Red Hot Kisses

by Addison Moore

  “Afternoon, ladies.” His grin widens as if that were possible as if he’s gloating.

  Marley is quick to pull out a seat. “Well, if it isn’t the big boss man himself.” She does her best to flirt while busting out a country accent from out of nowhere. “Please, take a seat. Join us. Maybe you can tell us if we’re headed in the right direction?”

  The sting of heat bites under my arms, pushing my deodorant to its upper limits. And I’m pretty sure in less than five minutes no one is going to want to sit next to this body. Not even me.

  Rush swills the ice in his drink while searching my face as if looking for an answer. “Sure, but I’ve got practice. B-ball. So it’ll have to be quick.” He winks down at me, and my stomach seizes again as if he sucker punched me.

  My God, what’s with all the visceral reactions? I’m beginning to think I might actually be allergic to the guy.

  “That’s too bad. It would have been great to come through these acres of questions with you,” Marley whines as if this were a real travesty. But my stomach and I are begging for a little relief, so we don’t mind one bit. “So let’s get down to brass tacks. Trixie just read this completely ridiculous letter, and we’ve been debating whether or not it’s the real deal. You know we get a lot of crap.”

  “Oh!” I buck as if she just shot me. “No debating. It’s all good!” I sit straight as a pin while nodding up at Rush like a sea lion. Holy hell! I will personally key her perky little body once he leaves and then proceed to eviscerate Marley with my bare hands. What the hell is she thinking? Never mind. I know what she’s thinking. That I’m a big fat fake and she’s about to call me out. Okay, not really, but it sure as hell feels like it. “Marley and I were simply having a healthy argument.”

  “There’s no such thing as a healthy argument.” His lips twitch in response, and I can tell he’s suppressing that obnoxious grin of his. Newsflash: it’s not working.

  “Read it.” She smacks me over the arm before looking back up at Rush. “It’s hysterical really.”

  Rush locks eyes with mine, hot and searing. “Read it, Trix. You’ve got me curious now.”

  I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry as the Sahara. Ironic since I’m the Mississippi River in more carnal places when it comes to Rush.

  “Sure.” I shudder as I pull my laptop close and glare at the monkey juggling kittens grinning at me. Stupid screensaver. I open my email, a random one at that, regarding twenty percent off plus free shipping if you spend fifty dollars, and I seriously consider treating myself to a complete buyout of the cyber store in question later on tonight. My father’s new business might just be getting off the ground once again, but I’ve got Daddy’s credit card, and by God, I’m going to dive into some serious retail therapy once I get back to my dorm.

  I clear my throat again. “There’s this boy and girl who can’t even stand the sight of one another.” I glance up, stealing the opportunity to glare at Rush before continuing. “And every now and again they share a nothing kiss. It’s kind of a thing, and I want to know how to get away from him.” There. A much-improved version than the giddy starry-eyed girl one I relayed to Marley earlier. She’s read so many questions just like this one there’s no way she’ll remember verbatim. Her mind is probably numb to it all at this point. Speaking of which, I’ll have to get my hands on a bottle of vodka once I can figure out how to get out of this boiling cauldron Marley dunked me in.

  Rush winces slightly as I say it, and my body does that invisible roller coaster thing in response. Wee! So not fucking fun.

  “What’s that?” Marley struggles to see my screen, and I snap my laptop shut, nearly severing three of her fingers. “That’s not how it went. You’re watering it down for him because you know I’m right.” She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed. Everyone falls for a BS question now and again.” She looks up at Rush. “It went like this. Some girl says there’s this guy, and they pretty much can’t stand one another.” She spikes a finger in the air. “But get this. She claims they make out every now and again for kicks. She says it’s sort of become ‘their thing.’” Marley says their thing in air quotes.

  Well, slap me sideways. It takes all of my strength to look up at Rush. Holy crap. Kill me now.

  His glowing gold eyes are pinned on mine, and he’s doing that lopsided grin thing that brings the girls to the proverbial yard by the dozens. But there’s something he’s telling me with that soulful gaze. He’s digging in deep, penetrating me with a message I can’t quite comprehend.

