by Allie Gail
“That happened on your birthday?”
“Yup.”
“What was the deal with that, exactly? You never really said how it happened.”
“I know.”
“Well, are you going to tell me?”
“Nope.”
“Oh, come on,” I persist. “Why not?”
“It’s embarrassing.”
“More embarrassing than the food poisoning story?”
“That was different. That one wasn’t my fault. I come off looking really stupid in this one.”
“We’ve all done stupid things. I won’t hold it against you. I promise.”
“Um…I don’t know. Are you sure you want to hear all this?”
“Positive.”
Sighing, she debates for a moment before relenting. “Okay. Remember what you were saying about the stuff that happened before you moved here? About how you basically trusted the wrong person?”
“Yes.” Funny how fast I got over that. I’d attribute it to my resilience but the truth is, I knew all along the thing with Embry was just temporary. It’s just too bad it cost me thirteen thousand bucks along the way.
“Kinda the same situation. There was this guy I worked with at the newspaper office and I used to have sort of a thing for him. And I guess I deluded myself into thinking he was into me too, but…”
Her voice trails off, and I have to prod her to continue. “But what?”
“But…it turns out he saw me as nothing more than a joke.”
I guiltily think back to my first impression of Leah, and the way I automatically wrote her off as nothing more than a dumb blonde.
Total asshole move right there. I freely admit it.
“Were you dating?” I ask.
“Off and on for about a year, yes. He would never commit to me exclusively. Which was okay at first, since I never knew him to go out with anyone else, but after a while I started to feel like he was only hanging out with me when he didn’t have anything better to do. Like I was just the last resort when his friends were all busy. The whole thing seemed to be going nowhere. I’d just about reached the point where I was ready to throw in the towel when he mentioned that he wanted to take me out for my birthday. So I thought, oh, that’s nice, how can I say no, right?”
“You should’ve said no,” I predict, rather unnecessarily.
“I definitely should’ve said no. Like an idiot, I assumed it would be just the two of us, but obviously that was too much to hope for. Turned out he’d invited three of his friends to tag along. Which wasn’t really a big deal or anything, it just wasn’t what I had in mind, you know?”
“Understandable.”
“Anyway, we ended up going to this little dive bar in Panama City for oysters. And Brad – that was the guy – he kept ordering drink after drink after drink. To celebrate, he said. Now he wasn’t having any alcohol because he’d volunteered to be the designated driver, but everyone else was. And we were all having a pretty good time, but somehow I got really blitzed, really fast.” She crinkles her nose, frowning. “Of course, now that I think back, it does seem like every time I turned around one of them was putting another drink in my hand. Like they were trying to get me drunk on purpose.”
“Sounds like it,” I agree.
“Things start to get a little fuzzy after that. I remember being in Brad’s car and asking him where we were going, because he’d already missed the turnoff to my place. He said we were going to Landon’s apartment.”
“Who’s that, one of his friends?”
“Uh-huh. I told him no, I was tired and couldn’t he please just take me home, because I was starting to feel sick at that point. But he said not to worry about it, they would all make sure I was feeling better soon. And maybe it’s just my imagination, but the way they were all laughing…”
I try to shake off a sinking feeling of apprehension.
“I think…” Here she hesitates, idly twisting the edge of my shirt around her finger. “I can’t be sure, but I think maybe he had something else in mind for me.”
It takes a moment for my head to process this information. I’m not sure I want to hear the rest, but there is no way in hell I can let this go. Right now, I would have no reservations whatsoever about choking the last living breath out of every single one of those slimy pieces of shit.
I’m almost afraid to ask. “And did you wind up at Landon’s apartment?”
“Not exactly. Their plans kinda changed after I threw up in the car.”
I smirk, both relieved and gratified that their sick plans were thwarted. “That’s my girl.” The words are out of my mouth before I even realize what I’m saying.
It’s just an expression, I reassure myself. I didn’t mean anything by it.
