Wallflowers: Double Trouble

by CP Smith

  In one fluid motion, Bo pushed off the doorjamb, grabbed Chase by his pristine white shirt, and shoved him into the wall, bearing his teeth as he growled, “Stay the fuck away from Sienna.”

  The crowd around them stopped and stared, and the once loud sidewalk hushed as they waited to see what would happen. Bo didn’t care. His focus was on the asshole in front of him.

  “You want to fuck around on your wife, that’s your business. It’s an asshole move that doesn’t surprise me in the least, but you’re not draggin’ Sienna down with you. Stay the fuck away from her.”

  “Get off me, man,” Chase barked, pushing against Bo’s chest.

  “I see you’re not listenin’ to me,” Bo bit back. “The correct response is, ‘I’ll forget Sienna existed.’”

  “And I’ll repeat, get the fuck off of me,” Chase bit back, trying to wrench Bo’s arm from his neck. When that didn’t work, he tried to shove Bo in the chest to move him back. It was like trying to move an angry mountain. Chase tried once more as Bo held him easily in place. When Bo didn’t budge, Chase finally threw his hands in the air and surrendered like Bo knew he would. Cowards backed down easily, while men stood their ground and fought for what was right. Chase was no man. “Fine. I’ll forget she existed. She’s not worth this much trouble anyway.”

  A gasping, “Oh. My. God,” caught Bo’s attention, and he turned his head. Sienna was to his left with Calla and Poppy, her mouth opened in surprise, her eyes glued to the man pinned to the wall. “Chase?” she asked, the tone of her voice pained.

  Bo stepped back and dropped his arm, keeping his attention on Sienna as he addressed Chase. “Tell her how you planned to get her drunk, then take advantage of her.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Chase sighed, straightening his shirt. “I’m a fuckin’ married man, not a rapist. I was just tryin’ to make her feel better after what happened.”

  “I don’t need to feel better, you ass,” Sienna snapped. “I’m fine!”

  “Yeah? That’s not what your brother said. Seems you haven’t been able to move on since I got married. I was tryin’ to be nice, explain it was time for you to get on with your life, and this is the thanks I get?” Chase spit out, jerking his head toward Bo.

  The crowd around them chuckled, and Sienna spun on her heel, her face growing scarlet in response. Then she spun back on Bo and leveled him with a look that would bring most men to their knees.

  “Why are you doin’ this?” she whispered, panic written clearly across her face. “Is this payback?”

  Bo blinked, then cocked his head in confusion. “Payback?”

  “Of course, it is,” she murmured, scanning the crowd, looking like a fox trapped in a hole with no way to escape. “I get it. You hate me for not listenin’ and humiliatin’ you in front of that officer,” she continued, “but I think you’ve more than paid me back, and then some.”

  “You think I planned this?” Bo growled, stepping in closer so the gathering crowd couldn’t overhear. “I don’t play games.”

  “Maybe you do, maybe you don’t. I really don’t care at this point. You’ve made it clear how you feel, so do me a favor, just stay the hell away from me!”

  For five days, this woman had been inside his head, creeping in when he least expected it, an unwelcome visitor in his nightly dreams. He knew when he met her she spelled trouble for him, that she would make his head explode, and he was right.

  Leaning down until he was nose-to-nose with her, Bo growled low, “Sweetheart, it would be my fuckin’ pleasure to never lay eyes on you again. In fact, it’s all I’ve been able to think about for the past five days.”

  Calla and Poppy gasped at his reply, but Sienna jerked infinitesimally, like she’d been struck by an imaginary fist, and her eyes welled with tears as she stared back at him. Seeing her pained expression, Bo regretted his words immediately, but he ignored the guilt and pushed past her, heading for his truck.

  This was what he’d wanted since he laid eyes on her, to be free of the attraction. To be free of a woman who reminded him of his mother. A mother who left him for her own selfish purpose and destroyed his father in the process.

