Pretty Dirty Trick

by Tabatha Kiss

  I peel the envelope open and yank the card out. “You look adorable tonight. Love, your SA,” I read. “SA?”

  “Secret admirer,” she translates as she smells them again.

  Trix leans in to catch a whiff. “How many bouquets have you gotten?”

  “Six,” Melanie answers. “One a month for the last half year.” She fingers the ribbon. “Always a dozen with a one-inch ribbon. A different color each time. The last one was purple. Green before that.”

  I turn the card over, searching for evidence. “And you have no idea who’s sending them?”

  “Nope. None. But whoever it is knows my schedule, where I like to have lunch, my home address…”

  “Melanie.” I stare at her. “Don’t you think you should report this? This person is stalking you.”

  “They couldn’t do anything without a name or a face.” She sets them down on the table beside her. “And even with that, you can’t get a restraining order unless you can prove harmful intent and so far, all I’ve received is a bunch of roses now and then. Perfectly harmless. Chicago cops would probably just tell me to take it as a compliment anyway.”

  Trix glances around with wide eyes. “They could be here right now...”

  “Most likely.”

  I nudge her arm. “Maybe it’s Robbie.”

  “Pfft. Please.” She rolls her eyes. “That man couldn’t find my clitoris without a spotlight, there’s no way he’s tracking me around like this. No, this guy is smart and cunning. An obsessed fan, perhaps.”

  Trix chuckles. “That didn’t end so well in Misery, Mel.”

  “Hey, if this ends with me getting to lay around in bed all day while some devoted schmuck brings me food in exchange for smutty love stories, I wouldn’t mind. Sign me up. No more bills. No more taxes. If he’s moderately attractive and has a stable wi-fi connection...” She holds up her hands in surrender. “No cliffhangers. No cheating. Guaranteed happily ever after.”

  “What if it’s a woman?” I ask.

  She smirks. “You know, you’d think that would change my mind but I’ve done far stranger things for free food.” She looks forward and her head instantly falls. “No,” she groans. “No. No. No. No—”

  I look up at the man approaching the table. Brown hair, cleft chin. Leather jacket and jeans.

  Robbie. Speak of the devil.

  “Hello, ladies,” he says as he approaches. “You’re all looking very nice tonight.”

  “What the fuck are you doing here?” Melanie spits.

  He holds up her new book, gray and indigo cover and all. “I came to get my copy signed.” He sets it down in front of her. “I am your biggest fan, after all.”

  “Yeah, I doubt that.” She eyes the room. “Please tell me this place has a security team…”

  “Or, you could just sign the book,” he suggests, nudging it a little closer. “Wouldn’t want to make a scene over nothing, Mel.” He nods at the bouquet. “What’s with the roses?”

  “They’re from a secret admirer,” Trix says with suspicious eyes. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you, Rob?”

  “Flowers aren’t my style,” he says, shaking his head.

  “Strange,” Melanie says. “I didn’t realize drawing a penis on the bathroom mirror telling me to come and get it, baby was considered a style.”

  He winks. “It worked, didn’t it?”

  Melanie snaps the book open and scribbles on the title page. “For Robbie,” she says aloud. “Thanks for all your support. Your pal, Mel Rose.” She slams it and holds it out to him. “There. You can go now.”

  Robbie takes it and flicks it open. “Hey, Robbie,” he reads, grinning wide. “Eat a dick and die. Mel Rose. Aww, that’s cute. You drew a frowny face and everything.”

  Melanie feigns a smile. “Bye-bye!”

  “Not so fast.” He holds up his phone. “I paid for a selfie, too.”

  Her smile drops.

  Robbie bends back over the table and holds up his phone. “Say cheese, Mel,” he says, lining up the photo.

  “I hate you,” she says as the flash blinds her.

  “Perfect.” Robbie inspects it. “Now, that’s a Christmas card.”

  “Go. Away.”

  “Relax. I’m on my way out.” Robbie looks to me and Trix again and bows his head. “Ladies.”

  “Bye, Robbie!” I say with a wave.

  “Love you, Robbie!” Trix adds.

