I left the bathroom and wobbled towards the kitchen in thrift-store high heels I had no intention of ever wearing again. I turned the corner and found my closest police officer friends gathered around the granite kitchen island of Brent’s bachelor pad. I made a cursory scan of the open floor plan. The apartment was crowded. I saw a few familiar faces, cops I recognized from the academy or from the Fourth Precinct, but there were even more people I didn’t know. I’d always wondered how Brent had come to know so many people, but I’d never thought to ask.
My cheeks flushed red when I heard my friend’s wolf whistle and laughter at my appearance.
“Amazing costume, Cassidy!” Brent approved.
He was, predictably, dressed like a Nordic Viking. He recycled his costume every year. His broad chest was barely covered with a leather vest. A plastic hat with a giant horn positioned on either side threatened to spill off his head whenever he moved.
“Here. Hold this,” he instructed. He pressed a replica powder horn into my hands. “I’ll get you a beer, Your Highness.”
I peered down at the mystery liquid sloshing around inside of the horn. I didn’t dare take an experimental sip, however. I liked myself too much for that.
I smiled and waved my free hand at the other party attendees whom I knew: my friends Angie, Rich, Adan, and his girlfriend Isabella formed a tight half-circle around me.
“Interesting costume choice,” Rich smirked at me.
I crossed my arms across my chest in a defensive position. With the exception of the aggressive thigh-high slit, the aqua-blue dress wasn’t revealing, but I still felt uncomfortable. I never wore dresses or skirts if I could help it.
“Hey, at least I put in some effort,” I retorted. “What are you supposed to be?”
Rich didn’t appear to be wearing a costume at all. There was nothing special about his blue jeans, and the t-shirt he wore had the word ‘Life’ screen-printed across his chest. I was almost afraid to ask.
“Isn’t it obvious?” He pointed to the center of his chest. “I’m the Life of the Party.”
Rich’s pun produced a groan from me and my other friends. He looked too pleased with himself, however, to be concerned by our reactions.
“Where’s Julia tonight?” he asked. “Trouble in paradise?”
I smiled tightly. “No. The thought of hanging out with you assholes …” I couldn’t finish the cavalier lie. I stopped myself. “She had a long day at work. She apologizes for her absence.”
“That’s too bad,” he clucked. “She makes hanging out with you almost bearable.”
I didn’t suppress my eye roll.
“How’s Grace Kelly?” I asked.
“You would know if you called once in a while.”
My mouth fell open. “Wow. I haven’t gotten a guilt trip like that since I last saw my mom, Rich.”
“Shut it, Rookie,” he scowled. “Maybe I just miss my friend.”
On a normal day, I would have taunted him without mercy for being so honest and vulnerable. Maybe I was premenstrual, but I hugged him instead.
I could feel Rich’s arms and shoulders stiffen. “Easy there. I’ve got a girlfriend. You do, too.”
I pulled back and swatted at his chest. “Shut it, you goon.”
Brent eventually returned with a bottle of recognizable beer, thankfully, and not some mystery mead he’d whipped up special for the party. I exchanged his Viking horn for an IPA.
“How’s Cold Case treating you?” he asked.
I took a grateful preliminary sip. “I’m starting to get the hang of it, I think.”
“That’s great,” he approved. “Working on anything interesting?”
A strong arm flung around my shoulder. “Party foul! No talking about work!” My friend Angie pulled me close. Her breath smelled like alcohol.
Angie had teased her hair out to a small, puffy halo around her head. She wore a long leather jacket, bell bottom pants, a midriff, and big golden hoop earrings.
“Pam Grier as Foxy Brown?” I guessed.
“You know it, girl.”
Angie pulled a snub nose .38 special out of her leather trench coat and posed. I assumed the gun was fake, but with cops—who knows.
Over the next hour or so I made small-talk with strangers whose names I promptly forgot the moment they introduced themselves. I got my picture taken numerous times since I was the only Disney royalty at the party. My friends danced and drank and laughed at juvenile pranks, but I felt like an outsider.
