by Tracy Ellen
I grinned. “Are you being a bad girl and getting his attention by ignoring him?”
She dimpled back. “I am.”
“Is he panting for you?”
“Like a dog without his bone,” Jazy frowned again, “but that could be the problem.”
I smiled in amusement at the image in my head. “What do you mean, Sister?”
“This happened the other day while we were working together on this project,” she quickly added, “as strictly volunteers--not business. There was one chick checking him out. He’s got this great smirk thing he does and he said to me, ‘Guess it’s time for me to put on the manwhore badge and get to work, although it’s not really what I’d call work. Listen to this, and then I have a question for you.’ So I say ‘Whatever’ because I know he’s going to do something with that chick to try and get a rise out of me somehow, you know?”
I nod. “Oh yeah, I know. If it’s not overplayed, that ignoring him to get his attention move drives men berserk.” I sighed. “I’ve always thought it’s too bad most women aren’t self-disciplined enough to pull it off for as long as it takes.”
“A damn shame,” Jazy agreed.
We shared a moment to briefly contemplate how the lives of many single women would be significantly improved if they could drill that one fact through their heads, and then Jazy resumed her story.
“He strolls over to the woman who’s been eyeing him. I mean, she’s hot, Bel, and wearing an expensive dress and heels--I can smell her ritzy perfume from around the corner where I was working.” My sister snorted as she poked fun at herself, “And there I was, sweaty in jeans and work boots, shoveling shit out of a stall. They were close enough that he knew I could overhear them. He introduced himself and they talked for a couple of minutes about our volunteer activity.” Jazy rolled her eyes and said, “He complimented her smarts and her dedication, but not her looks. I could tell by the way he’s talking that he’s not drooling over her hot bod the way most men would. Another couple minutes go by the same way and she’s obviously becoming smitten as hell.”
I commented with an admiring grin, “Heck, I’m feeling his expertise. That tactic of treating beauties seriously works so well. Isn’t it amazing all the thought and effort humans put into getting laid?”
“That’s why I’ve always preferred to walk straight up to a man and say ‘Let’s fuck’. Saves on a lot of wear and tear, and then I can use my brain for other stuff,” Jazy agreed with a laugh. “So after he softens her up, he says, ‘I want nothing more than to take you out tonight, but you need to know I have a bit of a reputation for being a player that chases tail.’ The woman laughed, but I could hear the surprise in her voice. Of course, she asked him, ‘Is it true?’ and he says, ‘It depends whether you believe I’m not kidding when I say I want to take you out, get you a little drunk, and fuck you hard.’ ”
Loving a good line when I heard one, I laughed. Jazy shook her head at the memory, but smiled a little, as well.
“Of course, you made it a point not to ask if they went out,” I said, and performed a little Jumping Jack to stay warm, wondering why we were standing outside of Jazy’s car, instead of talking inside with the heater running like sane people.
“Of course,” Jazy smiled and then made a moue of disgust, “but like every woman he shows the slightest interest in, she was up for grabs if he wanted. I thought she was gonna have the Big O-spasm on the spot.”
I snorted. “What was his question to you after the woman left?”
“Oh, more fun messing with my mind stuff, since I wasn’t paying him enough attention or impressed by all the women.” Jazy’s evil smile started playing on her lips. “He wanted my take why women obviously looking to wife him fell for that shit when they knew what to expect from him.”
“Oh my God, the possibilities are endless. What did you say?” I asked eagerly, happy to be entertained from dwelling on my own problems.
“The truth. I told him that I was the wrong woman to ask.” Jazy laughed, too, and did a little twirl, waving her arms around to get warmed up. “I told him that when I wanted a man, I didn’t put it off for hours, need to be liquored up, and the word ‘wife’ damn well better not come up while I was fucking him hard.”
I breathed out in absolute awe, “Holy Moly, Jaz, that might have to go right up there on my Top Five Best Comebacks list, especially on top of the ignoring him to get his attention move.”
“For realz?” She smiled, her pink cheeks glowing.
