by L. D. Fox
Her eyes closed off the sight of that young body when Angel’s lips touched hers. Then warm air buffeted into her mouth and rushed down her throat. She inhaled deeply and had to exhale through her nose with Angel’s mouth still pressed against hers.
“Now you two are just fucking with me,” Bryce murmured grumpily somewhere behind me. “I’ve been nothing but a fucking gentleman, and then you come and do that shit in front of me like some form of cruel and unnatural punishment.”
“Suck it,” Angel said, giving him the finger as she straightened. “It’s time someone started acting like a jerk to you, you jerk.”
“Suck it?” Bryce’s hands were on her shoulders again, rubbing the living shit out of them. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“Kissed both the Sugars with this mouth,” the girl said with a laugh. “Wanna know who kisses best?”
Bryce let out a low growl, his hands stilling on Kelly’s shoulders. “Shut it, Angel.”
“Aw, come on. You scared it’s not you?”
“I know it’s me,” he said. “But you’re seriously fucking up the mood.”
“Mood was fucked up the minute you walked in here.”
“Yeah?” Bryce’s hands slid down her back, holding absently onto her waist as he bent closer to Angel.
The girl crowded onto the edge of the bed, elbowing past Kelly so she could poke Bryce in the chest. “Yeah, motherfucker.” Then those sapphire eyes swung to her. “You too, Miss Prissy. This was supposed to be a romantic weekend, just me and Drew. But then you came and spoiled it.”
“Hey, none of this is—” Bryce began, but Angel cut him off with a harsh laugh.
“You know what? I am gonna marry him. Just so I get to see the look on your face every time there’s a funeral.” Angel stabbed Bryce with a finger again. “Won’t that be swell?”
“Did you do another line or something?” Bryce said, his dark eyes wounded. “’Cos that fucking mountain you’re on definitely isn’t full of coconuts and shit.”
“What?” Kelly managed, turning to frown at him. “What’s coconuts got to do with it?”
“Coconuts?” Bryce asked, his eyes flashing to her. “Fucking everything.”
“What?” Angel sat down in a rush, looking deflated. “How?”
“Coconuts,” Bryce said, lifting his hands to describe — inaccurately — a coconut. “They’re brown. Super healthy. Got water—”
“I know what a fucking coconut is!” Angel said. “What the hell’s that got to do with…” she trailed off, giving Kelly a circumspect glance. “Coconuts?”
“Tropical island?” she wagered with a shrug.
Bryce’s eyes returned to her and then dropped. “Coconuts…” he murmured.
She blushed bright and hot and crossed her arms over her chest. “Where’s my shirt?”
“Relax,” Angel said, shrugging her shoulders until her robe slid around her waist. “It’s not like he hasn’t seen either of ours before.”
And that was when her eyes began to play tricks on her. Because now, every time Angel moved, she blurred and left streaks of color in her wake.
“Crap.” Kelly put her hands over her eyes. “Crap, crap, crap.”
“What?” Angel sounded insulted as she glanced down at her own chest. “They’re pretty, but it’s not like they’re bigger than yours or anything.”
“My eyes are all screwed up,” she whispered. “What’s wrong? Is something wrong?”
Bryce laughed. “Nothing. Perfectly normal. Now, back to the coconuts—”
“No one cares about your goddamn coconuts, Bryce!”
“Not even you, baby girl?”
“What? Mos’ def’ not me. What fucking coconuts? You’re driving me nuts, seriously.”
There was lots of sudden movement next to her. Kelly tugged free her hands and lurched back. Bryce had his hands in Angel’s hair, holding her face still so he could kiss her. Angel struggled but then went limp, like he’d stolen the life from her.
“Oh,” Kelly said quietly, doing her best to extricate her legs from the tangle of Bryce’s and Angel’s without disturbing them. “Crap.”
Bryce leaned back from Angel, her face still trapped in his hands, and glanced across at her. He gave her a slow, lopsided smile.
“Know what I love about you, peaches?”