As much as I wanted to be in the moment, my thoughts continually strayed to the woman I’d left behind. I periodically checked my phone for messages from her, but either Brent’s apartment building blocked all incoming messages or Julia hadn’t bothered to text me. Even though she’d been the one to bail on our plans, I couldn’t help feeling guilty about how I’d stormed out of the apartment.
I had just gotten to the bottom of my second longneck beer bottle and had a decision to make. I could grab another beer and be on the road to getting good and drunk, or I could call up a ride share car and head home early. Rich and Angie were engaged in a heated conversation if her wild gesticulations were any indication. Brent was chatting up a pretty woman dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, and Adan and Isabella looked cozy together on a couch in the living room.
I grabbed my duffle bag which contained the clothes I’d worn to the party and quietly exited Brent’s apartment without saying any goodbyes. My friends would only make me feel guilty for bailing on the party so early.
I didn’t quite know what I’d find when I returned to the apartment. I entered quietly in case Julia had decided to go to bed early. The front of the apartment was silent and dark. I didn’t need the lights on to maneuver around, so I didn’t bother turning on any overhead lights.
I didn’t call out to find out where she was. My heels clicked on hardwood floors until I made it to the master bedroom. My shoes sunk into the carpeting as I hovered in the doorway.
Julia’s normally meticulously arranged wardrobe was strewn haphazardly across the bed and had collected in piles on the floor. Empty hangers littered the ground like land mines. Julia herself was half-dressed in only a bra and black dress pants.
I announced my presence with a question: “What happened in here?”
Julia’s attention snapped from the closet to the doorway. Her dark eyes looked wild and unfocused. Her ribcage heaved as if she’d been exercising. I saw her take in my unorthodox outfit before she launched into her explanation.
“I never got a costume. I had no intention of ever going to that party with you, so I never bothered to even come up with a costume idea. I was selfish and stupid, and I thought you’d just do what I wanted and would skip your party to stay home with me.”
I held up my hands. “Hey-hey … calm down. It’s okay. It was just one dumb party.”
“That’s not the point,” Julia resisted. “I’m manipulative, Cassidy. I only think of myself and not how my actions impact others. I act as though I expect you to bend and give in to all of my petulant demands.”
I teetered in my glittery high heels. “We all have our flaws. Do you see me complaining? I do what I want. Like tonight—I still went to Brent’s party.”
“Then why are you home so early?” she posed.
She had me there. I dropped my eyes to the floor. “It wasn’t any fun without you.”
“See?!” Julia exclaimed as if I’d proven her exact point. “I ruined tonight with my selfishness.”
“But I don’t want to force you to do stuff you don’t want to do,” I said, shaking my head. “I wasn’t going to drag you to Brent’s party tonight like some cave man.”
“You shouldn’t have to drag me anywhere. I need to learn how to compromise better.”
“We’re still new to this.” I couldn’t help defending her from herself. “We’ll figure it out.”
Julia hung her head. “Do you still want me to go to that party with you?”
I wave
d away the suggestion. “It’s not a big deal; it was kind of dying down by the time I left. I guess we’re all getting old.”
“Are you hungry? Did you eat?” she asked. “I could still order Chinese?”
My mood brightened at the prospect of food. “I wouldn’t say no to that. Do I get to pick the scary movie, too?”
Julia initially curled her lip, but, remembering herself, her mouth quirked into a smile. “Nothing gore porn, okay? My stomach can’t handle it.”
I thrust my fist in the air in victory.
“Now when are we going to address this outfit of yours?” Julia remarked. Amusement colored her tone. “Where on earth did you get that thing?”
I looked down at the blue sequined dress wrapped around my body. “I ordered it online.”
“I’ve never seen you in a dress before,” she remarked, still smiling. “Although I’m not exactly sure this counts.”
I smoothed my hands down the sequined material. “Do you like it?”
“Not at all.” Julia gave me a predatory leer. “You should probably take it off.”
