by Amy Brent
Chapter 6: Sammy
“YOU WHAT??!!”
“I told Andrea that you had the hots for her and wanted to stuff your big sausage in her tight Amazonian box.”
I waited for Denny to smile so I would know for certain that he was joking before I reached across the desk to throttle his neck. He was standing in front of my desk with his hands behind his back, bouncing on the balls of his feet like a fucking ballerina. I almost expected him to do a pirouette.
I pressed my palms to the top of the desk to keep from crushing his head between them. I glared at him. “You fucking asshole. You did say something to her, didn’t you?”
“Maybe.” The corners of his mouth started to twitch. He was doing his best to keep the smile going, though he was starting to look like a frightened deer in headlights. He stopped bouncing and folded his arms defensively over his chest. “What’s the problem?”
I fell back in the chair and rubbed my eyes. “Dammit, Den, you know how I hate these fucking high school games you play. Let me guess; you passed her a note in class and told her to check the box if she’d let me fuck her out back of the gym?”
Denny smiled when it became obvious that I wasn’t going to kill him, at least not at that moment. He dropped into the chair and laced his fingers behind his head and gave me a proud look. “I just told her that you had asked about her and I thought you two would make a great couple. Christ, Sam, think of the giant babies you two could have.”
“God, you’re an asshole,” I said, shaking my head.
“I may be an asshole,” he said, narrowing his eyes as the smile faded away. “But you, my friend, are lonely. You need a good woman in your life.”
I huffed at him. “I’m lonely? Seriously? Have you seen the women I—”
“Carina and the other girls at Club D don’t count,” he said, hands waving the notion away. “You pay those girls to fuck you, then you get up and leave. You need a woman you can take home to mama. And take home to fuck.”
“You did Club D for years,” I said, growling at him. “You’re actually gonna sit there and judge me?”
“I’m not judging you, my friend,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m just saying that there is more to life than money and pussy.”
I grinned at him. Denny was famous for saying—on live TV no less—that the best part about being him was, “The pussy. Duh.” I reminded him of that fact, but he brushed it away.
“Look, I was stupid,” he said, shoulders going up and down. “At the time, you, me and Isaac were spending every weekend at Club D plowing through pussy like farmers plowing a field…”
“A field of pussy,” I said, eyes rolling. “So much fun to plow.”
He chuckled at himself. “Well, yeah, that’s what it was. We went there to drink and fuck where nobody could see us doing it. Don’t get me wrong, those were fun times and I don’t regret them in the least, but since I met Serena… well… my life has changed. For the better.”
I leaned back and stared at him for a moment, again, waiting for the smile to break. But it didn’t break. He kept smiling, even as his eyes went dreamy at the mention of Serena’s name. Then it hit me. Denny was in love. Son of a bitch. First Isaac and Amy. Now Denny and Serena. Fuck. It suddenly occurred to me that...
“Holy shit,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m the fifth wheel.”
Denny tried hard to deny what he had been thinking. “It’s not that, Sam, I mean, yeah… you kind of are, but…”
“Hey, if you love birds don’t want me hanging around that’s fine with me,” I said, trying not to sound hurt, holding up my palms and patting the air with them. “I can find other things to do. I don’t have to tag along on your little outings. I’m very capable of doing things on my own.”
“So, what are you gonna do? Keep spending the weekends at Club D and paying Carina to fuck you.”
“Carina said she’d fuck me for free,” I growled. I was frowning so hard it made my face hurt. And I was getting angry at my best friend, something a guy my size should never do.
“Carina will fuck you for free,” he said, smirking, shaking his head. “And that’s enough for you.”
“Enough?”
“Christ, Sam, lots of women will fuck you for free,” he said. “You’re a good-looking billionaire with a fucking sausage for a cock. Fine. But what about after the sex? What do you and Carina talk about?”
I blinked at him. “What do we talk about?”
“Yes, after you pay Carina twenty-grand to ride the monster, what do you guys talk about?”
“Well…” I leaned forward with my elbows on the desk and spread out my fingers to count. “We talk about… well… we talk about…”
Denny sighed and gave me a pitiful look. “Sammy, you’re my best friend and I love you like a brother, but it’s time you realized that there’s more to life than hanging out at Club D every weekend. It’s time to grow up.”
That one made me cackle. “You’re giving me relationship advice? Denny Chambers, the pussy king of TMZ?”
“That’s the old me,” he said, giving me a hurt look. “Now I’m Denny Chambers, the guy who is going to marry Serena Ruiz.”
His words slammed into my face like a hot wind. Seriously, I felt like I’d been kicked in the forehead by a horse. Denny Chambers, my best friend, the eternal bachelor, the guy who set the record for most women fucked in a single weekend at Club D, was getting married…
Married??
Seriously??
No fucking way!
“You’re fucking kidding me,” I said. “You’ve only been dating Serena for like six months.”
