by Toni Blake
Jane gave her head a quick shake. “I’m not saying that at all. The way I see it, you have nothing to lose.”
“Thanks for reminding me.”
“That’s not what I meant. But if I had your body and could flaunt it in this”—the cheetah print wiggled again—“for the low, low price of $19.95, it’s an opportunity I wouldn’t pass up.”
“Fine,” Mindy said, snatching the suit from Jane’s fingertips. The bikini was the last thing she needed. But then again, she now possessed several shopping bags full of things she didn’t need. And maybe Jane was right, even if she had tried to squirm out of what she’d said. Maybe Mindy shouldn’t expect tonight to go well. Maybe she should plan for the worst, and surround herself with new things to wear while she sat at home crying on her annoyed cat.
Or maybe, she thought as she tried on the bikini, she shouldn’t let Jane’s doubts dampen her hopes at all. She had to be self-assured if she were to pull this off. She had to be Mandy…well, without quite being Mandy.
Peering at herself in the mirror, she discovered Jane was right—she looked hot in cheetah!—so she added the swimsuit to her current pile of impending purchases with the idea that maybe Benton would like the way she looked in it, as well. It was no French maid outfit, but it was a very Mandy sort of purchase, and the decision to go for it was just the thing to pump her up for tonight’s daring venture.
Mindy arrived at the bar a little later than planned, yet thankfully still before the party started, giving her plenty of time to prepare. She’d wanted to snag a parking spot nearby, as the location of O’Reilly’s fell in the gray area of what was safe at night. And now she needed to go in, find the bathroom, and change into her new outfit.
Unfortunately, she and Jane had shopped much later than intended, only to discover afterward that Jane had locked her keys in her car. By the time Larry had shown up with an extra set, it hadn’t left Mindy enough time to go home and get ready at her leisure. “But it’s totally okay—I promise,” she’d assured Jane. Ever since the purchase of the bikini, Mindy had felt much more confident about the evening, so getting dressed at the bar was no big deal.
As she parked in a public lot half a block away, a vision of tonight implanted itself in her brain. He’d walk in, spot her across the room, and everyone else would cease to exist. They’d run into each other’s arms and she’d proclaim her love to a grateful and affectionate Benton.
She knew that in reality, he’d likely walk into a crowded bar where everyone would leap up and shout, “Happy Birthday!” and it would take him awhile to even notice her. But the vision supplied the composure she needed as she strolled through the door, shopping bag in hand.
The old-fashioned tavern with its dark wood and brass decor was mostly empty. Two old guys nursed beers and chomped on peanuts at the bar while arguing with a husky, bearded bartender over who would go to the World Series, while two younger, more clean-cut looking guys hung a banner with the words, Happy 35th, Old Man! stretching across them.
Old man, ha! She was tempted to say. Could they do it three times in a row? She strongly doubted it.
“Looks like I’m in the right place,” she said, more to herself than anyone else, but the taller, blond man glanced over with a smile.
“Oh good, you’re here!”
“The cake’s in back.” The other, dark-haired guy, who sported a loud Hawaiian shirt, pointed over his shoulder through a doorway.
Mindy blinked. They were expecting her? And while it was no surprise to have a cake at a birthday party, why were they telling her about it? “Um, okay.”
“I’m Phil, by the way,” the blond guy said, “and this is Mike.”
Mike nodded and she nodded back. “Mindy,” she said uncertainly, splaying her fingers across her chest. “Is the, uh, ladies room back there, too?” She motioned to the open door behind Mike.
“Yep, just take a left.”
“Great.” She held up her shopping bag. “I…need to change.”
Both men smiled as if she’d just told them a dirty joke and she disappeared into the bathroom before trying to interpret their actions. Had Benton mentioned her, hoping she might come? But how would they know her on sight?
Well, it didn’t matter. Maybe they’d had a few beers already. Dismissing their weirdness, she changed into her new black jeans, cute black slip-on heels, and her slinky turquoise sleeveless top. After running her fingers through her hair for a nice mussed look, she freshened her make-up and made her way back out to the bar.
