by Michelle Lee
Again, words, or a reaction, for that matter, elude me.
"Geoffrey, you're too much." Ashlee playfully smacks the bee.
Geoffrey? Geoffrey? The bee is the host? The bee is her twin? Holy shit!
"Geoffrey?"
"Ohhhh, Honey, where in the hell did my hosting duties and manners go? Bad Geoffrey, bad Geoffrey." The bee, Geoffrey, smacks his hand several times. "I am Geoffrey, Geoffrey Ward, host extraordinaire, King of Fierceness." Geoffrey waves his hands around while he does a little spin and then bows. Before he stands back up, someone…a flower actually…comes up behind him and smacks his ass. Geoffrey giggles, like a teenage girl giggle; like I would do if I ever met anyone from ‘NSync. He continues to giggle, his eyes go wide and his stinger begins to bounce. "And don't forget, all around best piece of ass," the flower announces, licking his lips.
"Fresh." Geoffrey giggles.
"Truth," the flower retorts.
"You know it."
And then, the flower kisses the bee, passionately and with tongue—lots of tongue. I suddenly feel like I'm not in Kansas anymore. I suddenly feel like I'm intruding. I suddenly feel like I need a drink. I suddenly feel like, this is totally hot. Where the hell did that come from? Ashlee is bouncing like fucking Tigger and I just stare, unable to tear my eyes away from the PDA in front of me. The bee and the flower finally pull apart.
"Hi, Ash. Who is this?" the flower questions his fingers dabbing at his lips.
Did I mention it's a very bright pink flower? Kinda goes against the theme of the party, just like the bee. Bee? Flower? The two kinda go together. Oh my God, this must be….
"Patrick, this is Ashlee's delicious friend, Zoey that we've heard so much about. Zoey, this is my hunk of manly, scrumptious meat. This is my Patrick." Patrick looks at Geoffrey all googly-eyed. Geoffrey does the same.
Love…they are definitely in love—a four letter word that has always eluded me. A four letter word I thought eluded most. Geoffrey and Patrick are obviously those rare few that have been able to define it, find it, and hold onto it. They both turn their attention back to Ashlee and me. Patrick, the flower—the bright-ass, pink flower—steps towards me and grabs me into a hug, a very strong hug. Who knew the dainty looking flower had some muscle under there? Who knew? He pulls away and does the air kissy thingy.
"Ohhh, you are just exquisite. And you smell divine. What scent are you wearing 'cause, honey, I want to bathe in it. Yum, yum." Patrick turns and whispers something to Geoffrey.
Oh my God, are these two for real? Ashlee did not prepare me for this.
Sensing my inability to grasp the situation, Ashlee leans in and whispers in my ear, "Sorry I didn't warn you they are a, um, little extreme. But they are great guys. You'll end up loving them just as much as I do. Just remember to speak sometime soon. You aren't dressed up as Helen Keller." Shit, I don't think I've said anything. I'm being totally rude; time to rectify the situation and turn on the Richards charm; like I have any charm. I smile, and it's genuine—not forced. It's the effect these two are having on me, now that I've come to my senses and absorbed everything and processed it.
"Geoffrey, Patrick, it's finally nice to meet you. I feel like I already know you, thanks to Ashlee. Thanks for inviting me to the party." Although she didn’t tell me everything. How could I have missed the million times she’s talked about them that Geoffrey and Patrick are a “Geoffrey and Patrick”—a couple. I swear it never dawned on me. And here I was thinking that maybe she had a little thing for Patrick; totally missed the boat on that one.
"Oh, honey, no need to thank us. Ashlee and her friends are always welcome. Speaking of friends…Ashlee, aren't more coming?"
"Yeah. Evan, who is Zoey's 'date,' is coming, and so are his brother, Brett, and his fiancée, Nina."
"What do you mean 'date?'" Patrick asks, air-quoting.
Geoffrey whispers something in Patrick's ear, and he giggles and mouths, "Oh."
What the fuck?
"So when will your 'date' get here?" Geoffrey asks with a raised eyebrow.
I glance at my wrist, noticing I'm not wearing a watch, and then I feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. A strong, muscular arm wraps around me, very protectively.
"One bodyguard at your service," Evan whispers in my ear.
