Like a kid on Christmas Eve, I knew I was going to have a hard time sleeping that night.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sleeping wasn’t as hard as I thought it was going to be. Sure, I started off thinking of all the romantic possibilities that my surprise might entail. But then I fell asleep, dreaming of sunset ocean cruises, Tony Bennett, and midnight kisses under the full moon.
Daylight was a rude awakening. Someone was knocking on my door. I looked through the peep hole in the door and gasped in horror.
Rick! What was he doing here so early? And how did he look so good at this hour?
I called through the door “One second.”
I ran a comb through my hair quickly and prayed that the sight of me didn’t have any Medusa-esque effects.
Rick knocked again. “Emily, it’s just me.”
I cracked the door. There was no reason for him to see me in my cow-print jammies. “Good morning.”
“Are you going to let me in?”
Reluctantly, I opened the door. He looked at me and smiled. “Didn’t mean to wake you up, but my schedule got a little jammed up, and I wanted to talk to you about the surprise.” He reached in his pocket and placed a key in my hand. “I have a friend who has a beach house on Quixote Key, and I thought we could go down there this weekend.”
A romantic beach getaway. That fit in nicely with the previous last night’s dream.
“That is, if you’re interested,” He added.
Interested? Was he kidding? Be cool, Emily. “I’d like that.”
He nodded. “Good. I was thinking we could drive down together, but like I said, my schedule got kinda crazy, and I won’t be able to get down there until early evening. I was thinking you might want to go earlier and get a little relaxation in before I show up.”
“I’d love to go down a little early.” If we were doing a weekend together, we probably would be sleeping together. There was a lot of pre-game planning for me to do. I needed that time.
“Then I’ll see you tonight.” He leaned in to kiss me, but I covered my mouth with my hand. I hadn’t brushed my teeth yet. There was no need to subject him to that kind of torture.
He kissed my cheek instead and handed me a piece of paper. “There’s the address and a map. I’ll see you tonight. I should be there around seven.”
“I’ll be there.”
The moment he left, I went into overdrive. I jumped into the shower, stuffed clothes in an overnight bag, showered, and ran out the door. I was supposed to meet Dennis at Le Bel Age for breakfast, and we were off to work out. The only thing I wanted to do now was to tell them about my big beach weekend. I practically ran to the cabaret.
Dennis couldn’t contain himself. A smile spread across his face. “I knew the day would come when you would get excited about your workouts.”
I tried to catch my breath. “I just worked out running here. That’s enough for the day. I have to tell you something.”
Craig handed me a glass of ice water that I did my best to chug down. I was torn between drinking and breathing. Finally, I sat down. “Yesterday, Rick and I went to lunch.”
A high pitched squeal burst from Craig’s mouth, and he clutched his chest. “Be still my heart. I knew everything was going to work out.”
Dennis stared at Craig. From the expression on his face, I could tell his ears were ringing too. “Did everything work out?”
“I think so. We talked about things, and he said he was just worried I’d get jaded and think he was like the guys who call me.”
Dennis pursed his lips. “If I’d said that, you would’ve impaled me.”
Craig slapped his arm and took my hands. “That’s what I like, straight talk from a straight boy.”
“He told me he had a surprise and then he came over this morning. We’re going to go to a beach house for the weekend. Quixote Key.”
Craig gasped. “That is so romantic. Quixote Key is gorgeous. And so peaceful. It’s very exclusive. His friend has to have money.” He sat up straight in his chair. “You’re going to spend the night with him. You have to get something sexy to wear. Something that’s going to blow his mind.”
Dennis asked, “Are you ready to go away with him? If you’re going away for the weekend, he’s gonna want ‘the sex.’”
Dennis and I had been using the term “the sex” since high school, when his mother gave him “the talk.” It was her term, but we made it our own.
“She knows she might be having ‘the sex.’ That’s why she’s going to get something new to wear.”
