by PE Kavanagh
“Holy shit.” His body continued shaking as she took his face in her hands.
She ran her tongue along the thick edge of his lower lip and then stuck it in between. The ferocity of their desire gave way to something much more tender and intimate. They kissed like that, as they might have as teenagers, until the cold desk created a shiver up her spine.
She pulled away to catch her breath. He loosened the grasp around her waist and slid out of her.
“Ramona…”
There was nothing she could possibly say.
He stared into her eyes. “Are you okay?”
His semen ran down the inside of her leg. “Yes. Of course.”
She wanted to get to the bathroom, but each move sent another trail of cum farther down, now into her shoes. He didn’t let go.
She gave him one more kiss before moving him tenderly away.
He helped smooth her dress after he had put his underwear and pants back on. “I now have one less item on my bucket list.”
She halted the search for her underwear. Had he really just said… “Fucking someone on your desk?”
“No.” He fumbled with the buttons on his jacket. “Being with you.”
He really did say it. “Having sex with me was on your bucket list?”
“Since I was eleven.” His cheek quivered.
“Wow.” Her teenage mind hadn’t taken their explorations that far. And this was one hell of a strange postcoital conversation.
“That’s not really how I imagined it, though.” He grazed her arm. “A bit less fast and furious, maybe.”
The room wasn’t big enough to contain the enormity of her discomfort. “I need to go clean up. I’ll be right back.”
She stood in the bathroom for longer than was necessary. This time, there was no avoiding all those mirrors. Eyeliner had smeared across her cheek, and her lips were puffy and red. Her hand shook as she threw cold water on her face. It didn’t do anything to still her growing anxiety.
She had just fucked her childhood friend. The boy she thought she’d always love but hadn’t seen in fifteen years. It was amazing, no doubt, but wrong. Probably wrong. Maybe not wrong?
Ugh. Either way, she was in no position to address either his confession or their transgression. She tried to wrangle her hair behind her ears, but it was a lost cause. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Maybe it wasn’t as bad as she thought. Maybe this night would turn out to be a fun highlight of an otherwise dreadful visit. They could be cool, right? At least long enough for her to do what she needed to do, then get the hell out of town.
* * *
Lucas was looking down at his hands when Ramona stepped back into the office. She was not a stranger to sticky situations, but this was a whole different type of challenge. God, this is awkward. “It’s getting late.”
“Let me take you home, Mo.”
Anything to not have to keep facing him, hair mussed by her own hand. And not from a rough game of touch football on his front lawn. “Sure, thanks.”
They sat silently during the car ride across town. She hoped her father had kept the door unlocked, as she had requested. She didn’t want anything delaying a speedy entry into the house.
Lucas took her hand after parking in her father’s narrow driveway. “I know this is strange. But it doesn’t have to be. It’s still just me… Baloo.”
“That’s what makes it strange.” She reached over and gave him a small kiss. “Good night, Lucas.”
“See you tomorrow.”
The deep smile on his remarkable face was nearly enough to hold down her rising dread about the day that would begin in only a few more hours. The entire reason for her trip.
“Yes. See you tomorrow.”
Chapter Two
Ramona squirmed on the church pew, acutely aware of the tenderness resulting from the previous night’s escapades. How embarrassing. Her childhood friend would now think of her as the floozy who fucked him on his desk. Too bad it had felt so damn good. She couldn’t even muster a credible level of guilt or repentance. Not for the fun she had the night before and not for the day’s solemn event.
Her grandfather certainly knew how to go big, even under these conditions. The largest cathedral in town still wasn’t big enough, filled with more old white men than a Rolling Stones concert. Too bad he wasn’t there to see it, as he currently resided in the large mahogany box in front of the altar.
Ramona flipped her attention from the ostentatious flowers directly in front of their pew to her father, whose color was fading by the second. He was paler than his dead father. She took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.
“It’s going to be okay, Dad. You can get through this.”
He kept his gaze straight ahead. “I know, pumpkin. As long as you’re here.”
As per her grandfather’s specific requests, they were to have a full Catholic mass prior to the funeral service and celebration banquet. With her father out of commission and her out of the loop for so many years, host duties landed on two much more appropriate people: her brother, Connor, and Lucas’ father, Congressman Winston, the son her grandfather wished he’d had.
Thankfully, the Congressman was born for this kind of thing: warm, caring, and likely the only one in the room sad that the old bastard had died. Ramona’s grandfather had been hailed the most beloved governor of Virginia, but he was the most awful human being she had ever known. He was the cause of her mother’s abrupt departure, her father’s descent into addiction, and her own obsession with turning the wheels of power and money toward those who’d been taken advantage of. At least it had set her on a path to a career that she loved, and was damn good at.
Lucas had been nowhere to be found when they’d arrived at the church, which she accepted as a small gift. This day was already enough to handle without having to look in the face of the man who used to race her up and down the block and now sported a rather substantial bite mark on his shoulder.
She used every minute of the mind-numbingly long service to re-enact their fantastic evening, though. Even the memories were enough to create some very interesting sensations between her legs. Lucas had become one hell of a man. She hadn’t been seduced like that in… well… maybe ever. It reset all she thought she knew about the boy she hadn’t seen in years.
