Dreamy Distraction (Quest for Love Book 1)

by Emily J. Wright

  “And?”

  “Stab

  Stab

  Stab-ity stab”

  Jeremy let out a scream, and the magazine jumps out of my hand. Damn it! How does he do that?

  “She stabbed her son-in-law ten times in the heart and killed him. He was already dying because of the bullet wounds, but she took the matter into her own hands and ended him.”

  “Wow! A chilling story, Todd.” Jeremy runs his hand to the back of his neck. “Gave me goosebumps.”

  “True story, Jeremy. All true,” Todd says.

  “I still don’t understand how the suicide comes into play in this story.”

  “It’s coming. Two suicides a row,” Todd continues the story to the concluding. “The mother-in-law’s breathing got shallow. The pain became unbearable. She wanted to die, but the death was teasing her like an experienced girlfriend to her virgin boyfriend. So, she slit her throat with the same letter opener and put an end to her misery.”

  “Murder—three. Suicide—one,” Jeremy says in disbelief. “The shit just got dark.”

  “Really, Jeremy? Really? After four deaths, it gets dark for you?” I am surprised at Jeremy for his lack of sympathy. Sure, the story could make a nice TV movie, but that doesn’t mean he has to lap it up without feeling for the dead.

  “Don’t listen to him, Jeremy. He doesn’t want anybody to have any fun around here.” Todd gives me a stink eye for no apparent reason and continues with the story. “Now, to the final suicide. Wife’s grandmother was also in the house. She had started climbing the stairs along with his son and daughter-in-law, but it took her half an hour to reach the master bedroom. “

  “A half hour?!” Jeremy asks.

  “Well”—Todd shrugs his shoulders— “She was 90. What can you expect?”

  “Seems right. What happened next?” There is horror on Jeremy’s face, his Adam’s apple is throbbing in the flap of his neck, but he still wants to know how it all ended.

  “She looked around the bedroom and found

  Son—dead.

  Daughter-in-law—dead.

  Granddaughter—dead.

  Granddaughter’s husband—dead.

  She couldn’t take it.”

  “Heart attack?”

  “No, not a heart attack. How would that be suicide?” Todd cringes when Jeremy disturbs him between the story. “She went up to the master bedroom window—which probably would have taken her another ten more minutes or so—and then jumped. What’s the count now?”

  Jeremy takes a minute to wipe that shocked look from his face and then counts on her fingers. “Three murders and two suicides.”

  “Exactly!” Todd hisses, ready to take a bow for bringing the story of the dead to life by his words, but he is unaware that it’s far from finished.

  “Actually, it was three murders, one suicide, and one vehicular manslaughter.” I close the magazine and put it back on the coffee table. “The old woman survived with broken legs, but not for long. She rolled down the yard to the street and got her head crushed by an ice cream truck.”

  “What?!” Jeremy and Todd say in unison.

  “True story,” I say, nodding.

  “Now, the shit got real for me,” Todd says with surprise, and then, his expression turns stern. “The house had more pizzazz than I thought. It was a fucking goldmine. Murder-suicide-vehicular manslaughter—a combination never happened before in my career. What could have been a profitable investment of the year is a disaster now—loss of $100k to begin with.”

  Here he goes again. Money. Money. Money.

  “I agree the background story of the house is full of twists and turns—murder, murder turned to suicide, and unbelievingly, suicide turned vehicular manslaughter. It’s chilling, thrilling, and haunting at the same time, and has the potential to be a legend story . . .” Jeremy becomes quiet and takes a deep breath. He sees me comfortably sitting on the couch without any care of the world and cry. “. . . But what I don’t understand is how could anybody buy that bloody massacre house, and that too on premium, nonetheless?”

  Jeremy is eyeing me for an answer, and I have the perfect answer for him. “Not only I have bought the house”—I stand up abruptly—"but I am also going to move in there.”

  “What?!” Todd and Jeremy again say in unison. They are on a roll lately. I never thought they would get along so well.

  “I don’t care how much money we lost on this deal. If I had not bought it, someone else would have, and then, I would have lost something more important than money.”