  Marley scoffs. “Is that the biggest load of bullshit you’ve ever heard?”

  Boy—she is relentless in her pursuit to erase my reality, isn’t she?

  Rush shifts from side to side, that gloating grin all but dissipates. “I don’t know. Maybe you’d better answer it.” He nods to Marley. “Maybe you can give the girl some good advice.”

  Marley all but gags as she struggles to comprehend the fact he’s actually entertaining this nonsense. “What would you tell her?”

  My insides do their best to digest themselves. It feels as if a boa constrictor has wrapped itself around my chest, and suddenly taking another deep breath is no longer a viable option. I’d run into the restroom, but I can’t remember the damn code. God, I hate the fact they’ve made a simple task such as using the bathroom into a ten-minute heated panic situation. I always wait until I’m just about to have an accident, and then it’s like trying to defuse a bomb getting all those digits straight. 92786—five of them in the event you’re counting. And why is there a coded lock on a university-based restroom? Is there really an issue with vagrants wandering in looking to bathe and shoot up crack in the uni coffee house bathroom? I think not.

  Rush folds his arms over his chest, stares out the window for a second, looking as if he’s about to beat someone up. Then just like that, his affect softens as he looks from me to Marley. “What was her actual question?”

  “No question really.” Marley looks to me, and I just stare wide-eyed like a bona fide idiot. “I think she just wanted to know what I thought.”

  Rush looks to me, and that crooked smile is back to creeping up the side of his face. “Tell her to keep doing it. Sounds like she wants to. Who knows? She might be having a damn good time.” He gives a quick knock over the table, and I come to out of my trance as he jets out the door.

  Marley leans over and swats me with the edge of her scarf. “Would you breathe?”

  “What?” I gasp for air as if I were submerged, held under a chaotic sea in the middle of the storm.

  “You changed the story.” She lifts a suspicious brow my way, and suddenly I want the hardwood floors to open up and seal me deep beneath the earth. Marley collects her things and shoves her laptop into her bag before standing. “I’ll forward you any questions I think you might like.” She takes a step away then stops abruptly. “And, Trixie? You can keep kissing that boy if you want to. But I don’t think you need to pretend you don’t like him anymore. It’s pretty clear you do.” She gives a little wink and heads out the door.

  Crap. I sink in my seat, glaring out the window at that dark, brooding storm building outside.

  I’ve never felt so naked in all my life.

  * * *

  The Black Bear Saloon, aka Booze Central, isn’t exactly where I thought I’d spend all my free nights, but as it turns out, the food is decent and the live music sure beats the awkward dead silence of the school cafeteria. Don’t get me wrong, WB has really upped its culinary game from the time I visited with Rex a million years ago. The caf is now comprised of six specialty restaurants, all of them top-rated fast food chains, and by the time I log out of this place in the next four or five years, I plan on getting my fill of each of them. But there’s something oddly homey, yet amusing and boisterous about the Black Bear. It feels more like a party and less like a study sesh the night before finals.

  I’m not entirely sure why, but everywhere you go on campus—the cafeteria, the bookstore, Hallowed G
rounds, and, of course, the library, every single person is staring with a tormented expression into their laptop. Not to mention having an entire array of books spread before them. I get that this is an institute of higher learning, and that being studious is sort of expected at this stage of the game, but if you ask me it all feels like a farce, like we’re actors in some play, and every scene at Briggs consists of crunch time.

  However, the Black Bear is indeed perfectly boozy tonight with a crowd only rivaled by Mustang football games. The girls have all turned out in number, all of them looking their best. I swear, every last eyelash is in place, and here I am in my jeans, WB sweatshirt, and my hair in an uncombed ponytail. I spot Baya at the bar and give a little wave. It feels nice to see a friendly face in the place, and I’ll admit it gives me just a touch of pride to be in the know with the owner. Tomorrow night, we’ll both be live on WB radio. Baya and her husband Bryson will be calling into the show. So far all I’ve done is regal the masses with the King’s late great offerings, and I’ll admit it’s been more than therapeutic for me. If there’s such a thing as comfort music, then Elvis Presley is to me what mac and cheese is to the rest of society.