She gave her head a small shake.
“You’re such a goody-two-shoes, know that?”
Another shake. Her skin tingled furiously when the man released Angel and leaned over to her.
“Say something dirty.”
She shook her head.
“Come on, humor me.”
She shook her head again. “Why?”
“I want to hear how something filthy sounds, coming out of that pretty mouth.”
Squirming, she glanced past the man at Angel. The girl was rapt, fingers squeezing her lips closed.
“Like… what?” She blinked furiously, trying to get her eyes to stop bugging out when Bryce glanced at Angel over his shoulder.
“Something like…” he turned back to her. “Fuck me.”
She swallowed. Her lips fell to Bryce’s mouth, got stuck there. “Fuck you?”
“Fuck me.” His mouth caressing the words as light and shadow danced a mesmerizing tango over his lips.
“Fuck me,” she said in a husky voice.
“Damn,” Angel murmured somewhere behind Bryce.
He laid a hand on her thigh and slid it up her leg until his thumb was in the crease of her hips.
“Well, don’t mind if I do,” he said.
47
Too Many Signs
It was no wonder they hadn’t heard anything; a screaming guitar solo met Drew when the door swung open. Bryce had obviously strong-armed the girls into playing his heavy metal crap over the lakehouse’s audio system.
He almost didn’t hear the jangle of his phone over the music — luckily, it was set to vibrate. That he couldn’t miss, not pressed against his hip as it was.
He jerked, swore under his breath, and dropped the toolbox by the door before going onto the deck to answer the call.
“Penny?”
“Daddy?” His daughter sighed into the phone. “I… I’m sorry. About the other day.”
“Yeah,” Drew said quietly, perching on the bench. “Me too, pumpkin.”
“I just… it’s been a bit crazy, you know? I really didn’t mean anything—”
“It’s okay, baby.” Drew exhaled heavily as he shook a cigarette from the crumpled box in his pocket. “That’s all in the past. All in the past.”
Penny let out a small, relieved laugh. “Is Angel there? I tried calling—”
“Yeah, she’s here,” he said, glancing inside. The living room was still empty. The music still pumped. “But she’s turned her phone off. Said some guy kept calling her and it was annoying the living—” he cleared his throat “—she didn’t want to keep getting his calls.”
“Which guy? Jarred?”
“Pumpkin, I don’t know.”
Penny laughed. “And when did she start listening to such old-school rock? What have you done to her, Dad?”
He managed a rough laugh, but barely. “That’s your dad; corrupting the young every chance he gets. Do you want to speak to her? I think she’s busy with her hair or something but I could—”
“Oh — no, no, no. Trust me, you don’t want to interrupt her when she’s busy with her hair. Will you have her call me when she’s done?”
“Course. Does this mean you’re coming home soon?” His stomach grew tight at the thought. If Penny arrived at Elm street this weekend, everything would be fucked. Possibly even more fucked than if seventeen couples arrived for the open house they didn’t know had been canceled. Because Penny would get worried, seeing his car gone and Angel’s stuff nowhere in the house. She’d start calling around. She might even phone Bryce. And, knowing Angel was here, she might even decide to drive through—
“Not… not
yet, Dad. It’s just, Monty’s having this massive party here on Tuesday, and — if it’s okay — I’d really like to—”
“Penny? Relax, pumpkin.” He chuckled. “You’re an adult. You make your own decisions. And, unfortunately, now you’ve got to live with the consequences.”
“Gees, ominous much?” Penny said, but there was laughter in her voice.
“I just mean, you’re not a baby anymore. You can do what you want, as long as you realize I might not always be there to help you out if you make a mistake.”
“I’m not eloping, Dad.”
“Hope not.”
“Or getting pregnant.”
“Damn well hope not.”
Penny laughed, but it faded quickly. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound…”
“Just tired. I’ve been working hard, pumpkin. It happens at my age, you know; you go to sleep and wake up tired.”
She laughed again. “I thought it might have been Angel driving you up the wall. She can be a bit needy sometimes.”
