Ordering Olivia

by Allie Standifer

  “Yeah, but he did,” Trinity crossed the room to join them, “and even though it sucked big wind at the time, we’re all glad you got the hell away from that fart-train.”

  “Yeah, I know.” And she did. After the big break-up, Livia had learned exactly how much her friends loved her because they never said a bad word against her fiancé until it was over. “I still say the sex-change announcements you sent out were a little over the top. I mean, I can understand sending one to his friends, but his office, his office’s main office, then the newspaper announcement in the middle of the Bible Belt might have been a bit much.”

  From the corner of her eye, Livia watched Emma cover a laugh with her hand. “Laugh it up, Yuckles. Like I didn’t find out about the e-book you had up on your site for free? The one with male villain who just happened to named Bcott. I’ve never seen a more despicable character and I’ve never felt sorrier for one either. I love the way you made this character’s name so close to his real one and yet no chance of being sued for libel.”

  “Wait a minute. Was Bcott the character who had the strange disease that caused his cock to melt off, slowly and with excruciating agony that no pain killer would help?” Trinity asked while wiggling her J-Lo butt between them.

  “Yep, he also developed that weird side effect from the experimental penis treatment. You know the one where he continually farted, loud, long and toxic.” Livia had secretly loved reading Emma’s twisted version of Scott’s fate. A copy of the short story hung framed on her office wall. She, too, loved the play off her ex-lover’s name. Scott or Bcott, by whatever name was still an asshole.

  “Hey, I’m not the only one who got even with him,” Emma protested and pointed to room’s other two occupants. “Recee and Briley weren’t innocent angels, I’ll have you know.”

  Livia and Trinity cracked up laughing. Because there was no way, in their current reality that anyone would ever assume Caprice Williams and Briley Evans were even acquainted with innocence.

  At thirty-six, Recee might have been the oldest of the group, but in no way would anyone accuse her of being the most mature. Livia loved her tall, wild friend. With her tumble of brown curls, dark blue eyes and vocal opinions, Recee loved her friends with a passion found no other place in life but her designs.

  And judging by the innocent expression on Recee’s face, the woman had done something really awful to Scott. If she didn’t hate the man so much, Livia might actually start feeling sorry for him.

  Three years ago, Scott Wiseman had professed his love for her. Tall, blond and perfect, Scott had been everything the fairytales promised. He’d showered her with exotic flowers, trips to the most romantic cities in the world and promised his devotion to the end of time.

  The end came sooner than anyone expected. At the ripe old age of twenty-nine, Livia had been admitted to the hospital after she collapsed at a New York modelling shoot. Once admitted and without her usual handlers there, the on call doctor had been blunt about her health assessment.

  “Eat or die,” the handsome young Dr. Huntington Winslow had stated flatly.

  At six feet even in her stocking feet, Livia had barely weighed in at one hundred and twenty pounds with photographers pressuring her to lose more.

  “If you keep this up, your body will shut down. Your organs cannot function without the proper fuel. It’s your choice, young lady,” Dr. Hunt Winslow had said and looked grimly at her almost skeletal frame. “Continue as you are, you’ll be the perfect size two for your coffin. Or start eating some damn food and live to be a hundred.”

  The blunt, no-nonsense manner of the doctor and his nurses had scared Livia enough to start asking questions.

  When she’d found the answers, she’d changed her life overnight. Her body had been trying to warn her for years. Missed periods, lack of energy, bouts of dizziness, forgetting things. All the details added up.

  Making up her mind, and a follow up appointment with Dr. Winslow, Livia had armed herself with as much knowledge as possible.

  She was done with the high pressure world of modelling. Released from the hospital, she’d raced home to Scott, eager to share the news of her retirement and to starting the family they’d planned on but always put off. She’d flown back to their home base in California, looking forward to starting the next phase of her life.

  Instead, she’d found him in bed with her publicist, Kindi, and her personal trainer, Hank. As with all idiots caught cheating, Scott had raced out of the house, briefs barely covering his wet dick. He sang the old tried and true lines.

