by Ann Charles
I decided to stick with my right eye for the shot. “I love Bogart.”
“No shit, Sherlock. Anyway, I called you later that evening and told you I was going down to Doc’s office and throw myself at his feet, but you stopped me. You convinced me to meet you here instead and then poured tequila down my throat kinda like tonight.”
“Tequila is made from the agave plant, which had four purposes for the Aztecs.” I held up four fingers, staring at them as I ticked them off. “Food, drink, clothing, and writing stuff.”
“Thank you, Mr. Peabody, for your brainiac answer. Anyway, my question for you, Violet Parker, is: Were you with Doc when I made that call? Truth?” She held out a shot glass. “Or drink?”
In spite of my two shots of tequila, I knew exactly where I’d been that night when she’d called and it wasn’t at home knitting a scarf for homeless chickens. I’d been in Doc’s back room enjoying some naked time with him on a beanbag. If memory served me right, there was also a bottle of wine involved and multiple moments of breath-stealing pleasure.
I stared at her for several silent seconds while the jukebox switched songs. “Give me the damned shot.” I held out my hand.
She chuckled. “Oh, how the mighty fall.”
I followed her lead, downing the shot without salt or lime to ease its path. Unlike Foreigner and their “Hot Blooded” woes now filling our ears, my third shot went down without any heat. At least none that I felt anymore.
Toot-toot, the tequila train was now up to full speed.
I set the glass upside down on the table and pointed my pool cue at her. “Now, it’s time for me to school you on how to play drunken eight ball, you tequila-guzzling harlot.”
Four Tequila
An unknown amount of tequila-inspired trash talking later …
Tequila was a slippery devil. One minute, I had the tail by the donkey. The next thing I knew, it’d bucked me out of the saddle.
“I have a question for you,” I said, handing my pool cue to Natalie.
She frowned at it. “Why are you handing me that?”
“I’m passing the baton.”
“What’s that have to do with a question for me?” She took the pool cue from me.
“No, it’s my turn to ask the question.”
“Are you already tequila fried?”
“Truth,” I answered, picking up my last shot glass and taking a sip. “No, but I’m getting close to tequila toasted.” As in my face was numb, but my brain wasn’t gone yet. “Now it’s my turn.”
She put both pool cues down on the felt and leaned her hip against the table. “Ask away, Calamity Violet.”
“Truth or drink? Did you really sleep with that no-good bitch’s boyfriend back in high school?”
“By ‘no-good bitch’ you mean your sister?”
I nodded. “Remember how she bragged about making out with that guy I was sleeping with? You know, the one with the Tom Selleck mustache?”
“You weren’t sleeping with that one.”
“I wasn’t? Oh, you’re right.” I thought so anyway. The tequila haze made it hard to see that memory straight.
“But you planned to on the next date.”
“Oh, yeah.” I glared down at the shot glass in my hand. “I had big plans.”
“Yes, you did. But Susan slept with him first.”
“She beat me to the plunge, the whore.” I took another sip of tequila to wash that acrid memory down.
“Or something like that.” Natalie hopped up on the side of the pool table, her legs dangling over the edge. “I didn’t sleep with Susan’s boyfriend, but I did make out with him behind the concession stand.”
“Because he was hot?”
“No, because someone needed to retaliate. You were too busy crying in your pillow when the opportunity arose.”
“He told Susan you two had sex.”
She laughed. “In case you hadn’t noticed, he liked to tell tall tales. But I let him talk because I knew how much it would piss off Susan.”
“You ruined him for her.” I smiled about it, too. “He dumped her after that but never explained why.”
Her eyes sparkled. “Well, I might have told him that she had a chronic genital rash that the doctor had not been able to find a cure for yet, so he should be careful where he stuck things.”
I covered my mouth. “Oh, you’re bad,” I said from behind my hand.
“Like I said, someone needed to retaliate.” She tossed down what was left of her fourth shot in one gulp. “I had your back. I always have. That’s why it hurt so much when you stabbed me in mine.”