I can't help the huge smile that overtakes my lips. Like I need protection from the bee and flower. He can be so clueless. I turn around, and Evan kisses my cheek like he's done hundreds of times before when we see each other. Geoffrey and Patrick quirk an eyebrow at Ashlee, I assume over Evan and mine’s greeting. Ashlee simply shrugs, shaking her head. Geoffrey and Patrick nod in unison, smiling like they are both Cheshire cats.
"Sorry we're late."
"No problem, we just got here ourselves."
Evan smiles at me, nodding. I glance behind him and notice Brett and Nina. Brett is wearing a pair of scrubs. The shirt is tight across his chest and biceps. Evan's brother is definitely wearing that costume; it's not wearing him. Nina is wearing some hot-ass nurse's costume—her long blonde hair cascading down her cleavage, the tight and very short dress hugging her curves, her lips painted a deep red, and her legs looking a mile long. Evan and his brother always had the same taste in women. Brett comes up, lifts me off the floor, and twirls me around.
"Zoey, Zoey, Zoey. Long time no see, little sis."
"Put me down, Brett."
Reluctantly he puts me down, after Evan gives him a look. Brett looks me up and down and scowls, and then he smacks Evan in the back of the head.
"What the fuck?" Evan rubs his head where Brett smacked him.
"Don't what-the-fuck me. How in the hell could you let her go out like this? Have you lost your fucking mind? Did you not see her try on the costume, little bro?"
Evan looks me up and down and shrugs. His reaction is so unlike the one a couple of days ago when he first saw me.
"Yeah, and?"
"Well, there isn't really a costume, is there?" He turns to me. "Zoey, go get your coat—you are so not walking around this party dressed like that; every guy in this place is going to be eye-fucking you or worse, and I really don't want to have to punch them all."
"Not every guy, Doctor," Geoffrey interrupts.
Brett, Evan, and Nina finally notice the bee and flower, how they haven’t until just now is beyond me. Their response is priceless—Nina is suppressing a laugh, Brett's mouth hangs open, and Evan is desperately trying to cover himself up. Ashlee giggles and then begins with the introductions, "Evan, Brett, Nina, these are our hosts and my best friends, Geoffrey and Patrick."
"And don't forget the fiercest and hottest couple," Patrick interjects.
"That too." Ashlee smiles.
Nina reaches her hand forward to Geoffrey and Patrick. "Nice to meet both of you. Ignore the two uncivilized, momentarily incapacitated Neanderthals at the moment. Thanks for having us."
Geoffrey and Patrick look at Nina's outstretched hand, then each other, and then Nina's eyes. Both of them lunge forward and embrace Nina. She laughs and hugs them back.
"Honey, you have legs to die for." Geoffrey looks Nina up and down.
Patrick gives him a little playful nudge.
"Sorry, baby, your legs are to die for too."
Patrick nuzzles Geoffrey's cheek, whispering a thank you. Nina slips out of their arms and sidles up next to Ashlee and me, leaving Evan and Brett wide open.
"Ashlee, Ashlee, Ashlee, you forgot to mention what fine, fine looking men…"
"Hotties, I would say hotties," Patrick interrupts.
"You are so right, love—hotties. You forgot to mention what fine-looking hotties Evan and Brett are. Mmmmm, mmmmm, mmmm, aren't they just delicious?"
Geoffrey licks his lips, exaggerating as he does. I love him already; both of them, actually. Anyone who can make those two squirm, by messing with them, is on the top of my favorite people list. Ashlee was right, like she always is. Evan and Brett are rendered speechless. Brett's mouth still hangs open, and Evan h
ands are tugging on his loincloth, frantically trying to make the small piece of fabric suddenly become a blanket and cover him completely.
Geoffrey gives a wink. "Gotcha."
I have never seen two people more relieved in my entire life. Ashlee, Nina, and I can't help but laugh our asses off.
"Geoffrey, I love you," Nina announces after her laughter is under control.
"Who doesn't?" He remarks.
"I think Dr. Yummy and Tarzalicious don't." Patrick pouts.
"Oh, honey, they love us, they just don't know it yet."
"True. It usually takes the non-gay men a little while longer to love us."
Geoffrey nods. Ashlee and I finally catch our breath as our fit of laughter subsides. Evan glares at me before coming over and whispering in my ear, "Why didn't you warn me?"