“And did they take you home after that?” I demand.
“Yes. One of the guys, Ricky, kept telling Brad to just put me out by the side of the road but thank God he didn’t do that. He made the world’s fastest U-turn and drove back to my place in record time, with all the windows down. There was puke all over the place. It was a nightmare. Just so you know, oysters and tequila…not such a good combination.”
“I can imagine.” And I hope the aroma still lingers in his car to this day. Fuckwit.
“So humiliating. I guess the worst part is, I thought I could trust him. I mean, even if he wasn’t interested in pursuing a relationship, I assumed at the very least we were friends, right? And you’re supposed to look out for your friends. Aren’t you?”
Some friend, that would scheme to hand a defenseless girl over to a pack of drunken perverts.
“Absolutely you are,” I assure her.
“The next day is when I found out about the video on YouTube. Those jerks were all sharing it with everyone they knew, and Autumn saw the link on someone’s Facebook page and called me. So, yeah…they get me totally shitfaced, record me acting like a dumbass and then post it for the rest of the world to laugh at. And like that’s not enough, the Monday after, I go in to work only to find out I no longer have a job.”
“You got fired?” Uh-oh. The plot thickens.
“I’m thinking Brad wasn’t too happy about having to clean all the chunderspew out of his prize Mercedes.”
“Wait a second. He did this to you and then had you fired for it? You can’t be – are you motherfucking serious right now?”
“Oh, that part didn’t really come as a shock. After what happened I was planning to resign anyway. He just beat me to it is all.” Yawning, she folds her legs up beside her and links an arm in mine, snuggling closer. “Whatever. Live and learn. I know one thing – this year I am not setting foot outside the house on the seventh. If bad luck wants to find me, it’s damn well gonna have to get up off its ass and come looking.”
Bad luck? Is that honestly what she thinks? It boggles my mind, the way she’s laying the blame for all this on some perceived curse.
“What is this Brad fucker’s last name?” I want to know.
“Mercer. Why?”
“Just wondered.” The name isn’t familiar, but I wouldn’t be surprised if one of my brothers has heard of him. Maybe I should ask Quinn to run a background check. See what I can dig up on him.
“What – you think I didn’t get a little payback?” she drawls, lifting her head to blink at me with amused innocence. Apparently she can tell what I’m thinking.
A slow smile unfurls across my face as I watch her eyes dance with mischief. I might have known. What was I thinking? Defenseless girl, my ass. Leah Whitfield is about as defenseless as Chuck Norris with a grenade launcher.
“At least tell me the punishment fit the crime.”
She merely shrugs.
“Oh no, don’t give me that! You’re not clamming up on me now. Out with it, pocket rocket. What did you do?”
Stretching leisurely, she turns to recline with her head on my thigh, smiling up at me. “Me and a few people – not gonna name any names here – may have broken in through a basement window
and made some minor renovations to his house.”
“Breaking and entering. Very ambitious.” Right off the bat I am visualizing the petite blonde storming the place with an industrial-sized chainsaw. Yep. I could see that. Wouldn’t even surprise me. “Did any of those ‘minor renovations’ result in a call to the fire department or…oh, I dunno, a Hazmat team by any chance?”
“Nah, nothing that conspicuous. We just snuck in long enough to leave behind a few time bombs. Lemme see…shrimp inside the curtain rods. Limburger cheese in the air conditioning vents. A little tuna juice between his mattress and box springs. Oh, and a bag of frozen chicken stuffed in the attic crawlspace to cook in the summer heat.” She wrinkles her nose in disgust. “You know it had to smell like a mountain of roadkill exploded in there.”
“Hmm. Not bad,” I commend her, impressed. “Subtle, but effective.”
“I doubt it was all that subtle after a day or two,” she giggles.
“Did he ever find out it was you?”
“Not that I know of. I never heard anything from him, even if he did figure it out.”
