by Selena Kitt
“How did you get this number?” Tink’s voice trembled, her face going white, the rouge on her cheeks standing out like fat roses. Wendy looked up, watching as Tink covered the mouthpiece, her eyes closing as she swore to herself, “Fuck! Fuck, fuck fuck!”
Tink put the phone back to her mouth again. “I’m sorry, there’s no one here by that name, goodbye.” She put the phone back in its cradle, resting her head against the wall, her breath coming so fast Wendy was afraid she was going to hyperventilate.
Wendy put her hand on the girl’s shoulder—although she knew Tink’s true gender, she still thought of her as a girl—and whispered, “Tink? Everything okay?”
“No.” Tink lifted her head, blinking back what Wendy thought might be tears. “Definitely not okay.”
“Who was that on the phone?”
“No one.” She was clearly lying. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Isn’t there anything I can do?” Wendy asked, feeling helpless.
“I should go find Peter,” Tink said faintly, wiping her hands on her apron and wandering toward the door. She stopped in the doorway, turning back to look at Wendy. “What was I doing?”
“Ummm…” Wendy frowned, startled by the blank look in Tink’s eyes.
The timer on the stove went off and Tink jumped like she’d been goosed, grabbing hot pads off the counter and pulling a cookie sheet full of hors d'oeuvres out of the oven. She slid another cookie sheet in and set the timer again.
Wendy was curious about the phone call—she couldn’t help it—but she thought it best not to mention it, given Tink’s reaction. Instead, she went back to painting petals pink and watched Tink arrange more appetizers.
“That’s a pretty dress,” Wendy said, just to change the subject.
“Thanks.” Tink smiled, tugging at the hem. It was very short and showed off her long, very shapely legs. “Oh, speaking of dresses—Peter had me leave a dress for you in your room.”
“One of yours?”
Tink laughed. “You’d swim in one of mine, honey.”
Well, that was true enough. Whatever hormone replacement she’d had, or maybe implants, had considerably blessed Tink in the breast department. She was tall, curvy, and large-busted. Wendy was far shorter, slight, and far less endowed.
“Peter picked it out for you.” Tink’s gaze swept over the smaller girl. “I’m sure you’ll look adorable in it.”
Wendy put down her paint brush. “I don’t want to fight with you.”
“Were we fighting?”
“Tink, I think you’re a very pretty…girl…” Wendy started, a sort of peace offering.
“Why don’t you go get dressed?” Tink waved her toward the kitchen door. “I’ve got this.”
Wendy sighed but she went, giving up on trying to call a truce between them. It was impossible. Besides, she was far too curious about the dress waiting for her upstairs, and she wasn’t disappointed when she unzipped the dry-cleaning bag. Peter had great taste, and although Wendy wouldn't have chosen it for herself, she had to admit that blue was her color, as bright as a cloudless summer day, pure silk, backless and barely to her knees.
She spent more than an hour pampering herself, shooing away several interruptions from the boys, but she knew there were other bathrooms in the house. For a little while, this one was hers. She shaved her legs, admiring them as she went. They weren't as long as Tink's, but they were shapely and smooth nonetheless. Her breasts weren't much more than a handful, but that meant she didn't have to wear a bra with the gorgeous dress Peter had chosen for her, a fact she wondered about as she dressed—had Peter considered that fact? The thought brought a slow, secret smile to her face as she used a curling iron to make long, fat blond ringlets in her hair.
She looked at herself in the mirror, feeling as if she'd been lost in a dream. One brief encounter in the library had brought Peter into her life and changed it completely in less than a week. It didn't seem possible—but it was real. She knew it for sure when Peter knocked on the bathroom door and gasped out loud when she opened it, the sight of her making his eyes light up and his mouth twist into a bemused smile.
“You clean up fine, Wendy-girl.” He took her hand and led her down the stairs where guests were gathering, most of them she'd never even met, yet they all brought gifts for her because Peter had asked them to.