  “Enlighten me, please,” Todd says, crossing his arms on his chest. “What’s more important than money?

  Todd is furious with me right now. But I know when I’ll tell him why I bought that house, he would be over the moon for me.

  “Honey Hornell,” I say with a smile and open my arms for a hug.

  But there is no enthusiasm in the room like I was expecting. They look at each other in disbelief, eyes engaging in silent conversation. Must be wondering if I have bumped my head somewhere, and the hallucinations are back.

  “Honey Hornell!” I say with much more enthusiasm.

  “Who is she?” Jeremy hesitantly asks.

  “Take a guess,” I say with my eyebrow raised.

  “The blonde . . . who got away? You found her. Oh, my God! you found her.” Jeremy didn’t leave me waiting, and grasps me in his arms for a tight bear hug. He is jumping up and down in excitement and even forcing me to follow his lead as if we are a bunch of teenage girls.

  “I am calling her ‘the blonde who is not far away’ now.”

  “Without taking a vote? Brandon . . . how could you?”

  “I knew you guys wouldn’t disapprove, so I made an executive decision.”

  “I am so . . . happy . . . for you.” Now he is just wheezing due to all the strenuous activity.

  “I know . . .” I slow down and hold him, grounding him from doing more jumping. “Can you believe it? All this time, she was living an hour away from me. If this isn’t fate, then I don’t know what it is.”

  “Is she . . .?”

  “Widow.”

  “It’s fate, all right.” Jeremy holds me tightly and lifts me off the ground. I didn’t know he could do that. But then again, he is Jeremy. He can do anything. I feel like an NFL player now who just scored a touchdown in sudden death overtime.

  While Jeremy is on top of the world, Todd is striking the pose of a bossy, mean girl with arms crossed and fist clenched. Not even a slight smile on his face.

  “Todd, I am sorry I waited to tell you about this. In my defense, I was waiting for you to let some of the frustration out. You are acting kind of bitchy these days.”

  I gesture Todd to join the group hug, but he turns his back on me.

  “Hey . . .” I walk up to him and place my hand on his shoulder. “Are you not happy for me?”

  He jerks his shoulder away and turns around with nothing but disgust on his face. “You son of a hypocrite! When I spend money on sex fest, you remind me of the thirsty children in Africa. You started a witch hunt against Ashley8 and the rest of the girls and was like ‘No—I am not going to spend money on them for being eye candy. I am a big boy now. I am going to be a philanthropist.’ But when it comes down to you, you were willing to spend anything for that graveyard of a house. And for whom? A slut that you don’t even know?”

  Todd spews all of his poison at me. He is my friend, a dear friend, who can call me anything and I’ll let it slide by. But he bad-mouthed the woman I love. He called her a slut. That is a difficult pill for me to swallow.

  My fist is already clenched, ready to knock down his pearly-white teeth down his throat, but for our friendship’s sake, I grasp the hem of my shirt and go on with a warning. “Say that word again and—”

  “Slut,” he says it again before I am finished with my threat. “Honey Hornell.” He scoffs. “Sounds like a stripper’s name. ♪Hornell is horny—”

  My arm swings, landing a
pimp slap on his cheeks. He falls back on Jeremy, and both of them head straight to the couch, with Todd landing on top of Jeremy. I didn’t want to slap him that hard, but it wasn’t my arm strength alone, but the Tsunami of emotions behind it that burst on his cheeks.

  Chapter 21

  “SON OF A BITCH! YOU slapped me?!” he says, rubbing his cheek.

  “In his defense, you deserve it.” Jeremey shoves Todd away from the top of him to the corner of the couch. “You got too far.”

  “That’s it! I want out.” Todd stamps his feet and stands up.

  I point at the door. “Don't let the door hit you on the way out.”

  “I want out of your life, Doofus.”

  “Even Better!”

  “And business too?”

  “Couldn’t get any better than this. Take whatever you want. In fact, take all of it—you money-hungry whore.”

  “Money-hungry whore!” He exclaims.

