“I got this email from an old detective friend,” Holly said and she pulled up the letter on her phone and turned it so everyone could read. The girls huddled around the screen, leaning and reaching across the extended wooden bar top. Their club playlist poured through the mounted speakers and someone had the sense to turn it down so that the songs were barely audible above their heads.
Kristy cleared her throat and leaned close, willing to read for the rest of the group. “Okay, I’ve got it. Be quiet,” she said and waved her hand to silence the group. The ladies of Love is Murder shushed themselves immediately. “Dear Holly, I hope this letter finds you well, although I admit my purpose in writing is because I made the connection to you and young Alex when your name crossed my desk from a colleague. Please don’t be alarmed and understand that I am not operating out of my ethical duties as a detective. Rather, I hope to encourage you to cooperate with me and the other officers as best you can—no detail is too small to help us solve this case. Which is just what we need from a handful of people at this point, and it is not a condemnation of your child that he happened to get rounded-up into this fray.” Kristy paused, raised her head, made eye contact with the other members of the group, and nodded. That was just a fancy cop way of saying he was possibly involved in a murder.
She continued, “I told my friend that I’d reach out and try to connect. I want to help in any way I can. Let’s make it informal…how about dinner even? I’m overdue on that lost bet from years ago and I believe I owe you fondue.”
“Oh, he’s gross,” Maeve said and she walked away from the circle and back out into Holly’s living room, plopping down on the couch. “That reeks of deceit and ickiness like through the screen.” She shivered. “How about I buy you cheese and you tell me all about your kid.”
“Why does he owe you fondue?” Kristy asked. She looked down at the screen. “Let’s see each other, blah blah blah. Okay,” she handed the phone back, “how do you know this guy again?”
“It’s like you don’t really listen to me all the time,” Holly said. She sipped on a glass of wine and crossed a single arm over her chest.
“One hint,” Rosie asked.
“She worked in dispatch. Met a ton of officers and people in the police department,” Gloria threw out there instead of a hint. The group mumbled in unison as their memories came back. Holly smiled at the way her friends ebbed and flowed in and out of conversations—they could remember intricate details of the Ted Bundy murders but were constantly trying to remember kid’s names or birthdays and former occupations. Holly didn’t blame them for not remembering; she didn’t talk it about it much because she didn’t have any expertise to offer other than fast typing and an astute ability to stay calm in tense situations. The skill set carried over to elementary school secretary very well, she reminded them.
“This guy is a tool,” Kristy said and she went over and sat down by Maeve in solidarity. “Here’s what you do. Tell him no to dinner and then call his department and set up a formal interview and show up with your lawyer.”
“In a pantsuit!” Rose added with glee at the thought of it.
Holly liked the idea of dolling herself up in a tight-fighting little black suit and marching into the detective’s office with Brian by her side. Men steered clear of girls who showed up with representation. The members of the Love is Murder Social Club understood: this guy wasn’t friendly—that wasn’t a flirting tone, it was business, and when it came to business, Holly didn’t show up alone.
“I’ll call tomorrow and set up a meeting,” she agreed and opened her oven to pull out tiny steak bites she’d been roasting. “Okay, that’s agenda item number one. What’s two?”
Maeve nodded to the chalkboard on the wall. Agenda item number two was Joel Rusk’s background check. After the notion of a crisis actor was thoroughly refuted, the girls needed to scour everywhere for details about him before they could sign off on any more dates.
He’d asked her to a movie to get her mind off things and when a preview for some family epic slated to win a bunch of Academy Awards started before their film, she burst into tears—it was about a mom dealing with the aftermath of a child bringing a gun to school. She ate popcorn by the arcade games until he figured out she wasn’t coming back and joined her outside.
That was when her friends called a dating intervention.
Holly needed a push to make a decision because her physical attraction to Joel was out of control and if she couldn’t have him for herself she would have to cut all ties and retreat from the world for a bit.
Joel defied sexiness. All athleticism and wit and his gorgeous smile; she thought about him a lot. Then she felt guilty for thinking of him a lot.