“Are you ready to have ‘the sex'?” Dennis asked again.
“I’m ready. I think. Maybe. If I’m not, it probably has to have more than one room.” Rick had seen me out during the day, under florescent lighting, and first thing in the morning. He knew I was a chub. I was just concerned he might not know how much of a chub.
“Do you want me to go shopping with you? I can help you pick out something.”
Craig had supported me in all my Drewage, and I loved him for that, but I wasn’t ready for him to see my thighs.
“I think I can manage. Dennis, I’m going to tell him everything I know about Jim’s murder, too.”
Dennis smiled so big, I could swear I saw that little ping of light reflected off his teeth—the one you always see in tooth-whitening commercials. “I’m glad. You won’t be sorry, and who knows? Maybe he’ll be able to help you get an inside connection on your story.”
“Maybe.” I stood up. “I have shopping to do. I’ll see you guys when I get back.”
“Call, and we’ll meet you for breakfast. I want all the details. Well, except for the straight part.” Craig thought for a moment. “Okay, I just want to know what he looks like naked. I swear Emily, you are such a lucky girl. Handcuffs.”
Dennis looked at Craig and then at me. “Emily, take my advice. Don’t rush into the handcuff thing. It’ll happen naturally.”
There were some things I didn’t want to even think about.
Chapter Thirty-Four
I went back to the store where I had found my lucky dress. I stuck close to walls. I recognized Gwynnie at the register. She was the same girl who’d helped me when I tried on my dress. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her. As far as Gwynnies went, she was great; in fact, she’d made me rethink my whole position on Gwynnies. I just felt there was a difference between helping me with a dress and picking out a Rick-seducing nightie.
Another customer came in and distracted her, so I had made a mad dash for the back of the store, where I was surrounded by bras, panties, and lingerie in various degrees of modesty.
Corsets and crotchless panties were definitely out, as was anything with maribou feathers.
I was pretty deep into the babydoll collection when someone tapped me on the shoulder, sending my arms flailing in satin and chiffon and my heart out of my mouth and onto the floor.
It was Gwynnie. “Can I help you with something?”
“Uhm. I was just looking.”
Her eyes twinkled. “Is it a special occasion?”
“I’m not really sure.”
She looked around, and then mouthed the words, “First time?” so no one else could hear.
Her doe eyes and dimples were working on my defenses. I didn’t know what to do, so I just nodded.
She clapped her hands. “How exciting! Let’s see, what’s he like?” She pulled a red see-through teddy off the rack “He’d love this. It’s one of our bestsellers.”
“I’m thinking something a little more conservative’s the way to go.”
“Honey, you got the curves, flaunt ‘em. Besides, it’s red.”
Peyton had officially taken over Gwynnie’s body. That was all I needed. W.W.P.D. had already gotten me in enough trouble. I needed to start listening to my inner Emily. “I don’t think so.”
Gwynnie took over going through the racks and handed me a few things to try on.
I had to give it to her; she was at least trying t
o give me some tamer choices, but none of them were really working for me. One was a little too filmy, one left my tummy exposed and vulnerable, and the other pushed my boobs up to my eyebrows.
Gwynnie frowned when I came out of the dressing room. I hated that I was disappointing her.
She eyed a customer at the register. “Let me ring that up, and I’ll be back. We’ll find something.”
I went back to the rack and kept looking. I’d hoped that less revealing items would be available in my size. That wasn’t the case. It seemed that everyone else was free with their fat—everyone but me.
Gwynnie, I want something to hide my chubbiness. Got a magic wand under the register?
I flipped through the extra-larges and pulled out yet another babydoll that I thought would be too revealing — only it wasn’t. In fact, it might be just what I was looking for. It had an empire waist, always a friend of the chubby girl, underwire to give a little support, and holy of holies, it wasn’t see-through, just short and flirty. I slipped back into the dressing room, put it on, and it was cute. There was cleavage enough to keep everyone happy, but not going overboard. It was flouncy in my problem areas, and I could work it.