  As a teen, he’d watched his father drink himself to death because he couldn’t get over the loss of Bo’s mother. A woman who was headstrong, who bucked the rules like Sienna did, who left his father high and dry for some asshole who got her hooked on drugs. Bo had lived through the aftermath her bad decisions had caused, and wanted no part of it in his life again. He wanted stability, order, a life where the only surprises were in the cases he investigated, not in his personal life. And a woman like Sienna would turn that on end. At least that’s what he told himself every time he looked at her.

  Pushing through the crowd, he made it five steps and then stopped, unable to walk away after the damage he’d caused. Growling, “Fuck,” he dropped his head back then took a deep breath to calm down before he apologized. When he turned to make his peace with the woman, Sienna had already disappeared into the crowd. He searched the street, but couldn’t find her or the other Wallflowers. Turning back to the souvenir shop in case she’d ducked inside, Bo found Chase in the same spot wiping beer from his face.

  Sienna must have gotten in the final word and used a beer as an exclamation point.

  Needing an outlet for his frustration, Bo decided Chase was as good a target as any, so he grabbed him by the collar again and threw a right hook into his jaw. When he hit the ground, Bo leaned over him, got right in his face, and hissed, “You go near her again, and I’ll bury you. You hear me? Stay the fuck away from Sienna.”

  Chase grabbed his jaw, throwing his other hand up to block any additional punches that might come his way, asking what Bo himself wanted to know. “Jesus, man. What the fuck? Who is Sienna to you?”

  Bo’s answer . . . “My worst nightmare. A woman I can’t have.”

  Sweetheart, it would be my fuckin’ pleasure to never lay eyes on you again. In fact, it’s all I’ve been able to think about for the past five days.

  Bo’s voice. Those words. They kept repeating in a loop.

  Since the moment he’d laid eyes on me, he hadn’t wanted a thing to do with me. I was that unappealing to him, and that knowledge stung.

  I looked over my shoulder at Cali and Poppy. They were huddled together in deep conversation. Conversation that no doubt was centered on Bo, Chase, and myself.

  After the scene on the sidewalk, I’d wanted to be alone to lick my wounds, but the girls wouldn’t allow me to. They’d followed me to my car and jumped in when I unlocked the doors, but kept quiet, both watching me carefully. Needing space, I’d pulled into the first bar I came across for a much-needed drink, hoping the alcohol would block out the last thirty minutes. Or more to the point, block out the past ten years.

  I didn’t want to discuss Bo with them. It would require admitting I’d fantasized about him. Admitting that Bo never wanting to lay eyes on me hurt more than it should. As for Chase? I didn’t want to discuss him either. I’d lost enough time on him.

  Lesson learned. He’s a big ole jackass who doesn’t deserve a minute more of my time.

  Racking pool balls together, I centered them on the pool table like I’d seen on TV.

  “Are we playin’ or what?”

  Cali popped her head up and nodded.

  “Stripes or solids?” I asked.

  “Do you know how to play pool?”

  “No. You?”

  She shrugged. “I’ve played once. I think it’s easier if you turn the stick around and use the larger end.”

  I looked down at the pool cue. “That’s brilliant. You can’t miss usin’ the wider end.”

  “If we divide the balls into threes, all of us can play. You take numbers one through five. I’ll take numbers six through ten, and Poppy can play eleven through fifteen.”

  Poppy jumped up from her barstool carrying a shot and grabbed a cue. “We’ll play for shots. Every time you miss, you have to take a drink.”

 
“Poppy, none of us have played. We’ll need a cab to take us home after one game,” I stated.

  “Exactly,” Cali said, carrying a shot glass and grabbing a cue of her own. “What better way to forget about asshole men?”

  “I’m over it,” I lied, lining up the cue ball. “I’d already discovered I wasn’t in love with Chase before he showed his true colors, so there’s nothin’ to get over.”

  “And Bo?” Poppy asked.

  Ignoring her question, I leaned over and pulled the cue stick back and whacked the cue ball hard enough to send all the balls crashing in every direction. None of them dropped into a pocket, though.

  A shot glass landed in front of me. It was filled with green liquid, and I followed the line of the arm up to meet Cali’s stern face. “And Bo?” she repeated for Poppy.

