by Marie Hall
“No. Jeez, Trish, what do you take me for?” Betty gripped the edge of the desk, while her pulse beat a staccato tattoo in her skull.
“Are you sleeping with him?” Trisha asked the question like an accusation, and Betty’s blood boiled, the one percent threatened to rear its ugly head.
The man appeared for a second, glancing at them with a concerned frown before quickly scooting down another isle.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your damn business,” Betty snapped.
“But it is my business!” Trisha pounded her fist, her words ringing like cannon fire in a still forest.
“Keep your voice down,” Betty pleaded, jerking her head in the direction of the book shelves.
Trisha gulped air until her breathing calmed and then smoothed a hand over her blond head. “You want to know why it’s my business, Betty? I’ll tell you why.” She pointed to her chest. “I can sleep with a man, and it’s not personal. It’s fun. I don’t expect more than that, but you can’t. You sleep with a man and you’re in love. And let’s face it, honey, your track record sucks.”
Betty slapped Trisha’s finger off her. “How dare you? This is exactly why I didn’t tell you. I knew you’d act all stupid, and crazy, and silly. Look, yeah, it wasn’t the smartest thing to take him home with me, but as I recall it you told me to.”
“No.” Trisha’s blood red fingernail drove like a spike through the air. “If you recall, I do believe I said take him to Kelly, or drop him off at the shelter. What part of that did you not understand? The man could be a rapist, a murderer…”
Try none of the above. But Betty couldn’t tell her that, and Trisha wouldn’t believe it anyway. She huffed. “Yes, he could have been. But he’s not. So why do you care? He makes me laugh. He makes Briley laugh. I lo…” She jerked, realizing what she’d almost said.
Trisha’s eyes widened. “Love him? Is that what you were about to say?”
“No,” Betty shook her head, “I like him.”
“That’s not what I heard.” Trisha crossed her arms.
The man came up to the counter with two leather bound books in his hands. His rheumy blue eyes studied the girls. “I could come back later if you’re busy,” he said in the thin, scratchy voice of a man well beyond his prime.
Betty sighed, and plastered on a smile, though inside she wanted to cry. Why couldn’t Trisha just be happy for her? Betty wasn’t going to fall in love with the man, it wasn’t like that. She didn’t have a choice in the matter anyway. Yeah, so she’d almost used the word love. But not love-love, more like the way one loved a favorite pair of shoes, or a puppy.
She took the books, grateful her hands didn’t shake too badly. “No, now is fine. Library card, please?”
He pulled a well-worn card out of his pocket. The picture showed him, maybe ten years younger, with the horseshoe hair, but brownish instead of gray, and without the frizzy tufts poking from his ears. What would Gerard look like when he aged? Would he age? Thoughts scrambled through her head as she checked the man’s books into the computer.
Trisha paced behind Betty’s chair like a restless tiger in a cage, and Betty flashed him an apologetic smile as she handed him back the books. “Due back in a month, Mr. Adams.”
He nodded, grabbed the books, and sprinted as fast as his old legs would carry him out the door. Betty sighed, swiveling in her chair.
Trisha gripped the sides of her chair, pinning Betty in place.
“Listen, sweetie, if you think I’m being mean, I probably am. I miss you. But more than that, I’m worried about you. Can’t you see he’s a rebound guy? And not a good one. Yeah, he’s incredibly delicious, and if I were you I’d probably slather his body in warm chocolate and lick it all off.”
“Oh jeez, you’re so disgusting.” Betty scrunched her face.
“But, I’m telling you now, the man is a pig. A player. He’s another James, except prettier. He’s playing you, girl. He’s having his fun, but I swear to you, he’ll leave. Just like all the rest.”
“You don’t know that,” Betty mumbled.
Trisha smiled softly, stepping back and nodding. “Yes I do, sweetling. Because he’s just like James, just like high school quarterback Carter, and he’s just like me.” Her voice trailed off sadly. She hugged her arms to her chest.
The words were a fist hammering through her heart. She looked at her friend, as if seeing her for the first time. Trisha looked pretty today. Hunter green top and woodland brown pencil skirt-- a luscious figure on a petite frame. Compared to her, Betty might as well have been an ogre. Tall and gangly, awkward and a nerd to boot.
“We’re all fun, but zero substance, honey. Just guard your heart, Betty. Promise me. Because when you get hurt, I get hurt, and I don’t want to see my best friend turn into a puddle of crying goo again. Not over a player.” With that, Trisha turned and walked to the back of the library.
Trisha was right. Gerard would leave. Either she fell in love with him, or he’d die. Neither choice was particularly appealing.
If she fell in love, he’d leave. Only she had to love him to save him, he didn’t have to love her back. Which meant his heart was free to beguile and seduce someone else. Someone more like Trisha-- perfect, sexy, a blond bombshell-- a someone Betty could never hope to be. But if she didn’t love him, they’d kill him. The thought tore Betty’s heart into a million tiny pieces.
Love sucked.