"Evan, Ashlee didn't warn me."
"Oh."
"So, Doctor, do you make house calls?" Patrick teases.
"Fuck, I need a drink." Brett grabs Nina's hand and starts to go after a ghoul with a tray loaded with a red concoction. Nina laughs and wiggles her fingers bye.
"I expect my shot of penicillin when you get back, Doctor," Patrick yells.
Brett's shoulders slump, and Nina is in hysterics before they get lost in a sea of macabre characters. Evan is laughing so hard his body is shaking.
Patrick raises an eyebrow. "What about you, Tarzalicious? Do you scare off that easily?"
Evan regains control and smiles. "Do your worst."
Patrick's face scrunches up in deep concentration and then his eyes ignite. "When your monkey's giving you a 'hard' time, do you spank it, or can I spank your monkey for you?"
Evan's cheeks take on a slight pink glow, and he squirms a little before he bursts out laughing along with everyone else.
"Oh, this one is fun." Patrick giggles.
Geoffrey wraps his arm around Patrick and tucks him into his side. "Okay, my lovely guests, there's food, there's drinks, dancing. Have a blast, and we will see you around." Then, Geoffrey flutters off with Patrick in tow.
"Are those two for real?" Evan asks.
"Aren't they the best?" Ashlee's smile overtakes her features as she watches the two lovebirds get lost in the sea of people.
There is only one answer to that question. "Ashlee, I love them. I wish I could have met then sooner." And it’s the truth, although I feel like I’ve known them for years already just with our first encounter.
"I know, but your and their schedules never matched up. Geoffrey and Patrick are always gallivanting around the globe whenever they have time off. Anyway, I told you, you would. I know they can be a bit much, but they have both been there for me, and working with Geoffrey is just…they really are the best two best friends a girl could ask for, besides you."
"Thanks, Ashlee." I nudge her. She wraps her slender arm around my shoulder and hugs me to her side, and then I feel her freeze.
"Ashlee, are you okay?" When I turn to look at her, she has this longing look on her face, and her eyes are glued to something off on the other side of the room. I wave my hand in front of her eyes, and she doesn't blink, doesn't flinch. I look to Evan and he just shrugs, having no idea what is going on.
"Ashlee?"
Her eyes finally blink, and then four words come out of her mouth. "Found my soul mate."
My eyes travel the expanse of the room and zone in on what or who she's looking at, and that's when I see a very gorgeous blonde cowboy. The cowboy quickly makes his way over to us, and I feel Ashlee tremble against me. He closes the last few feet in lightning speed, and the two stand face to face, chests heaving, eyes fixed on each other, and with similar smiles on their lips.
"Hi." They say at the same time.
Evan and I give each other a quick glance, making sure we are seeing the same thing. Yep, definitely seeing the same thing, because I'm pretty sure I have the same confused expression on my face that he has on his. We both turn our attention back to the Old West duo.
Cowboy utters one word, "Dance?"
Ashlee utters one word back, "Yes."
And just like that, the two of them link hands, intertwine their fingers, and lead off to the dance floor, their eyes still focused solely on the other and nowhere and nothing else.
"What the fuck was that?" Evan's hand rubs his eyes, making sure he's seen what he's just seen.
"Soul mates." And for some bizarre reason, I believe she's really found hers. I've never seen Ashlee react this way to any man—ever. Not even when she thought Ryan Reynolds was her soul mate after she saw The Proposal.
"Do you believe in soul mates?" Evan's eyes playfully twinkle, challenging me.
"Hmmm, do I believe in soul mates? I don't know. The jury's still out on that one."
"Same here, but Ashlee seems to believe."
"Ashlee is a hopeless romantic, so of course she believes in soul mates."
"And you're not a hopeless romantic?"
I give Evan my bitch brow.
"Okay, okay, backing off. You wanna get a drink?"
"I thought you'd never ask."
Evan leads the way to the bar, his hand on my lower back guiding me, and I can't help but mull over his questions. Soul mates? Yeah, I think I believe in soul mates. At one time, I thought I found mine, but I was clearly mistaken. A part of me is a hopeless romantic—I want that fairy tale romance you read about in chick-fics or see in romance comedies. But, that four letter word has never really truly found me or I it. I look up at Evan and he smiles back. Yep, I believe in soul mates.
