A Perfect Mess

by Zoe Dawson

She was plastered against me, just where I wanted this girl to be. No-air kind of tight. The heat of her hands on my arms quickly and savagely spread, covering the whole front of my body…a good portion of it settling in my junk, which wasn’t going to do either of us any good, because we had things to do.

  I had an unobstructed view down her shirt. I tried to look away. But she was so lovely, the purple lace of her bra working overtime, the nape of her neck beneath my hand, soft and exposed, red tendrils of her hair lying like a mysterious treasure map to the riches of her.

  I lifted my free hand and cupped the sweet line of her jaw, but this time when I lowered my mouth, I still didn’t feel close enough. My mouth angled over hers, teasing her, and tasting her, and sucking enough to let her know this was just getting started between us.

  Geezus, she had a beautiful mouth. I loved the way she moved it over mine, as if the sensation was something she needed to survive.

  Yeah, she’d grown up since I’d punched out Damien Langston for his boasting lies at Aubree’s expense. She knew where we were going this time. It was clear from the way she was clinging to me that she had decided I was the guy to take her there.

  I broke the kiss, but she didn’t open her eyes for a few moments. When she did, they were glazed.

  “See,” she said softly against my lips. “A black hole.”

  “Well, if you don’t get going, this rocket is going to achieve liftoff and the both of us will be catapulted into outer space.”

  I let her go, but slowly, every molecule of my body protesting the separation.

  She backed away like I was some unpredictable jungle cat who would leap if she moved too quickly. I don’t think she was far off the mark.

  She grabbed her Einstein bag and keys. “Lock up when you leave. Do you remember the code? I know it’s a lot of numbers.”

  I chuckled. “I remember it.”

  “I’ll see you tonight, then?”

  “‘Gator wrestling. Bring your bikini.”

  “Yeah, I’ll be wrestling with a ‘gator all right, the two-legged variety.”

  I lunged and she laughed and closed the door in my face.

  I had to wonder if she’d hooked up with anyone else. Was that even my business? Well, actually in this case, I would say yes. A guy needed to know when a girl was a virgin. That was important information. It could mean the difference between a good first time or a disaster.

  Maybe that was one of the reasons I was resisting, here. Maybe it was because I didn’t want to know.

  Now that was a fucking Catch-22.

  Chapter Seven

  “Ma!” I barged through my mother’s front door and headed down the hall. I peeked in the kitchen, but she wasn’t there.

  “I’m in here.”

  She came around the corner of the living room and, as we met in the hall, she gave me a hug. Her face looked more serene than I had ever seen it. The house I’d built for her, to her specifications, also sat on the bayou, only a few miles from mine.

  There was a black mat was in front of the picture window.

  “Yoga?”

  “Yes, it’s very relaxing. You should try it.”

  “Bend myself into a pretzel. Uh, uh. Running works for me.”

  She laughed. “What brings you by, son?”

  “I was wondering if you would like to go to the Greek Isles.”

  She gave me a sassy look. “Is that a trick question?”

  I tilted my head. “Are you getting feisty with me?” It’s what she’d always said to me when I was young and…mouthy.

  “Hey, got to get my payback where I can. Of course, I would love to go, but weren’t you planning that as a research trip?”

  “I was.”

  “You’re not writing that book anymore?”

  “No, I’m still writing it. Something’s come up and I need to postpone it, but I have this ticket and this great tour. I would hate to see it go to waste.”

  She walked up to me. “Booker, is something wrong?”

  “No. Nothing’s wrong.” Nothing that Aubree Walker couldn’t fix.

  “Is this about that Walker girl being home for the summer?”

  I shifted and looked away. Did moms have some kind of radar or something?

  “How is her aunt, by the way? She’s been so good to you.”

  “She’s hanging in there. The doctors are optimistic.”

  “That’s a relief. I stopped by the hospital yesterday to pay a visit and brought fresh flowers for her room. I know half the stuff she bought from me at the flea market was trash, but it helped so much. At least when she wakes up she’ll have something pretty to look at.”

