Under Contract (The GEG Series)

by Jacquelyn Ayres

  “Why?” Charlotte turns her head a little as I continue to breathe her in.

  “I can’t fly tonight,” I say.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way, but—why?”

  “I’m too intoxicated, I won’t be able to see shit.” I smile against her neck.

  Charlotte laughs. “I wasn’t aware that you were actually the one who was going to fly the plane.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Well, you haven’t had anything to drink, so what do you need to see on the plane?” She’s asking in her flirty tone—she knows I’m up to something.

  “Well, I’m intoxicated by your smell. It’s making me want to watch you get undressed tonight. If I get on that plane, I won’t be able to see shit!” I profess, then laugh with her. I glance at Gram to find that arched-eyebrow look again.

  “Charlotte, do me a favor,” I whisper in her ear. She nods. “Tell Gram I have a sign for her, but I don’t dare do it because she’ll crack me over the head with something.”

  Charlotte laughs and tells her.

  Gram sits there looking thoughtful for a moment, then her hands fly up as she asks, “Is this the sign, Mitch?” She then proceeds to flip me off and stick her tongue out at me. Ugh! I love my Gram! And I love that these two have hit it off.

  “Can I stay with you tonight?” I ask.

  “No,” Charlotte says quickly. A little too quickly for my taste.

  “Wrong answer!” I do nothing to mask my anger.

  “Then maybe you should just stick to the original flight plan,” she says back.

  “This is good, Charlotte. I was worried that we wouldn’t have another argument today. Third one and it’s only two-thirty—we really know how to pace ourselves, baby!” I snap facetiously.

  Gram starts waving her arms in front of us to tell us to cut it out. Charlotte leans forward, grabs a cracker, and pops it into her mouth angrily.

  “If you two don’t stop, I’m gonna put you both over my knee and spank the shit out of you!” Gram’s hands unload her words at us like a machine gun.

  “Apparently spanking the shit out of me is the ‘in’ thing to do,” Charlotte says, then takes a swig of her drink.

  “Well, Gram and I do have a lot in common,” I say in a very thoughtful, yet serious, manner. Charlotte jerks forward, her body shaking. Her hands come up as if to catch any liquid that may come out. Her beverage must have gone down the wrong pipe, causing her to choke. “Sorry ... you okay?” I chuckle and rub her back. She nods.

  “Gram,” I say, looking back to her, “we have to leave in a few for Charlotte’s boys.”

  “Sorry, Gram,” Charlotte adds.

  “I’m glad you two stopped by. Listen to me.” She gets a very serious look on her face. “Be patient with each other. You both have been hurt, and it’s easier to put your walls up than to face what you are feeling for each other. Try to remember, though, that everything you went through—all the pain—helped you on the path to finding one another. Trust in your feelings—they won’t steer you wrong.”

  “You ought to write a column in my friend’s paper. ‘Dear Gram,’” Charlotte teases her. Gram made her nervous.

  “Okay, Gram, stop scaring her away.”

  “Oh, you’ll do that all by yourself if you keep acting like a waspish asshole!” she signs.

  “Ooh, damn!” Charlotte laughs.

  “Funny, huh?” I tickle her.

  “Little bit.” She winces and almost pinches her index finger and thumb together.

  “Well,” I say, “I have been showing you too much of that side of me.”

  “Yeah ... ya think?” She widens her eyes.

  “Stop,” I mouth to her, then lean in for a kiss—the soft, sweet, short-but-reluctant kind I’ve noticed she’s fond of. “I’m staying with you tonight, baby.” I don’t ask this time. She nods slightly.

  We pack up Brooky, say our goodbyes and head out.

  It’s nine p.m. I plop onto Charlotte’s bed and stretch my legs out in front of me, getting comfortable. She’s doing last-minute evening things: checking on the kids, ironing clothes, preparing lunches, and doing a final once-over in the kitchen. I take this time to study her bedroom. I could’ve picked this bedroom out in a lineup. It’s soft and warm with creamy purple, green, and ivory tones. It screams Charlotte. It smells as it looks—just like her. I’ve made a firm decision. Charlotte is my favorite smell—it’s soft and clean, like a combination of whatever lotion she uses and fabric softener.