She saw Curly and Nibs standing together, each of them holding a beer, and was relieved to see a few friendly faces. Slightly was over in the corner, she noticed, his red head bent and whispering to the girl in his lap, but there were noticeably far fewer girls than boys present.
And of course, there was Tink, flitting around the room, refilling drinks and passing out hors d'oeuvres and smiling over at Peter, who winked and waved back. Wendy was the only one who saw her stick her tongue out when Peter wasn't looking. There is just never going to be any love between the two of us, Wendy decided.
“I want to introduce you,” Peter said, pulling her more firmly into the room.
“To...?”
He smiled, hooking his arm through hers. “Everyone.”
And he wasn't kidding. She knew most of the boys who stayed in the house, but there were many, many more, too many names to remember, too many faces to count. They all seemed glad to meet her, mostly because it was Peter who was doing the introductions. He drew people in like a magnet, without even trying. There was plenty of food, thanks to Tink, and music piped in through speakers in the ceiling with enough of a beat that a few people had formed a quasi dance floor near the piano.
Peter asked her to dance when a slow song came on and she followed him, just as drawn to him as everyone else was, glad to have a moment alone in his arms. He dropped his head and held her close, breathing her in, and they rocked slowly, as if it were only the two of them in the midst of a world of crazy.
“It's a lovely party, Peter, thank you.” She tilted her face up to look at him. “No one's ever given me a party like this before.”
“It's not over yet.” His mouth curled into a slow smile. “I haven't even given you my present.”
“You do realize how insane this is, don't you?” She couldn't help laughing at the way he raised his eyebrows and rolled his eyes. “I haven't even known you a week! And you've let me move in, you're giving me this elaborate party, and Michael and John...”
She paused, as if just remembering them, her brow knitted with worry.
“I heard from the twins,” Peter said, guessing her concern. “They're all fine. The swashbucklers are having the time of their lives, in fact! The Pirates of the Caribbean will never be the same again, I'm sure.”
“It's all so much.” She brushed a sandy-colored curl from his forehead. She felt dizzy and flushed with him so very close. “Too much.”
“It will never be enough,” Peter protested, his face as serious as she'd ever seen it. “Not for you. A girl like you deserves this and far more, you know. I could give you everything in the whole world, everything I had to give, and it would still never be enough for my Wendy-girl.”
“Your...” She blinked. “Your Wendy?”
“You are, aren't you?” he asked in earnest.
It was so hard to resist him, but she tried, not based on her feelings but purely driven by logic. “We've only known each other—”
His laughter cut her off and he swung her around in his arms, nuzzling her neck, disarming her completely. “You keep saying that, but it doesn't mean anything you know.” He whispered it like a secret in her ear. “The heart doesn't know any time.”
“Peter...” She tried to protest, but his lips were doing funny things to her insides, pressed to her throat like that.
“Say you're mine, Wendy-girl.” His lips found the hollow of her throat and her head went back, acquiescing.
“I am,” she confessed. It didn’t matter how long they’d known each other, how crazy her life had been before him or how crazy it was now. He was right—she couldn’t deny her feelings. “I'm
yours.”
Peter kissed her squarely on the lips, his aim sweet perfection, and although Wendy had been kissed plenty of times before, had even been kissed once, albeit briefly, by Peter, it felt as if this kiss was the one she'd been waiting for her whole life. It was silly, ridiculous, far too romantic for her usually sensible sensibilities, but it was simply the unmistakable truth.
And she knew it completely when they parted, Wendy's head resting on Peter's shoulder, and she saw Tink glaring at them both.
“Peter.” Someone tapped on his shoulder, whispering into his ear, but Wendy paid no attention, lost in his embrace.
“Time for your birthday gift.” Peter’s voice brought her back to earth, back to the room around her. He led her out the patio doors, the crowd following, as if knowing just what was going to happen, although Wendy had no clue. She hadn’t been into the yard that day, but it was decorated for the festivities as well. Just how many people had Peter enlisted? She wondered, staring at the lights strung up high, the tent set up for a band to play.