  It wasn’t what she thought.

  This was the first and only time.

  He’d missed her so much he couldn’t help himself.

  And her personal favourite—Hank was there teaching them new yoga positions.

  “Ha, what position is that, Scott? Lying dog with cock up his ass?” she’d shouted as she stormed to her car in the driveway of their LA home.

  From there, it had been easy to make a clean break from her life in California. Her supposed friends only wanted to be around a ‘real supermodel’ not a retired one.

  With nothing left to rely on, Livia had called her agent and given her the bad news. Maxine Vista had taken it calmly, but asked Livia to give her forty eight hours before committing to anything.

  Within three, Max was back on the line, offering Livia a contract with one of the world’s largest real-size women clothing lines. She’d accepted the job, her new career and her new body.

  Now at the ripe age of thirty-two, Livia had retired from the mad world of modelling to open her club. A place for women of any size to let loose and have fun. Former friends had said it would never work. Club Botticelli was a hit from day one.

  And she never would have attempted such a huge undertaking without the support of the Freaky Five and her new friends, such as Hunt Winslow. The once harried E.R. resident had flatly told her the facts without once worrying over his position at the hospital and for that, he’d earned the group’s lifelong devotion.

  “Right, Livia?”

  A sharp jab to her elbows had her jerking back to the present. “Huh? What?”

  Recee gave her a predatory smile, filled with teeth and no humour. “I was just telling Innocent Em here that the animal rights activists have probably stopped sending death threats and bombs to Scott’s house.”

  Oh Lord, how she loved and feared her friends. Using her hands to cradle her weary head, Livia thought about slinking out, but since her apartment was through the hallway less than ten feet away, she didn’t think escape would come with that method.

  “You never told us how you sicced them on the fart-train in the first place,” Trinity pointed out, stilled happily squished between her two friends.

  Instead of replying, Recee gave them all an innocent smile and directed the topic to Bri.

  “And let’s not leave our darling Briley out of the fun. She certainly had a chuckle or two at the sleaze’s expense.”

  “Bri?” Livia glanced at the most collected woman of the bunch. At five-foot-ten with blonde hair and big brown eyes, Briley Evans projected the most put together attitude of the group. With her neat suits, matching purses and shoes, Briley owned one of the most successful travel agencies in the city, specialising in vacations for real people living real lives. In the age of computers, Briley still managed to make her mark and keep it thriving when all other travel business were going under.

  Her friend gave a careless shrug. “I didn’t do anything. Haven’t the foggiest idea what Recee is talking about.”

  If it had been anyone else, Livia would have kept her mouth shut, but not with Bri. Her friend might look like ice travelled through her veins, but she knew better. Besides she’d once held Bri’s hair off her face while the other woman puked up the three Kava’s she’d drunk previously. After that, Bri didn’t seem too scary.

  Adopting an innocent expression herself, Recee tapped one red fingernail against her glossy lips. “Hmm, I wonder what I�
�m talking about.”

  They all waited for the outcome guaranteed to happen.

  “Oh I remember!” Tanned fingers snapped in sudden movement. “You had his every travel reservation rerouted to Spit-stop, Alaska. For international travel fun, you had him kidnapped in Amsterdam, dumped in an exotic dance house where no one spoke English. From what I hear, it took him two days and two shifts window dancing to get out of there. And then…”

  Livia moaned into her hands. She loved her friends, truly she did, but did she really want to spend the rest of her life behind bars with them? “You know when we all get thrown in jail, the first thing I’m going to do, once those bars slap closed around us, is scream long and loud that I’m Briley’s bitch.”

  “And then what?” Emma asked, her voice hushed and nervous while her sure-to-be-incarcerated friends ignored Livia’s statement. Which was only sensible considering the person telling the story and the person the story was about were both certifiable.

  “And then after he boarded his flight back to the good ole USA, Scott somehow ended up in Bangkok where he was promptly arrested for possession of illegal substances.”

