole forest.”
I try to shush her, but poor Anna Beth is mid-swallow upon my friend’s observation. A choking laugh shakes her shoulders as Dani slaps her on the back.
“Sooooo.” The poor guy Sammy was talking about leers at our table. I offer an apologetic smile. “Anna Beth, how long have you and my brother been dating?” We need a quick subject change.
She twirls a stand of her long red hair around her finger. Worrying her bottom lip, she hesitates. After a quick sign of the cross over her chest ending with a finger kiss aimed at the ceiling, she answers. “Me and Hendrix go way back. Had a crush on him since I first heard him play.” A goosebump-raising shiver shakes her shoulders. “Girl, your brother is sex on legs.” She makes a yummy hum sounding growl and her eyes swirl all wistful. “I don’t want to jinx it by jumping the gun with presumptions of dating. Ask me again if I’m still around in a month.”
“Ooooh yes, Hendi is all kinds of sexy rock god,” Sammy Lee adds, slapping the table before downing another shot.
“Eww,” I gag. Thinking of Hendrix as anything other than the geeky boy who sees music and used to fart in my face is gross. “We need to switch her to water,” I complain, flagging down the waitress. Both women erupt in giggles. “Dani, how about you and Curry?”
Dani March is all perfect mocha skin, short finger-waved shining black hair, and all things Victoria Secrets model. Her body makes me second-guess my sexual orientation. Long legs, narrow waist, and shoulders with the most epic curves. The woman is sex and elegance. And judging by the upturn of her tiny pixie nose, she knows it.
Sam drags me so she can whisper in my ear. “If it rains, she’ll drown from sticking her nose so far up in the air. Plus, her shorts are so tight I think I can see her religion.”
My chest burns from holding in a chuckle. Thanks to the loudness of the café, I hope Dani can’t hear Sam’s assessment. I watch her across the table, finding her doing the same thing she’s done since we arrived. Scrutinizing the place with the disdain of a person who stepped in dog crap as she continues to sip her wine.
“He needed a date and I’m working a photo shoot nearby. Happenstance and convenience. Curry James is too much of a whore for anything more.” Her haughty tone matter-of-facts any further questions from my brain.
Sammy ends the awkwardness. Nothing better than a drunk bride to be to end silences. “Curry James is da bomb.” Her statement requires no response, just a woman defending her friend. After a loud hiccup she searches the room, narrowing her stare to where my bodyguards attempt to blend in with the crowd. “Now, Preslee, how hard would it be to convince Miguel to strip for us?”
“Sammy.” I shake my head, fighting a laugh over the way she’s squirrelly eyeing Miguel. “You are marrying the hottest, most wanted man in the sports world in a matter of days. How can you even think about wanting to see another man naked?”
“Hmmm. Mazric is all kinds of scrumptious,” Anna Beth agrees. Sammy evil eyes her, well she tries. One drunk lid squints and her pursed lips appear more duck-ish than fierce. Anna Beth reads the tension though. “He’s no Hendrix though,” she corrects with the quickness of a woman caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
Even Dani chimes in, adding how fine Mazric is. Sam slumps back in her chair, eyeing each of us. “Y’all dill my pickle.” Her Southern roots grow thicker the drunker she gets. “We’re a tribe.” She states slapping a sloppy hand on and off her mouth in an Indian war cry for emphasis. “Women should unite, not drool over each other’s men. Besides, if you heard him whining all hours of the day about how it’s hotter than a jalapeño’s coochie, while standing with his shorts crammed in his crack and his head in the freezer you’d be less than impressed. Oh, and let’s not forget his ball scratching, ass itching, and dear Lord don’t let the man eat dairy. He refuses to accept he’s lactose intolerant. His stomach and stanky ass disagree.”
From her first dig at Mazric, I hide my snickers behind my wine glass. But I remember how toxic he used to be after we’d gorge ourselves on ice cream. Back before Carrie Lynn was the monster of the groom-to-be, she was an awesome mom who threatened to whip his butt if he didn’t use the pills she bought him to counteract the effect. A small bowl of butter pecan turned his ass into a napalm bomb. Joey and Hendrix fou
nd it was hilarious because they were stupid boys. We froze during the winter from opening the windows to air out the house and car rides were toxic.
“Oh, and let’s not forget how I raised our daughter by myself for seven years while he stuck his dick in everything with a pussy and a pulse,” she slurs.
“Weren’t you on a break?” Anna Beth asks.
My best friends head twist Exorcist style and for a brief frightening moment she sobers. “Listen here, Ross. There were mitigating circumstances, the math didn’t add up, and he was a total tool.” Her over intelligent brain fights the vodka pollution as she schools Anna Beth using her love of Friends as a prop. Tears fill her eyes. “When you love someone and know they are your lobster, you don’t go around humping the populace.”
