by Lynn Donovan
Blake chuckled. “You two know each other?”
“Yes.” They said at the same time.
“Mom, you remember Dillon from the Java Cupid Coffee Shop?”
“Oh! So you’re that Dillon?” She turned to Wendy. “Your father told me you were seeing a Dillon.” Then she extended her hand and shook his. “How nice to actually meet you.”
Patty sat down and Dillon sat also. He widened his eyes at Wendy, and mouthed, Douche Bag? Wendy mouthed back, Gold Digger? They smiled and leaned in to touch foreheads together.
“What can I get—“ the waitress interrupted. “Dillon!”
“Prissy?” Dillon paled some more.
“Priscilla!” Blake placed his hand on the waitresses shoulder. “I thought you looked familiar. So good to see you.”
“Mr. Cayne, yeah, I recognized you immediately, but I figured you didn’t remember me.” Her dimples deepened as she flashed a perfect smile.
“Well, I do now. How’s Mildred and your parents? I haven’t seen them in ages.” Blake continued to stand.
“Grandma’s doing well. She walks two miles a day.” Prissy giggled. Her voice was high-pitched and irritating to Wendy. “She can run circles around the rest of us.”
Patty and Wendy stared at the waitress, slack jawed. Anger festered in Wendy’s gut. “I’m sorry, who are you?”
Blake laughed. “Oh Wendy Ashton, this is Priscilla Langley. We know her and her family from our membership at the same Golf Club Mary and I, well, I belong to. They’re old friends.” His eyes misted for a moment. He cleared his throat. “Dillon” —he slapped him on the back— “and Priscilla used to be quite an item for a while there. I never did know what came between the two of you.” Cayne looked inquisitively at his son.
Dillon stared at the table and mumbled for his dad to stop.
Priscilla glared at Dillon. Her bottom jaw jutted out to the right.
Wendy fumed, watching the exchange between them. There was definitely history. Tonight’s topic of conversation had just changed to a whole new subject when this dinner was over.
Priscilla waved a dismissive hand. “Oh, Mr. Cayne, it was just puppy love, right Dillon.” Priscilla pressed up against Dillon and slapped both hands on his shoulders as if she were going to lean over him. “Wasn’t really meant to be.”
Dillon didn’t say a word, nor did he lift his eyes to look at his lost puppy love. Wendy took it all in for discussion later.
“Well, that was weird.” Dillon followed Wendy into her apartment.
“Tell me about it.” Wendy eased down onto her couch.
Dillon seemed edgy. “Listen, I think we need to talk about this.”
“You think?”
He looked at her curiously. “Yeah.” His brow tightened. He slipped his hands into his front pockets and paced the room. “Do you realize what this means?”
“Not so sure.” Wendy crossed her arms in front of her chest.
He stopped mid-stride and glared at her. “If this works out between you mom and my dad… we’ll be… half, no step-brother and sister.”
“Oh.” She stared at the floor. “That.”
“Yeah.” He flopped down beside her. “I know, right?”
“No. I don’t think you do.” She popped her ankle and crossed her legs.
“What?”
“Seriously? You have no idea what I might want to talk about, other than our parents getting together?”
Dillon stared at her with a blank expression.
She stared back. Anger roiled in her gut. “Does Priscilla Langley ring any puppy dog bells?”
“Pffft.” Dillon waved his hand. “Oh. Her. She was a huge mistake in my life. Back in high school. Her parents and my parents thought we were the best thing since sliced bread. What they didn’t know is that Prissy has no moral compass when it comes to being in a relationship. She slept with every guy on the football, basketball, and soccer teams. I dated her because my parents literally forced me to, but she was never really my girlfriend. She wasn’t anybody’s girlfriend. She was EVERYBODY’S girlfriend.”
Wendy stared at him. “Well, she certainly seems pretty fond of you.”
“Wendy, she’s pretty fond of any guy whose breathing.” Dillon leaned back on the couch with a far-off look in his eye. “I heard she had a kid and had no idea who the father was. I also heard her parents disowned her afterwards and kept her kid. That’s probably why she’s working at a burger joint.” He smiled but it was without any mirth. “Yeah, breaking it off with her was like Obsessed, dude. I think she still has some of my jerseys and who knows what else. I just wanted away from her and I didn’t care what she kept.” He chuckled.