She’d just settled on a stool and gotten a drink when someone tapped her on the shoulder—and she turned to find Phil, looking puzzled. “That’s what you’re wearing?”
She peered down. Frankly, she thought she looked pretty good, but apparently Phil didn’t. Not that it was any of his business. She knew he was Benton’s friend, but she’d had just about enough of him and his party-shirted pal. “Yes, this is what I’m wearing. What’s it to ya?”
Phil’s eyebrows shot up. “Well, I didn’t pay three hundred dollars to watch you pop out of a cake in a pair of jeans. Sorry to be blunt, but you’re gonna have to take off a little more.”
Mindy’s jaw dropped. “Pop out of a cake?” And then she understood. Pop out of a cake. They’d hired a stripper and they thought Mindy was her. For a fraction of a second, she wanted to break into laughter, relieved to have solved the mystery, and more amused than she could fathom to know they’d mistaken her for an exotic dancer.
But then shocking inspiration struck. What if she were the stripper?
What if she pulled Mandy out of retirement one last time in order to show Benton how much she loved him and that she’d do anything it took to express it? After all, she’d stripped for him once before, so in a way it almost even seemed apropos. Okay, so it also seemed crazy—but wasn’t crazy behavior the very thing that had brought them together in the first place?
“Uh, well, yes, of course, I’ll be wearing less when I pop out of the cake.” She shook her head, as if she’d been confused for a moment but now everything had become clear. “I just didn’t know we were using the old cake prop tonight, that’s all. And I wanted to have a drink before I changed.” She took a big sip of it, to illustrate her point and because she suddenly needed that drink.
Both men looked baffled and Mike the Hawaiian Shirt Man spoke. “But didn’t you just change?”
She blinked. And sipped. “Um, yes.”
“So you just changed clothes to have a drink before you go change again?”
Mindy blinked once more. Or was that Mandy? Oh dear. Think fast. “It’s…a ritual.” She nodded as she spoke, as if her words made perfect sense. “I change clothes several times before I strip to get me in the mood to take things off.”
How stupid. They’d never buy it.
But both men simply shrugged and she breathed a sigh of relief. Men were easy when it came to women who were willing to shed their clothing.
“So of course I’ll be taking off more for the, uh, event. I have…” she began, glancing toward the shopping bag at her side—and then she remembered, “a bikini. A bikini is good enough, isn’t it?”
The two guys looked at each other, considering. “I was kind of envisioning lingerie,” Mike said.
“But yeah, sure—a bikini’s fine,” Phil concluded.
Mindy knit her eyebrows. “Just one question. How many people will be here for this?” Please don’t say fifty or I’m bolting. “You see, I’m sort of new at the job and I still get a little nervous.” She sipped her drink again, since the statement was more accurate than they could have imagined.
Phil gave a genuinely kind smile. “Don’t worry, it’ll be a small get-together—just a handful of guys.”
Mike’s expression was just as sympathetic and made her think more of them both. “Nice guys,” he added. “Respectful.”
She smiled in reply. “Okay, that sounds doable.”
Just then, the bar’s door opened and a voluptuous brunet
te walked in with a huge, scary bodyguard type behind her. She wore a trench coat.
Mindy swung her gaze back to Mike and Phil. “Will you two excuse me for a moment? A couple of people I work with have just arrived and I should see why they’re here.”
“Sure,” Phil said. “Take your time. The party doesn’t start for a while.”
Mindy felt lightheaded as she left the barstool, but this was no time to actually start thinking about what she’d just put into play—so she simply barreled ahead, briskly approaching the trench-coat woman. “I bet you’re the stripper,” she said with a smile.
The woman nodded. “Where should I get ready?”
Mindy bit her lip and offered a desperate prayer that this would all work out. “Slight change of plans,” she said with a tilt of her head. “Seems the guys accidentally hired two strippers for tonight and they really only need one. But if you’ll just tell me how much you’re owed, I’ll write you a check and your work here is done.”
