by Tracy Ellen
I explained that to Bucky while she scrubbed, and Pammie dried, and I lovingly put Uncle Benny’s china and crystal away in its proper places on the shelves.
Luckily, I’ve sworn off violence for a while because Pam enthusiastically supported me in sawing off the hunk of hair I’d held tight around my fist when I encouraged Bucky to reconsider her flat out refusal to clean up after herself and her friends.
That led me to understand that while the dense lenses were removed from my rose-colored glasses watching Bucky’s arch smiles at Luke in the living room earlier tonight, Pammie had a similar moment of clarity. I had to agree, if only silently, six months was an awfully long time for any serial slut to be in John Smith’s orbit and remain unfucked. If the snake man wanted a piece of that, six minutes would be long enough.
Women like Prissy Powers and the un-cousin were a major drawback to being the true love of a predatory carnivore known as the reformed manwhore. It would take time, but I hoped Pam would get a little more perspective and be able to control her manic behavior because John Smith had a bagillion of those women in his past.
“I’m still so....” Prissy’s voice trailed off and she sighed. “I can’t believe Emma did all those terrible things,” her voice rose in question, “and all because she didn’t want Luke to leave DDL? I’ve worked with her for six months, and she was a little high-strung, but gee…”
“I don’t know the woman. I only know she did it.” I shrugged, not wanting to discuss Emma. I was emotionally drained, but also feeling more lighthearted than I had in weeks.
“Do you think she’ll go to prison?”
“If there’s any justice,” I answered shortly. “Be careful with that plate.”
Hair piled up safely from my reach, Prissy Powers eyed me over yellow rubber gloves and a sink full of suds. “Now why can’t all these plates go in the dishwasher again?”
I retied the recalcitrant apron strings at her back and sighed patiently. “Because only lazy slobs with too much money and no family feeling allow their fine china anywhere near a dishwasher.”
Bucky nodded and murmured, “Oh yeah.”
There was no way to be certain how long Bucky would be in the picture. I was determined to make nice with Daniel’s girlfriend to balance out destroying the wife of Luke’s other partner.
She worried her bottom lip with those front teeth. She glanced over at Pam, busily drying off silverware as she boogied and hummed snatches to the oldies station playing softly on the vintage radio.
“Can I ask you a question?”
I said promptly, “Sure, if I can ask you two in return. You go first.”
“Oh.” Bucky’s light green eyes widened, but she shrugged. “Okay. Is it true like Pam said that you and Luke knew Svettie wasn’t the killer?”
“Yep.” When she opened her mouth to speak again, I quickly reminded, “Hey, hey, my turn next, Miss Piggy. You don’t have sisters, do you?”
“No, I’m an only child,” Bucky answered, and proved it by not being too curious at the question.
“Now for my second question,” I stated firmly, so she understood the rules. “On a scale of one to ten, how much do you love your teeth, and do they cause you any serious problems, besides the obvious potential dangers during humming, and if you could do it all over, would you want them perfectly straight or make them even more buck?”
Startled, Bucky raised a self-conscious hand to her mouth before remembering the big yellow gloves. “I’ve…never really thought about how I feel about them,” she added rather defensively, “but I had them fixed straight once. Then I lost my retainer and haven’t replaced it yet,” she frowned and her voice rose in confused question, ‘and I’m not sure what you mean by dangers during humming? See, I can hum just fine.”
‘She should really think about learning how to count, too.’ The mean mommy voice quipped snidely.
‘Yes, she should,’ the accountant voice sniffed in agreement.
‘Well, I for one do not believe she’s never had a bedroom accident,’ the sex kitten voice announced.
‘Cut her some slack, she has no sisters, and if she falls for the run on sentence of multiple questions during one turn…,’ the detective voice trailed off in amusement.
We all chuckled.
Bucky stopped her humming to demand peevishly, “Why is my humming so funny? I’ve been told I have a great voice.”
I replied brightly, “Oh, you do, you do. I was thinking of something else. Okay, your turn again to ask a question.”