  “That’s what you are, aren’t you?” I start impersonating Todd. “My net worth was $4.8mn, but now it’s only $4.7mn. Wah-wah-wah. My dick is shriveling up in my body due to stress. I don’t know what to do. Wah-wah-wah. Girls don’t like me. Hookers don’t let me fuck them. Wah-wah-wah. I am just a little bitch—”

  “Argh!” he yells and shoulder-tackles me with everything he got, barely moving me an inch.

  What more could be expected from him? He is 5’6. And I am 6’2—nothing short of a steel wall since I started working out again. I am back in shape, baby.

  “You idiot!” I hiss at him.

  He realizes that he has no chance in the power game against me. So, he takes advantage of his speed and starts kicking my legs, my knees, and shin. I try to catch him, but he is too fast.

  “Why don’t you fight like a man?” I move my fist up to my face.

  He laughs. “Challenging a black man for a boxing match. We learn basic boxing skills in mama’s womb.”

  Then starts the fist fight between chocolate and the vanilla. Despite being vocal about his Mayweather-like skills, he sucks, and so do I. Not a single punch has landed. There is no clear winner in sight. In the fight of an American Gladiator and a short dweeb of a gladiator, the Britt wins.

  “Aaaah!” Todd and I both shout in pain when Jeremy gets hold of our ears.

  “I have had enough of you two,” Jeremy says, angrily.

  “Who gave you the right to be our daddy?” Todd yells and tries to free his ear from Jeremy’s hold. But what he didn’t know is that nobody can get out of it.

  “You didn’t? Oh, I am so sorry,” Jeremy replies and gives Todd’s ear some more twist—completing a 360-degree angle.

  “Fucking hell!” Todd screams.

  Being the victim of Jeremy’s ear pulling once, I know how he works. The more you resist, the more he twists. That’s why, I am as quiet as a mouse, and not resisting. I even know what he would do next—push us to the couch.

  “Sit your asses down.” He leads the way to the couch by twisting our ear and push us to the couch like I expected.

  Todd and I begin shoving each other until we are at the opposite end of the couch, facing away from each other.

  Now, what seems to be the problem?” Jeremy sits on the coffee table across us and assumes the role of a psychologist. “Todd . . . Brandon . . .”

  We are like two high school girls not talking to each other. Or like husband and wife in a couple counseling. You are dead to me and I to you—that kind of situation.

  “Todd, what do you two call yourself? Is it Oreo?”

  “Chocolate-vanilla.”

  “So, is it the end of ‘Chocolate-vanilla’?”

  “I think so,” he says.

  “Brandon?”

  “Fine by me,” I say. “Chocolate is nothing but a pain in the ass of vanilla.”

  “See, how he treats me,” Todd says. “In all the years I have known him, I never got the respect that I deserved. He shot down my every suggestion, every request, every idea.”

  “Tell me more about it?” Jeremy says.

  “Well, for starters, I had my heart set on calling ourselves ‘yin and yang.’ We certainly have the right color for it, but he said to go with ‘chocolate-vanilla,’ which sounds funny. In college, I told him that I like Cindy, and he replied, ‘Tough luck, bro. I am already fucking her. You can have her later.’ Last month, when we were in Los Angeles, I suggested him to open an office of ‘BBB’ there and put me in charge so that we can expand our insurance business. And he said no—a blatant, god damn, fucking no to my face. I am nothing more than a lackey for him. He never treated me equally—and never will.”

  “You prick!” I shout. “Have you ever thought for a second that I refused to open an office in LA because I don’t want you to move away from me?”

  “Brandon . . .” Jeremy gasps, probably not because of me not wanting Todd to move away, but for causing a breakthrough so early in the mediation.

  “No, it’s true, Jeremy. I don’t want him to leave me here alone. What would I have done without him? I don’t know how I used to treat him before the car crash, but after getting to know him all over again, I have treated him not equally, but more than that. Sure, I have made some changes around the office, and how I spend my nights, or money for that matter. Is that why I am under fire? Because I am trying to lead a civilized life while doing something good for the people around me and the society.”

  I poured my heart out, but looks like, Todd doesn’t seem to care. He has his face turned away the whole time of my heartfelt explanation to his accusation.