“Whose job was it to dig up dirt?” Gloria asked with mock-excitement. She rubbed her hands together and looked anxiously over at the girls.
“I scoured social media,” Kristy offered and shrugged. “He’s squeaky clean, but probably because he works in public education. Our mutual friends say he’s lovely, but a total workaholic…and that’s pretty much all I have.”
“She forgot to mention that he’s totally gorgeous and yay you,” Mel offered with a laugh and a clap.
“I mean,” Gloria pointed at Holly, “the girl was bound to land someone stunning. She is.”
The compliment slid right by her and she tried to change the subject. “So, he’s a nice guy who works a lot and I already went on two failed dates…”
“I don’t think you get to count the random encounter slash car accident as a date,” Kristy chastised.
“No, we met at a park once, too. Just to talk.”
“Ohhhh,” Maeve teased. “I thought you’d gone quiet a few days ago when I was asking to have a drink. Is that who you went to the movies with, too?” she asked, the week taking on a new hue. Holly nodded. “You little vixen.”
“I’ve burst into tears when he’s tried to kiss me twice,” she pronounced to the group and everyone gathered around in support. A collective sigh of empathy radiated from her friends.
“That does answer the question of whether or not you’ve fucked him,” Maeve said with a wink.
“Hardly,” Holly waved her hand. “I haven’t slept with anyone with since Francisco, everyone.”
“Sweet baby Jesus, Mother Mary and Jesus. You haven’t been with him in over a decade…”
She sighed, and looked down, ashamed, even though she knew she didn’t have to be. Forced celibacy had its perks. “Honestly, it’s weird to think of being with anyone else and I didn’t know I could feel so…”
“Horny?” Mel offered.
“Yeah,” Holly admitted and the group laughed. “I want to tackle him and just crawl inside him. Like…I want our bodies to be as close together as two bodies can be. That’s what I want. And I’m totally conflicted about it.”
“It’s your sexual peak,” Gloria clapped her hands. “If you let yourself, you will be an orgasm machine.”
“Please,” Maeve angled her body toward Holly’s and munched on a blue-cheese smothered steak bite. She was barefoot and comfortable in her own cabin, the space accommodating their hobby and their size—her husband Derek built it as a wedding gift. A place where the Love is Murder Social Club, as it grew and expanded and took on a new life, would have a place to be together. Maeve was one of the newest members, but her contribution was already invaluable. Holly trusted Maeve’s advice. “Conflicted how? Conflicted because you don’t think you should have sex? Or you don’t think you should have sex with Joel?”
Holly liked it when one of them said his name. It was as though their mentioning of them validated the fact that he was real and in her life. She’d held his hand and wrapped her arms around his body, her face in his stomach, and she’d smelled the musk and excitement of him as they’d sat in the car together once, a cheap date, in the early hours of the morning.
“This does not have to be Holly’s therapy hour,” Holly said genuinely. “Agenda item three?”
“This is still agenda item two,” Mel said and she nodded over to Maeve. “Answer her questions. Don’t avoid us.”
Holly took a breath, folded her legs up under her and lowered her head. “When Alex was a kid he told me he never wanted me to have a boyfriend until he was out of the house. And I feel like I made that promise to him.”
“What?” Maeve scrunched up her nose. “How old was he?”
“Six? Maybe?” Holly answered and silent tears rolled down her cheeks.
“Six!” Gloria clapped her hands together again and then brushed them apart as if Alex’s youth solved the issue entirely. “If we let six-year-olds make all the decisions in the world then it’s tire-swings for hours and donuts for breakfast. So, maybe you’ve evolved and maybe you need to follow this.”
“You like him?” Maeve asked.
Holly nodded. “He’s really great. So far.”
Kristy raised a folder and interjected from the bar top, “All the sleuthing supports that deduction. Even hacked a credit card bill. No porn.”
“Okay, that might’ve gone too far,” Holly said, but Kristy didn’t seem to care. After years watching her brothers, Kristy’s computer savvy was unparalleled. When it came to following money or motives, she was their girl.