“No, she’s fine. Settling in nicely.”
“Settling in?” A note of confusion touched Penny’s voice. “What do you mean—”
“Nothing, baby. Nothing.” Drew let out a long breath. “Listen, I’m in the middle of something. Can I call you back later today?”
“Yeah. Sure. Uh… any time before ten, I guess.”
“Because that’s when you’re going to bed, right?”
“Sure, Dad.” It sounded like she was speakingthrough a wide smile. “My self-inflicted curfew is ten-thirty, but I always err on the side of caution.”
“Good to know.” He paused, running his fingers along the railing. “Hey, Penny?”
“Yeah?”
“I love you so much. You know that, right?”
“I love you too, Dad.” There was the briefest pause. “You sure everything’s fine?”
“Course.”
“Okay. See you soon, Dad!”
But he ended the call without replying, just in case Penny could have heard the lie in his voice. He stared down at his phone, rubbing his thumb over Penny’s name. He’d had a picture of her on his other phone — the one sitting in a box somewhere at Trent & Morgan. She’d taken it herself, grinning like an idiot into the camera and then updating her contact. He ached to see that photo now.
He took a long tug at his cigarette and stared out over the lake.
There wasn’t another house visible — one of the reasons Juliet had loved this place so much. She claimed she’d felt like the only person in the world when she was here.
As if he didn’t know she’d been with someone every time.
As if he hadn’t figured out who that someone was.
That knowledge, month after month, had given him ulcers and anxiety attacks and migraines. It had been the catalyst of the mental breakdown he’d suffered, a week before Juliet died.
A week before she’d been killed.
Smoke billowed from his mouth. For a second, there was a dip in the music as the track changed. A flutter of sound reached him, and he looked up.
Standing here, he was directly beneath Bryce’s window. It was closed — during August, it made no sense to open them — but the curtains had been opened. From the angle he stood, though, he could only see the ceiling.
A woman’s voice, incomprehensible, before the music flooded back.
He rested with the small of his back against the railing, smoking the rest of his cigarette as he stared up into Bryce’s room.
Where had they done it, Juliet and Bryce? Did they have a specific room, or did they mix it up each time they met here? Had they fucked in front of the fire like he and Angel had? In the kitchen? Here on the deck, in a blanket, during the summer months?
Too many questions he’d never know the answer to.
He twisted to flick his cigarette over the side of the deck. Movement tugged his gaze to a tiny spot a few hundred feet away. He turned slowly, his hands finding the icy rail and clutching on, white-knuckled and straining.
A fisherman — his body no more than a tiny blob on that splinter of a boat — cast an invisible reel and sat down.
Drew swallowed. His lungs expanded as flurries of cold air rushed into them.
Too many signs; the tourists, Penny’s phone call, this fisherman. Too many alarm bells. It was time to go upstairs, tell Kelly her car was working, and perhaps ask Bryce to piss off with her.
He could spend the weekend with Angel. Trying to forget the fact that she’d slept with Bryce and so clearly enjoyed it.
Maybe… with time… he could learn to love her. Or at least like her enough to marry her. Why the fuck not? And so what if she inherited half of his estate — it was a price he was willing to pay if she let him screw her for the next thirty years or so. At least, until Viagra stopped working or his will to live faded.
He shrugged, staring hard at the fisherman.
Amazing. He’d worked out everything in such minute detail. But still, life had found a way to throw a fucking wrench into his gears.
He chuckled, the sound barely audible over some guy with a two-pack-a-day voice lamenting the fate of the world while a guitar howled as accompaniment.
Time to tell Kelly she could go home.
And then down the boat to take out all the shit he’d just piled inside. He gripped the rails a last time, grimacing up at the perfect sky. Maybe he’d leave everything inside, tell his house sitter to get rid of it next week.
“Fuck you, universe!”
The lake swallowed his voice as surely as the heavy metal music behind him did.