“Sit here.” Peter situated her near the front of the tent, separate from the rest of the chairs that people were taking behind her. “Be right back.”
He kissed her forehead, squeezing her hand, before disappearing into the crowd. She looked around for a familiar face but saw none. The night was bright with moonlight and stars, the sounds of crickets and the occasional bellow of alligators from the swamp serving as background music for the laughter and conversation. She was all alone, and yet she’d never felt so happy, the anticipation of Peter’s return still warm against her forehead.
When Peter appeared on stage, picking up a guitar, along with Slightly and Curly and Nibs and another boy she didn’t know quite as well with the unfortunate nickname of Tootles, Wendy stared up at them in surprise. Tootles was tall and lanky, long blond hair falling in his face, but he disappeared behind the drum set as Curly picked up a guitar and Nibs a bass. Slightly positioned himself behind the keyboard as Peter stepped up to the mic.
“Hello.” Peter’s voice was soft as silk and the crowd broke into applause and cheers. They all knew him, loved him, and who could blame them? Certainly not Wendy. “We’re The Lost Boys.”
More cheers. Wendy blinked up at Peter in wonder, seeing him drop her a wink.
“I’d like to dedicate this next song to Wendy. I wrote it for her.”
She couldn’t believe her eyes—or her ears. The Peter she knew, the one she’d glimpsed, unfolded into a god on stage, his pouty lips and sultry eyes drawing her in. And it was all for her. The girls—and even some of the boys—instantly went crazy for him, crowding the stage, but his eyes were on her alone, singing his song for her.
“You sew my heart back together in the dark of the night.
Bring my shadow back home so I can see the light.
You turn my lost boy into a found man
And you shine me back from my Neverland.
I would brave any pirate ship
Slay any dangers just to kiss your lips.
That kind of magic, girl, you make me fly.
Wendy, our love ain’t never gonna die.
Wendy, no, we ain’t never gonna die.
Long as our love lasts, girl, we’re gonna fly,
Past all tomorrows to the starry skies.
Wendy, our love ain’t never gonna die.”
They sang more songs at the demand of the crowd, their music rising over the crickets and the swamp sounds, carried for miles on the wind, and Wendy sat entranced, so delighted with this Peter that she could barely breathe. When he came off the stage—under great protest from the audience—he went straight to her, reaching out for her hand and pulling her into his arms.
“Did you like your gift?” he asked in a whisper just for her and she nodded, unable to speak, not sure he could hear her over the people crowding around them, slapping him on the back, girls asking for his autograph—his autograph!—giving them their phone numbers along with kisses. The former he signed, the latter he rebuffed as much as he could, making his way through, leading Wendy with him by the hand.
“It was beautiful. I didn’t even know you could sing!” She glimpsed Tink wending her way through the crowd toward them. “I bet there’s a lot I don’t know about you, Peter Pann.”
“Probably.” He smiled, squeezing her hand back. “Does it matter?”
“No,” she confessed as Tink found them both, breathlessly grabbing Peter by the shoulders.
“Hey Tink.” He greeted her as always, with a congenial smile.
“I have to talk to you.” The tall blond dismissed Wendy with a glance, focusing all her attention on Peter. “It’s important.”
“Damned straight it is!” Curly clapped Peter on the shoulder, grinning from ear to ear. Nibs wasn’t far behind, the two of them practically attached at the hip. “Guess who’s here? Go ahead, guess!”
“I have no idea.” Peter blinked in surprised, shaking his head. “The Pope? The President? Batman?”
“Far better.” Nibs smiled, the silver hop piercing in his lip glinting in the light.
“Michael Corbett!” This announcement came from Slightly, appearing out of the crowd and into their conversation. “Fucking Michael Corbett! He wants to represent us, man! And I’m pretty sure we want to sign. Don’t we, Peter?”
“Who’s Michael Corbett?” Wendy whispered her question to Nibs, who happened to be closest.