  Knox waves to me from a booth, and I head on over. We’re meeting Rex here as well, but by the looks of it I’ve beaten him, and the idea of beating my brothers at something puts a spring in my step. I invited Sunday to join us, but she said she screwed up her podcast and had to take her face off and start all over again—whatever that means.

  “What’s up?” Knox offers me a fist bump, and I do my best to smash his hand to pieces before taking a seat across from him. “Watch the merch.” He pretends to shake the pain out of his hand. It’s a silly game we’ve played since we were kids. Who knows, it might even be a throwback to those in-utero days, although technically, we were in separate sacks—each our own special delivery, as my father likes to say.

  “You know, I was just thinking how much I miss Dad.” I pick up the menu, forlorn. It’s been a few weeks since we’ve seen him, but he’s in town again and we plan on catching dinner soon.

  “Do you miss Mom?”

  His question throws me off, and I’m quick to lower my menu. Both Knox and I suffered the same fate when my mother took off.

  “Not really. Do you?” My stomach pinches and not in the I’m-melting-for-you way that it does for Rush. This is more of a wrecking ball punch I’m faced with every time that woman is around. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mother, but that hollow feeling she left me with when she slashed my heart has never quite gone away.

  Knox leans in, his dark brows furrowed into a hard V. “Trix.” His voice is soft and determined, and I hate it when he says it that way. It inevitably leads to one of those I’m-older-than-you-by-five-seconds-so-I-know-best-talks, and the worst part is, Knox is dead serious when he does it. “She’s trying really hard.” His Adam’s apple rises and falls as he glances to the exit. “Rex is bringing her by for a quick bite.”

  “What?” I bounce in my seat, suddenly moved to bounce right out of my skin. “Here, at the Black Bear? What is this, some kind of an ambush or something?”

  Knox takes a breath, that exasperated look already in his eyes, and just as he’s about to dump a bunch of meaningless words over the top of my head, words painful as scalding water, Harper shows up and plants a big fat wet one on my brother’s lips before sliding in beside him. A small part of me still hates the idea of Knox having a plus one. It hurts knowing that I have to share him with another girl, and so intimately at that. The thought of what Knox and Harper might be doing behind closed doors makes me want to vomit on cue. Ideally, brothers should always remain asexual beings. But that’s not reality. And neither is the fact that I’ll be chaste for the rest of my life. If I ever do get serious with someone, I’m sure my brothers will want to commit a felony with all the rage they’ll have at the thought of someone touching me. A small smile flirts with my lips at the thought of Rush getting his ass handed to him on my behalf. There is a certain poetic justice about it.

  “Hey, girl.” She gives a cheery smile, and yet I can’t find it in me to return the favor. Suddenly, it feels as if there are far too many bodies in here, too little air, and my tongue is sticking to the roof of my mouth for no good reason.

  Just as I’m about to muster up a cheery hello myself, Rex and Scarlett show up right along with—my mother.

  My body slaps with shock at the sight of her, and I’m the last to rise to my feet to greet her. Scarlett scoots in next to Harper, across from me, while Rex pulls a chair up to the head of the table and my mother slides right into the booth with me. Just freaking great.

  Bloody hell. First off, I loathe being squished in a booth with an entire body blocking my exit, so already I’m starting to feel angsty. Second of all, my mother is here. Need I say more?

  Mom leans back to inspect me. Her dark hair dusts her shoulders, she’s donned a pair of silver rimmed glasses that give a cat’s eye effect, and her makeup is impeccable. I’m sure Sunday would be impressed. She’s wearing her signature wool trousers and a pink speckled chiffon blouse that knots into a bit fluffy bow at the base of her neck.

  “Look at you all grown up!” She runs her fingers through my ponytail, and I can feel it rising and falling in one big clump. And this sweatshirt I’m wearing? Well, it’s safe to surmise the fact her expression is quickly souring as her gaze drifts down my body that she’s not too impressed with my brand of school spirit.