  She brushed at the hair on my forehead and I felt twelve all over again.

  “I’m not a kid anymore.”

  “No, you’re not, you’re a man, but sometimes feelings don’t die, even if you want them too.” She was talking about my dad, and that was another sore subject I didn’t want to delve into. She still loved him. Why? That was beyond me, but I could see it in her face.

  That was the thing about my ma. She could have gotten lost in a bottle or become bitter or check out, but she hadn’t. She’d put three squares on the table every single day for us. She read to us, she tucked us in, and even though our clothes were shabby, they were clean. She never wavered, and she’d only let it get to her when she thought we weren’t looking. Kids might be naïve, but we weren’t dumb. She more than deserved to have this simple little house by the bayou, and to never have to work another day in her life, if I had anything to say about it. Now she did what she wanted to do.

  “And moms don’t stop loving their boys because they turn into men. So get used to it, mister.”

  “What if I said it is about her? What would you tell me to do?”

  She folded her arms and walked to the picture window. “What I always tell you to do, my boy. Follow your heart and everything else will fall into place.

  “Even after all these years, ma?”

  She looked over her shoulder at me. “Yes, Booker. Even after all these years.”

  #

  “WTF,” Langston roared as he exploded out the back door of the diner and ran right into me. I was standing against the wall, my shoulder propped, one ankle crossed over the other.

  “Hello, Danny boy.” My words were casual, but an undertone of frost underscored each syllable.

  He looked behind him, sweat beading on his forehead. “How did you get back here so fast?”

  “Maybe because that wasn’t me giving you the evil eye in front of the diner. In case you didn’t know. I have two brothers…and we’re, ah, triplets.” I grinned at him.

  “Book? You got this?” Boone peeked around the back fence and sneered at Langston.

  I nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.”

  “You sure?” he asked looking like he wanted to take a few swings at Langston himself.

  “Yes, I’m sure, Boonie. The day I can’t take Langston one-on-one is the day I need to drown myself in the swamp.”

  “Good. Use my digits when you’re done.”

  “Will do, Ma.”

  He snorted and sauntered off.

  I let a slow, deceptive grin spread across my face. “Why did you run? Guilty conscience?”

  “What do you want, Outlaw?” he asked tightly.

  I reached for every bit of flinty steel I had in me. “Stop texting Aubree.”

  Something ugly flashed in Langston’s eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I was off the wall so fast he didn’t have a chance to react. I shoved him up against the side of the diner, my forearm across his throat. “You do know what I’m talking about, you piece of shit.” I said between clenched teeth.

  He didn’t say anything else, and I shoved against his throat.

  “This is harassment. I’ll tell the sheriff,” he croaked.

  “I don’t give a damn. Tell the sheriff. Do you think the law means anything to me? My last name isn’t Outlaw for
nothing. And what you’re doing to Aubree is harassment, Langston. This?” and I shoved him again just for good measure. “This is a warning in the only language you understand.”

  I stepped back. “Stop. Texting. Aubree. There. I said it real slow for you, so you’ll get it.”

  He glared at me, hatred in his eyes. I didn’t give a damn about that, either.

  I turned and walked away. “You’re going to regret this, Outlaw.”

  “Whatever.”

  As I came through the alley, Boone and Braxton were standing there. “What’s going on here? I said I had it.”

  Boone’s blue eyes sparkled with mischief, and he slanted a look at me as he fell into step alongside me with Braxton boxing me in on the other side. We strode through town that way as people gave us wary glances.

  “Hey, we’re just loitering. Nuttin’ to do with you,” Boone said.

  “Yeah, it’s always about you, Book. Conceited, much?” Brax said.

  “Sure about that, huckleberries?” I gave them both a knowing look. There was a time in my past that I had been double-teamed by the Langstons. I had never said, but my brothers just knew. They had been so pissed at me, but their anger was fueled by their love for me. They were my support, my best friends, tied together by blood and strife. I was one lucky fucker to have them. Guys hated talking about love, even brotherly love. Affection was always tied to good-natured ribbing. I grabbed Brax around the neck. “Your time could be put to better use. I’m still waiting for my ooey gooey chocolate chip cookies made with just the right amount of your tender-loving Betty Crocker care.”