“That’s good.” I still feel like that nutsack got off too easy. Shame she couldn’t have emptied a little syrup of ipecac into his orange juice while she was there. Now that would have been justice.
“Don’t mention any of this in front of Soapy, okay? No one’s supposed to know.”
“Yeah, I figured that one probably had a hand in your shenanigans.” I’m not sure what to make of this Simon character. He’s a strange one all right, but it’s hard to question someone who is obviously so loyal to his friends.
“You didn’t hear any of this from me.”
“Pick a lock.”
“What? What’s that mean?”
“It means I won’t say anything,” I promise, smiling.
Gazing up at me, she grows quiet for a moment before softly confessing, “You know something? You have the most beautiful eyes. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“Just that crazy chick next door.” It’s true that people have complimented me on my eyes before, but I feel absurdly pleased that she seems to find them appealing. That she is, at least in a corporeal sense, attracted to me. I try not to dwell on the fact that I could be banging the girl into a headboard right about now if it weren’t for my stubborn pride.
If she wants to hop into bed with me then fine, I’m all for that, but I’ll be damned if I let her use alcohol as a morning-after excuse for her decision.
Nope. I can wait.
“I’m not as crazy as everyone thinks,” she mumbles.
“It’s a figure of speech, babydoll. Don’t take it personally.” I move a hand to lightly brush the flaxen strands away from her face, marveling at the gossamer texture. Her hair is soft as the finest cashmere. Bet it would feel amazing, tickling my belly while she goes down on me…
Ah, dammit to hell. I gotta stop thinking things like that!
Casually adjusting my stiffy with one hand, I continue stroking her hair with the other, watching as her eyelids slowly droop shut. “Let me ask you a question. Did it ever occur to you that this whole curse thing is something you’ve manufactured because it’s what you’ve come to expect? Maybe these bad things that keep happening are just…I don’t know, life.”
“Guess we’ll find out in a couple of weeks, won’t we?” Her voice sounds sleepy.
“You know, if you go into it looking for something bad to happen, then that’s probably what you’re going to get. Why don’t you try a little optimism?”
“Hey, I’m optimistic. Ask anyone. I’m the most optimistic person you ever met – three hundred and sixty-four days of the year.”
“You’re definitely the most unusual person I’ve ever met,” I concede.
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It is a compliment, actually.” Whether I want to admit it or not, the girl’s unorthodox personality is growing on me faster than wild kudzu.
Her eyes still closed, she merely smiles her approval.
Brad Mercer was a fool, I conclude.
“You’re tired. Come on. Let’s get you tucked into bed before you fall asleep.”
“I’m not tired,” she murmurs.
“If I have to pick you up and carry you, I will,” I threaten.
“All the way upstairs?” Yawning, she rolls over onto her side. “Mm-hm. Good luck with that, Hercules.”
Naturally, I take her skepticism as a personal challenge. I’m halfway up the stairs with her in my arms before she overcomes her surprise enough to declare, “Holy cow! You’re strong.”
“And you’re heavier than you look,” I tease her.
“Screw you,” she pouts as I nudge the door open with my foot. “How’d you know this was my room?”
“I’ve seen you through the window, remember?” I now know where Charlie has been hiding all night. The lazy little biscuit is curled up at the foot of her bed, nestled comfortably on the rustic-looking plaid quilt. He lifts his head and cocks it to one side, watching us curiously.
“Oh. Yeah.” Biting back a smirk, Leah tells me, “I’ve seen you through the window, too.”
“Yes, you have.” I drop her gently on the bed and pull the covers up over her. “And you loved every inch of it.”
“All two and a half of them, sure.”
Leaning forward, I brush my lips against her forehead and whisper, “Liar.”
Woofing a curt bark, Charlie leaps down from the bed and pads away, his toenails clicking on the hardwood floor.
“Will you stay with me?” Her voice is so meek and quiet, I’m not even sure I heard her correctly.
“You want me to stay?”