Peyton might go with the bra-less vinyl corset with tear-away thong, but this was all about me. It was even pink. I could do my hair, do that Pamela Anderson cat’s eye thing, and I might actually be a little kitten-y, not the phone kind either: an honest-to-God sex kitten.
The grannies were not going to go with this outfit. I checked out underwear display. Boy cut was out because I just didn’t get them, and they’d look stupid with this anyway. Thongs were out, because frankly, I didn’t need a permanent wedgie. It was the bikini panties by elimination. I could live with that.
I went to the register as the other customer was leaving. Gwynnie grabbed my purchases and held up my nightie. “This is so adorable.” She grimaced when she saw my panties. “No thongs?”
“Like I said, he’s real conservative.” I watched as she put everything in the bag. “You’ve helped me here before, do you mind if I ask your name?”
She seemed genuinely pleased that I’d asked. “I’m Mandy.”
“I’m Emily. I appreciate it. More than you know.”
“Next time you come in, I want details. You have to tell me if Mister Conservative likes the outfit. At the very least.”
I left the store feeling pretty good. I had a cute little something that I knew Rick would like and that I felt comfortable wearing.
I’d also met Mandy. I decided that I wasn’t going to judge on appearances anymore. Not every Gwynnie was a Gwynnie. I imagined that a lot of them were Mandys, and I had judged them too harshly.
The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea of going to the beach house early. It would be an escape from all things Jim-related. I could decide how to tell Rick about the whole mess, and I might even be able to put together dinner for him. Also, if I was sure enough that a little magic was going to happen that I bought a costume, I should stop at a drugstore and pick up safety equipment.
But I didn’t go to the drug store. I didn’t want the guy who gave me cold medicine to know that I might be having sex this weekend. He might think I was a slut, and I’d hate to explain the whole situation.
I decided to go to the adult bookstore on US 19, because everyone there was having sex, and who were they to judge me? Besides, I was curious about the place. A lot of callers told me they went to these places. They talked about backrooms where they did stuff that no right-thinking person would do. I wondered if they were just making those places up.
I stopped at Al’s Bookstore and Emporium on my way out of town. It was big, painted white with a big red sign, and most importantly, it only had two cars in front of it. I figured that one had to belong to the person working there, and even if the other was packed with people who needed to go to the bookstore for their adult needs, there were at most four people there.
I stood outside the door for a moment. Did I really want to do this? Yes, I did. I swung it open with authority. I was going in, and I didn’t care who saw me. I was only practicing safe sex. There was nothing to be ashamed of.
I was surprised at how bright it was inside. It was fluorescent white, and it seemed liked everything was operating on a high wattage. The Corolla out front had to be a clown car, because there were at least a dozen men in there, all staring at me.
It was not the Barnes and Noble porno crowd I'd expected. I don’t think there was a book in the place. Lots of magazines—I didn’t know breasts came that large. I took a stroll down the toy aisle. There were things that not only vibrated, which wasn’t a big deal, but that vibrated, throbbed, and even lit up. My mind was spinning, because, wouldn’t something like that possibly cause electrocution?
The condoms were located next to the checkout counter. I looked up at the guy at the register, a young Goth who’d gone a little too heavy on the guyliner. Then my gaze went back to the condom display.
My God. Who knew there was such a selection? Or so much variety. Latex, non-latex, flavored, ribbed, big, small, regular.
Red-faced, I checked out with a pack of Titanium Snug; glow in the dark, assorted colors, something ribbed for the lady’s pleasure, latex, non-latex, and my favorite, the flavor variety pack that included chocolate, banana, cherry, strawberry, vanilla, and mint.
Goth Boy rang up my purchases, then leaned over and whispered, “Just a little advice. The flavored ones aren’t that great except for vanilla and mint. Personally, I like the mint because they smell really good. The rest kind of burn.” He widened his eyes and nodded knowingly.