  He punched me in the ribs and pain and surprise made me huff an amused breath. “Aww, Braxxie, was that a love tap?” When I let go, he grinned at me and swung at me with an open hand that I ducked. I swung at him in retaliation. But Brax was way too fast. He danced out of my range.

  “It will be hard to eat chocolate chip cookies with broken teeth, smart-ass.”

  “Is that so? I think you’re going to need backup. I hear Betty’s a pretty good scrapper. Watch out when she takes off that apron,” I said deadpan, and he did exactly what I knew he would. He charged me, and took me down onto the grassy knoll outside of city hall. All three of us laughing like idiots.

  Boone just stood there like a referee with a full Outlaw grin on his face, his hands on his hips as Brax and I wrestled for supremacy. Finally, I pinned him, which wasn’t an easy task, and he conceded this fight, but not the war.

  “Should have called, Betty,” I said as he shoved me and laughed.

  We reclined in the grass. “Do you think he’ll stop?” Boone asked.

  “He’d better.”

  “Yeah, right. I think there’s a future can of triple-whammy-whup-ass with that bastard’s name on it, just waiting to be opened.” Brax said with relish.

  #

  Aubree

  After spending the morning reading The Fellowship of the Ring to my aunt, I left Secrest Hospital and climbed into my car. I don’t know if it was my imagination, but she had looked better to me, more color to her skin instead of that pallor that had scared me so much the time I’d run into Booker. I felt optimistic that I would have my aunt back the way she had been. Warm and caring.

  Those thoughts brought a host of others bubbling to the surface and set my stomach churning. I tried to focus on driving as the familiar scenes passed by me. A bunch of small, ranch-style houses—each with half of an old clawfoot tub sunk into the ground as a makeshift shrine to the Virgin Mary, painted a deep blue for serenity, a multi-hued wealth of blooms planted at the feet of each Holy Mother. Downtown, with its mix of old and new, modernized storefronts.

  Outside the general store a throng of stooped, battered old men sat gossiping, playing checkers and watching attentively for strangers.

  It felt good to fit in, and after seven years, I felt like I belonged in this town. They had accepted me and I was grateful for that, to finally have a home that meant something to me. Maturity was about recognizing what was important in life, and I was proud of my grown-up thinking.

  I thought about the day my mother had died, and about my aunt rescuing me from the busy and almost sterile life of the city to this lush and magical place, welcoming me with open arms and a warm heart. I’d never known home in the truest sense of the word until I’d come here. Now, I felt fragmented, the various parts of my life at odds with each other.

  I wheeled into Imogene’s crushed-shell parking lot and saw both Verity and River Pearl getting out of River’s Mercedes coupe. I waved and looked up at the blue, weather-beaten building that stood on the corner of Georgia Lane and Easy Street. Imogene’s faced the street and backed into the bayou with a screened-in back porch situated over the water. The restaurant didn’t look like much with its funky corroded tin roof and beat-up, old-fashioned screen door.

  It was rumored that Imogene had been a voodoo priestess who practiced her art under the full moon. She was hanged for supposedly causing a hurricane and wiping out a small fishing village farther down the road, because some of the men there had raped and murdered her daughter, AnnClaire. It’s said the daughter’s ghost haunts the restaurant.

  “Hey,” I said as I met them at the front door. River Pearl’s blonde hair caught the sun and sparkled, matching her glossy personality. Verity’s dark gypsy eyes smiled at me, but there was that same soul-deep sadness in them. Her dark hair was a tangle of midnight curls all the way down her back. I’d always envied her amazing beauty.