I winced. Even in my three shots of tequila liquored-up state, I still felt that blow. Guilt filled me, burning hot in my cheeks. I deserved worse.
“My turn,” she said. “Truth or drink? During all of those times you messed around with Doc when I was still trying to win him for myself, did you ever think that maybe if you’d just told me the truth about falling in love that I would’ve happily stepped aside and let my best friend since forever have at him simply because it was you?”
I downed my shot, needing the courage to say what no longer could be avoided. I joined her up on the edge of the table. Or tried to anyway.
She hauled me up by the arm, steadying me when I teetered. “You sure you should be this high off the ground?”
“Shush.” I swung my legs next to hers. “I’m going to tell you the truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God.”
“You’re not on trial, numbnuts.”
After poking her in the ribs, I cleared my throat. “Natalie, I cannot change the past or my stupidity when it comes to what happened with Doc. There were many times when I wanted to tell you what was going on. Believe it or not, I even tried to break it off with Doc a few times.”
“You tried, huh?”
“Yes.” My voice rose in emphasis. “I really did. But when it came down to it, the pull was too strong. I wanted what Doc had to offer.”
“The sex?”
“Not just the sex, although that was pretty …” At her deepening frown, I took a different tact. “Pretty, um, nice. I mean, you know, for a dried-up, desperate old mom like me who hasn’t been with a guy for a long, longggggg time.”
“Please. We’re talking about Doc, whose ex-girlfriend is crazed with jealousy over him now sharing your bed. The guy oozes sexuality just standing in the grocery store line.”
I stared at her, all hints of humor gone, needing her to understand why I’d done what I’d done so we could fill in this pothole before it grew any bigger. “You’re right. The sex is great. The man has a magic touch. But it wasn’t just the physical stuff with him. I’ve been with good-looking guys before, but from the start, Doc was different. I can’t define how. Even after I found out about his ghost radar dealio and thought he was kind of crazy, I still wanted whatever crumbs he’d throw my way. He was like that missing edge piece I’d been looking for all of these years to make my puzzle border complete.”
She snorted. “That’s corny. Have you had your nose buried in romance books again?”
“Happily-ever-afters go well with bubbles, hot water, and wine, I’ll have you know.”
Her legs swung next to mine. “It’s so embarrassing.” She covered her eyes with her hands. “Doc must have thought I was a total tramp with the way I threw myself at him.”
“No.” I started to shake my head and then thought better of it, gripping the edge of the pool table for stability. “From the start, he wanted me to tell you the truth. He didn’t like keeping you in the dark, but I was too much of a chicken shit. Me, not him. He thinks you’re a wonderful person and a great friend.”
She peeked out through her fingers. “Be honest—first kiss?”
I sucked up the courage and let the truth rip. “During the initial walk-through tour of his house in that narrow stairwell off the kitchen.”
She lowered her hands. “First time you had sex?”
“In the back room of his off
ice the day after the Hessler fire.”
“How long did it all go on before I found out?”
I thought about that, hard, but that answer involved some math. “I don’t know, Nat. My brain is soaked with tequila.”
“A rough estimate.”
“Two months.” I threw out a number that felt right even though what I’d done was all wrong.
She looked down at our swinging feet. “You should have told me, Violet.”
“Yes. I’m so sorry. I was a huge idiot. My only defense is that I was terrified of losing your friendship.”
“Our friendship is too old, deep, and full of sordid secrets to throw away over a man, Violet. But next time—”
“There will be no next time. Doc is the one.”
Her eyebrows rose. “The one, huh?”
“The only.” I leaned into her, bumping shoulders. “I hope.”
She reached out and squeezed my hand. “Me, too.”
“It scares the shit out of me, though.”
“As it should.”
“He holds my heart in his hands.” I held my palms out, pretending to cup the beating organ that Doc now owned.