“Just until I fall asleep.”
From the looks of her, that shouldn’t take long. She can barely keep her eyes open.
“Okay, but you have to go straight to sleep. Don’t you have work tomorrow?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Should I set your alarm clock?”
“No, s’okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Internal clock,” she mumbles.
Right. Well, if she isn’t worried about oversleeping then that’s on her. What business is it of mine if she’s late for work? As for me, I set my own hours. I have only myself and my clients to answer to.
“All right, then. Sleep tight.”
“Mm,” she hums, halfway there already.
I stretch out beside her, sitting upright with my back resting against the walnut headboard. It’s past ten and very dark out, but the bay window lets in just enough moonlight to allow me to scope out my surroundings. At first glance what I see is just your typical, average feminine décor. That is, until my eyes focus and I am able to take in the incongruous knickknacks scattered about.
The ones that seem outlandishly out of place.
Her bedside lamp, for example. If she was aiming for tacky, then I’d say she surpassed all expectations. It’s a monkey holding an umbrella, with the fringed umbrella serving as the lampshade. Who in their right mind would come up with a hideous design like that? Someone on shrooms?
And that clock on the wall. Wow. I’ve never seen anything so creepy. It’s one of those retro-style throwbacks, something that belonged in the seventies and never should have left there. A grinning cat with glowing eyes that shift side to side with every swing of the pendulum-tail.
My gaze wanders around the room to rest in one corner, where there is a five-foot-tall wrought iron candelabra that would be more suited to Dracula’s castle than a house in the suburbs.
Oka-ay. That’s…different.
At least the opposite side of the room is a little less horror movie-ish. Just a perfectly ordinary wicker chair painted a bright sunny yellow. Propped among the dainty lace pillows is an array of what I would refer to as stuffed animals, except I’m not sure a smiling plush sunflower and googly-eyed dill pickle qualify as animals.
The purple alien, maybe.
Patrick Starfish? Closer.
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Raggedy Ann…well, at least that’s normal.
Wait. Dear God. Is that a crocheted cock-and-balls wearing a sombrero?
Fascinated, I lean forward so I can better make out the items strewn across the top of her dresser. Now there is a veritable treasure trove of oddities. Not the perfume bottles and jewelry boxes and framed photos, but the quirkier pieces that speak volumes about the unique way she views life.
A trio of ceramic crows perched on a piece of driftwood.
A pirate’s head carved out of a coconut shell.
Mr. Hankey the Christmas Poo in bobblehead form.
A snow globe with a miniature graveyard inside.
A candle in the shape of a severed hand giving the finger.
And what has to be the pièce de résistance – a slack-jawed zombie Chia Pet sporting a green mane of freshly sprouted hair.
Okay. So she has some decidedly kooky tastes. What did I expect?
Relaxing back against the headboard, I turn my face to watch the steady, serene rise and fall of her chest. She looks deceptively sweet when she’s sleeping. I take in the healthy glow of her pink-tinged cheeks. The way her fingers curl into the pillow. Her oh-so-kissable lips as they part in a sigh.
I’m pretty sure she’s out.
Five more minutes, and I’ll go.
But five more minutes turns into ten, and ten turns into twenty, and so on and so forth until more than an hour has passed and I am underneath the covers beside her, pressed against her soft warmth with one arm wrapped protectively around her.
And I’d be perfectly content, if it weren’t for the incessant throbbing in my pants that makes sleep impossible.
Chapter Eleven
Stirring awake, I reluctantly force my eyes open, blinking as they adjust to the early-morning sunlight streaming in through the bay window.
The first sensation that steals into my consciousness is him. Myles. The feel of his hard body, the warmth of him pressed against my back. The quiet, steady sound of his breathing. One arm is draped comfortably over my waist in a way that seems perfectly natural. So relaxed and complacent, it’s as if he’s already familiar enough with me that the situation is nothing out of the ordinary.