  “We miss you.”

  We both blow kisses at him and he returns a wink before disappearing into the nonexistent crowd.

  Melanie groans. “I need new friends.”

  Trix pats Melanie’s back.

  I turn in my chair. “I’m heading to the ladies’,” I say. “Be right back.”

  I stand up and head toward the restrooms in the far corner. I check over my shoulder, making sure Trix and Melanie aren’t looking before hopping between the bookshelves and rushing toward the exit to catch up with Robbie.

  I step outside, quickly looking from left to right in search of that familiar leather jacket. I spot him down the block just seconds away from hailing a cab.

  “Hey, Rob. Wait up!”

  He hears me and stops, instantly throwing his hands up as I catch up to him. “Hey, I was nice,” he says, defending himself.

  “I know.” I cross my arms to shield the cold. “You were. I just wanted to say thank you.”

  “It’s her big night,” he says with a shrug. “And from what you’ve undoubtedly already deduced, it’s not as big as she wanted it to be. I can read a room, ya know.”

  “Not about that.”

  He pauses, studying me for a second before cracking a smile. “You went back to Judy’s,” he figures out.

  “I did.”

  “Did you try the cross?” he asks.

  “I…” I hesitate. “Yeah, I did. A little. Sort of.”

  Robbie nods with respect. “Well done, Nora Payne,” he says. “You did what I couldn’t do.”

  “Couldn’t?” I ask.

  “I guess I’m what your people would call a prude.”

  “You?” I lean closer. “Prude?”

  He turns up his hands. “Life’s complicated enough. I like to keep the bedroom simple. Melanie, on the other hand… she had her moments of panic. Won’t get into it now — but I’m happy for you! You look good.”

  “Thanks.” I smile. “I’m feeling pretty good about it.”

  “That’s all that matters.” He smirks. “So, what’d she say?”

  “Say about what?”

  His brow piques, hinting at something dirty.

  “Oh.” I exhale, remembering. “Yes. You were right. She thinks about you.”

  Robbie takes a smug breath, filling his lungs to the top. “Yeah, that’s the stuff worth living for,” he muses.

  I tap my foot to spur some extra warmth. “How did you know I’d cave and ask her?”

  He laughs. “Because any man who marries one of you marries all of you. I had to spend way too much time with you three. Now, I’m a perceptive young chap and I picked up on your personalities real quick so I can basically predict within a one-percent margin of error how you’ll react to most situations.”

  I blink. “That’s creepy.”

  “Yeah, that’s me.” He nods. “But, on the bright side, when shit hit the fan with Melanie, I knew that she’d be okay because she had you guys to take care of her. I never got the chance to tell you before but I appreciate everything you did for her then.”

  I tilt my head. “That’s sweet.”

  “Yeah, that’s me.” He smiles. “Take care of her tonight, will ya? She’ll need it.”

  “We will.”

  “See you around, Bubbles,” he adds, raising his bandaged hand to his forehead.

  “Bye, Robbie.”

  He performs a quick salute before he continues on down the sidewalk with his book by his side.

  Seventeen

  Nora

  Tender lovin
g care in our world translates to two things: Calories and alcohol.

  Trix supplied the wine by snatching a few imported bottles from her grandmother’s pantry while I easily ordered a few pizzas to be delivered to Melanie’s apartment the moment we arrived after the signing.

  Melanie probably would have preferred to sulk alone but she’ll get her chance to do that. Her eyes occasionally slip over to the stack of unsigned books left over from the signing. Trix and I do our best to distract her from that. That’s future Melanie’s problem.

  Tonight is tipsy pizza night and it doesn’t take long until the three of us are sprawled out in the living room with a few empty bottles and gnawed-on crusts.

  I close the refrigerator door with a fresh bottle in hand, pausing for a second to admire the bunch of ribbons she has hanging from a magnetic clip beside the ice dispenser. There are six ribbons there, the newest pink edition hanging in the front with purple, green, gold, red, and silver following behind.

  “Bitch, hurry up!” Trix shouts from the couch. “I’m drying out.”