Chapter 15
“You promise not to laugh?” Betty’s voice came out small behind the bathroom door.
Gerard sat on the bed, drinking his morning brew, breathing in the bitter vapors, anything to try and get more alert. “I’ll promise no such thing, Cherie. Spandex looks awful on anyone.”
“You’re not helping.”
Today was the day he’d been dreading all week. Comic-con. She’d woken him at an ungodly hour, stars still thick and heavy in the sky, with the fevered excitement of a child at Yule. She’d tried her damndest to get him to dress in character too. No chance in hell. Blue jeans and a shirt were good enough for him.
“Just come out, Elliptical,” he growled.
“It’s Eclipse, and I’m not gonna come out unless you’re nice,” her voice trembled.
Gerard chuckled, tapping the side of the ceramic mug with his thumb. “Fine, fine. Come out please.”
The knob turned.
First thing he noticed was a shiny pair of black thigh high boots with heels so high she seemed to tower in the doorway. A black and navy blue cape fluttered behind her, hanging well past her knees.
He swallowed, tongue thick, as his gaze continued the slow slide up. Silvery black spandex covered her torso and chest, reminding him of a bustier. His fingers flexed hard around the ceramic. The top pushed her breasts up and out, her exquisite mounds, plump and firm, and begging for a man’s touch. His touch.
Betty’s hair hung long and loose around her shoulders, framing her heart shaped face. But it was the silk mask tied around her eyes that made his pulse race and knees tremble for want of her. Glowing blue eyes stared back at him from behind the mask, as electric as a hot bolt of lightning. He’d have laughed at the ridiculous circlet on her head, the two circles-- one golden, the other black-- had it not been for those eyes.
What had she done? What magic had she used? “Your eyes, Cherie?” he said, his voice sounded thick to his ears.
She smiled, and for the first time ever, he noticed a slight dimple curve a sickle shape in her right cheek.
“It’s contacts.” She tossed her head, sending her curls flying behind her. “You like?”
Gerard shot to his feet, gripping the cup like his life depended on it. For a moment, one moment to be free of Galeta’s bloody curse, he’d throw Betty down on the bed and make her sing for him. “I like.”
The heart pendant sparkled deeper shades of Indigo. Did she know? Could she sense the change? Gerard’s only thought was of his freedom, saving his life. He ground his molars-- confused if that’s really
what he wanted anymore.
He could hardly breathe around the heat of her gaze. The room grew thick and cloying, filled with an impossible tension. Like stepping out in a storm only seconds after a lightning strike-- ozone laced air still shivering with raw volts of power.
Betty walked to him, but he couldn’t move. His heart beat a painful rhythm in his chest, demanding he do something, demanding he take control as he’d so often done before. But he wasn’t in control, she stripped him bare, made him forget who he was, what he was. All he knew in that moment, was that Betty was the most divine creation he’d ever seen.
Her fingers grazed his, and for a moment he thought she’d push him down on the bed. But instead she yanked the cup out of his hands and with a saucy wink, drank.
Her throat worked as she swallowed, and he shifted toward her, moving like shaved iron into her magnetic pull. “You know I like that.”
Ruby red lips curled up into a slow smile. “Like what?”
“Your lips and tongue touching the same spot mine did. It’s like a kiss, Cherie .”
The cup visibly shook in her hands, sloshing the drink. “This is coffee,” she said it breathless, voice hitched and strained.
He nodded, stealing the cup back and setting it on the night stand. “I’ve developed a craving.”
“For coffee?” her whisper feathered across his lips like a caress.
Gerard grabbed her face, the softness of her skin like silk against his rough palms. “So soft. Mon ange.” His angel, and she was that. Then there was no more talking, only tasting.
He moved his mouth against hers, the smooth friction made him groan. Her lips were the softest satin. “Open for me, Cherie .”
Betty’s fingers found his shirt, she bunched the fabric in her fists and moaned, it was enough. Gerard licked, tasted, and suckled. Her tongue tasted of mint and coffee-- both sweet and bitter. She clawed at his head with the frenzy of a woman desperate for more, he slipped his tongue into the warm recess of her mouth, their tongues dueled. A mating pantomime-- each seeking dominance, each expressing with moans and guttural sounds how much they’d longed for this.
Too soon she broke away. Gerard was left panting, his forehead pressed against hers, willing his body to stop trembling.
“Briley,” she said her nephew’s name with a regretful sigh.
Gerard didn’t want to stop touching her, he rubbed his bristly cheek against her smooth one. Betty’s hands crawled under his shirt, her nails scratching lightly at his back, and gods he didn’t want to leave this room. He wanted her all to himself, all day, all night.
But this was important to her.
“This isn’t over, Cherie ,” he promised, his thumb tracing the plump swell of her bottom lip. “Not by a long shot.”
***
“I’m Spiderman!” Briley made small shwing sounds, pumping his fist at groups of people, some of whom were dressed in the most ridiculous costumes Gerard had ever seen.