  I shrugged. “Definitely an asshole. What’s there to say?”

  Cali looked at Poppy then back at me. “We thought we saw a look.”

  “A look?”

  “Yeah, a look. When he said it was all he’d been thinkin’ about for the past five days, there was a look on your face that said it hurt more than it should.”

  I pfft’d. “You’re seein’ things.”

  She crossed her arms and raised a brow. “You forget what I just went through with Devin. You can’t lie to me and get away with it.”

  “You’re comparin’ what you and Devin have with Bo and me?”

  “No. I’m comparin’ your reaction to one I’ve had recently. I’m not a ninny, Sienna. You reacted to his declaration like you’d been slapped in the face. Now spill, what’s runnin’ through that mind of yours?”

  I looked at Poppy and sighed. In that moment, I understood Cali’s reactions that last week. And just like her, I would have killed for a Wallflower divorce rather than confess.

  “Bo’s who you meant when you talked about the difference between infatuation and soul-deep, unadulterated attraction, isn’t he?” Poppy asked.

  Damn, but these women are perceptive.

  Now what?

  Wallflowers don’t lie to each other. That’s what.

  I grabbed the shot to stall them and threw it back.

  I should have learned from the toast we made the other night that it was a bad idea to just toss a drink back. This one burned worse.

  “What,” I gasped, “was that?”

  “Absinthe” Poppy beamed.

  It took about two seconds for the liquor to make its way to my cerebral cortex, relaxing me immediately. “Doesn’t this cause hallucinations?” I asked, feeling better by the second.

  Poppy put another shot in front of me and said, “Let’s find out.”

  I looked at the emerald-green color of the liquid. If it took away my memories of the past five years, I was game.

  Grabbing the shot glass, I threw it back and noted the second shot was easier to handle, then closed my eyes. A warmth coiled around my limbs, relaxing me, and even though I felt light-headed instantly, I also felt clear-headed, like I could answer the question to the meaning of life.

  “Well?” Cali asked. “You’re supposed to filter it with water and sugar, but my granddaddy prefers it neat. He sips it, though.”

  I ran my hands through my hair and smiled. It felt like a thousand fingers were massaging my scalp. “This stuff is great,” I said then moved to a barstool and sat down, closing my eyes so I could enjoy the high. “Can I have more?”

  “Will you answer our questions about Bo?”

  “He makes my heart race, my legs weak, and my breath leave my lungs.”

  Huh? That was easier than I thought.

  “He does?” Cali gasped.

  “I want him to tie me to a bed and do naughty things to me.”

  Silence.

  I opened my eyes to find two sets staring back at me with varying degrees of shock.

  “That’s right,” I giggled. “I want him to—”

  Poppy threw her hand over my mouth. “Big biker guys in here. No more talk about bein’ tied up, capiche?”

  I nodded, and she stepped back. “Gotcha. I don’t want any ole man to tie me up. Just Bo.”

  “Are you sure he hates you?” Cali asked. “He did go after Chase. Maybe that means somethin’.”

  I tried to stand but sank back on the stool. They should really bottle this stuff for daily consumption. There’d be no need for antidepressants.

  “I’m sure,” I answered, smiling back at them.

  “I think we gave her too much,” Poppy said.

  Cali pulled out her phone and began typing. “It says here that Absinthe should be sipped. It’s the third strongest liquor produced and was illegal in the US until 2007 because of its effects.”

  “What effects? I feel great. I feel like I could fly,” I laughed, throwing my arms wide like a bird.

  “We need food. Greasy food,” Cali stated. “I’ll pay the tab then get the car. You bring her out back.”

  “What? No. You’ll kill this feelin’.”

  I felt like I could take on the world and win. In fact, Bo who? Who needs a man when there’s magical green fairy liquid to take away all your problems?

  “Up,” Cali said, grabbing my arm. “It’s gonna take two of us to get her out.”

  Poppy moved to the other side, and they started walking me toward the back door.

  “Can we stop on the way home for more magical green fairy potion?”

  “Suuuure,” Cali answered, so I kissed her on the cheek. She was the bestest Wallflower ever.