She leans her head on my shoulder. “Why, Preslee? Why did he fuck everything? He had Meloni Tate, supermodel goddess. He can’t really want me for the rest of his life.” Her wet sobs soak my shoulder. I pat a soothing hand on her forearm, not sure what to say.
“Meloni is a bitch,” Dani jeers, leaning to meet Sam’s eyes, “You’re better,” she stonily states, shocking us all with her candor.
Sammy’s head pops up. A huge smile crinkles her eyes. The sobbing drunk girl forgotten, she slams her hands on the table knocking over the line of empty shot glasses in front of her. “Damn straight. His fine ass, farts and all, is mine.” She bobs her head. “Yep, yep.”
My laughter suppressed behind pulled tight lips bursts free. She’s so bipolar when she’s drunk, losing all the cluster usually clouding her brain. Anna Beth and Dani join me until the entire establishment is staring. This makes us laugh harder until we’re holding our stomachs and fighting water-filled eyes.
Sam demands another drink. I talk the waitress into making her a mocktail so my over-inebriated friend believes she’s still downing the good stuff. “Soooooo, Pressssleeee,” she drawls, pushing up her nonexistent sleeves since she’s wearing a tank top dress. “Enquiring minds.” She flicks an invisible hat on her head reporter-style before licking her thumb and pretending to hold a pen and notebook. “And all our friends.” She takes in the curious expressions of Anna Beth and Dani. “Oh, right, they don’t know.” Her index finger points at the women while she giggles.
“Hold there for a minute, sidebar,” she chuckles harder. “Joey and Preslee have this whole sordid past. An epic friends to lovers to haters to rabbit fuckers….” Her nose curls. “No, eww.” She shakes her head. “To humping like rabbits.” Her fingers snap. “Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to say. Anywho,” she singsongs. “It’s a whole big thing.”
She sums up my relationship in quite an adept fashion with minimal words. Across from me, Anna Beth nods her head. “Hendrix told me all about it the other night. It’s so slow burn with all the heartbreak and reconnecting.” Hand over her heart; she swoons. Bored with the conversation and with a sneer of disgust, Dani turns to scan the bar once again.
“Dish, Preslee Marie. Tell us all about your own personal romance novel.” Sammy props her head on hand and if she were an emoji, she’d be the one with heart eyes.
The waitress provides a reprieve arriving with my friend’s fake cocktail, but she also sets a Bloody Mary in front of me. “Special order,” she cheers, “we usually save these for Halloween.”
“I didn’t order this,” I say, staring at the macabre black fading to red beverage with a celery stalk sticking up and fake severed fingers floating on its surface.
“A guy at the bar sent it and ask me to deliver this,” she says, handing me a folded napkin.
“Ooh a secret admirer,” Sammy coos before her drunken brain cells clue in. “Oh no.” Her face blanches a ghastly pale and I’m thinking she might blow chunks. True smart as hell Sam shines through her drunkenness and she seems to sober in an instant until she jumps to her feet swaying sideways. Scrambling to steady herself, she grabs the table edge. Sturdy and hanging on, she observes the room. “Damn it. I hope I’m not too drunk to remember them all.” Her eyes blink with rapid flicks, while she tries to curb her blurry lemon drop goggles.
“What is she doing?” Dani asks, twisting her head to follow Sam’s stare.
I tell the waitress to remove the drink. She angles a fish hooked brow but does as I ask. “She has a photographic memory,” I mumble, responding to Dani’s question while using the tips of my shaking nails to open the napkin, hoping I didn’t smudge any fingerprints.
I read the word written in strokes so angry they dug holes in the paper. Soon, my pet.
What was an inaudible hum of people enjoying themselves becomes a roaring cacophony of static. All those who stole glances when Sammy drew their focus are suspects. Miguel and Seth went on high alert, flanking my sides the second the drink appeared at the table. The air around me turns stale, refusing to fill my lungs. My heart beats so hard I think it might jump out of my chest. Saliva pools in my mouth, but my throat feels too swollen to swallow as though my tongue doubled in size. My periphery turns dark. The long skeletal fingers of a panic attack crush my body.
Miguel moves in closer, hinging at his waist. “Miss Preslee, I think it’s time to go,” he whispers in my ear.
“Oh, oh, hey,” Sam shouts, slapping Miguel’s arm. “Her,” she points toward the bar, “Go, GO! She’s leaving. Stick skinny, greasy limp hair, and the face of a horse. Miguel, FIND HER.”