Bucky asked, “Did you and Luke fake everything in there tonight--the break up, the children issue,” her nose wrinkled in disgust, “the abortions, all the swearing and blasph…”
I stopped her because Bucky may be a fast learner, but I hadn’t voluntarily answered multiple, run on questions for over twenty-five years. “Oh, I definitely faked the swearing. I never swear like that and I am currently on the swearing wagon.” I amended with a frown, “Or trying to get back on the wagon.”
“I supposed you faked being so angry, too?” Bucky wasn’t looking at me when she asked the question, but rinsing off a dish. She shuddered. “You were pretty harsh, brutal even.”
Pam spoke up, and it was just as well that I didn’t answer Bucky’s offhand remark. She may not have appreciated having her holier-than-thou head dunked in the dish suds. Emma had tried to kill me, for Pete’s sake. Brutal would be having Luke hold Emma’s arms behind her back while I punched her out, not yelling a few home truths in her face.
I smiled then, and it was as if the final dark cloud lifted from my horizon. I may have discovered over recent weeks that I have a capacity for violence, but it wasn’t me who was running around the countryside murdering people.
Pam was waving a large spoon while she said to Prissy, “Okay, I want to set the record straight. Luke gave me, GAVE me, his mortgage-free condo because Bel was a teensy-weensy bit upset with him. It had nothing to do with loyalty to his friend Joe.” She finished her statement with a gloating flourish, “That’s how pussywhipped Luke is over Anabel.”
As Pam got the broom and dustpan out of the closet, Bucky eyed me with new appreciation and more confusion. I figured getting a man to cough up a condo was something she could respect, but she was puzzled it was for Pam’s sake, and not mine.
Pam went to town sweeping every crumb up off the floor. Pam’s parents may have pushed her into forming a questionable attachment when she was much too young for the future gain of wealthy connections and community prestige, but they hadn’t slacked on the housework training. The floor gleamed when she was finished.
As Pam showed Prissy how to properly leave her yellow rubber gloves to dry and worked at the stubborn knot at the back of her apron, I smiled in satisfaction at the sparkling kitchen.
Chief Jack arrived at the back door. He stamped the snow off his boots while his cop eyes caught me red-handed with my hand deep inside his stolen sugar cookie tin. He smirked slightly in acknowledgement that I was still alive. Jack’s eyes turned warmly approving when they took in the domestic scene of the other two rosy-cheeked women, rubber gloves, a ruffled apron, and a spotless kitchen.
Jack nodded briefly at the women. Pam waved a cheerful greeting in return. Prissy tossed her head and pushed her hair behind her shoulders to better stick out her braless chest, temporarily forgetting her hair was wound up in a tight bun.
Like most men would probably agree, it was the thought that counted. I had to give credit to Mother Banner, may she rest in peace. Jack’s eyes did not once leave Bucky’s interestingly wet mouth to fall below chin level, despite the headlights flashing their brights due to the sudden burst of cold air in the kitchen.
It was always a mystery to me how men reached a certain age without having it branded onto their brains with baseball bats by a mother, sister, girlfriend--somebody, anybody--that creepin’ at the boobies was not cool. Take Daniel Boynton, for instance. The man could be the nicest man in the world, but now he was forever lab
eled a member of the creeperazzi because he had not mastered the social control of something as basic as no public perving on the pair.
I pointed Jack in the direction where to find the men. Bundling up quickly, I called out to Pam that I would be right back. I took the cookie tin and two bottles of water out to the idling monster truck.
I learned the industrious neighbor kid’s name was Johnny and he was only sixteen, but a big strapping, good-looking kid. Luke was paying him “big bucks” to be available tonight and tomorrow, but Johnny was happy to receive my extra cash tip in recognition of his hard work.
Munching on a frosted snowman cookie Johnny didn’t mind having a friendly face to chat with for a while. He expounded on his home life, especially the grandmother he adored. She was only fifty-three, definitely not the old granny type, and had raised Johnny alone since his folks died when he was two. My hunch had paid off. The woman sounded like a perfect candidate to add to Jack’s True Love list potentials. She may be too old to spawn, but she had Johnny--every orphan kid could use a father figure--and she baked ginger cookies to die for. I texted Jazy the particulars on the grandma to check her out while Johnny placidly texted his girlfriend.