“For realz, but I do get your dilemma. Here, admire my eyeliner again while I think out loud,” I murmured and closed my eyes to visualize the problem, shushing Jazy’s giggles. “On the left hand, you know what traits he desires in a woman because it’s what trips your trigger in a man. On the right hand, that doesn’t help you in his case. You don’t want him to treat you like you treat your men because you like him.”
“That’s right,” Jazy agreed, excitedly. “That’s my problem right on the nose. I’m completely holding him off and it makes him want me more,” she added under her breath, “and I’m so on fire for his ass, I want to explode. Now he’s trying to make me jealous with other women.” Her voice was self-deprecatingly dry, “I shouldn’t say ‘trying’ because it’s working, although, if you ever repeat that I’ll deny it to my death bed and curse your ass every step of the way.”
“Hmm, that might explain the bad moods lately.” I laughed and regarded my sister with affection. Her blunt, forthright manner was always refreshing. “The other hand is asking if you don’t want some hard lovin’ and a slap on the butt on the way out from this man, what do you want?”
Jazy’s answer was slow in coming and her voice was wonderstruck. “You know, Sister, I think I want to date him like I’m a regular girl and he’s a normal guy.”
“Oh, well now, that is a serious problem, but you’re definitely talking to the right person.”
We both laughed and rubbed our gloved hands in relish to get planning, at which time Jazy reasonably pointed out that a person generally did not have three hands unless they were a circus freak.
‘Or a satyr,’ I thought, but then forced my mind off Luke.
Time flew by while we hopped in place to stay warm, reminisced about circus freaks, and discussed the merits of various first date strategies for a she-manwhore and an expert player to get off on the right foot.
“Cripes, it must be the lump on my forehead, but I haven’t asked you! Do I know the dude?”
“No, you don’t know him,” Jazy’s manner was playful, “but I don’t want to tell you who he is…” I started to frown until she added with a mysterious laugh, “I want to show you who he is.”
A car beeped and Mia pulled up, chattering out her window about the party before her car had rolled to a complete stop. That ended our private discussion. Jazy had a game plan and while my problems weren’t solved, forward progress anywhere always made me happier.
We dropped Jazy’s car off at Bel’s parking lot. Since Mia wasn’t twenty-one, she got the honor of being sober cabbie tonight. Jazy was definitely in the mood to have some fun, and I was willing to fake it.
Diego was not pleased Mia was attending James’ Byrd’s annual holiday party. Between Mac’s effort and mine, we had convinced him Wednesday night that Mia needed to have some outside interests and meet new people.
Diego was under the impression that Mia hadn’t liked me when we met at his grocery store the previous week, which was true. Wednesday night at my dinner party, he was a little confused and suspicious by how quickly we had bonded. I couldn’t fault the guy for his good instincts. However, it took everything I had to patiently pretend to listen to Diego’s lecture on “party safety”. I even nodded gravely when he warned me that I would be held solely responsible if Mia got into any trouble.
I was so respectful of Diego’s authority, I didn’t even fluster him by cheekily asking what my punishment would be should I fail in my chaperone duties. I assured Mac later that if my
failing meant she got a good tongue lashing or a thrashing from her boy toy, just say the word, and I’d fail beautifully to contribute to the second honeymoon war chest.
Mac was touched and glibly replied, “Despite our parent’s unsuccessful attempts to improve upon perfection, it’s not so bad being stuck with a good, little soldier-sister.”
Was I wrong to take that as a compliment?
I didn’t think so, either. Coming from the first born Mac, every compliment was a slap and tickle. But, I totally agree it was unnecessary for her to put down Jazy and Reg, and I told her so that night.
Not that I would tell my headstrong protégé, Mia Besosa what to do. I’d simply given Mia a choice when we talked after she received James’ invitation on Wednesday night. Mia could come to the party with Jazy and me on the condition that she not drink or use drugs, and that she would drive us home if we got drunk or used drugs. Or she could stay home and do whatever she damn well pleased.
“Yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!” She was thrilled to agree to my terms and vowed, “I don’t use drugs, I swear not to drink, and I will carry you to the car on my back or drag you by your heels, if necessary, to get you home safely, Anabel.”
“Hmm, the cure could kill me, but go on,” I prompted, “What about Jazy?”
She made a noncommittal noise in her throat and shrugged. “For her, I will do my best.”
I smiled. “Thank you. That’s all I can ask from a protégé.”
James Byrd owns a twenty acre spread in Prior Lake that I’d never seen, but Jazy claimed the barns alone were more beautiful than most houses.
We weren’t in the car for more than a few seconds when Mia, eyes flashing with delight, asked about the possibility of nude male dancers that had sex with the women guests, since she heard James Byrd’s parties were wild orgies.
I simply laughed, but Jazy confirmed she’d been to a couple parties when the clothes had started flying off in the wee hours, but not gender specific.
On the rest of the forty minute drive there, I relaxed in the shotgun seat while Jazy and Mia entertained with stories of their dating experiences. Since Mia’s were PG-rated and Jazy’s were generally X-rated, and didn’t involve an actual date, an enthralled Mia drove with her mouth hanging open in a nonstop O, and the miles flew by.
One time on the drive, I felt that depression trying to creep up to get me broody over Luke and my other problems, but I shook off that bad spell. My boyfriend may be uncommunicative and drinking, I learned that I was not worth the effort of a surprise birthday party, my family and friends thought I was shallow and murky as a mud puddle when it came to relationships, I lured a farmer to his death, my sister and friend were horse thieves, and I may have to kill my ex-cousin to shut her up, but I was determined to have some fun at James Byrd’s party tonight.
From the first glimpse, James’ sprawling estate was breathtakingly beautiful and everything you’d expect of a bachelor bazillionaire with taste. Mia slowly puttered up the long winding drive, so that we could swivel our heads to admire the amazing display of Christmas lights amidst the extensive landscaping. Jazy assured us the grounds of the property should be seen in the daylight to experience the true scope of their grandeur, but I was pretty enchanted already. Nearing the house, I got the overall impression of stone walls, heavy wooden beams, and acres of glass before we pulled under a massive portico. Mia’s car was whisked away by one of several valets.
As we followed Jazy up the wide stone stairs to the front doors, Mia whispered in anticipation, “It’s so awesome, but I feel underdressed in jeans.”
Jazy smiled over her shoulder. “Don’t sweat it--this party is strictly casual. It’s the New Year’s Eve Ball that’s the swanky, formal shindig.”
At the double front doors, sheathed in beaten, carved copper depicting a majestic mountain scene, Mia paused and put out a hand to stop us. “If we lose each other, don’t panic.” She searched her purse. “Let’s check the time on our phones.”
Over Mia’s bent head, I smiled at Jazy. “It’s that grocery store thing.”
My sister laughed, but Mia confessed, “It is. I worry I will lose my little charges tonight in the crowd inside.”
Mia and Jazy held up their phones and said in unison, “11:48!”
I shook mine and said, “Well, crap. It’s dead again.”
“You can’t even keep your phone charged?” Mia threw up her arms and said to Jazy, “I have offered to instruct your sister on the multiple purposes of all social media, but she is being pig-headed.” She growled in disgust, but continued resolutely, “Okay then, tonight if we lose track, check back here at 1:00 a.m.” She said pointedly, “We may stay longer, but don’t forget, Anabel and I have to work tomorrow.”
Jazy and I answered together, “Yes, Mom.”
The gleaming copper doors opened and a group of people spilled out onto the stairs. If the music was loud at Brisbane’s, at this party it was deafening. It wasn’t hard rock, but dance club music. Ludacris’ “Money Maker” brought back memories and was telling us to come in and get it.
Jazy snorted hearing the song, but when I glanced over, she shook her head and merely said, “Too funny.”
Inside was a gigantic entry that was constructed of glass intersected with massive wooden beams. From the soaring, vaulted glass ceiling dangled a modern rendition of a wagon wheel chandelier the size of a car.