The brunette exchanged surprised looks with her behemoth bodyguard, then turned back to Mindy. “Getting paid for nothing? Works for me.” She and Mindy settled up for the evening, and Mindy watched blankly as the two departed.
As the door shut behind them, however, she realized that now there was no backing out. Time for a Mandy pep talk.
She’d come here to make up with Benton, hadn’t she? And what more memorable way to make up? She could sit on his lap and sing happy birthday, and he’d think it was amazingly sexy. And she even she had experience with that from Jane’s party. Darn it, if only she had her Marilyn dress. But even as suggestive as the dress was, it probably wasn’t skimpy enough for cake-popping, so she knew fate had placed that new bikini in her hands…or on her body, as the case may be, for a reason. And once she and Benton reunited, no one would even notice she wasn’t taking anything else off. So this would be fine—just fine.
When she returned to her stool, Phil and Mike still stood nearby. “Any problem?” Mike asked. Apparently, they’d watched the whole exchange with the real stripper.
“No,” Mindy assured him. “Just a mix-up—they came to wrong place. But I gave them the correct address and all’s well.”
“So this bikini,” Phil said, raising his eyebrows as he turned the subject back what was clearly the bigger issue. “What’s it like?”
“It’s a golden cheetah print sort of thing.”
Mike grinned. “Meowwww.”
Phil smiled, too. “Well, it’s probably time to get you out of sight in case our guest of honor arrives early.” Then he ushered her off the stool and toward the back room, Mike following with both her shopping bag and drink in hand.
They escorted her into an office, currently home to an enormous white plastic layer cake, and Mike lowered her bag into a chair. “You’ve still got plenty of time to get ready, though, so no rush.”
Mindy swallowed. “That’s good. I can…practice my moves a little.” Starting by making some up.
“There’s a mirror behind this door.” Phil pointed. “And we’ll be back to wheel you out in the cake when it’s time—around eight-thirty.”
Once Mindy was alone, she turned toward the big, silly-looking cake. A part of her still couldn’t believe what she’d so haphazardly set in motion here, which meant…time for another couple sips of her drink—and another pep talk.
Popping out of a cake, she reasoned, wasn’t really like stripping—it was more of an old-fashioned burlesque-ish act, an outdated, quaint, slightly humorous custom not really designed to titillate. Right?
She swallowed hard, hoping she was indeed correct about that. Because dancing for Benton in his bedroom was one thing, but dancing for a bunch of men—or even a few men—in a bar was quite another. Of course, it would have been good if she’d realized that ten minutes ago.
Yet this is for Benton. All to show him you care for him, love him.
And maybe that was why she’d decided to do something this crazy and out there. Because Benton really did bring out the Mandy in her, just like he’d said when they were breaking up. And hopefully her decision to pop out of his birthday cake would show him just how much.
She’d come here to be bold, hadn’t she? She’d come to show Benton—and maybe even herself—that Mandy wasn’t just an act, that Mandy was a real, true part of her.
So as Mindy dug through her bag and finally extracted the little bikini, she decided she couldn’t think of a better way to prove it, to both of them. In the end, it would come off without a hitch and they’d have a great story to tell their grandchildren.
Well, once their grandchildren were over twenty-one.
Benton glanced around the bar, decorated with balloons and a banner reminding him he was getting old. He knew Phil and Mike meant well and were only joking, but it still forced him to recall his regrets and recent failures.
He really should’ve cancelled this party, but every time he’d tried during a recent phone call with Phil, his friend had interrupted him. His friend had even turned uncharacteristically mushy, saying how much their friendship meant to him, how they needed to spend more time together and not let life get in the way.
Benton could tell he and Mike were concerned about him after his night of drunkenness. He could’ve explained that it was a needless worry, that he was back on track now, his old self again—but it had seemed too complicated to go into. He still hadn’t been ready to enlighten either of them about Mindy. And he would’ve felt like an ass to call off the party knowing how much his friends cared for him.