  Sadly, the only one who looked remotely surprised was Emma. “Scott was a drug mule?”

  “Have no idea, but again, he was arrested for possession, thrown into a very small and smelly cell, I imagine, and left there until the American consulate could be reached. Within twenty-four hours, he was released with the government’s sincerest apologies. I heard rumours that he hasn’t left his house and talk of bed wetting,” Recee finished with a satisfied smile.

  “And here I was thinking I’d finally win the title and crown for Evil Bitch of the year.” Emma sounded sorrowful at the loss.

  “Maybe next year, hon. For now, I say Bri Evans is our new Bitch Goddess and we should crown her reigning champion with all the glory it entails.” Recee patted Em’s head and sent her a good-natured wink.

  Bri only looked at her nails, gently buffed them against her cream silk shirt before calmly looking up. “Where’s your proof?”

  Livia knew her mouth was open, but she couldn’t stop staring at Briley. “Why didn’t I know anything about this? In the three years since I dumped him, not one of you nosy bitches said a word.” How could she not know this? What else had these revenge-addicted freaks done while her back was turned?

  “If I had done it, not that I’m admitting anything, but if I were responsible for such a thing, I would have waited until the walking penis felt safe. Then I would have hit him when he least expected it.” And without haste Bri crossed the room to pour a drink from the bar.

  “Damn, you are one scary bitch.” The words coming from Recee’s mouth were the closest to religious worship the other woman got. “Scott just got back from overseas two weeks ago. He swears Bri is Satin’s master or bride. I’m sure he’d be swearing his revenge, but he’s still got potty issues and has to sit on one of those blow up donuts.”

  The image painted itself in Livia’s mind without effort. Scott with his perfect hair, thin body and fanatical hand washing, dancing in the Red Light district in Amsterdam or thrown in a cell with actual bugs—he must have screamed like a pre-pubescent boy.

  And she started to giggle.

  Within seconds, her friends were right there with her, laughing so hard tears trailed down their cheeks.

  “Scott’s skinny white body in one of those sexy erotically decorated windows…”Trinity panted out.

  “Oh, he always had such knobby knees,” Livia added, snorting in laughter while holding her ribs. “Can you image the shock on those people’s faces when they got a load of him? They were expecting a buff beach demi-god and instead they were stuck with Scott the mighty mini-wiener.”

  It started them off again. Livia, Trinity and Emma fell off the couch and were rolling around on the floor, desperately trying to catch their breath.

  “For heaven’s sake, someone let me in on the joke. I could use a laugh.” A masculine voice broke through snorts and giggles.

  “Hunt!” Livia picked herself off the floor and ran into his outstretched arms. “Oh, I’ve missed you. Where did you end up this time?”

  Huntington Winslow topped her by several inches and bent his head to press a quick kiss on her temple. “You don’t want to know.”

  Livia stared up at her friend, worried at the dark circles bruising the tender skin beneath his once bright green eyes. After completing his residency, Hunt had signed on to Doctors Without Borders. Rarely was he in the city for more than a week. The Freaky Five spent a great deal of time speculating over his whereabouts and praying for his safe return.

  “Hunt,” Emma touched a gentle hand to his unshaven cheek, “you look so tired. Why don’t you sit down, and I’ll get you something to eat.”

  The sole male occupant of their close circle dropped a kiss on Em’s hand before pulling away. “I’m afraid I can’t stay long enough for a good meal. I just dropped by to see how everyone is holding up and tease you with my glorious presence.”

  “But…”Emma tried to protest.

  “You can’t just pop in here and leave. Damn it, Hunt, you look like you haven’t eaten a meal in weeks. I’m not coming close enough, but you smell as if you haven’t bathed in the same amount of time,” Recee said and threw their friend an ice-cold bottle of water.

  “With the love coming my way, I can’t imagine why I don’t come around more often?” His raised eyebrow conveyed his dismissal of their concerns. He might love them, but Hunt refused to let women coddle him.

  “Stuff it, Hunt,” Bri said with affection in her voice. “You don’t come around because you’re afraid we’re going to try and set you up again.”