  I walk back into the living room and set the bottle down on the coffee table in front of Trix, who promptly snatches it along with the corkscrew.

  Melanie has crawled from her spot on the floor to her work desk in the corner again. She sits in the chair and stares at her laptop with a sunken look on her face.

  I scold her. “Hey. No, no. No work.” I snap my fingers. “Come back here.”

  “I’m just checking to see if anyone is talking shit about me,” she says.

  “No.” I look at Trix. “You were supposed to be watching her.”

  Trix twists the corkscrew. “She gave me a dollar,” she says, popping the cork out.

  I lower to the floor, plopping down to rest my back on the couch. “Well, whatever. I give up. Be sad.” I shove the end of a pizza crust into my mouth, instantly regretting it. I’m already very full but I can’t seem to stop munching.

  Melanie groans and slinks back to the floor. “Fine,” she says as she settles on her cushion by the coffee table. “You’re right. You’re totally right. I should not dwell.”

  Trix’s phone vibrates against the end table. Again. She ignores it. Again.

  Melanie squints. “Okay, who the hell is texting you so much?”

  “Booty call bodyguard, huh?” I ask.

  Trix nods. “Unfortunately.”

  “Ohh,” Melanie muses. “Booty Call Bodyguard. That’s a good title.”

  I chuckle. “Still haven’t talked to him yet?”

  “I will.” Trix picks up her glass. “Tomorrow. Papa’s lawyers are coming to talk to me so I’ll probably run into him then.”

  “To Papa ‘Gento,” I toast.

  They both raise their glasses and we all take a sip to the best damn mafia dad in the world.

  Melanie chuckles behind her glass. “Remember the time he told Robbie to cut his fucking hair?”

  “Well, to be fair,” I laugh, “it was longer than yours back then.”

  Trix rolls a fist and gestures with it just like her father does. “Oy! Young man,” she says, immersed in an Italian accent. “You got nice chin there. Why you gotta disrespect it with that mane?”

  Melanie grins. “He’s never let it get longer than his earlobes since.”

  Trix’s phone vibrates again and we groan.

  I extend my hand. “Give it to me.”

  “No,” Trix says.

  “Give it to me. Give it to me. Trix. Give it to me.”

  She snorts. “Jesus, is this what sex with you is like?”

  I pop off the floor but Trix is much too close. She grabs the phone before I do.

  “Okay, okay!” she says, swiping the screen. “I’ll tell him to back off.”

  “Tell him you are not interested in continuing a physical relationship with him, nor are you looking to begin an emotional one,” I say, my words slurring. “You need to set some boundaries with him.”

  Melanie shakes her head. “If a guy is aggressive enough, that won’t work. It just turns them on.”

  “Then, what do you suggest she do?”

  She shrugs. “Kill him?”

  “Well.” Trix cringes. “That’s a dick pic.”

  My head snaps toward Melanie at the same time she looks at me. We both bolt off the floor and rush to stand behind Trix’s shoulders to get a closer look.

  “Ladies,” Trix sighs, “meet the very best part of all my bad decisions.”

  My jaw drops at his impressive girth. “Whoa.”

  Melanie giggles. “Not bad, Marky.”

  “Indeed.” Trix clicks her tongue. “Too bad it’s connected to an overbearing, possessive jerk.”

  I pat her inked shoulder on the way to my spot on the floor. “Boundaries,” I say.

  “Yeah, I know.” She taps out a message and sends it off. “We’ll see how he takes that…”

  Melanie plunks down on her cushion again. “I’ve never received a dick pic.”

  I blink. “Really?”

  “Never,” she says.

  “My Black Book profile gets them all the time. I finally had to stop checking it and created a new one with a fake identity.”

  Trix leans up. “Wait, Robbie never sent you a picture of his junk? That can’t be right.”

  Melanie shakes her head. “Never not once. However, the bathroom mirror drawings were a pretty accurate representation, I have to admit.”

  Trix exhales hard at the ceiling. “How are we all single? Can I just point out how utterly unfair that is?”

  “You noticed that, too, huh?” I mutter.