Wendy nodded slowly. “Uh huh. So, could the kid be yours?”
His eyes shot up to hers. “No!” He leaned back to really look into her eyes. “Wendy, I’m telling you, I never—there’s no way the child is mine, I never did anything other than kiss her goodnight. I swear!”
She glared at him a while, seeing nothing but honesty in his water blue eyes. “Okay. I believe you.”
“Now, about our folks.” He leapt up and paced the floor again. “I’m serious. This could get really complicated, really fast.”
“I really liked your dad.” Sadness filled her tone.
He eased back down. “And I really liked your mom.” They sat in silence for a long while. “I’m sorry I called Patty a ‘gold digging bimbo.’”
Wendy looked into his eyes. “I’m sorry I called Blake a douche bag.”
“Mr. Douche, as I recall.” He chuckled.
“Mr. and Mrs. Douche.” She giggled.
“Right.” Dillon laughed but it was short lived. He rubbed his hand down his face and exhaled slowly. “What’re we gonna do?”
She stared at him. Her body knew what she wanted to do. Her mind wondered how the definition of incest would interpret this situation. “I don’t know.” She sighed. At last she said, “Maybe it won’t work out between them.”
“Are you kidding? Did you see how happy they were tonight? They were like two kids in love for the first time.”
Wendy chuckled. “What do you know about two kids in love for the first time?”
He cupped her jaw in his palm and looked deeply into her eyes. “I’ve got an idea about it.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah, I do. And that’s why this is a real problem.” His voice escalated again. He leapt up and paced in front of her couch. “I-I just don’t know how this’ll pan out, Wendy.”
“Well.” She watched him go back and forth. “My dad always says to sleep on it.” She grinned mischievously.
He stopped and stared at her. “I don’t think that’s going to help anything. In fact, I think we’ve already made things worse. I mean, if we are going to be brother and sister—“
“Step-brother and sister!” she retorted. “Huge difference. We’re not blood related.” She considered her words. “We-it’s complicated, I’ll give you that, but it’s not incest, for God’s sake.”
He glared at her a long while. “You’re right.” He eased back onto the couch. “You’re right.” He said more enthusiastically. “It’s weird, messy even, but it’s not against the law.”
“Right.” Hopefully that was right. She lifted her phone. Too late to call Dad. “Hey, your dad’s a lawyer. Maybe we should talk to him about all this.”
Dillon shook his head. “No. I’m not one-hundred percent sure where their relationship is going. I don’t want to put him on the spot. I’ll wait until he makes some announcement or whatever. Then I’ll talk to him about the legalities of all this.” He gestured toward her.
“Well… what do we do in the mean time?” Tears stung her eyes. Was he breaking up with her? Why did they have to wait for their parents to make up their minds about their own relationship, when she was quite set on moving forward with Dillon.
“I-I don’t know.” Dillon jammed his fingers through his blonde curls.
Wendy stared at
him. She knew. She knew exactly what she wanted. Why didn’t he? “Well, maybe we should cool it until you do.”
His eyes shot up to hers. Worry drew his brow and forehead taut. “Maybe we should.”
SIX
Dillon certainly didn’t look like he agreed with her suggestion to cool it for now. In fact, he looked hurt. But what else could she say? It was late, she was tired, he needed to go home or go to bed. One or the other. She wasn’t going to share her bed with him again until he knew what he wanted. Regardless of what his dad or her mom decided. They had to make this basic decision independent of anyone else’s plans.
Wendy tried to sleep. But it was impossible. Everything that had happened tonight swirled in her head. She could hear the wind blowing outside her bedroom window. She felt like it was blowing all her thoughts around in her head, too. Prissy-Priscilla-Priss. Her mom, she’d never seen her so happy. Blake, he seemed like a really nice man and so thoughtful to her mom. Dillon, suddenly he wasn’t sure what he wanted with this relationship. School, she was behind on her studies, and she couldn’t let that happen.