Not that he was letting his emotions rule him anymore. Hell no. As he’d promised himself, he’d re-adopted the habit of keeping them in their proper place. Appreciating your friends, that was a proper place. Letting yourself get wrapped up in a woman? Benton had determined it wasn’t for him.
Oh damn, a pile of gifts set stacked on the bar, too. He’d told Mike and Phil no presents. If the banner was any indication, he had a bunch of “Over the Hill” boxer shorts and bogus bottles of Viagra to look forward to. And, of course, he’d probably discover that Miss Binks had gotten his name engraved on something silver.
“Hey, buddy, how’s it goin’?” Mike slapped an arm around Benton’s shoulder. He was either drunk or still worried about him.
“What’s with the shirt?” Benton pointed to the Hawaiian print, not Mike’s usual fare, even if he wasn’t always as crisply dressed as Benton.
Mike shrugged. “Carrie found it on sale somewhere and thinks I look cute in it. She thought it would be ‘festive’ for tonight, so I figured, why not?”
Yeah, Benton knew how a woman could alter the way you lived your life. But he didn’t particularly like being reminded of it, or knowing his friend had fallen prey, as well, so he decided he needed a drink. “Think I’ll get a glass of wine.”
Mike laughed. “No wine tonight, buddy. They don’t even serve it here. It’s beer or hard liquor. But hey, after what happened the last time we saw you, I’d suggest sticking with beer. Or maybe Kool-Aid.”
Mike winked and Benton just nodded, hardly in a position to argue the point.
He spoke to some other old friends at the bar, then took a sip of the beer someone had shoved into his hand, forced to remember he’d recently drunk beer with Mindy at the baseball game. Not his usual beverage—too college, too casual. But for her, he’d done it without thinking twice.
Just then, a hand landed on his shoulder and he turned to find Phil, who actually gave him a hug. Clearly, being a family man was affecting Phil, too, making him a little too touchy-feely for Benton’s comfort. He’d gotten all that emotional baggage put back in the closet where it belonged and he intended to keep it there—but it would be easier if everyone else would do it his way, too. “Take a look around,” Phil told him, “and if everybody’s here, we’ll get started with the evening’s entertainment.”
Benton drew back slightly. “There’s entertainment?” From Phil’s inflection, he got the idea it was of the feminine nature.
“Oh yeah.” Suddenly Mr. Family Man seemed overly enthusiastic about a show Benton strongly suspected wasn’t for family viewing.
Shaking off his surprise, he scanned the bar. Several guys from his college days had dropped in, as well as a few other friends picked up along life’s way. But he didn’t see…“The guys from my company you invited aren’t here yet, so you might want to hold off a little while. And…I invited someone on my own who hasn’t arrived, either.” He didn’t really care if any of them showed up—but hey, if there was entertainment, may as well wait. Poor Malcolm Wainscott probably needed such a diversion by now. And it would likely provide Percy with a handful of humorous remarks to pass around the office come Monday morning.
Not that Benton was particularly thrilled about the idea of some Nurse Goodbody climbing all over him, especially in front of his employees, which was bound to happen since he was the birthday boy. But he was just gliding through life these days without much concern for anything but keeping himself in that unemotional place that let him function without the presence of a certain redhead. Whatever happened happened. No big deal.
When Mike and Phil returned to the back office, Mindy was already crouching inside the cake in her bikini and heels. She’d been practicing her exit. And she’d decided without doubt that she could do this! She could be Mandy—or at least be everything he loved about Mandy—for Benton.
“Ready?” Mike asked, peering down at her.
“As I’ll ever be,” she murmured.
Phil gave her an encouraging wink, then closed the white lid on her cake.
It was as the big fake cake was being wheeled out of the office and up the hall toward the barroom that Mindy looked down at her scrunched-up self and realized—seemingly for the first time—that she was truly about to pop out of a cake wearing a skimpy bikini in a roomful of strange men. Strange, that was, except for one of them, whom she’d recently treated like dirt.