  “We’ll have to take you shopping.” She gives a quick wink, leaving me to guess who this nebulous we is. She softens into me, her pale pink lips curving into a smile. “I do miss my Trix Trix.”

  “Wow, I don’t think you’ve called me that since I was six,” I muse. “But, then again, that is the last time you spent any time with me.”

  “Trixie,” Rex barks. My older brother is always the first to come to her defense, and I’m sick of it.

  “You’re forever her white knight and shining armor, aren’t you?” I force a tight smile. I hate that I’m knowingly being childish. I hate that Scarlett and Harper will think I’m a spoiled brat by the time this entire fiasco is over, but my blood pressure is skyrocketing, and at the moment I don’t care who sees it. “I bet you rode right out of her uterus on a big white steed.”

  Knox kicks me hard under the table for that last dig.

  “Oh, stop.” Mom waves me off as she picks up a menu. “Scarlett and Harper, please excuse my daughter. She’s made a game of needling me with her punch lines over the last few years, and I’ve had about enough of it.”

  Baya shows up before the mother-daughter show can segue into the next act—a far more volatile rendition of the last—and takes our orders.

  She leans in toward me. “Bryson and I are just so excited to do the show. If there’s one person listening, it’ll still feel like a million to me. You’ve got my number. Feel free to text some tips. I’m nervous city!” Baya trots off, and all eyes are on me.

  Knox clears his throat. “Trixie’s hosting her own radio show on campus.”

  Mom’s mouth falls open. “I’ve always said you can do anything you set your mind to. And you will succeed. Give me the hour and I’ll give it a listen. My satellite picks up all the local college stations.”

  I frown at no one in particular. It’s hard knowing that whatever you do, whatever you’re about to do, either way you’re basically a disappointment to your parents. “One to two in the morning, Tuesdays and Thursdays. It’s in the Student Union, which isn’t that far from my dorm.”

  “My word.” Mom’s forehead struggles to wrinkle. Must be fresh from her latest Botox treatment. My mother is going to nail that whole forever young thing or get botulism trying.

  “It’s all Elvis all the time.” I lift a brow and watch as her eyes widen a notch, because let’s face it—she knows exactly where my obsession with the King came from, directly from the man whom I revere as my own king, my dear old dad.

  Mom looks dead ahead a mom
ent with that look in her eyes that suggests she could strangle someone. “Well, you’ve always been a daddy’s girl, haven’t you?”

  The air grows stale with resentment, and Rex immediately comes to our rescue carrying on a dull conversation of WB football. Soon it’s The Rex and Knox Show, and once again I’ve been relegated to second-class status. Although, admittedly, I’m most comfortable here. I can’t believe I let my anger get the best of me. I’m so embarrassed, I can’t even bring myself to look at Scarlett or Harper. My brothers are used to my childish antics, but the fact I just smeared our fecal family history in their faces makes me sick to my stomach. Dinner goes off with more of the same—Mom touting how proud she is of her boys, how she never misses a game! Now that’s news. She’s been to the games and not once bothered to text me to let me know she was there. My dad was out of town for the first two, but he swears he’s not missing another. My dad texts me each and every day, even if it is just a bitmoji of himself saying good morning, have a great day, love you buddy, and goodnight. I’m pretty sure my phone doesn’t have a history of my mother texting me. By the time we’re through with our last bite, my mother takes the liberty to order a round of chocolate cake for everyone.

  “It’s the boys’ favorite!” Mom sings to Scarlett and Harper.

  Scarlett shoots me a look. Her gaze lingers over mine a moment too long. “How about you, Trix?” Her voice is soft, as if I were suddenly fragile and needed to be treated so. “What’s your favorite dessert?”

  Knox huffs a quiet laugh. “Pie. It’s actually my favorite, too, but chocolate cake is a close second for the both of us.” He winks over at Mom, and it fills me with a flood of relief. I can always count on Knox to have my back.