The back porch light flashed and I bid my new bud goodbye.
Luke gave me a long look when I ran back into the house, especially when he ran into the cookie tin under my jacket attempting to cop a quick feel during his hug.
Jack joined us in the back hall for a huddle to tell me the game plan. Luke had thoughtfully arranged to get the un-cousin out of the house for Pam’s sake and for mine. She would ride back with the chief and the White’s to Northfield. I wasn’t satisfied until Jack swore to God the praying mantis would be dropped off first, so that she was never left alone with young Johnny in that truck.
Jack nodded curtly at us both on his way out. “Drake, I’ll be in touch tomorrow.” His lips twitched. “Junior, let the man get some sleep tonight and don’t talk his ear off.”
A pat on the back from Chief Jack for catching a killer in under an hour was expecting a little too much. I guess if I hadn’t taken the forbidden bathroom break with the girls, I could have done it faster.
Dan White came down the hallway. He carried his heavily sedated wife in his arms, asleep and wrapped in a blanket. Dan didn’t look at me, but stopped to speak in a low tone to Luke. It was a sad, awkward moment, but I didn’t know how it could be any other way when your wife was a deranged murderess. I was relieved to see Luke clasp Dan on the shoulder before the man left to follow behind Jack to the truck.
Ensconced head to toe in fluffy, white faux fur that would cause Svettie to swoon with envy, the un-cousin followed closely behind the White’s. She kept her eyes straight ahead, but flicked a folded piece of paper at me when she passed.
Reflexively, I caught the little square and held it hidden in my hand while I looked around. Nobody had noticed.
Luke said something I didn’t catch to my ex-relative, but I hoped it was something like, “Thanks for being my slut-beard, now good riddance forever.”
The atmospheric pressure in the house considerably lightened as the big truck rumbled off into the snowy night to the tune of the scraping plow.
Pam cheered in the living room and John Smith laughed. Daniel rummaged through the refrigerator; asking for a roll call on beers. He bellowed out for Prissy to come fix him and Luke some sandwiches because they were starving. Prissy called back that he’d better not be messing up the kitchen.
I heard Luke laugh and compliment her and Pam for cleaning up.
Everybody safely occupied, I stood in the back hall and hurriedly unfolded the little note.
Monday night. 8 PM @ MacKenzie Place warehouse. Don’t even think of not showing.
I refolded the scrap of paper and smiled grimly. ‘Oh, I’ll be there, Crazy, but this can’t end well.’
‘Didn’t you say something like that yesterday?’ the mean mommy voice drawled snarkily.
‘Is there some rule against repeats I don’t know about?’ the accountant voice asked anxiously.
‘I believe it’s a cool factor thing,’ the detective voice remarked meditatively.
‘Is there some rule against sex with Boyfriend, that’s what I want to know!’ the sex kitten voice meowed plaintively.
I giggled and tapped my front tooth with the corner of the folded note. That was a good point. I must be slipping in my role of fabulous girlfriend to still be freezing in a drafty back hall, instead of getting it on with my Hottie in his bedroom. I could think in there, as well as out here.
‘You think?’ the sex kitten voice growled hungrily.
I giggled again.
I became aware of being watched but I didn’t have to raise my head to see who it was, since other points of my anatomy had already tattled.
Do you think what I did next was as strange to do, as I did?
I agree, I’ll never understand, even if I live to be one-thousand-years old, why I ate that note from my crazy un-cousin, but eat it I did. I shoved it in my mouth and chewed it up like it was the best sugar cookie this side of Faribault. I choked getting it down all the way, and it was a little painful, but for some God forsaken reason, I did it.
The smooth voice said, “Anabel, Anabel, I think it’s way past your bedtime.”
I looked up into a pair of green eyes alight with fascinated devilment.
“Please,” I croaked.