  I glance around, taking note of various framed pictures. None with Josh—good! Then again, why would there be? CiCi told me Charlotte had redone this entire room when he left in an attempt to purge her memories of him. In fact, she told me a lot of shit in the span of several minutes when Charlotte went to check on the baby. Christ, at one point, I had a flashback of the Matchbox commercials with that guy who talked crazy fast! Then I found myself trying to remember if those commercials were from the 80s or 90s. This must happen to CiCi a lot, people blanking out on her, because she whacked my arm to refocus me.

  Knowing that this is not the bed Josh “yessed” Charlotte to death in brings me a strange comfort I’m not sure I want to fully accept yet. My fingers play a beat in my lap as I wait (or die of boredom) for her. Just as I reach for the book on her nightstand, her phone pings and the screen lights up. I fight the urge for a second, but decide it’s a sign. I grab her phone to see who’s texting her. This is not something I would normally do, but I’m bored and haven’t been completely myself since meeting her.

  “Madelyn St. Claire,” I say aloud.

  Maddie: Holy shit! This mother-flippin’ day wouldn’t end!

  He was here again!

  Him, with his shoulder-length blond hair and chiseled face!

  Him with his body of the Gods!

  And he did it again!

  Good Lord—he did it again!

  Ugh—Christ! This one is as bad as Charlotte! What is it with these women and their epic, dramatic texting?

  Me: What? What did he do?

  Maddie: The same thing he’s done 3 weeks in a row!

  Ugh!

  Me: What?

  Maddie: What do you mean what?

  He stared at me intently when I came out for my next client—that’s what!

  Huh? Client? What does she do? I decide to wait to see if she says anything else.

  I felt naked.

  Now we’re talking ...

  Me: Go on ...

  Maddie: He wants me to ride the crazy train ... I just know it!

  He wants to get me in his bed and make me yell WOO WOO!

  That’s what Julie says.

  Me: Who’s Julie?

  Maddie: Are you drunk? Our Julie, dumbass!

  Christ, there’s more of them?

  Me: Well what do you think?

  Maddie: About what?

  Jesus—this conversation may require a translator!

  Me: About the conductor!

  Maddie: The conductor of what?

  Me: The conductor of the crazy train—are you drunk?

  Maddie: I think he probably thinks I’m a freak!

  Me: I think you may be right!

  Maddie: Suck it, bitch—whose side are you on?

  Before I can answer ...

  Ugh—he looks like a hot Viking—I so want him to give me helmet.

  No—I want to hold onto the horns of his helmet while he pounds me into submission with his love sword!

  Shit—I just laughed like a girl!

  What should I do, Charley?

  Me: Let him know you want to be conquered ...

  Maddie: What? He’s (probably) bat-shit crazy!

  Me: If not—5 mins alone with you and he probably will be!

  Why do you think he’s crazy?

  Maddie: He’s in the reception area every week, same time, same day. I just don’t know which therapist he’s seeing.

  Ahh ... good Lord—this woman is a therapist? I’m suddenly a little mor
e concerned for the welfare of the mentally ill.

  Me: Does he look crazy?

  Maddie: Crazy hot!

  Me: Well, what do you do when he’s staring intently?

  Maddie: What I always do!

  I wait.

  I’m still waiting.

  And the wait continues.

  Sorry—the dramatic music carried on a bit longer than it should have!

  I want to throw the phone across the room. This is utter nonsense, and yet I sit here like an addict waiting for my next fix. It reminds me of all the times I’ve visited with Gram while her “stories” were on. I’d really want to leave, but Christ, I had to find out what happened only to be teased with a cliffhanger! There was one show she used to watch called Passions, and half the main characters were stuck in Hell—literally! It was the stupidest storyline ever, yet to my dismay, I found myself asking her once a week if they got out of Hell yet. This went on for months. Apparently, it’s hell trying to get out of Hell!

  The phone pings.

  I pretended I didn’t notice him. I’m busy, you know!

  Me: Why don’t you just look at him and smile next week?

  Why do women have to make everything so complicated?