“We’ve been dating long enough to know that we love each other,” he said quietly. He brought his eyes up to mine and sighed. “I love her, Sam. I want to marry her and spend the rest of my life with her. And Isaac is going to ask Amy to marry him soon.”
“No fucking way…” The words came out in a gust of wind that left me breathless. I felt like something was squeezing my chest, crushing my lungs. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t speak. All I could do was gawk at him and pray it wasn’t true. Denny and Isaac getting married? Holy fucking shit!
“You okay?” Denny asked.
“Yeah, it’s just…” I finally took a deep breath and forced myself to smile. “Well, congratulations.”
“Thanks,” he said, beaming. “I want you to be my best man, of course.”
“It would be my honor,” I said, reaching across the table to shake his hand. “You’re a lucky guy. You deserve to be happy. You really do.”
“I know,” he said, smiling, head bobbing. “And so do you.”
I held on to his hand.
“Denny, what did you do?”
“You have a lunch engagement,” he said, tugging his hand free. “Andrea is waiting for your right now in the cafeteria. Mind your manners, you big lug, and don’t chew with your mouth open.”
Chapter 7: Andrea
One of the perks of working at IDS, aside from hanging out with hot billionaires, of course, was the free food and drink and assorted goodies that were always around.
There was a breakroom on every floor, each offering free sodas, juices, coffee, tea, bottled water, fresh fruit and yogurt, granola and protein bars, an assortment of bagels (mmm… cinnamon raisin), ten flavors of cream cheese (mmm… strawberry), and for those with a sweet tooth, every kind of donut known to man, fruit Danish, and other goodies that helped pack on the pounds.
I did my best to stay away from it all. I was no longer in school, but I still considered myself to be an athlete, still ran five miles a day and played volleyball on a community team. So far I had managed to avoid what was called the “IDS 15”, which was the IDS version of the “Freshman 15”, which referred to the 15 pounds most college freshmen (girls, mostly) put on their first few months away at college. Judging by many of my coworkers, it should have been called the IDS 25 or 30. It was hard to turn down free junk food, no matter how health conscious you were.<
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Then there was cafeteria on the main floor, which was like a large mall food court, with stations serving every kind of food you could imagine: fresh seafood, sushi, stir fry, wraps, hoagies, pitas, gyros, sandwiches, burgers, hot dogs, fries, baked potatoes, fried or baked chicken, ten kinds of soup, salads, sandwiches… you name it, they served it, and it was all free and you were welcome to take all you liked, but as the sign read, “Eat all you take.”
I usually just grabbed a turkey sandwich and chips—and a giant Mountain Dew (it’s my crack)—but today I opted for a pitiful little Caesar salad with no dressing and a bottled water. I know, pathetic, right? I was so worried about sitting across the table from Sammy Branniff and making a good impression that my stomach was churning. I would be doing good to hold down the salad. I was a great lay, but I could be a lousy date.
I found a table toward the back next to the window that looked out over the rolling hills and large duck pond (yes, IDS had a duck pond) where we wouldn’t be in the flow of traffic. There were usually three or four hundred diners in the cafeteria at any given time and the place could be a bit of a madhouse, especially given that many of those diners were younger than me and barely out of college. IDS could be a bit of a frat party at times, especially on Friday afternoons or the day of a big rollout. It was one of the things I loved about working there. I found chaos super motivating, but also a bit distracting.
That said, I didn’t want Sammy and I to have to yell at each other, so I chose the table in the back. I kept telling myself that I hadn’t chosen that table hoping that nobody would see us together. I mean, how do you miss a six-foot-tall redhead having lunch with a six-foot-six former linebacker. No matter where we were, we would stick out like a couple of large sore thumbs.
I sat facing the door so I could see Sammy come in. I didn’t know whether to start eating or wait for him. I glanced at my watch. He was already ten minutes late. Then it hit me… what if he wasn’t coming? What if Denny was just fucking with me and Sammy hadn’t asked about me at all? That son of a bitch! I will…
“Hi.”
His deep voice startled me. I looked up mid-rant and saw Sammy standing there, towering over me, a great big, beautiful bear of a man holding a tray between his hands that was layered with food: a couple burgers, a couple of hotdogs, a huge mound of fries, a big chunk of chocolate cake, an apple, a banana, a large soda... Sammy obviously wasn’t worried about impressing me with his diet. I gave my pathetic salad a sad glance and wished for a turkey sandwich.
I looked up and mustered a smile. “Hi.”
“Can I sit down?” he asked, nodding at the chair across from me.
I shook my head like an idiot and gestured at the chair like a Price is Right model. “Of course, sorry, duh…”
Sammy sat down and unloaded his tray on the table without saying anything else. He reached for the ketchup and doused the fries with it, then picked up one of the burgers and brought it to his wide-open mouth. He bit the burger in half with one bite and started chewing like a cow with a mouthful of cud. He sighed happily as he chewed. Our eyes met when he looked over the burger to find me staring at him.
