by Adriana Law
Lillian sighed on the other end. “Yes, you can, Meg. You are a strong girl. I have seen you go through more hurt over the past two years than a mother ever wants to see her daughter go through…but, you survived. You’re a fighter. You don’t sit around crying over what you can’t change, and the doctors are going to make you whole again.”
Would they make her whole again? Could they? Maybe, but she would never be the same. Not after she knew how important it was to have people around you can count on. Now, she knew how major every small decision was… no doctor could change that.
Her mother read whatever she wanted to into her silence. “I know you are scared to death…scared to admit how you feel about him…”
“Mom, don’t.”
“It’s the truth. Tell me that when you were fighting for your life he had nothing to do with your determination….tell me he had nothing to do with it and I’ll shut up.”
A single tear escaped, rolling down Megan’s cheek. Well, maybe a few more than a single tear escaped. She quickly wiped them away and turned herself into the steely girl she was accustomed to and lied through her teeth, “He had nothing to do with it. Conner was the one who was there…not Drew Mackenzie.” Good grief. Conner had confessed his love for her while her hair was falling out. If that wasn’t love…
“Honey, you never gave Drew a chance to be there.”
Megan remembered his hateful words the first day she’d returned to the ranch. “Nice haircut. What’s that look called? Uptight, anal school teacher?”
Of course she couldn’t completely blame him. He had no idea that her hair actually looked healthy and alive for the first time in a very long time. But it just went to show you that someone with his love of the superficial and someone with his sexual appetite for “perfect” women could never be attracted to someone like her. Yes, he’d said all that stuff earlier in the bedroom, caging her in up against the wall, but that was only because, once again, Drew Mackenzie was clueless. He would never be satisfied with her, not really.
“Tonight, I just want to be twenty three again. I don’t want to be the sick girl. ” And I sure as hell don’t want to be the girl in love with a guy who is not my fiancé. “I want to have a good time. Behave stupidly. Be wild. Irresponsible. I want to dance. Drink. Can you back off for one night and let me have that? ”
She could picture her mother’s concerned expression as she answered, “Yes, I only want you to be happy, Meg.”
“I know. I realize that’s the motive behind everything you do. I haven’t forgotten that it wasn’t only Conner there for me… you were there… but, you can’t fix everything. The last two years should have shown you you don’t have control over my life any longer… you have to let me figure out who I want to be with, and you have to respect my decision.”
She heard Lillian sigh her surrender, a surrender not many would ever hear or see, because it rarely happened. If Megan was strong, it was because it was in her genes, handed down from her mother and a father who fought up until his last breath. Megan felt the sting of tears again at that thought and decided it was time for her irresponsible night to begin, before she had a change of heart, curling up in her bed, someone succumbing to all the struggles life throws at them. “I need to get off here. Em said she’ll leave me if I’m not ready in an hour.” She paused, dragging in an empowering breath. “I love you, Mom.”
“You too, honey. Be safe.”
“I will.” Megan ended the call. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her chin length hair had dried in soft sensual waves. How could he say she resembled an uptight, anal school teacher? She was sexy. At least on the surface. Her lips were plump, even more so with a little lip-gloss. Her eyes a bright green that popped with the tiniest bit of mascara. White gleamed in the mirror as she revealed her teeth. Her smile was sexy. Drew Mackenzie was a blind, arrogant jackass.
Fingers trembling, she loosened the place holding her towel securely to her body allowing the towel to flutter to the floor. She studied her left breast: the still-tender scar along the soft tissue, the unattractive way her flesh sagged. There was the ugly pucker and the redness that still lingered where the stiches used to be. The doctors said it would take years for the tenderness to go away completely…if it ever did. Yes, she was sexy. She was sexy. She was sexy. She was sexy. She was sexy. At least she could pretend to be sexy for one night. She reached for her underwear lying up on the counter, on top that damn intimidating red dress, a dress that no more than a year and a half ago she used to fill out quite nicely, thank you very much.
Now that her chemo and radiation were over, and she was “healthy” the doctors could do their breast reconstructive surgery, and make her “whole” again, but it was just another battle she’d have to face: more pain after finally becoming pain free for the first time in a while, then there would be another recovery period… no, Drew Mackenzie believed life was one big elaborate party. He didn’t have time for possible infections, ‘round the clock Vicodin and one guaranteed ride on an emotional roller-coaster.
She slid on her panties, snapped her bra into place, and reached for the padding she’d purchased to make her feel more like a woman, like it could ever replace the real thing. Slipping the padding in the cup of the bra, she grimaced. Never in her life did she think she would ever be “stuffing” her bra. What was the name of that little boy who used to tease her about “stuffing” her bra back in seventh grade? Lord, she couldn’t remember his name. Why couldn’t she remember his name? She had wanted to slap the little shit, because obviously, she had not been “stuffing” her bra.