Since he’d been so nice, I whispered back, “Do you have little rooms where people do things?”
He raised his eyebrows. “We don’t let girls set up shop here.”
“Oh, no. I didn’t mean that I was talking about a back room where…” I trailed off. Explaining what I meant wasn’t going to make me look any more virtuous. It was just best to pay the man the seventy dollars that I owed him and move along.
“Thanks.”
He picked up the magazine he was reading. “Yeah, whatever.”
Okay, so customer service wasn’t his thing.
Chapter Thirty-Five
I wasn’t a stranger to Quixote Key. My mother and I had often made day trips there. But it was never an overnight stay. Quixote was a little too expensive for anything more than a day of shelling and a stop at the DQ for a Dilly-Bar on the way home.
Exclusive didn’t even begin to scratch the surface. I’d read The Great Gatsby in my senior year of English, and I’m sure that I wasn’t the only kid with no New York experience who imagined Quixote Key as being East Egg. There were two resorts on each end of the island and a small smattering of beach houses in between. Most of the island was a wildlife refuge and bird sanctuary. There was a lighthouse for history buffs, tales of pirate treasure for adventurers, and a little string of art galleries and stores for shoppers; but mostly, it was the perfect Florida that tourists envisioned.
The Key was only about fifty miles from St. Pete, but it took me close to two hours to find the house. The house number, 1313, was blocked by bushes, and like most of the other houses on Quixote, it wasn’t visible from the road.
WOW. That was my first thought when I saw the place. It wasn’t that it was big, but it was gorgeous, with gingerbreading and warm sunny colors. Fat red geraniums grew in window boxes on the balcony that overlooked the small pool, and beyond the house was the Gulf.
There was a door under the patio that the key opened. The basement was a finished rec room complete with pool table, pinball machine, bar, and poker table.
A single-wall main floor consisted of windows that opened to the balcony. The Jacuzzi was out there waiting for me. I could easily imagine sitting on the balcony, drinking a little wine, and listening to the waves on the beach below. The kitchen was open, as were the dining and living rooms. Peaches, yellows, greens, and blues dominated the color scheme,
which was reflected in the artwork and the tile. The floors were pine and polished to a high shine.
In the center of the living area was a flight of stairs that led up to the loft. There I found a bedroom that I’d thought existed only in my dreams. The sleigh bed was puffy, and it felt like the mattress was stuffed with feathers. I couldn’t wait to sleep in that thing.
Since I had the afternoon to myself, I unpacked. I put my little brown bag of condoms on the nightstand. I was really hoping that, if “the sex” was going to happen, Rick would provide his own. I’d hate to dump these all out on the bed and explain why I thought banana-strawberry-twist-flavored rubbers were a good idea. I didn’t think “I was caught up in the moment at the sex store” would be a viable excuse for the eighty-four condoms I’d purchased. It just made me look horny.
I put on my swimsuit and my t-shirt, grabbed a beach towel from the linen closet, and headed down to the water. There wasn’t a soul around. The whole beach was mine. I walked quite a distance in each direction. There wasn’t a house, a boat, or another person to be seen. It creeped me out a bit. It didn’t seem like such a beautiful white sand beach should be devoid of tourists. It seemed that some of them would have wandered down in my direction from one of the resorts.
At least it made me understand the whole pool-at-the-beachhouse thing. It was a lot less creepy than a solitary beach.
I played in the pool, because I didn’t really have the balls to call it swimming. I thought I’d try a little time in the Jacuzzi, but I found it way too relaxing. Too long in there and I risked falling asleep and drowning. I could see that it would be fun sitting in there with Rick and a glass of wine, but would I have to be naked in a Jacuzzi? That was the one thing that concerned me. All the getting in and getting out could be unflattering in the very best of circumstances.
Phone Kitten: A Cozy, Romantic, and Highly Humorous Mystery Page 24