Her brother startled her out of the tenth or twelfth replaying to inform them it was time to go. The eyes behind the black-framed glasses were hardly red. And, of course, in typical Connor fashion, not a single hair was out of place. If only he could figure out how to wear suits that didn’t look like he’d stolen them out of his father’s closet.
“Let’s wait until the church clears out, Con. I don’t want Dad standing, waiting to get out, for any longer than he has to.”
Ramona waited for a sign from her dad that he wanted to approach the casket, to take a moment alone with his own father, but he made no attempt to stand. Despite his long-term sobriety, he might well have been fantasizing about making his way to the bottom of a very full bottle.
When the entryway cleared, she and her brother each took one of their father’s arms and supported him on the brief walk to the limo. They drove slowly to Congressman Winston’s house, the location for the next part of the traveling devotional.
The frenzy hit them as soon as they entered the house. Were there even more people than in the church? She could hardly believe this many people cared about the son of a bitch. Maybe they had come just to confirm that he was, in fact, dead.
Her father slumped in her arms moments after Connor got pulled into the crowd. “I think I'm going to be sick, pumpkin.”
She scanned the pack of black-clothed bodies for a reasonable opening to squeeze through. “Okay, Dad. Hold on. I'm taking you to the bathroom right now.”
A bit rougher than she would have liked, she whisked her father to the larger of the powder rooms on the main floor. Getting him to a more private space would have been optimal, but she had no chance of helping him up the enormous spi
ral staircase in the center of the house.
She leaned against the wall outside the bathroom and waited for him to finish.
“Mo!”
She snapped her eyes open at the same time she realized she’d closed them.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”
The look on Lucas’ face was not what she wanted to see. Urgent, frightened even. She swallowed. “What’s wrong?”
“I have to talk to you. It’s important.”
“It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about what happened. Especially not today. Let’s just let it go for now.”
“It’s not about that.”
Curiosity outranked relief. “It’s not?”
“I mean, it’s kind of about that. I just need to tell you something.”
Her father opened the door to the bathroom, startling them both. “Oh, hello Lucas.”
He drew Ramona’s father into his arms and held him in a soft hug. “Mr. Barrett. How are you holding up, sir?”
Her father stepped back. “As well as can be expected, I suppose.”
“Please tell me if there’s anything I can do for you. If you’d like to have a rest upstairs, it’s no problem.”
“I'm okay for now. Thank you, Lucas.”
Ramona began to walk her father back into the center of the house when Lucas grabbed her arm. “I really need to talk to you, Mo. Please.”
“In a bit, okay? I’ll come find you.” Ramona hoped that she could avoid that for the rest of the day. There should be enough people at this event to camouflage her. If all else failed, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d hidden out with caterers trying to avoid unwanted attention.
She watched him go left toward the kitchen while she turned the corner to find the next obstacle staring at her. She stopped so abruptly her father nearly toppled over.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
The familiar face with a devilish grin felt completely out of context in that room. “Tyler…”
He smirked. “Hmmm. By the look on your face, I’d say you forgot I was coming.”
“Oh my God, Tyler. I'm so sorry. I did forget. It’s been so crazy…”
“No worries, sweetheart. I'm just glad to see you.”
Without asking, he put his arm around her father and walked him the rest of the way toward an open seat. She didn’t dare glance back to see if anyone was watching.
“You remember Tyler, Dad?”
“Yes, yes,” her dad said in a way that Ramona knew meant absolutely not. It didn’t matter. Her father had gotten used to getting help from strangers.
As soon as Dad was settled, Tyler wrapped his arms around her. “How you holding up, Robin?”
“Like an umbrella in a thunderstorm.”
“Want me to whisk you away from here?”
She broke the embrace. “I can’t, Ty. I have to stay, if only for my Dad.”
“Where’s soon-to-be Senator Connor?”
An eye-roll couldn’t be stopped. “Getting his ass kissed, probably, by everyone pretending that he’s not the one they really came to see. He’ll be lucky if he has a minute to pee. He hasn’t even announced his candidacy, and the sucking up has already begun.”
“Ah, the benefits of being the one who’s going to save the world.”
“Yeah, right.” Except, her brother thought he just might.
“Any sign of your mother?”
Ramona had completely forgotten about her mother’s tendency to show up in the last place anyone expected her to be. “Connor pretty much confirmed she wasn’t coming. Not that I’d expect her to, considering her feelings about my grandfather.”
“But it is your mother…”
Yes, the last place she would be.
Tyler glanced around the room. “So, this is a huge room full of politicians.”
“Yup. And all their servants and sycophants.”
“Cool.” He quirked an eyebrow in deference. “Such a different scene from our world.”
Tyler clearly didn’t realize that this was her world. Or at least it had been before she walked away from it all.
He steered her from a gawking group of jowly men. “How was the funeral service?”
“Infinitely long and interminably boring. It would have made you grateful to be Jewish.”
“Understood. I think heavy drinking is in order. Don’t you?”
Now we’re talking. “Best idea I’ve heard all day.”