She gently tugged on one of my blonde curls. “If he gets one scratch on it, babe, I’ll tear him to ribbons.”
I let out a giggle hiccup. “It’s your turn, you know.”
“Okay,” she said, pausing to take a breath. “I was stupid.”
“Like your normal level of stupidity or like super-duper stupid with extra helping of dumbass?”
“Kiss my dumbass.” She hopped to the floor and paced in front of me, wringing her hands.
“Let me help you get started,” I said. “It was a dark and stormy night.”
“It was dark, and Coop was definitely feeling stormy.”
“Imagine that, and he didn’t even know me yet.”
She paused to look down at her hands, wiggling her fingers. The tequila must finally be working its magic. “Anyway,” she returned to pacing, “I was here at the Purple Door wallowing in my beer after a long day of clearing brush behind my grandpa’s place in Nemo.”
“Why were you wallowing?”
“I was feeling lonely and the last few guys I’d dated had turned out to be real letches.”
“You do have a way of scooping up slime balls from the bottom of the barrel.”
She stopped pacing. “Do you want to hear the story or not?”
I mimicked zipping my lips.
“I was sitting at the bar working on my second beer when Coop walked in.”
“What was he wearing?”
“Does it matter?”
I closed one eye, focusing on her with my less blurry one. “It helps me picture the scene better.”
“I don’t know. Jeans and a black T-shirt, I think.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Can I go on now?”
I gave her a crooked thumbs-up.
“He came over to the bar and sat down next to me, ordering a drink of his own.”
“Beer?”
“Whiskey on the rocks.”
“His usual.”
She nodded. “I’d read in the newspaper that he’d returned to Deadwood, taking the job as detective, so I asked him how things were going.”
“You knew him from school, right?”
“He was a bit older, but yes, I knew of him. I didn’t figure he remembered me, but I was wrong.”
“Of course he remembered you, he’s a detective. His mind is a steel ball surrounded by rusty razor wire that’s draped with hand grenades like deadly Christmas ornaments.”
“You’re regressing more than usual.”
“I blame the agave plant.”
“Anyway, I was flattered that he knew who I was. After all, he was James Bond hot, even when we were younger.”
“He has the memory of two elephant brains wired together.”
“Shut up and listen, you lush.” When I did as told, she continued. “When he asked why I was drinking alone on a Friday night, I told him that I was working through some crap. He proposed shooting pool with him to help work off steam.”
“What steam?”
“I don’t know. His job-related steam. I didn’t ask for details, just followed him back here and started shooting pool while I was still drinking. At first, neither of us had much to say, but after a few games and more drinks, we started joking around. That’s when the flirting cranked up.”
“Cooper flirts?” I played dumb. “What’s that even like? Does he bare his teeth at you and growl a lot, pawing at the ground? Or does he sniff you up and down, and then pee on you?”
She laughed. “Believe it or not, he was a really smooth flirter, very talented at light touching and heated glances that made my pulse race.”
“No shit?” The flirtatious attention I’d witnessed Cooper giving Natalie as of late could in no way be labeled “smooth.” He seemed to stumble over words enough to make me squirm along with him.
“No shit. It started with a few compliments about my pool-playing skills, then moved to my hair, then my eyes. But rather than comment on my rounder parts to the south, his attention seemed to remain focused up north, asking me about tricks of my trade.”
“What was his angle?” I asked, always a skeptic when it came to the detective.
“No angle, you cynic. I’m telling you, he actually listened when I explained the difference between dovetails and dados.”
I blew a raspberry. “Everyone knows the difference between ducktails and …” What had she said again?
“But every time he thought I was focused on taking a shot, he was undressing me with those steely gray eyes. The subtlety of it all was a huge turn-on.” She rubbed her arms, stopping to stare at the pool table, apparently lost in the past. “I made the first move, but not until after a couple of more beers. It took extra alcohol to get up the nerve to climb the wall he keeps built up around him.”