  River Pearl led the way inside, the seductive sway of her unique way of walking drawing the eyes of every male in the place. Verity and I trailed behind her. The delicious aroma of hot spices and Cajun dishes saturated the air, evoking more memories of this place and my ties to it over the years. Fans twirled above us from the stamped tin ceiling, as they had for nearly eighty years. The same beat-up red diner stools I remembered from my childhood were lined up in front of the counter. The current owner of Imogene’s, Samantha Wharton, a young, pretty yank from New York City, ran the landmark vintage register. She’d taken Imogene’s over when it had fallen into disrepair and revitalized this treasure. For that, she’d won the hearts of everyone in Suttontowne. I for one was thankful she was also a great cook, and the glass-enclosed pie display that sat near the register would definitely make a believer out of anyone smart enough to order a slice.

  We settled for a table in the back, on the screen porch overlooking the bayou. An airboat passed and I smiled to myself, thinking suddenly of Booker and his story of gigging that ‘gator instead of the bullfrogs they were hunting. I still wondered if he’d been pulling my leg.

  I finally relaxed and let myself think about him. He’d been a hot, hot glow in my belly the whole day. The way he’d looked this morning, unshaven, the black stubble roughening his strong, sexy jaw. His shaggy hair a mess. When he stood in the sun, his eyes were this electric blue that I couldn’t look away from. I couldn’t keep my hands off him, and last night…he had been so sweet. Everything in me ached to touch him. Then those kisses in the guest room and the hall. Swoon, again.

  We got our menus, ordered our drinks.

  River Pearl said, “It’s so good to see y’all again. I sure missed you both. We really have to keep in touch. I especially hate that you were in The Middle of Nowhere, Africa, Verity. Much too far away from New York City.”

  Verity shrugged. “The mission kept me so busy…with the work and all.”

  “Well, we’re together now,” I said.

  Verity nodded.

  There was silence as we looked over our menus. We placed our orders.

  “I’m so thankful that yank salvaged this place,” River said.

  “Agreed. But it looks like we’re becoming a haven for yanks. Look at the Blue Coyote Spa. Mid-westerner bought it and really turned it into something grand.”

  “Right. She has a pretty name,” Verity said.

  “Skylar Bransom,” River said. “She dresses really funky, but I like it.” She tur
ned to me and said. “Enough gossip about yanks. Let’s hear some gossip about one particular local. Aubree. Dish on Booker,” River Pearl tilted her head, her voice clear she would accept nothing less than my full confession.

  She was stunning in the sun, her denim shorts and white crocheted top looking country-club fashionable on her. River Pearl always looked so artlessly put together, her makeup seemed a part of her rather than just applied, her hair plaited into an intricate braid. I always felt like a mess when I compared myself to her.

  “What’s going on with him?” She stopped talking while the waitress set down our drinks. Once she left, River continued her interrogation. “Why didn’t you ever talk to him in high school?”

  “He was too wild, too unpredictable. I was always trying to be—”

  “Perfect?” River Pearl said, her brows hiked with challenge. I really loved her attitude. She never worried about just coming out and saying what everyone was thinking. Damn the consequences. I wondered what she would say about what had happened on Wild Magnolia Road. She would have probably told the truth no matter what it cost her. Damien Langston’s father wouldn’t have dared to go after River Pearl’s family. They were above reproach. Although I really wondered. Maybe her daddy would have swept it under the rug and told her to hush about it.

  I made the decision, again, to keep it quiet for a very specific reason. Even as another thought occurred to me, I stuffed it into a different compartment. I was going to stick with the explanation I was comfortable with.

  “Don’t look at me like that, Aubree. We all know about being perfect. For Verity it’s in the eyes of God. Fuck, she’s got Jesus to live up to. For me, it’s the Perfect Princess. God forbid I should have a bad hair day and it gets caught on film. We’re so freaking pretentious that we had to add an e to the town name. Really? We should have been horse-whipped back in the day. My family sure could use a wake-up call. God knows it should have happened when Chase left, but no. And the whole universe would come crashing down around us in the apocalypse if you don’t do the right damn thing.”

  I wanted to say that I didn’t always do the right thing. Several times in my life I hadn’t managed it and all those times had to do with…Booker.