But she couldn’t concentrate on any of it now. She drew a hot bath with Epsom salt and soaked. But still she couldn’t slow the tempest in her mind. She sat in bed, chewing her fingernails and staring at her phone. Should she call Dillon? Was the ultimatum she made fair? He was an amazing guy. So much fun to be with, great sense of humor. He made a great cup of coffee. She chuckled. And he had the best kisses she’d ever experienced. Not that she’d experienced as much as Priscilla… Anger raised its ugly head.
She kicked off the covers and stood beside her bed. Maybe a warm cup of milk. She padded to the kitchen. Her phone in hand. She thumbed it to life.
Pouring some milk in a Java Cupid coffee mug she had bought, she put it in the microwave oven, and pressed thirty seconds, then start. She looked at her phone. Dillon’s number was ringing. “OH.” She lifted it to her ear. The ring tone sounded. And again. And again. Then an answer. “Dillon?”
A whispered voice. “Hello?”
Wendy paused. The microwave dinged, but she ignored it. “I-is Dillon there?”
“Yes,” the woman whispered.
Wendy dipped her head. Anger reignited in her gut. “May I speak to him?”
“No.” The voice continued to whisper. “ He’s asleep right now. May I leave a message?”
“Who is this?” Wendy wanted to transport through the airwaves and throat punch whoever this was.
“This is Pricilla, who’s this?”
Wendy paused. Pricilla! What the—Why on earth was Pricilla at Dillon’s place, answering his phone. Was everything he told her tonight a lie? They still were together? “Who I am doesn’t matter. Have a nice night.” She disconnected and reared back to throw her phone. Closing her eyes, she thought better of it. She couldn’t afford to get a new one if she broke this one. She sighed. Now she’d never sleep for sure! How could he do this to her?
At the same time…
Priscilla dug through her Dillon-keepsake box until she found what she hoped was there. She lifted his football jersey and inhaled deeply. His scent was long gone, but she remembered what it did to her insides. She had never loved anyone like she loved Dillon Cayne. If only she could have seduced him back in high school, then he’d have been hers. No man could resist her once they got a taste of what Prissy offered. She smiled.
She could fix that tonight.
She tossed the key into the air and caught it. Just a few miles away from her ratty-ass apartment, Dillon’s nice little apartment sat nestled next to the golf course. She knew exactly which door was his, even though he’d never invited her there. She had observed from where he couldn’t see her. The key, she’d stolen when he thought he’d lost his entire set. She’d slipped them in her trash bin at her parents curb one night after he brought her home. He had been so distant, she knew it was only a matter of time before he broke things off. Her dad had called him a cab and he’d had a locksmith make a new key to his little roadster.
She had her memorabilia of their life together. And she had a key to his apartment. Tonight, she would show him what he had been missing these past few years. And she’d make him hers, forever. The key slipped right into the lock and turned without a sound. She tiptoed in, gently closing the door behind her. Shrugging her knee length all-weather coat, and sliding out of her loafers, she shivered. Her bare skin prickled in the cool of his apartment. She padded toward the door she assumed was his bedroom.
He breathed deeply, as she stood next to his bed. Mostly, he slept in the middle so she could slip in on this side or the other, but either way, she’d be limited in space. No matter, she’d snuggle up to his body and be there when he roused. A thrilling sensation coursed through her. Her body longed to be skin to skin with him. She eased a corner of the covers down.
A vibration buzzed on his night stand at her side. It illuminated the room. Dillon stirred and mumbled. Prissy lifted the phone and held it against her breast to muffle the sound and the light. She scurried from his bedroom to the living room.
“Hello?” she whispered as quietly as possible.
“I-is Dillon there?” a woman asked.
“Yes,” Priscilla glanced at his bedroom. He hadn’t woken.
“May I speak to him?” the woman said, anger resonated in her voice.
Priscilla frowned. “No.” She moved to the far end of the living room, terrified her voice would carry in the still of the night and wake him before she had a chance to slip into his bed. “He’s asleep right now. May I leave a message?”
“Who is this?” the woman hissed.
Priscilla smiled. She recognized her voice. It was that woman at dinner with Dillon and his dad. “This is Priscilla, who’s this?”