  “I honestly can’t remember the last time we were all in relationships at the same time.” She pauses. “Have we ever all been in relationships at the same time?”

  “I don’t think so,” I say, thinking back.

  “Well,” Melanie grunts from the floor, “you gals can mope all you want. I, for one, love being single. I can do whatever I want, whenever I please. I can receive flowers from strangers without anyone pissing a bitch about it. It’s great.”

  Trix looks at her. “There’s nothing you miss about being in a relationship?”

  Melanie wrinkles her nose. “We talking in general or with Robbie specifically?” she asks.

  “Robbie, let’s say. But only because I’m genuinely curious.”

  I raise a finger. “Me, too.”

  Melanie stares off for a moment. “I miss his vasectomy. Does that count?”

  “No,” Trix says.

  “Oh. Then, no.”

  I snort and pick up my glass. “I miss the deep, soulful chats,” I say, taking a sip. “Staying up all night just talking with sex being the furthest thing from your minds…”

  “Yeah,” Trix says with a sigh. “Those are nice.”

  “Multiple orgasms,” Melanie says.

  “Oh, yeah,” I say. “Those are nice, too.”

  “No, I mean Robbie,” she says. “He can have them.”

  I raise my head. “Robbie? Seriously?”

  “No, he can’t,” Trix says. “Men can’t do that. Can they do that?”

  Melanie nods. “Oh, yes. Some can and he could.” She sighs. “That man could pull out, come all over my tits, go right back in, and pound me until we both came together. Now, that... that a girl might miss. But the rest of it?” She waves a hand. “Nah.”

  I blow a raspberry until I run out of air. “Sex. That is all.”

  “And not just any sex,” Trix says. “Mind-blowing, body-tingling, need-to-rehydrate-mid-boning sex.”

  My mind wanders back to that room on the third floor. Naked and chilled to the core but I had sweat on my brow and heat rising off my skin. I could feel the outline of his cock pushed against my clit. Just five more minutes and I’m sure I would have been screaming his name.

  Mr. Snow.

  “No-ra!”

  I snap to attention. “Huh?”

  “I said, how’s the stress going?” Melanie asks, her eyes squinting. “You okay?”r />
  “Uh…” I swallow. “Yeah, I’m just… really fucking drunk.”

  “Good. I’m not the only one, then…”

  We all raise our glasses once more, each one of us throwing back whatever was left inside and chugging it down our throats. A little wine dribbles over my chin. I wipe it away but the heat inside of me rages on.

  Mr. Snow.

  I can’t wait any longer.

  I glance at the clock. It’s just after midnight. Clive works the club until two…

  I feel for my phone in my pocket before pushing off the floor. “Be right back.”

  Melanie nods at Trix. “Any word from Big Dick Bodyguard?”

  “No, not yet…”

  I wander down the hall to the bathroom and close the door behind me. Their voices are barely audible, meaning I can probably get away with a whisper or two. I slide my phone from my pocket but quickly stop when I realize that I don’t have Clive’s number.

  “Dammit…” I say to myself.

  I set a hand on the counter to keep the floor from slipping out from under me.

  Maybe the club has a number.

  Yes, I’ll call the club and ask for him.

  I sit on the toilet seat lid and run a search. Thank god for auto-correct. I don’t think a Red Crick Board exists in Chicago.

  A girl answers. “Red Brick Road. What’s your fantasy?”

  “Clive,” I say.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Uh.” I clear my throat and sit up straight, just like I do at work when I have to make official business calls. “I would like to speak to Clive Snow, please. Is he avurlable?”

  “I think he’s walking the floor right now. Do you mind holding?”

  “I do not. Thank you very much, ma’am.”

  The line changes and soft hold music plays. I close my eyes, bouncing along to the smooth elevator music. Actually, I think that’s the same music they play in elevators in my building.

  “Clive here.”

  I startle. “Hello!”

  “Nora?”

  “Yes, hey. It’s me. I’m Nora.”

  He chuckles. “And you’re drunk.”

  “I am not. I’m just a little tipsy… and thinking about you.”

  “Oh, yeah?”

  I lean back on the toilet. “And I want…”