“Nuh uh,” I clucked. I took a self-preserving step backwards as Julia began to stalk toward me. “You’re not going to distract me from a scary movie and takeout food with sex.”
“Are you sure about that?” Julia slipped one bra strap off of her gently sloping shoulder and then the other so that only the back clasp held her bra together. I involuntarily squeezed my thighs together.
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to convince you?” she questioned.
“You don’t play fair,” I scowled. She was manipulating me again, but amazingly I didn’t mind.
Julia stepped closer, one step at a time. Her dark gaze held me frozen in place. Her hand went first to my waist as she slowly walked in a circle around me. I felt a blush grow on my cheeks, a combination of embarrassment and excitement. The costume was ridiculous and so unlike me.
With my hair tied back in a loose braid that draped over one shoulder, the back of my neck was exposed. She pressed her warm lips against the base of my neck. Her fingers toyed with the thin, gauze material that covered my upper back before I felt her take purchase of the dress’s zipper.
“Let it go, darling,” she rasped. “Let it go.”
The fastening let loose, exposing my shoulder blades. As she released more and more of my skin from the dress, she trailed her mouth and tongue down the top of my spine. She took her time with the zipper, causing my anticipation to heighten. My whole body seized with a shiver at the feel of her talented tongue marking a path down the center of my back. I’d discovered that my scar tissue was incredibly sensitive, and Julia took full advantage of that discovery. It was she who had helped me embrace all of my scars, or at least not feel so damned self-conscious about them.
She pulled away suddenly, her mouth no longer on me. I heard her frustrated noise.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“You’re stuck.”
“Stuck?” I echoed.
“Your zipper,” she said. “It won’t go any farther.”
She tugged again at the zipper that traveled down the length of my back. The scooped neckline of the dress tightened around my breasts when she pulled, but the zipper wouldn’t budge.
“I’m sorry, dear,” she clipped. “It would appear that you’re trapped in this outfit for the rest of time.”
I tried to reach the top of the zipper myself, but the mechanism had gotten jammed in the center of my back, just out of my reach. No matter how I contorted my shoulders or twisted my arms, my fingers could only uselessly brush against the metal fasten. A claustrophobic feeling began to rise in my chest.
“Julia!” I complained. “Do something!”
She pressed her palm flat against the exposed skin in the center of my back. The simple touch of her skin on mine instantly calmed me. I heard her chuckle. “Wait here, Princess. I’ll save you.”
She disappeared momentarily from the bedroom towards the front of the apartment. I heard the sounds of drawers or cabinet doors being opened and closed. When she returned, she held a silver pair of scissors.
My eyes widened at the sight. “What are you going to do with those?”
She experimentally snipped the scissors in the air. They even sounded sharp. “Rescue you, of course.”
She returned to the stubborn zipper at the center of my back. “I hope you weren’t planning a repeat performance,” she remarked.
I didn’t have time to ask what she meant before I felt the almost icy touch of metal scissors against my skin. I immediately jerked away, but she held firm to my shoulder.
“Hold very still,” she warned. Her mouth was close enough to my ear to ruffle the hair that had escaped from my loose braid.
The scissors slipped under the fabric of my dress. The cool metal felt like an icicle. The sharp blade began to slice just above my exposed skin.
“Wait!”
I felt the scissors pause. “Don’t you trust me?” she asked.
“I trust you, I do,” I promised. “But if you have to cut off the dress …” I bit down on my lower lip. “Could you …”
Julia and I were experimental when it came to sex. We pushed each other’s limits and tried new things that might make the other person uncomfortable. What I wanted to ask of her, however, brought a blush to my cheeks.
The scissors were removed and Julia spun me around to face her. I felt her knuckle under my chin, and she raised my head so my gaze met hers. She kept her hand there so I couldn’t look away. My request was stuck, just like that damn zipper.
Her warm caramel irises searched my face. I hadn’t intended to make her worry, but she looked concerned. “What is it, darling?”