“Who I am doesn’t matter. Have a nice night.” The woman hung up.
Priscilla held the phone against her breast and bit her lip. Dillon seemed to like this woman, Wendy, she recalled her name. But after tonight, he’d only have eyes for Prissy Langley. She smiled and quickly padded back to his bedroom.
Dillon filled the doorway with his body. She jumped when she realized he had gotten up. He had nothing on but boxers. His broad shoulder filled the open space. He rubbed his head and blinked his eyes. “Wendy?”
“No. Dillon, my love.” She pressed up against his body and wrapped her arms around his chest. “It’s me, Prissy. I’m back. I forgive you. Let’s go back to bed.”
Dillon stared down at her. “Prissy? Priscilla! How’d you get into my apartment?”
“You left me your key, darling.” She laid her head against his taut chest and listened to his heartbeat. It sped up and his voice rumbled. “You’re not welcome here.” He peeled her arms from around him and pushed her back, staggering back from her. He stared at his phone. She smiled, knowing her naked body was slim and beautiful. She turned so that her body could conform to his. “Oh Dillon, sweetheart, I know you don’t mean that.”
“Where are your clothes.” He growled.
“I wore a coat.” She smiled mischievously and pointed over her shoulder.
He strode to the living room and looked around. Finding her coat, he picked it up, and shoved it into her hands. “Is that my phone?” he gestured toward her hand still against her cleavage. She smiled and handed it to him.
He snatched it from her and gestured for her to leave. “Oh Dillon, Baby. You know you want all of this.” She posed as if she were on a modeling runway, with hands on hips, pelvis shoved out one direction, her shoulders twisted the other, legs lined in front of the other for a sleek, slimming affect.
“Are you drunk?” He said and took her coat from her.
She giggled. “I knew you’d wan—“ He opened the coat and forced her hand into the sleeve, turned her around, and shoved her other arm into the sleeve. “Get out of my apartment. And give me that damn key!”
Her shoulders slumped forward. She reached into her coat pocket and held out the key. He snatched it from
her palm.
“But Dillon—“ she pouted.
“Out!” he opened the door and shoved her out by her shoulder.
“My shoes!” she stumbled onto his stoop.
He glanced around, located her loafers and bent to pick them up.
She leaned in to watch the stretch of his boxers and smiled.
He tossed the shoes at her and slammed his door. She shivered and slipped on her shoes. Humiliated and embarrassed, emotions poured down her face and she sobbed ugly tears all the way to her car.
SEVEN
Sunday dragged by like a documentary on the molecular origins of planet earth. Priscilla’s whispered voice echoed in Wendy’s mind. She couldn’t sleep at all after speaking to Dillon’s girlfriend. Worse yet, she couldn’t keep her mind on her studies. She was useless. She cleaned her apartment, did laundry, including her bed sheets, and stared at her reading assignments. Her brain couldn’t or wouldn’t absorb a single word.
Lindsay Ledbetter called and asked her to come hang out, but Wendy declined. Under other circumstances, she’d drop everything to go hang with Lindsay. She was her best friend. They’d know each other since middle school.
She couldn’t even bring herself to tell Lindsay what had happened. Wendy had only known this Dillon for a week. How did it all go so wrong so quickly?
Thunder clapped in the distance. Wendy stood at her front window and watched the dark clouds build. Great. Perfect weather for her mood. Just then the thunder and lightning broke together. She winced at the sudden boom! The storm was directly over her head. Turning from the window, she sighed, and eased down onto the couch. No wonder her leg had been aching all day. It was the best weather vane around. Lucky her.
Her phone chimed. It was Dillon. Her heart soared. Then she remembered they weren’t together any more, and her heart plummeted. She opened his text, “Pizza Delivery!”
“What?” she said out loud. Was he—?
She walked to her door and opened it. Dillon stood crouched up against her door frame, trying to stay out of the downpour. “Get in here!”
He rushed in and closed the door. Shaking the rain off his coat, he walked straight to her kitchen, and put the pizza box on her counter. “You’ve got sodas right? Oh, by the way, I saw you called last night. I’m sorry I slept right through it. But I’m here now!” He grinned at her.