  Maddie: ‘Cause he may be ape-shit crazy!

  Me: Ah, he’s been promoted! From bat to ape—lucky guy! You should just tell him!

  Maddie: Tell him what???

  Me: TO RUN FOR HIS LIFE!

  Maddie: Shut up, asswhore!

  Me: Asswhore?

  CiCi: Speaking of the asswhore—did she mention the new guy ramming it up there?

  Maddie: What?! Charley, you’ve been holding out?

  CiCi: No—she’s been putting out! You’re a damn whore, Charley—I’m jealous!

  Maddie: Hold the fucking phone, people! Charley—who’s melting his Creamsicle in your love oven?

  CiCi: Maddie—don’t say hold the phone people in a texting conversation—we’re clearly all holding the phone, dipshit!

  Maddie: Fuck off, CiCi! Who’s plunging his hotdog in your cornmeal batter, Charley?

  These girls are all fucking nuts! I love ‘em!

  It’s Tom, isn’t it?! ;-)

  Who the fuck is Tom?

  Is it Harry?

  Harry?! I feel my blood boil.

  CiCi: It’s neither of them, but it’s definitely a Dick.

  Me: Are you calling Mitch a dick?

  I thought she liked me.

  CiCi: No, asshat—you’re getting dick.

  Don’t be a dumb chick!

  Hey—is it nice and thick?

  Maddie: Knock it off, Dirty Dr. Seuss!

  CiCi: Whose baby sister is getting juice in the caboose ...

  Maddie: Ugh—gross!

  CiCi: Jealous?

  Maddie: Yes.

  CiCi: Me, too.

  Maddie: Charley?

  CiCi: You can still text with Mitch’s dick in your mouth.

  Me: Sorry—tough to text and suck at the same time.

  Maddie: Don’t I know it!

  CiCi: Don’t I know it!

  Maddie: Jinx!

  CiCi: What are we, twelve?

  Me: Or closet whores.

  CiCi: There’s a closet around here?

  Maddie: So, his name is Mitch?

  CiCi: And Charley’s his bitch!

  Maddie: Tell me!

  I’ll play—I’m bored, remember?

  Me: His dick is huge! I don’t know how I’m walking!

  CiCi: That’s not what you told me before!

  Me: What?

  CiCi: Well, that solves it then.

  Me: Solves what?

  Maddie: Solves what?

  Me: Jinx!

  Maddie: Yes—we’re twelve!

  CiCi: I won’t take him up on his offer.

  Me: What offer?

  CiCi: He wants to fuck me.

  Me: No he doesn’t!

  CiCi: He told me!

  Me: When?!

  CiCi: When you were checking on the baby. He was staring at my mouth.

  Me: What?

  CiCi: He wants to fuck my mouth, Charley. I’m sorry. ☹

  Me: He was probably thinking of a way to shut you and your Matchbox mouth up!

  CiCi: Huh?

  Me: Yeah, motormouth!

  CiCi: Mitch!

  Me: What?

  Damn it!

  CiCi: Busted! Maddie, let me introduce you to Mitch.

  Maddie: NO! I told him STUFF!

  CiCi: You may call him DICK.

  Maddie: I feel so betrayed ...

  Me: Sorry, Maddie. Smile at him ... he’ll love you! :)

  Maddie: Crap.

  CiCi: Right?

  Me: Did I miss something?

  CiCi: Yeah, the memo.

  Me: What memo?

  Maddie: Don’t fuck with the GEGs!

  Me: GEGs?

  CiCi: Green-Eyed Girl Club.

  We dropped the C for Club.

  Me: Why?

  Maddie: Because we’re really not twelve anymore—I know—hard to believe!

  CiCi: Ashton would be proud ...

  Me: Huh?

  CiCi: Consider yourself punk’d, biatch!

  Me: Maddie—you knew it was me?

  Maddie: Uh, yeah!

  Me: No Viking then?

  CiCi: Shit—you mentioned the Viking before I got to you?

  Maddie: And now ...

  I must kill you, Mitch!

  CiCi: U can’t! He’s giving it to Charley good—bitch can’t keep the smile off her face.