And now here she was…
She wiggled her body, adjusting. It was uncomfortable. The padding rubbed where she was tender. She would endure the pain, at least for a night. Tonight she was going to look hot! Sexy! Next she stepped into the red dress and worked it up her body. The neck wasn’t too low, which was perfect. But the back…she turned and smiled at the plunge in the fabric that draped right to the bra strap. Ideally it would drape further, showing more flesh, but this was still sexy. She ran her hands over the front of the dress. Her curves were convincing enough. The best part was the hem of the dress barely reached her fingertips. Throw on a pair of black stilettos and she was back in business. ♠
Fourteen
“This place isn’t what I was expecting,” Megan shouted over ZZ Tops, Gimme All Your Lovin’ as Emma and her grabbed a table. Crumbs littered the black Formica table top and there were puddles of spilled beer, or was it spit? It was still the cleanest table in the place and Megan was careful not to set an elbow in any of nastiness as she took out a napkin to smear some of it up. “Do you come here often?”
“God, no,” Em laughed as she held up two fingers for the older woman moving from table to table with a tray of goodies balanced on a hand. “It’s mostly bikers in here.”
“Not just bikers….old bikers,” Megan returned. She had expected a trendy night club, but Clyde’s could only be described as a bar, a slimy, smelly one.
Em smiled and shrugged a shoulder. “It’s the closest place to the ranch to get a beer. Our options are limited, you know?”
At that exact moment a heavy guy in black leather fell into their table and it rocked as he righted himself “Excuse me, ladies!” His bushy mustache lifted and he was off again, none too steady on his feet.
Megan frowned. “I can see that… very limited. We’re being stared at, seriously stared at.”
“I know. Isn’t it great?” Emma shouted over the music. A woman with colorful tattooed sleeves planted two cold bottles on the table and scooped up the cash Em flashed at her. Em pressed the rim of the bottle to her lips. Her blonde hair was curled in perfect loose curls cascading down over her slender shoulders. She was wearing a little gold tank top that was basically nothing more than string crisscrossed serving as the back and a black mini skirt with stilettos. She was stunning, they’d be lucky if they made it out of there without being fondled or worse. Em went on, apparently very comfortable in wh
atever surrounding she was placed in. “Don’t be mistaken. You get the occasional hottie in here,” She continued to shout.
Megan glanced around. She was having a hard time believing it, but she hadn’t come to meet guys. She could still get drunk. She could still dance. She could still forget for one night. And what better place to do it, every face was a stranger and most likely someone she’d never see again. She guzzled down her first beer, and then motioned at the woman for another one.
Em leaned in. “Did you see his face when he saw you in that dress?”
“Whose face?”
“Don’t play stupid. I thought for sure he was about to say you couldn’t go out of the house looking like that. I bet he shows up here tonight. Bet you twenty bucks he won’t be able to take not knowing.” Em fanned the bill in her face.
Bet? Ugh! “I don’t make bets, Em,” she replied starting to move a little to the music, loosening up. Tonight Drew Mackenzie did not exist. Her gaze traveled the semi-dark room. “Whoa, wait a minute…isn’t that Griffin?” ♠
Emma’s blue eyes narrowed on one of the booths across the room. Angry pissed off bees attacked her inside and suddenly the room felt extremely stuffy and hot. Megan bowed her head and whispered as if she didn’t want anyone to overhear, like they could with all the noise. “He’s with a girl. I didn’t know he dated anyone.”
Em tried her best to act unaffected taking a huge swallow from a fresh bottle. “Of course he dates. He’s a guy.”
“But…I’ve never seen him with a girl,” Meg continued, peeking back occasionally at his table.
Griffins head turned their way as if he could sense them watching him. Was it too late for her to make a run for the restroom? Shit. He was standing up, coming over to their table. Emma gripped her bottle tighter and took another long swallow. Breathe. Breathe naturally. She fanned her cheeks in an attempt to cool herself off.
“Hey. What are you two doing here?” Griffin asked with a lazy grin, twisting the silver ring on his thumb.
She could feel his gaze on her and did her best to act normal. “Who’s the slut?” That was normal. She would ask that. They were best friends after all. He knew her shit and she knew his. Hell, she knew he was faking the whole mute thing long before anyone else. She was the only one who understood why. So naturally, she’d want to know, had a right to know, if her best friend was about to screw up big-time.
He chuckled, glancing back at the slut in question, giving her a small wave.
“Aww, how sweet, you’re already keeping tabs on your hoe. Did you have to get permission to come over here to talk to us?”
“Cool it, Em. Your nasty bitch side is coming out. How are you, Megan? You don’t seem too comfortable.”
“I’m not,” Megan answered, although nobody was really listening.
He swiped the beer from Emma’s hand right as she was about to take a swallow. He wiggled his brows and helped himself to her beer taking a pull. “It’s Sophia.”
“Sophia James?” Em spit the name, needing to grab hold of the edge of the table to keep from smacking him upside the head. She’d been kidding about the slut remark, but in She’s case…well, she was a slut. “Why her? You can do better.”
He handed her back her beer, raised his shoulders and stuck his hands in his pockets. Problem was, the move made him look absolutely adorable transforming her anger to lust. He said, “I like her. She’s nice.”