“The scissors,” I gulped. “Instead of cutting down my back, would you …could you …you know, uh …cut up?”
She dropped her hand from my chin.
I immediately panicked. “That’s a weird question. Never mind. Forget I said anything. What you were doing was fine.”
Her nostrils flared and she spoke very calmly, very quietly. “Get on the bed, Your Highness.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
I lay on my back in the center of our bed. The scissors sat on the bedside table. Julia had taken off her pants and remained only in her matching bra and underwear. I could still feel the hot flush on my cheeks from what I’d asked her to do. Julia’s face, however, didn’t reflect the same embarrassment. She looked completely at ease, almost business-like.
She approached me from the bottom of the bed. She climbed onto the mattress and crawled towards me. The delicate lace of her demi-bra offered me a generous peek of her breasts. The bra struggled to keep the supple flesh from spilling over. I could hardly wait to get my hands and mouth on her, but first I needed to get out of this damn dress.
Julia didn’t immediately reach for the scissors. Her hands went first to my ankles. She lifted my right leg and rested my heel on her shoulder. The movement strained my hamstring and pulled at the seams of the dress, but I was in no position to complain. Her dark gaze locked on mine. She turned her head slightly, but maintained her stare. She pressed a soft kiss to the inside of my ankle.
I watched intently as she retrieved the scissors from the end table. My breath caught in my throat. The blades somehow looked even longer and sharper than before. I expected her to focus on the thigh-high slit, but Julia rarely did the expected.
She pressed tip of the closed blades lightly against my inner calf. She slowly dragged the pointed end from my ankle to the inside of my knee. My instinct was to pull away, but she’d smartly planned ahead. The fingers curled around my ankle weren’t letting me go anywhere. She pressed another kiss against my inner ankle, a little higher than the first.
The single slit of my costume stopped high on my upper right thigh. Julia reached forward so the bottom edge of the scissors rested against my naked upper thigh. We seemed to hold a collective breath when she made the first incision. The cheap pol
yester-blend material practically melted under the scissors’ blades, a testament to their sharpness.
She continued to cut away at the bedazzled dress. I hissed when the bottom of the blades passed over the front panel of my underwear and touched my bare abdomen. It reminded me of swimming in a bikini at my parents’ cabin on Lake Armstrong. The temperature of the water was always fine until it hit my stomach.
Julia’s dark eyes clouded with concern. “Are you okay?”
I clenched my teeth. “Yeah. The metal’s cold.”
“Poor baby,” she clucked.
She stopped, but only to crawl higher up on the mattress so she could continue with her task. I reached for her, but she swatted my hands away. The scissors were returned to the bedside table, and delicate but sure fingers gripped my wrists and pinned them into the mattress. I’d once asked her not to take it easy on me in bed, and she’d remained faithful to that promise.
Her mouth was warm against the side of my neck. “This isn’t a race, my dear,” she roughly whispered. “We’ve no place to be. And if I’m remembering correctly, you seem to enjoy it when I take my time.”
I hadn’t mounted a protest against the pacing of her endeavors, but she must have suspected I was becoming antsy.
The scissors reappeared in her hand. She leaned over my body to press butterfly light kisses on the exposed skin just above my underwear. The scissors traveled higher still. She continued to cut and kiss up the center of my body. She dipped her tongue into my belly button and licked a line up the center of my twitching abdomen.
The cutting paused and Julia arched a quizzical eyebrow when she discovered I hadn’t been wearing a bra underneath the dress. I shrugged in response to her nonverbal judgment. The costume had built-in cups and my modest-sized breasts didn’t require much support.
The dress continued to cut away from my body like glittery wrapping paper. When the scissors skated against my collarbone to complete the job, an unsavory thought popped into my head: Kennedy Petersik had been carved up like this on the autopsy table. I saw the ugly, jagged stitches up the center of chest. The star-shaped entry wound in her stomach had looked just like the star-shaped wound in the back of Amir’s head. I’d made him turn around. I hadn’t been able to look him in the eyes.
One Little Secret Page 18