Then he turned, found the dregs of a smile to plaster on his face, and went inside. When he closed the deck’s sliding door, it slipped from his fingers and crashed closed with a bang that was timed — quite accurately — with another break in the music. He winced, and then stormed over to the home’s automated control system to switch off the music.
Silence flooded the house like a dam break.
48
The Scream
Drew stepped away from Bryce’s door, giving the handle a scathing glare. When the muffled giggles started from inside the room, his hammering heart stilled. The tightness in his stomach — previously a roiling fury — evaporated.
Would he tell them, before, that they’d all been safe? That they would all three have walked away from this weekend with nothing but some vaguely pleasant memories?
No.
He’d tell them absolutely fucking nothing.
He knocked again, softer this time. “Kelly? I’m sorry… I couldn’t get it working.”
There was a murmured conversation, too low for him to catch a single word.
He waited for a response, an acknowledgment to his question, but none came. So he went downstairs. Put Kelly’s keys on the coffee table. And then went into the kitchen to pour himself a cup of coffee. His eyes moved over the cabinet where he stored the gin, but if anything he needed to keep a clear head.
When he checked his phone, there was no signal. It seemed not only weak, out here, but intermittent. Coffee cup in one hand, he began creeping through the lakehouse, checking for hot spots.
There was only one on the deck.
Once inside, cell signal was non-existent.
He walked up the stairs, ignoring the furious sounds of whispered conversation that came from Bryce’s room as he walked past. Even up here, the only flicker of cell signal was in the bathroom in Angel’s room. When he was on his way out, he stopped.
Her rucksack lay on the bed, everything turned out. In Kelly’s room the same thing; suitcase on the bed, clothes lying scattered over the blanket. His stuff was untouched.
He was halfway down the stairs when someone screamed.
49
Take a Hit, Baby Girl
Kelly was the first to get her laughter under control. She slid off the bed and began hunting for her clothes, eyes wide and frightened.
“You’ll have to call a tow truck,” Bryce said.
“What the hell was I thinking?” She mumbled. “I mean, I’m not supposed to be here. Not supposed to—” She dragged a hand through her sex-mussed hair, her wide pupils giving her panicked expression something of a vague focus. “I have to leave. Shit! I have to leave!”
He rolled onto his back, pulling Angel against him when the girl nuzzled into his neck. “Just relax — this isn’t the maddest I’ve heard him.”
“Why aren’t you getting up? I can’t go out there alone. What if he—” She cut off, and wrapped her arms around herself. “Shit. It’s coming back. It’s coming back, Bryce.”
“I’ll sort that out,” he said, disentangling himself from Angel despite the girl’s sulky moan. “Give me a sec.”
“Crap, crap, crap.” Kelly put both hands in her hair and then covered her eyes. “Oh my God, what was I thinking?”
“Help her get dressed, baby girl.”
“Ugh.” Angel pushed herself to her elbows and frowned at Kelly. “Where are your clothes, Kay?”
“I don’t know.” The woman began looking under the bed.
Bryce glanced back at Angel in time to catch the roll of her eyes before she slid from the bed and began helping Kelly look for her clothes. She seemed to have no issue walking around naked, but there was no joint rolling that was going to happen if he couldn’t keep his eyes on his job.
“You too; get some clothes on.”
“One command at a time please, Master.”
“Come on, you can’t walk around like that.”
“It’s natural,” Angel said, giving him a perfect view of her ass as she bent over to look for Kelly’s shirt behind the hamper in the corner of the room.
“And Drew? Is he going to think it’s natural?” He found his briefs and went to sit by the dresser to roll a joint for Kelly.
He watched the girl’s reflection in the mirror. She paused, glancing at him over her shoulder. Then she shrugged and walked over to the bed, turning to face him as she tugged her jersey over her head.
“Fuck him; he can go to hell. I’m done.”
“Yeah?” Bryce sprinkled a few chunks of weed on the paper, glancing up at Angel as he rolled it between his fingers. “So you wanna come cook for me then? I’ll even pay you.”