“Why?” she couldn’t stop saying the word. “Why?”
“Nice” was that his version of “she puts out.”
“I better get back.” He tugged at the fabric of his gray Henley like it was sweaty and clinging to his chest, which, it actually was clinging to his chest, a chest she’d seen bare countless times. He leaned into Megan pressing those gorgeous lips of his to her ear and then he flashed Emma a wicked smile and winked. “See you later, Em.”
As he was walking off she muttered, “Sophia James.” She glanced at Megan to find her studying her with interest. “What did he whisper in your ear?”
“He said to keep an eye on you because you have a tendency to get sloppy ass drunk.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
“I’m shocked. This entire time I thought you had a thing for Drew,” she pointed an accusing finger, “but you’re in love with Griffin.”
Em huffed. “He drives me utterly insane.”
“I know the feeling,” Megan simply said. They both smiled and grew quiet, watching the activity in the bar, both of them knowing they’d just shared a girl bonding moment.
When a girls pride is wounded, she dances and sings annoyingly loud. And they did. They danced and sang way off key until they were smelly and sticky with sweat. Is sweat attractive on a female, no, but the dancing was a lot of fun, so they didn’t care. After the song was over, Emma collapsed down in her chair, lifted her hair off her neck, fanning herself with a hand. “Meg, I think one of us needs to stop drinking. At least one of us needs to be able to walk out of here.”
“I agree.” Megan said, holding up a Lager.
Emma had lost count. “How many beers have you drunk? Or is it drank? Shit. I don’t know and guess what...”she held up her hands, scrunching her shoulders. “…I don’t care!”
Megan settled her beer noisily on the table top and grinned like a she-devil, all of her attention focused on the door. “Don’t worry.”
“Do I look worried?” Emma chuckled.
“Have another beer,” Megan said. “Our way home just walked through the door.”
“I told you he’d show up!” Emma’s slapped her hand down on the table, and swung her head towards the door, her jaw going slack. “Who the hell is that?”
“That my dear, is Christopher, you remember…the guy who wanted to buy the ranch?”
Em’s gaze narrowed on the guy in question. “No way, I’ve never met him before. If I had, I’d remember. He is eye candy.” Her gaze narrowed even further. “Ugh, he kind of resembles Drew? Wait, are you sure it’s not Drew?”
“You’re drunk,” Meg returned already sliding out of her chair, waving the guy over.
“No. I’m serious.”
“And so am I.”
“Okay, I am feeling a little woozy,” Emma babbled. But damn the guy was interesting. She watched as the strangers’ smoldering gaze searched out their table. He had dark features like Drew, sexy unruly hair, but he was younger and not quite as tall. Hmm, he could be a fun little distraction. He was wearing tailored black dress pants and stylish V-neck charcoal-grey sweater appearing way too uptight for her usual taste, but like she was telling Drew earlier, when all else fails…jealously works every time. She glanced over at Griffins booth. He and Sophia were sharing a seat in the booth, and had their heads leaned together. Aww, how sweet. Griffin was laughing at something she said. Ugh. Hoe. Yeah, a little jealousy could do him good. Let him have a taste of what it felt like. ♠
Christopher didn’t consider himself a vengeful person, not really. But watching everything his mother endured over the years, because of the Mackenzie name caused a hatred inside him he couldn’t ignore. He’d never went to see a shrink, but if he had, they probably would have forced him to sharing his ‘feelings’ about ‘feeling’ abandoned and not ever good enough. They’d ask him how it had made him feel to watch his mother wither away from Aids and the drugs she’d been addicted to for most of his life, or what he could remember of it. They’d tell him the reason he blocked out most of his memories was because the pain was too great and it was a natural survival mechanism built in every human being as a means of surviving. Well, he’d not been privileged enough to have money to go dump all his shit on a shrink, he had a different way of coping. Was it the sanest, most mature way to go about it? No. But he probably wasn’t the sanest, most mature person.
His plan was simple.
First, he’d made sure to drive a wedge between Mackenzie and his spoiled son. Megan being that wedge. Next, he would steal what his brother wanted
most. Again, Megan. He spotted her instantly in the back of the bar with some stereo-typical blonde. Megan stood up; side stepped in her stilettos having to take hold of the chair to steady herself. He smiled. Damn, this was going to be easier than he thought. His plan was fool proof. It happened in the movies all the time: a girl who’d had way too much to drink waking up in bed with the wrong guy. Opps! Maybe sex happened, maybe it didn’t, but once the damage was done it couldn’t be reversed. Drew didn’t strike him as the kind to forgive and forget easily.
Chris cringed at the thought of hurting an innocent girl. He liked Megan, but she was also his vehicle to getting what he wanted most, what he needed most. But when does life ever go according to the plan? Everything he’d envisioned happening so clearly just hours earlier, didn’t happen at all. Instead, his night took an unexpected turn for the worst starting the moment he entered the stuffy bar to the moment he ended up in the wrong bed.
“Chris, what are you doing in town?” Megan asked, giving him a weak hug. He could feel her sway, but she recovered and he returned her to her seat.