Briley’s was bad enough, black, silver, and white, with a large spider at its center, but even that was preferable to some of the others. There’d been a lime green thing of fur that snarled and limped along on six cloven legs, a fat lizard like tail dragging along behind its enormous ass. Several silver painted bodies, eyes glowing much like Betty’s. But where Betty’s made Gerard hot and eager to touch and fondle, these made him uneasy and flexing his fist with a need to smash in noses, especially when one (a male by the sound of its deep voice) moved in close to Betty and attempted to pat her rear.
That ass belonged to him for the next week, and he’d not allow a soul to fondle it but him.
“Eclipse!” a shrill, highly feminine voice screamed her name.
Betty was bent over a booth, looking at comics when she stilled and turned. Her cape whispering behind her impossibly lean legs, and Gerard desired nothing more than to steal his harpy tongued wench far from the chaotic milieu.
Betty squealed, she then grabbed one of his hands and one of Briley’s, and shoved her way through the crowd to the still waving female headed their way. She dressed similar to Betty-- blue and silver cape and black spandex-- but her plump form didn’t elicit the same sort of passion for him.
Her chubby face was splotchy and sweaty, green hair frizzed wildly about her head, and the bustier (a size too small) seemed painted on the way it bulged at the seams.
“Nightmare,” Betty said, dropping their hands.
The moment Betty acknowledged the other hero, the plump one dropped to her knee, genuflecting almost fully to the floor, and held her hands out in supplication. “The Bleeding Hearts have gathered, my Queen,” she said solemnly. “We await your directives.”
Gerard snorted, covering his mouth and tried hard not to laugh. Betty turned a hard stare on him, then raked the air with her clawed hand, before turning back to Nightmare.
“Arise, noble hero. Your Queen welcomes you,” Betty modulated her voices an octave deeper, and the sultry sound of it shivered down his spine.
Nightmare stood and grabbing her face, Betty rubbed noses with her.
“Ms. Lydia,” Briley squealed after the apparent ceremony finished.
Lydia (Gerard refused to even think of her as nightmare anymore) grabbed Briley in a tight hug and ruffled his head, even though his hair was covered by a full mask. “Heya, squirt. Havin’ fun?”
Briley nodded and sought Gerard’s hand. “Mr. Gerard bought me lots of candy and we saw Xena and Lady DragonSpell and I got to take a picture with Spiderman!”
Gerard stiffened, glancing at the boys chubby fingers within his own. Betty sucked in a sharp breath, her hands over her mouth. Gerard’s eyes grew wide, knowing something had just happened, but not understanding what.
But Lydia leaned in to whisper, killing the moment. “You should know, Eclipse, the Rockers have a booth next to ours. The bastards…”
“There is a child present,” Gerard growled, feeling oddly protective of Briley, an astonishing thing considering he’d never particularly been fond of kids. Though he found he kind of liked this one.
Betty again whipped around to face him, this time a smile crooked her lips.
“Oh my bad.” Lydia zipped her lips. “Sorry, squirt.”
For his part, Briley seemed completely oblivious as he happily sucked away at a lollipop he’d dug out of his bag. He’d pushed his mask half way up, it now bunched around his cheeks, his lips were coated with the red candy.
Betty pulled some wet wipes from her pocket to clean up his face, and then gestured for Lydia to lead the way. Gerard barely held his groan in check. Were it not for the fact that Betty looked damnably delicious in the costume, he’d demand they head back home now. He hated the crowds, hated this world, and wanted her attention all to himself.
They walked to a booth well in the back of the monstrously large building, a gaggle of silver and blue bedecked ‘heroes’ gathered around it, reminding Gerard of a flock of geese. Some short, tall, fat, slim-- but all deferring to Betty. Bowing and pontificating about how wonderful it was to see her, and ‘all hail the Queen’, then they each took turns rubbing noses. Honestly, Gerard found the entire affair ridiculous, but he couldn’t deny watching her smile and laugh flooded his body with a warmth that ripped through him like a spear.
“Mr. Gerard,” Briley looked up at him, the candy dangled from his hands. “I’m tired.”
He sighed. “Me too, garcon.” Spying a row of white fold up tables, he pointed. “Let’s sit.”
The moment they sat, Briley went back to sucking his candy, and Gerard watched her. What was happening to him? Acting like a girl the way his eyes constantly sought her out, watching her every move like a man entranced. Pulse quickening when she laughed, when even the tinkle of her laughter reached his desperate ears.
Drumming his fingers on the table, he shook his head. The pendant had very little crimson in it now. She was falling for him, but it still wasn’t enough. Because no matter how much he wanted to slide his shaft deep into her willi
ng, hot body, he couldn’t harden. If he couldn’t harden, she didn’t love him, and if she didn’t love him, he’d die.
One week. T’was all they had left. What more could he do? What hadn’t he done? He cooked for her, listened to her, watched her repulsive cartoons, and still something inside her resisted him. Should he attempt a seduction? Would that push her over the top?
“Do you love, Aunt Betty?” Briley’s small voice broke his musings.
“What?” he growled, staring down at the boy.