Chapter 4
We finally reach the bar, after dodging a few bloody zombies and ghouls that are a part of the scenery Geoffrey has created. I may or may not have grabbed Evan's arm, my nails digging into his bicep. I also may or may not have jumped when one zombie popped out of nowhere and scared me. Evan didn't even try to hide his amusement; so much for being my bodyguard.
"So, what will it be?"
Hmmm, what do I want, what do I want? Dirty Martini? Malibu and pineapple? A shot? Do I need to get stupid drunk or just a little buzzed? Hmmmmm?
"Beer is fine."
Evan gets the attention of the bartender, who looks like a Chippendale dancer, and orders our beers. They fortunately arrive in no time, and he hands me mine. We clink bottles, and I guzzle down about half my beer. Evan eyes me curiously.
"Thirsty." I somewhat lie. I am thirsty, but I think I just need a little liquid courage to not feel so out on display wearing what I’m wearing. I know other people are dressed in even less than me—if that’s even possible—but I still feel a bit out a place. The shy part of me is making a rare appearance. She does this every once in a while, and it’s been ages since she’s made herself known. I guess she wanted to celebrate Halloween too. I continue to drink, taking smaller sips.
Evan is giving me that look—that look that lets me know he doesn't exactly approve, but knows I'm going to do what I want to do, no matter what he says. We've had this discussion—this argument—one too many times. Evan is always protective, sometimes too protective of me. I give him my "stink eye," and he eyes me up and down, shakes his head, and returns his attention back to his own beer. We continue to drink in silence, when Geoffrey flutters up from behind.
"So, how are we doing, hotness?"
"Great," I answer unenthused.
"You're hot too, lovely Zoey, but I was asking Tarzalicious here."
Evan immediately turns several shades of red. "Fine. I'm…uh…fine, thanks," he stammers.
"You sure are." Patrick adds out of nowhere.
"So, Tarzalicious, there's a contest for the hottest male costume, and we insist on you being in it," Geoffrey mentions, waggling his eyebrows, and I think Patrick is purring next to him.
Yep, he's definitely purring. Evan looks like a deer caught in headlights and practically chokes on his beer. I cover my mouth, stifling my laugh. The look on his face is priceless. Where is my camera when I need it?
"Uh, no thanks, I'm…uh…I'm go
od." His hand nervously rubs the back of his neck.
"Oh, I bet you're good, all right." Patrick teases.
The flower fucking kills me. I have never seen Evan so nervous—on edge—at a loss as to what to do. Usually he's Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected.
Maybe I should help him out. That would be the best friend thing to do, right?
"Evan, you really should enter. I think you have a good chance of winning, Tarzalicious." I smirk totally teasing him.
Evan glares at me. He clearly is not up for doing this, but what would be the point in that? Yep, so not helping, am I? It's payback for making me wear this ridiculous costume. Maybe this will teach him to wait to the last fucking minute next time.
"Zoey, I really don't think…" Evan starts.
"First prize is five hundred dollars." Geoffrey informs, trying to entice Evan.
"Ooooo, and there's crown and a sash too," Patrick adds.
Not helping, Patrick.
"Come on, Evan. You're not chicken, are you?" I tease.
Evan can't resist being called chicken—he hates it. Whenever I want him to do something, I call him chicken a few times, and finally he gives in. His hazel eyes turn on me, fuming. I flap my arms like I'm a chicken and give a little cluck. Evan's resolve is starting to crumble.
Yep, I've got him.
I can see he's waging a war in his head, but it's useless. I know he'll acquiesce; it's only a matter of seconds. A couple of more flaps of my arms and…
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
"Fine, I'll do it." He succumbs to my teasing, so predictable. His jaw is tight, he’s grinding his teeth, and I have no doubt he is cursing at me in his head; especially when I notice that vein throbbing near his temple.
I knew he'd give in. He can't stand being called chicken. Geoffrey and Patrick bounce with excitement…Geoffrey more so than Patrick. He's definitely Ashlee's twin—a rather large, muscular, penis-toting twin, but a twin nonetheless. Patrick and Geoffrey link their arms around Evan's.
"Tarzalicious, I think I've died and gone to bicep heaven. I could so lick your arms right now." Patrick purrs.