  “I need to use the facilities before we leave,” I announced, pulling away from Poppy and Cali. “Are the bathrooms down this hall?”

  There were three doors in the darkened hallway, so I reached for the first doorknob and turned it. It was a supply closet.

  “I think the bathrooms are the other way,” Cali said as I opened the second door.

  This wasn’t a bathroom either. It was an office. And there were two scary biker dudes having a conversation. Cali and Poppy appeared over my shoulder, and one of the biker dudes stood and glared at us. I mumbled, “Whoops, my bad,” and shut the door before they could bellow to get out of their meeting.

  “This way,” Poppy chuckled, grabbing my arm to lead me to the ladies’ room, where I relieved myself and splashed cold water onto my face.

  Looking at my reflection, I turned my head from side to side. For a moment, I wondered if I looked like my father. I’d never met the man. I wasn’t even sure he knew I was his daughter. We never discussed him. It was the family secret that we all ignored. All I knew about the man was that he worked in a gym, and it was a short-lived affair that my mother regrets. Regrets most likely because she ended up with me.

  “You know, I wouldn’t want me either,” I told my reflection.

  “What are you talkin’ about?” Poppy asked as she washed her hands.

  “My eyes are plain old brown, and my lips are too large. I wish I had dark hair like my brother and sister.”

  “What’s she goin’ on about?” Cali said.

  “Somethin’ about her lips bein’ too large and wanting dark hair.”

  “Women pay good money to have lips like yours,” Cali said.

  “Then why does every man I like find me repulsive?”

  “Sounds like the fairy potion is wearin’ off,” Poppy mumbled.

  “Time for a fill-up,” Cali said and grabbed my arm.

  They hauled me back to the bar and ordered another shot of Absinthe. I threw it back like my life depended on it, and waited for the calming effects to lull me back into not caring about anything but world peace.

  “Better?” Poppy asked.

  Tiny pricks of delight swirled through my brain, and I smiled. “I’m so buying stock in this stuff.”

  “Let’s hit the road,” Cali said. “We can pick up greasy burgers and take them back to the courtyard.”

  “Barkeep, I need my tab,” I shouted.

  The man turned, grabbed the tab hanging from the back wall, and
looked at me. “You Calla Armstrong?”

  I snatched the slip of paper from the man and scribbled Cali’s name at the bottom. “I am,” I replied, “But I prefer bein’ called Cali.”

  Cali snorted and grabbed my arm. “Come on, Cali,” she chuckled.

  I slid off the barstool and kept on going. The sweet effects of the Absinthe had settled in my legs, turning them into JELL-O in heels. Poppy and Cali grabbed me under the arms, giggling as they led me back down the long narrow hallway toward the back alley.

  My phone began to ring in my pocket, so I halted and pulled it out. The screen said David Calling.

  “It’s my brother,” I explained, swiping ‘Answer.’ David never called me unless it was important.

  “David?”

  “You threw beer all over Chase?”

  I bugged my eyes out at the girls.

  “He wanted to get me drunk and have his way with me. It seemed like an appropriate response,” I giggled.

  Silence ensued.

  “David?”

  “That’s not the way he told it. Who’s the guy who punched him?”

  “Bo punched him?”

  Poppy and Cali gasped.

  “Just stay away from my friends. I’m tired of cleanin’ up after your messes,” he growled, then the line went dead.

  A lump caught in my throat. David tolerated being around me, but I knew he blamed me for our father leaving.

  “Shit,” Poppy exclaimed and turned back toward the bar. “I think she needs another round.”

  I pulled my arms free and headed back the way we’d come. “I’m fine. I’m used to it,” I lied.

  The girls followed me out the exit as I stumbled toward my car. Unable to drive, I climbed in and sprawled across the back seat. I loved my car. I loved my car’s back seat. I loved the ceiling of my car. It was very gray. Like a storm cloud. Like Bo’s eyes.

  “Bo has great eyes,” I called out as the car rocked forward then stopped sharply. “And lips that would feel amazin’ working their way down my body.”