“Oh, uh, sorry,” he said, lowering the burger so I could see his face. He chewed faster and tried to swallow. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and smiled. He had a wonderful smile. “I’m not being rude… I’m just…”
“Hungry?” I asked, flexing my eyebrows at him. I pushed the salad to the side of the table and helped myself to a fry. I swirled it through the ketchup and munched off the end, then licked the ketchup from my lips. “Me, too.”
Chapter 8: Sammy
You freakin’ idiot…
Those were the words that kept running through my mind as I sat across the table from Andrea with my mouth crammed full of cheeseburger and her gawking at me like it was feeding time at the gorilla cage. I was the gorilla in that scenario.
I forced the burger down and wiped a hand across my mouth.
Shit. Use a napkin, you moron.
Then she smiled at me.
Wow.
I knew she was gorgeous.
But. Wow.
Then she picked up a fry and bit it in half, then reached for my second burger and took a big bite. I took another bite. We grinned at each other as we chewed.
“I was wondering why you had that puny, little salad,” I said.
“I was trying to impress you,” she said, munching on another fry. “My mother always told me to eat like a bird on a first… well, you know.”
Was she going to say, “First date?”
Was that what this was?
A date?
As I watched her blue eyes sparkle and her lips curl into a smile, I hoped that it was. And I hoped maybe it might be the first of many.
“If you want to really impress me eat that burger before I finish mine,” I said. “Then we’ll see who can finish the hot dog first.”
“Are you challenging me to a race, Mr. Branniff?” she asked playfully.
“I am,” I said with a nod. “And call me Sammy.”
“Done,” she said, holding the burger between her long fingers. “Ready?”
“Set?”
“Go!”
* * *
Wonderful.
Just wonderful.
Those were the words going through my mind while sitting and talking to Andrea after we totally devoured every bite of food on my tray. I managed to scarf down my burger and hot dog before she could, but I didn’t beat her by much. She matched me bite for bite., although I had to admit that I slowed down now and then to watch her luscious lips move as she chewed. Her pink tongue would dart out occasionally to clean up the best she’d made. Damn, talk about a distraction.
My eyes took stock of her when she wasn’t looking. She really was gorgeous, with long red hair that cascaded around her shoulders, big blue eyes, the aforementioned lips. My eyes travelled southward, down the length of her long neck, the perfect tits beneath the silk blouse…
Wonderful.
Just wonderful.
I tried not to stare (or lick my lips too much) as she talked about her life and college (we both went to USC) and trying out for the Olympic volleyball team. She was an only child from a small town. She was a shy kid whose saving grace in school was being a killer athlete. We sat there for hours, or at least it seemed like it, getting to know each other. I was surprised at how much we had in common. And how much I liked her. And she seemed to like me.
Damn, I was gonna have to give Denny props.
Andrea was definitely a girl I wanted to know better.
At least for a little while.
Chapter 9: Andrea
“So, you’ve heard my life story,” I said after realizing that I’d been talking far more than Sammy had. “Now, let’s hear yours.”
Sammy sucked the last of his Dr. Pepper through the straw and gave the cup a shake to loosen the ice. He narrowed his eyes and looked toward the ceiling in thought. “Well, let’s see… like you, I was an only child, came from a small town, was a runt until puberty hit, then this happened.”
He swept his big hands through the hair like he was doing a magic trick and sat up straighter in the chair. Jesus, he was big. And beautiful. When he smiled, his entire face got involved. His eyes twinkled above his cheeks. He lips spread and his perfect teeth shined. The muscles in his jaws and shoulders flexed. I wondered what it would be like to sink my teeth into his neck…
“I went from five-nine to six-six in about a year,” he said, eyebrows arched, head nodding at the memory. “Growing pains were a bitch, but it stopped the bullying pretty quick.”
I frowned at the look of pain that came to his eyes. “You were bullied? I can’t imagine that.”
His forehead lined as he gave a slow nod. “Before puberty, I was a skinny kid with braces who always had his nose in a book. I was the school nerd, the one who made straight A’s without having to try. It infuriated the jocks and the stoners. I was beaten up
, push into lockers, had my head dunked in the locker room toilet…”
“And after you—” I swirled my hands in the air. “Filled out, as you say?”
“Those bullies wanted to be my friends,” he said, the smile returning.
“And did you let them?”
He looked me in the eye for a moment, then the smile returned. “What do you think I did?”
“I think you probably paid them back for everything they did to you,” I said. “Probably in spades.”
He shrugged without answering, then glanced at his watch. “Oh crap!”
I blinked at him for a moment, then looked at my watch. “Oh crap is right. Have we been talking for two hours?”
“Either that or time sped up on us,” he said, pooching his lips like he was sad to see out time together come to an end. “I have a staff meeting to get to.”
“Oh, um, me, too,” I said, though I actually didn’t have any place to go. I started piling our trash onto the tray. “Well, this has been fun.”
“It has,” Sammy said, rattling the ice again. “Maybe we could continue our conversation later? Say, over dinner? Tonight?”