  “Todd, do you have something to say to Brandon?”.

  “Yes.” He finally turns his face towards me. “Burn in hell!”

  “Sure, I will . . . for committing the ultimate sin of befriending you.”

  “You asshole!”

  “Todd, what has gotten into you?” Jeremy brings some assertiveness in his tone. Todd is acting nuts.

  “Sure, two white guys ganging up on the black guy. Typical!”

  “Give a rest to your race card already,” I say. “Haven’t you punched it enough?”

  “Don’t talk to me directly. You had lost that right when you called me money-hungry whore. Talk via the shrink.”

  “You called the love of my life a slut.”

  “I’ll say it again.”

  “I dare you!” I bring my fist closer to his mouth. “Say it one more time, so that I can tie your tongue around your neck like a bow tie.”

  “Shut up, you fuckers!” Jeremy yelled at the top of his lungs.

  If the windows of the apartment were not vibrating earlier, it certainly are now, out of shock. Jeremy cursed for the first time!

  “You, cunts!” Jeremy roars and sits between us on the couch. “Look what you made me do? I cursed today. And I never curse.”

  “It’s all right, Jeremy. It happens to the best of us.” I tap on his thigh, giving him some words of support. But he slapped my hand away.

  “Hey, what did I do?” I scream.

  “It’s all because of you. I was living my wifeless, childless, oppressed life working under you, and in a couple of years, I would be dead. But no, you have to crash your car and become a reformed man. You made me fall in love with you. You awoke the feeling of fatherly love in me. And you didn’t stop there. No, sir. You brought in your friend in the mix, and before I know it, I became a proxy father to you two bozos.”

  “I am sorry, Jeremy. I didn’t know you feel that about me.” Todd finally begins to tone down.

  “Oh, shut up, Todd! You know it very well. Why else you would make my drink, offer me nuts, and deliberately let me win during our card game? During the last few months, you two have never let me feel like a butler.” Then, he sticks out his thumb, pointing at me. “And this one hasn’t paid me for the last four months.”

  Oh, shoot! “And you didn’t ask?” I say.

  “Why should I? You are doing all the work around here anyway. I lived like a king here for the last couple of
months. I was so proud of both of you. But today, I realized what a shit-face you both are.”

  “Hey!” Todd and I say simultaneously. Glad we are back on the edge of the same page.

  One minute he is praising us, and now he is calling us shit-face. Even chameleon doesn’t change its color so soon.

  “I am sorry, but the way you two are fighting, nothing else comes to my mind. How did the bond of your friendship become so thin that it couldn’t survive an argument? You two are best friends for the last two decades. You two are brothers, masturbation buddies—”

  “Wait!” I stop him right then and there when some new information comes to light. “Did you just say ‘masturbation buddies’?”

  I need to confirm. Maybe I didn’t hear that correctly. I think I am having some trouble listening; there must be some wax piled up in my inner ear.

  “Yes. Now, don’t tell me you don’t know what ‘masturbation buddies’ are?” Jeremy asks as if it’s a normal thing. Is it?

  “He wouldn’t know, Jeremy. He has three excuses for everything: car crash, lost memories, clean slate.”

  Todd, you dick! Let’s talk if you ever get in the same predicament as me and couldn’t recognize yourself.

  “In case the name is not self-explanatory enough for you, we jerked off together. It was sort of little competition we used to do while watching ‘Friends.’”

  “Friends?! The TV series? What’s there to masturbate to?”

  “Hello . . . Rachel Green. We used to give it a whack whenever she appears on the screen. You used to skip through the first few seasons until she is blonde enough for you. Even while rubbing one out, you had to have the blonde. Typical.”

  I just bought ‘Friends’ box set last week. Now, I can’t see it. It’s forever ruined for me. Why does this keep happening to me? Why do the things I want to watch gets ruined for me every time?

  “At least, tell me there was some sort of partition between us when we used to do the deed.”

  I keep my finger crossed. It never works for me, but this time, I am hoping it will. At least, Todd or I—one of the masturbation buddies—might have some decency to cover their junk.