He pushes through the crowd, shoving people aside on his path to door. Seth stands, I jump in my seat when his hand meets my shoulder. “I got you, Miss Preslee.” His reassurance is hard to hear over the hysteria in my mind.
Anna Beth sits at the edge of her seat, wringing her hands on the tabletop; her wide eyes scan the café, flicking back to me, her mouth grim with worry before resuming their search. I’m guessing my brother filled her in on all the madness.
Dani finishes her drink, keeping her predatory stare on Seth over the rim of her glass. When she’s finished, she sets the wine flute on the table. “So, this is fun,” she deadpans, “I’m going to use the ladies’ and check out some other bars down the road.”
She twists to pull her purse from the back of her chair. Before she rises, Seth moves with stealth around the table to hover over her head, he lays a staying hand on her shoulder. “Until Miguel returns, I going to insist you stay at the table, Miss March. Then we will all leave together.” Anna Beth shivers from the demanding clip of his tone and his imposing form rising over the table. His face hard as stone and his shoulders tense, true bodyguard Seth is scary as hell.
“This is ridiculous,” she scoffs. “What’s the big deal? So, she received a drink from another man with his number. It’s not a crime, I mean she is a somewhat attractive woman.”
Any other day her dig would piss me off, but today I can’t find the give a damn to care.
I squeeze my eyes closed, unwilling to watch her judgmental eyes as I reveal my truth. “I have a stalker. An overbearing, power-stealing piece of crap, whose mission is to Kathy Bates in Misery my life. He’s here, on the island, screwing everything up,” I drone, reasoning why she can’t leave.
“Big deal. I receive hateful crap daily. All stars do, though not sure why anyone would target someone as plain as you.” Her lip curls in distaste. “Maybe he meant to send it to me. I mean I am an Angel…”
Sam’s head whips, turning a narrowed glare on Dani, she slams her hands on the table, leaning so they’re nose-to-nose. “This isn’t a crazed fan who lines his cheeks with pigs’ blood while jacking off to Preslee’s picture. He’s a psychotic manipulator, who’s held her under his thumb for seven years. He doesn’t want your bony, stuck-up ass. He wants to make her his lifelike blow-up doll. Sit there and shut the hell up.”
Dani rocks back in her chair, wearing a chagrin of offense and a gaped mouth. Red faced with fisted hands, Sammy twists her glare to the door watching for Miguel’s return.
My heart expands over my shy best friend issuing a verbal bitch-slap to Dani, but an ominous shade eclipses i
t. “Sammy Lee, who did you see?” I ask my voice wavering.
Before she can answer, the waitress returns carrying the same tumbler from before except now it’s half full. Face white as a cotton sheet, the cup rocks in her hand as she sets it on the table. I stare at the red-slicked insides. Hot ire gurgles in my stomach flying through my veins devouring the pulse-racing fear as it goes. “I said I didn’t fucking want it,” I shout.
“M-m-my boss called the police. They’re on the way, but I saw your other guy chase the woman and this one’s been tracking you all night,” she stumbles over her words. “When I dumped it out, I noticed how thick it was before the smell assaulted me. I swear I only turned my head for a second…”
Her babbling continues when the air overhead kicks on, it sends the scent from the glass up my nose. It stinks of copper and metal. I gag, clasping my hand over Sam’s. Her wide, terrified green orbs match mine. Seth warns us not to touch it.
The police arrive, led inside by Miguel. They clear out the café with the help of the bar staff and waitresses. When it’s empty, they surround our table.
An officer pulls a glove from his pocket, slipping it on before he grabs the glass, sniffing over the rim. “It’s blood,” he validates what I suspected. Eyeing each person around the table, he orders another officer to secure it for evidence.
Anna Beth gasps. Dani groans, “Jesus,” under her breath.
The waitress shifts from foot to foot, chewing on her thumb, waiting for the all clear to bolt. Miguel grabs her wrist. “Was it a woman who sent the drink?”
“N-n-no. A-a-a man. Ebony hair, dark eyes… I think. Maybe tall, but he was sitting on a barstool and we were so busy…. I’m sorry. All the faces blur when twenty people shout drink orders at you.”
“He sat next to a woman.” A dark-skinned man appears behind the waitress, wrapping his arm around her waist. “I made his drink since it was a special order. He was plain, kinda geeky, wearing a ball cap… same as every other tourist in this place. Couldn’t even pick him out of a lineup. I made his order and moved on. The woman stood out more. She had sores dotting her cheeks and her hair hung limp around her gaunt face. The way she shook and twitched, I’d guess she was tweaking. Sorry we can’t be more help. This place is crazy during the tourist season. They all look the same.”