The short line at the bar took no time, and a glass of red wine landed in her very grateful hand. Ramona glanced over to make sure her father was fine. He was mostly left undisturbed. Not a good candidate for ingratiating. She finally exhaled a sigh of relief. It was all going to be fine…
“Ramona Barrett.”
The hairs on the back of her neck stood to attention as the other voice that narrated her childhood nightmares spoke her name. There was no need to turn around to know who had addressed her, but she did anyway.
“Mrs. Winston. Lovely to see-”
“Well, look at you. All grown up. I just can’t believe how much you kids have changed. It’s remarkable.” She glanced over at Tyler and likely made the quick assessment about his importance and returned to Ramona.
“You’re looking well, Mrs.-”
“Condolences on your loss, Ramona.”
“Thank y-”
“Have you seen Lucas yet? Oh my gosh, he might not even recognize you. Let me go get him.”
Ramona could have said that they had seen each other. And fucked each other. But she decided against it. Either way, Mrs. Winston had disappeared into the crowd and was on her way back with her son firmly in the steely grip of her hand. Great.
As Lucas approached, Ramona noticed that attached to his other arm was a brunette being pulled along like a child on a conga line.
“Lucas, look who I found! It’s Ramona! Can you believe it!”
“It’s her grandfather’s funeral, Mother,” he said, with barely restrained contempt.
Mrs. Winston drew a palm across her perfect platinum chignon. “Well, of course.”
Ramona took an oversized swig of her wine at the same moment the brunette extended her hand. “Abigail Langley. The future Mrs. Winston.”
The contents of Ramona’s mouth made an abrupt course change and exited, with impressive velocity, toward the tall, grinning woman in a previously impeccable suit.
Lucas’ mother covered her mouth, exclaimed, “Oh my!” and rushed toward the buffet table. Tyler grabbed a handful of napkins from the bar while Lucas stood frozen with wide eyes and a curled lip. Horror.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. Something must have caught in my throat.”
Both men gaped at her, but Tyler reached out to dab at Abigail’s collar and sleeve.
Ramona took hold of Abigail’s still outstretched hand and shook it. “ So sorry about that. I’m Ramona. Nice to meet you. And… sorry… again.”
One of the most frightening smiles Ramona had ever seen took over Abigail’s face. “Good thing we’re all wearing black, isn’t it?” A single huff punctured the shocked space.
Abigail’s increasingly disturbing reaction temporarily distracted Ramona from what she had just heard. But only briefly.
“Did you say the future Mrs. Winston?”
The creepy smile deepened. “I sure did. Lucas and I are getting married in less than a month. Isn’t that right, darling?”
Lucas looked away. “Yes, Abby. That’s right.”
It took all Ramona’s will to manage the contortion that wanted to take over her face, and smile instead. Her heart was beating so hard and so fast she thought she might fall over, and held on to Tyler for balance.
He extended his free hand. “Hi. I'm Tyler. Tyler Diamond.”
Abigail’s eyes and mouth formed into perfect circles. “The Tyler Diamond?”
Tyler put on the humble demeanor that Ramona had witnessed several times, but that the rest of the world didn’t know existed.
“Oh, my God. Mr. Diamond, I am such an admirer of yours. I mean your technology has changed millions of lives. Billions probably. Wow. I can’t believe I'm at a party with Tyler Diamond.”
“We’re at a funeral, Abby. Not a party.” Lucas spoke to her as if he was scolding a child.
She didn’t skip a beat. “Oh, of course, darling. Everyone knows what I meant.”
Lucas fixed his gaze on Ramona with a look she could have interpreted as an apology. That is, if she could get her mind to process what was happening.
“Thank you, Abby,” Tyler said. “I appreciate that. And congratulations on your engagement.”
“Thank you. We’re thrilled, aren’t we, darling?”
Lucas looked away. He did not attempt to acknowledge or answer Abigail’s question.
Tyler cleared his throat. “Well, I guess you can call me the future Mr. Barrett, then.”
Lucas and Ramona spoke in almost perfect unison. “What?!”
Abigail laughed, much too loudly. “That’s so funny, Mr. Diamond. So you’re going to give up your fantastic last name?”
“Well, Diamond is pretty good, sure. But Barrett is the name of legends.” Cue million-dollar smile.
Abigail shifted her attention to Ramona as if she was deciding how legendary she thought she was.
Olivia Winston returned at that moment with a cloth napkin, well after they’d all moved on from the spitting incident.
Abigail reached out to pat Olivia’s arm. “Thank you, Mama Winston. It’s fine.”
“So, you’ve all met. Wonderful!” Olivia beamed at Tyler. Maybe someone had told her who he was. “Did you know that Lucas and Ramona were childhood friends? Inseparable, really. And they had these ridiculous names for each other. Something about animals, wasn’t it?” She squinted at her son. “What was it again?”
Ramona answered. “Luc called me Mowgli, and I called him Baloo.”
Abby tapped her lip. “Oooh, from that movie. Wait, I know…”
“Jungle Book.” Tyler put his arm around Ramona under Lucas’ stare. “That’s adorable.”