Wide hallways with stone floors led off the sides of the entry in either direction. People were coming and going, but the main party crowd was straight ahead inside an immense room flickering with colored lights. I saw a decorated Christmas tree that had to be thirty feet tall. The house felt like it was rocking to the rhythm, there were that many people dancing.
The three of us gravitated towards the music and dancing, and soon we were part of the throng hanging in front of the enormous designated dance area. I led the way. I had to turn sideways and lift my arms to slide through. I immediately lost sight of Jazy and Mia, swallowed up by the undulating, dancing bodies.
I waited for a few seconds, but when the crowd didn’t spit them out again, I shrugged and started wading through people to look around, dancing as I went. So far, I hadn’t seen a single person I recognized, but I wasn’t too surprised. James did some business in Northfield, but his offices were located in the Cities and his home was here in the southwestern suburb of Prior Lake---not my usual stomping grounds.
My attention was caught by a man dancing with three women. He had to be a relative of James’ because he was flagrantly handsome, but there was an untamed air about him that reminded me of a Mustang. I looked up the definition when I went home to shower earlier tonight. This man fit the description and the image I’d seen of the wild horse’s shining black coat and sleek muscles.
James’ good looks were chiseled and cool, and like a rare and valuable artifact, his male beauty could hold you captivated for minutes, or hours, just staring.
The man with three woman twerking on him was earthy and physical. His nose was wider than James’ and his cheekbones flatter. Unlike James, his raven hair was only to his shoulders, but what a pair of shoulders. As evidenced by the bent over women pushing their butts in his face, he was a man you wanted to climb onto and ride immediately, never stare at in awe.
He was groovin’, too. One hand held the hip in front of him while the other touched on an ass here, or stroked up a thigh there, easily sharing his male splendor with all three shaking booties at the same time.
Jazy touched my arm. She and Mia already had a great-looking man in tow. Jazy was moving in time with him to the song. I smiled, thinking I was “seeing” her man that she liked so much, but she nodded her head towards the other man I’d been watching and leaned in to yell, “See what I mean?”
I looked back at the man dancing with the three women, his eyes now zeroed in on us. Turning my face away to hide my open mouth, I shouted at Jazy. “Holy Crap, that’s knick knack paddy whack?”
Jazy’s la
ughter was loud enough to be heard over the song.
She yelled back, “I’m off to go give that dog a reason for another bone. See you later!”
I was helplessly laughing while Jazy smiled and waved to someone behind me. After a little wave and wink at me, too, my little Cruella of a sister led away a smiling Mia and the man she had in tow. I wondered what wicked thing she had in mind to torture the dancing three-banger man that had been fortunate enough to earn her like.
Hands touched my waist lightly from behind and a deep voice spoke in my ear. “Anabel, it’s great to see you.”
I tilted my head back against a hard chest and smiled my hello up at James Byrd.
He nodded towards the man that I had watched dance. “My cousin, Max Byrd.”
My eyes opened wide at that name. I recalled Jazy idly mentioning his name once or twice, which should have been a clue at the time. I didn’t know what it was with my sisters, but Jazy also rarely called any man by their real names. She preferred her generic term of “fuck buddy” or if she had to watch her language, “man muscle”.
Max Byrd was the name of her mystery man. I could appreciate why Jazy wanted me to see Max before I knew his name. Knowing ahead of time he was a Byrd would have lessened the impact.
‘Whew! Here I thought she had her hands full the first time I saw her with James Byrd at Reg’s poker party, but this guy is a feral Mustang!’
‘So what are the rules about sisters again?’ the sex kitten voice purred.
‘Down, pussy!’ the mean mommy voice reprimanded snidely.
The song ended and the DJ talked to the audience, making it possible to hear and speak without shouting.
I turned to face James. “So, that’s the senator!”
“What?” James asked in surprise. “Max is many things, but not a senator.”
“That’s Jazy speak for centaur.”
“Ah, I see.” James grin grew wider and his black eyes sparkled. “Max is definitely at home in the saddle.”
Proud of my maturity for not sniggering at that remark, I asked instead, “Are you two good friends?”