Chapter XXIII
“Empire” by Shakira
Monday, 12/17
1:00 AM
Luke and I said our goodnights and went to his room.
He leaned against the door and watched me with a small smile while I tossed my overnight bag on the leather bench and paced the room. I looked for signs of the un-cousin’s occupation but there was nothing, not even the slightest scent, in his bedroom or the attached bathroom.
Satisfied, I whirled.
Hands on hips, I faced my boyfriend and tried not to blush. “Okay, go ahead and say it. I can take it.” I was so embarrassed; I wanted to run from the room and dive headfirst into a snow bank. “I’m the strangest woman you’ve ever met in your life and you need to keep me away from walls with peeling paint chips, right?”
Luke shouted with laughter and pushed off the door to walk towards me. “Hey, Princess, anybody would work up an appetite after what you did tonight.” I moaned and covered my face.
“You were amazing out there.” Luke gently grasped my wrists and pulled my hands away. “Amazingly scary,” he added, and smiled at my gasp as he kissed the racing pulse of my left wrist. “The woman I love could be an interrogator,” he kissed the pulse of my right and arched a knowing brow at my staring eyes fastened on his mouth, “and your natural talent to focus in on a person’s weaknesses and hammer them to a bleeding pulp was beautiful to watch.” Torquemada released my wrists to cup my shoulders and his eyes glittered down at me, his smile lusciously cruel. “It was horrendously terrible, but beautiful.”
I lost it to the blush, and looked down at my feet at his praise while waving off his words. “It’s that sister thing…I’ve had so much practice.” I peeked up at him. “Are we done talking? Can we get erotic now?”
Luke threw back his head and laughed again, pulling me close to hug me tight. I let my breasts do what they thought was best.
“Christ, Anabel, I love you so much.” He spoke against my hair, stroking it back with an open hand, “For the first time, I feel like we are free to move forward with nothing hanging over our heads. We’re alive, Sweetheart.” He pulled back and said in a low voice, “It’s all about you and me from here on out.”
“I like the sound of that.” I ran my hands up his chest and clasped them around his neck, grinning tenderly at my happy boyfriend. My words were spoken from my soul. “I love you, Luke Drake.”
We kissed. It was the sweetest joy to simply share our lips and our mouths, and oh so slowly, our tongues. There were no feelings of impending doom, or rushed time constraints th
at we should be doing something else more important to solve a problem, or to protect ourselves or a loved one.
Luke and I simply existed in his room for hours, suspended in regular boyfriend-girlfriend time. We sat on his bed, the only light in the room a dim glow from a small lamp. We held each other and talked. We murmured love words and promises, not doing anything more sexual than leisurely kissing and chastely touching above the belt. We could have been sixteen.
I was more turned on then I can ever remember feeling in my Dark Prince’s mesmerizing presence. Content to go slow up until now, I was suddenly overwhelmed with an impatient need to be naked together. I wanted no preliminaries, nothing but our bodies melded together while I straddled his lap, face to face, chest to chest, cock in cha-cha.
“Is it time?” I asked, spreading my fingers to rake over his chest and down his hard stomach. My hands took his shirt with them when they smoothed down over his arms. I threw it carelessly on the bed behind us.
I traced his biceps with both hands circling one arm, kissing them and rubbing my face against the round, hard muscles. I licked and kissed across his chest, sucking his flat nipples until they hardened into little spikes that I could nibble on.
“Yes, it’s time to talk,” Luke murmured on a faint groan.
Laughing, I stroked the silky treasure trail of black hair in the middle of his chest and across his nipples. I leaned forward to place my open mouth against his neck, breathed in his scent, and sucked lightly. I slowly worked my way up and kissed his ear.
“Don’t mind me, go ahead and talk. I like to stay busy while I’m listening.”
“I admire that trait in you above all else,” Luke said smoothly, turning his head to nuzzle my mouth with his.
Darn it, but Luke had a lot to tell me.
Talk about irony, Daniel and Dan had wanted the trip this weekend to the farm to have a serious conversation with Luke.