  Me: :) Ahh, Charlotte ...

  Maddie: Oh, all right—you’re on probation, though!

  Me: Thanks! Shit—does Charlotte know I’m talking to you girls?

  CiCi: And waste this opportunity to completely mortify her? HELL NO!

  Maddie: Knock, knock, Mitch.

  Me: Uh, who’s there?

  “Mitch, what are you doing on my phone?” Charlotte asks. As I look at her, she says bye to Maddie and hangs up the house phone.

  Me: Not nice Maddie—not nice!

  It’s on, lady! Consider yourself warned!

  Charlotte grabs the phone from me just as I complete my threat. She starts reading our dialogue.

  “You pretended to be me? What the fuck is that about?” she asks angrily as she skims the conversation. The girls continue to talk, pushing the screen up. I can’t help but chuckle as she gets frustrated. She gives up on scrolling and sits down.

  “You’re laughing—you think this is funny?” I sit on the bed and shoot him my eye daggers. His stupid grin drops. Goddamn it, would these two bitches shut up so I can read what he wrote?!

  Just as I read Maddie’s text, “Don’t be mad at him—we played him,” I feel Mitch’s hands hook under my knees. He yanks me down. I scoff and stare at him impatiently. The look on his face can only be described one way—aggressive lust. He whips my knees open and stares into my eyes. I know I’m not going to get away with being pissed off.

  “Jesus and goddamn it, Charlotte,” he says under his breath as he finally glances down.

  “You like my invisible panties, baby?” I bait him. “They’re edible.”

  “You see,” he says, shaking a finger at me like he’s trying to hold something back, “this is the kind of shit that’s going to get your ass spanked.” And with that, he slaps the inside of both my thighs, pushing me open wider for him.

  I lick my lips, staring straight back at him. In the same beat, I text the girls.

  Me: G’nite girls!

  I’m about to get cream filling for my love muffin, with extra nuts slapped on top!

  CiCi: Lucky bitch!

  Maddie: Lucky bitch!

  Mitch grabs the phone from me. I shoot him a playful smirk and begin to slowly unbutton my nightgown. I lick my lips again and bite down on my bottom one as I open my nightgown at a pace I’m sure is driving him mad. I make sure to graze my nipples with my fingertips as I pull the gown away and let my breath quicken at my own touch.
I lean up and pull it off of myself and lay back down.

  “Charlotte, close your eyes, baby.” His voice is smooth and sexy as usual. I comply. The blood pounding in my ears is deafening. I’m learning to expect the unexpected with him. “Touch yourself, baby. I want to watch you. Show me what you’ll do to yourself when I’m not here to do it for you.” Oh, holy hell! “I’m not here, baby ... show me.” Yeah ... sure he’s not here!

  Deep, cleansing yoga breath.

  Exhale slowly.

  I bring my hands up to my clavicles.

  Slowly, my hands slide down.

  And ...

  Deep, cleansing yoga breath

  Good Lord ...

  Exhale slowly ...

  Pull it together, Charley!

  You’re a sexy bitch—you can do this!

  My inner sexy bitch nudges my hands along. They stop at the top of my breasts and glide down the sides, following the soft curves. Further down my torso, my hand plants itself quietly on its side. My fingers trace swirly circles around my belly, up the center, over my sternum, and back down. The fingertips of my other hand travel up and over my breast and lightly circle my nipple.

  “Ah,” I gasp as I roll and tug at my nipples. I can hear Mitch’s breath hitch as I continue and arch my body into my touch. I dare to open my eyes to watch him watching me. His gaze locks onto mine. Just when I think I’ve had the most erotic moment of my life ... he goes and gives me another one. “Baby, please ...” I beg in a whisper.

  “Keep going,” he encourages me breathily.

  “No.” I stop.

  “No?” he asks. The heated glaze leaves his eyes and is replaced by confusion.

  “Mitch, I will do this for you ... another time.” I sit up and grasp his face. “I only have tonight with you. I don’t want to spend it touching myself. I want your hands on me, your touch driving me crazy,” I plead. His eyes soften as a small smile graces his lips.