  Hunt shuddered and his face resembled that of a kicked basset hound. “The abuse I take is enough to emasculate any other man.”

  “Oh please, we’ve had years to complete your eunuch training.” Trinity’s normally warm voice had iced over.

  Emma straightened. “Now, Trin, don’t start on Hunt. He’s just come back from someplace awful and needs a few minutes of peace, I’m sure.”

  “Thank you, Emma, my love,” Hunt said gallantly. “You have the heart and soul of a true lady. Never could understand why you hung out with this band of evil harpies.” His gaze was hard and piercing when it landed on Trinity.

  “Better a harpy than a ball-less freak of nature,” Trinity shot back while the promise of death sparked out of her eyes.

  Livia never knew the story behind Hunt and Trinity’s animosity. She doubted anyone but the two rivals knew the truth. And frankly, when they got going like this, she didn’t think it safe to ask. Better, in her opinion, to remain safe and stupid than end up knowledgeable and cannon fodder.

  So she, like the other three women, did her best to keep the two apart if they ever managed to be in the same place.

  “Soooo, Livia was just on her way downstairs to fuck a stranger.” Recee’s words echoed in the room and five sets of eyes turned to stare at her.

  “Recee, remind me to have M throw you out of the club or at least water down your drinks.”

  “Ah, Livia, baby, do you want to talk about this?” Hunt asked in a very hesitant male, oh-please-don’t-talk-to-me-about-sex kind of way.

  Livia took pity on him. “No, Hunt, I kind of doubt I need my doctor’s permission for this.”

  “But you might as well make yourself useful and write a note stating she’s healthy as a horse and STD free.”

  “Recee, super-glue. I’ll find it and use it, if you don’t shut the hell up.” Livia all but growled at her friend.

  Recee made a motion of zipping her lips

  “I’ve had enough of you loons. I’m going downstairs. If even one of you dares to stick your head out of this door, I’ll have M throw all of you out.” With that pronouncement, Livia swept out of the room before the smile she was holding back broke through. She laughed all the way downstairs.

  Sometimes good friends could be as much a curse as a bles
sing.

  Chapter Four

  Ethan knew the moment his mystery woman entered the room. The air around him crackled, the small hairs on the back of his neck stood up and his cock, the temperamental bastard, rose like a faithful hound to his master’s call.

  “May I buy you a drink?” The husky voice did little to soothe his already strung out nerves as it came from behind him.

  “Depends on where and what you’re buying,” he replied, shocked to hear his voice come out almost normal sounding when every atom in his being shouted at him to bend her over and fuck her until neither one of them could move.

  Whoa, heavy thinking there about a nameless woman he’d never really met, destiny or not.

  “The bar and whatever your heart desires.” In a smooth move, his fantasy stranger stepped from behind him, and a cloud of air scented with vanilla shot raw desire straight to his crotch.

  “Better watch it. It’s not my heart’s desires you need to be worried about.” Could a woman looked anymore edible than the lickable example of womanhood standing before him?

  Granted, Ethan had seen her before but never full force in his face. Something had always separated them—the width of a restaurant, her own cowardice in the dry cleaners, dozens of people in a movie theatre. But now, nothing was there to stop him from trailing his finger down the satin softness of her cheek.

  “And what is it you think I should be worried about?” Her voice came out a low, sexy whisper.

  He pictured her reaction if he dared to bend his head down to her ear and say, “My desire to strip those pants off, slam you onto the nearest flat surface and shove my aching cock in you as deep and hard as I can for as long as you’ll let me.”

  Instead, he went with something trite and benign. “A beautiful woman like you should have no worries.”

  She looked a bit disappointed in his answer and Ethan couldn’t blame her. That had been one of the lamest lines to even leave his lips.

  “Have you been to Club B before?” she asked, leading him towards the bar.

  Ethan gave his order and waited patiently while she did the same before replying, “I’ve been by it, but this is the first time I’ve been inside.”