“You’ve made the first move on plenty of guys while cold sober.” I knew that for a fact, having witnessed it front and center.
“Plenty?”
“Well, a few at least.”
“Yeah, but Coop was different.”
“Because he could arrest you?”
She pointed at me. “That’s your hang-up about him, not mine.”
Whatever. “Different how?”
“Different like a panther, sitting up high, watching the jungle floor, waiting for the right moment to pounce.”
“You’ve been watching The Jungle Book too much with Addy.”
“We share a deep love for King Louie and his dancing.”
“So what did you do for your first move?” I pressed. “Kiss him?”
“I hugged him.”
I guffawed. “Well, that’s not very sexy.”
“He’d told me that he was offered a position on the other side of the state and was debating on taking it. I told him that they would be lucky to have such a great detective and gave him a hug partly because I was getting good and tipsy, like now, but mostly because he’d really cheered me up. I felt sad about him leaving town, and that wasn’t just the beer talking.”
“So you hugged him. That’s snoresville stuff, you know.”
“What did you expect? That I wrapped my legs around him and rode him like he was a bucking bronco right here on the pool table?”
I wrinkled my upper lip. At least I thought I did. My mouth was now operating as a free agent, no longer ruled by my brain. “I just thought there was more touching involved.”
“I’m not done with my story, Miss Impatience.”
I leaned back on my hands, blowing a curly strand out of my face. “I’m all hairs.”
“You mean ears.”
“That, too.”
“Anyway, I hugged Coop. When I tried to step away, he didn’t let go. Instead, he backed me up against the wall over there.” She pointed at the spot near the door that led out to the back stairwell and alley.
Now we were talking! “What happened ne
xt?”
“He told me he was going to kiss me and if I didn’t want him to, I should stop him before he made contact.”
“Not the most romantic,” I said, critiquing his style, “but at least he didn’t drag out the cuffs.”
“I probably would’ve let him cuff me if he had, especially after that kiss. It knocked me for a loop.”
“I always figured Cooper’s tongue had serrated edges.”
“Only around you, my dear.” She came back and hopped up on the pool table next to me again. “You sure you want to hear the rest?”
“Yes, although I’m going to pretend it’s not Cooper in this story, but actually James Bond instead. Sean Connery was always one of my favorites.”
“Fair enough and I know all about your longtime lust for Sean.” She rubbed her palms over her thighs. “Coop started the kiss real slow, sort of tasting me, you know. Teasing me with his tongue and feathery touches while he was at it. Everything inside of me pretty much melted from the heat building between us. Then he really cranked up the flames, pinning my arms over my head while he pressed his body against mine. The man is made of granite, I swear.”
“I knew it! He’s all jagged edges and craggy cliffs.”
“I think you and I are thinking of two different kinds of granite. I meant south of the neck. Rock hard. Everywhere.”
I grimaced, but kept my unflattering thoughts to myself.
“When he pulled back to give me a moment to catch my breath, he apologized about being too rough, saying he’d been wanting to do that since he’d walked in and seen me sitting at the bar. I told him I liked it rough and wanted more. Without another word, he hauled me out through the back door into the alley and pulled me into the shadows.”
She looked over at me, her brow furrowed. “Is this too much detail? I know you’re not his biggest fan.”
“I’m drunk. I have a force field around here.” I made a circle motion around my head. “I can handle it.”
“You asked if there was red-zone touching.”
I nodded.
“Yes, with a capital Y, E, and S. There was a lot of red-zone touching on both of our parts. His hands were everywhere, under my shirt, inside of my bra, stroking and teasing the whole time. Then his mouth followed, turning me inside out with love bites up and down. The nips he gave me on my hip bone and lower were nearly my undoing. I’d never had a man use his teeth on me like that before. The blast of pleasure mixed with pain had me begging him for more, telling him to do things I’d normally be too embarrassed to whisper even while I was drunk. When he did them, I completely lost it.”