“Only the biggest music agent in South Florida.” Peter answered her question with a widening grin. “Guess we should talk to him, huh?”
“Come on!” Slightly grabbed Peter’s arm, but Tink held onto the other, Wendy getting lost in the shuffle.
“Peter!” Tink cried. “I still have to talk—”
“Later, Tink!” He waved Tink away as The Lost Boys dragged him toward his future in the music industry, leaving both girls standing there, looking forlorn and forgotten.
“What did you have to talk to Peter about?” Wendy turned to Tink, but the blond was shaking her head, arms crossed.
“Never you mind.” Tink huffed off into the house, leaving Wendy completely alone.
* * * *
She didn’t follow Tink and she didn’t follow Peter. Instead, she went for a walk, needing to clear her head, to breathe the night air away from the crowd. She wandered outside of the tent and down the pathway toward the swamp. Her heels got stuck in the grass so she took them off, walking barefoot, following to the sound of bullfrogs.
What had she gotten herself into? The thought kept recurring as she made her way across the edge of the water, her feet sinking slightly in the marshy soil. Yes, she’d been desperate to find a way out for herself and her little brothers. Yes, Peter had appeared as a guardian angel and had taken her, had taken all of them, under his wing. But things were so strange here, so otherworldly, surreal. And there was so much she didn’t know about Peter, in spite of her growing feelings for him.
Did she trust him? She tried to be objective, to be smart, but the truth was, she did trust him. In spite of all the strangeness and everything she didn’t know, there was something about Peter that made him guileless and loveable. But was she just kidding herself? Was her own aching, desperate heart leading her into trouble?
“Hello there.”
The voice came out of the darkness and Wendy gasped, clutching her heart, suddenly jumping to life in her chest.
“You scared me!” Her eyes adjusted to the darkness, seeing a man standing in a motorboat on the water about five feet away. The moon was bright enough that she could make out a pale face, long dark hair, the flash of a bright white smile.
“I apologize,” he said, giving her a strange little bow. He appraised her in the dim light, raising his eyebrows. “So you must be Peter’s latest dish?”
Wendy frowned, taking a step back. “Latest…?”
The man chuckled. “He changes girls like most people change socks.”
“Who are you?”
“No one i
mportant.” He leaned toward her, resting on a pole stuck in the water at the side of the boat. “He seems quite taken with you.”
She glanced back at the distant glow of the house, the white of the tent in the moonlight. “He gave me this party.”
“Oh, aren’t you sweet?” The man laughed, teeth flashing again. “But this isn’t for you, dearie. This is all to showcase his band.” The man snorted with disgust. “Don’t let him fool you. This has been planned for months.”
She looked from the man to the house and back again. The tent, all the food, all the people… was it possible?
She proceeded cautiously, still keeping her distance. “How do you know Peter?”
“Oh we go way back.”
“Friends?” she inquired politely.
“You could say that.” The man pulled something out of his pocket—a cell phone, its light bright in the darkness as he looked at it. “He’s quite a catch, though. Hang onto him while you can. I gotta run.”
He started to push off with his pole but Wendy rushed forward, her feet getting wet. “Wait! What else do you know about Peter?”
“Do you really want to know?” The man stopped in mid-reach, not starting the motor.
She swallowed. Did she? Did she really?
“Yes.”
“Meet me back here at…” The man pulled a cord, the motor starting, a low hum. “Let’s say… three a.m.”
Wendy had to speak up to be heard over the boat. “That’s awfully late!”
“The party should be over by then,” he called, pulling the pole in. “It will be nice and quiet. Just you, me and the alligators. Then we can talk.”
She hesitated, watching him sit down in the boat. “Why can’t you tell me now?”
“I have a previous engagement.” He waved and winked, turning on a light at the front of his boat. “But if you really want to know more about your new boyfriend, I’ll be happy to tell you. Just meet me back here.”
He revved the motor, getting ready to go, and she knew it was her last chance.