“There’s no too far. It’s important to know if your dude has some bedroom proclivities he needs you to follow,” Kristy said. “I say this as someone who sees all.” She waited for someone to disapprove of her and when they didn’t, she slid the folder down the bar and pointed to it. “All I know is, this guy is kinda vanilla, but also…he seems like good people.”
In a mocking vote of Holly’s news, the group erupted into applause until she stopped them and shamed them like an embarrassed mother, hushing children.
“Okay, okay. A real date,” Holly said. “And you won’t judge me? For seeing this guy…when everything else is happening?”
“While everything else is happening is a good time to form a distraction,” Kristy advised.
“Call him now,” someone else whispered from the peanut gallery and Holly, emboldened by her friends, was happy to oblige. She hushed them and waded into the corner. She counted the rings; one, two, three, and—
He answered.
She paused and collected herself.
“Hey,” he said. “Holly?”
He was breathless as if he’d run for the phone.
“Hey,” she said back, a smile on her voice—a smile on her lips. She was glad she was turned to the corner, away from her prying sisters in crime, as she felt goofy with puppy lust and excitement and anticipation. This is what she loved the most about love—this is what she’d missed. The slow discovery of someone’s pleasure in you…first, your mind and then your body. It felt selfish to know she wanted Joel all for herself, and not just his mind and his expertise, but everything. Really, everything. Her friends opened up the chance that it would be okay and her son would not be scarred from one little date, one little try.
Alex was still with his grandma.
And maybe he never needed to know.
Holly was turned on by the sound of his voice. Kristy purred behind her seductively suggesting positions they could try. She loved her friends and they were annoying. They took turns being mature, it seemed, but Maeve always seemed to run the show with bringing them back to a leveled conversation again.
“Alex is still out of town with…”
“His evil grandmother, yes. I remember,” he said.
“And so,” she took a breath and thought of all the prep the night would take and how worth it she could make it for him. And what could she do to help herself a little, too? A massage. A spray tan to cover up some stretch marks. If she was gonna get naked with someone for the first time in a decade she didn’t want them leaving disappointed. She’d be buttery and smooth. She’d make him dinner, “If you’re up for it, I want you to come stay the night. I’d like you to.”
Her friends went silent.
It seemed as if the air was sucked out of the cabin while everyone waited for his response. She’d took it a bit farther than kissing in record time for someone who’d recently been unable to keep her shit together.
“Because you’re scared?” he asked, voice soft and questioning, a bit tight with emotion as if he wanted her to confirm her intentions. “Did something happen?”
Holly leaned in closer to the wall and tucked the phone closer to her face, lowering her volume. Her heart was beating so fast she was certain he could hear it; she slowed down, she thought of being with someone for the first time, someone like him—someone whose folder was filled with donations to the ACLU and jogged every year to raise money for childhood cancer.
The boy who played the guitar next to her all those years ago, their voices mingling a harmony and a melody without even trying. If lovemaking with Joel was like singing with Joel, their bodies would just know what to do.
“No,” she said, with a happy sigh. “I’m not scared. Remember when you said you wanted to kiss me?” she asked. She was now almost whispering.
“Yeah,” Joel answered. He had to clear his throat. “I do.”
“I actually really appreciated your honesty and dedication to telling me exactly what you wanted…”
“You did?”
“And I appreciate you waiting…until I…”
She couldn’t believe she was saying this to him, to Joel Rusk. She paused. The entire social club had gone quiet behind her and she didn’t dare turn to see if they were still listening. She pushed a finger into her ear, to drown out the world and just listen to his breathing on the other end of the line.
“Until you?” he asked.
“Until I knew how much I really wanted you inside me.”’
There was a long, expectant pause. Her friends whistled low and she could hear high-fives in the background; she blushed and kicked her foot in their direction, trying to silence them.
And finally Joel said, “And…” he swallowed, “you know now? How much you want that? How much you want…me.”
She could hear the quickness in his breath, the softness
“I do,” Holly answered quickly. She was a bit louder, more self-assured and back on solid ground. “Tomorrow. My house. I’m making you dinner.”
“What can I bring?” he asked.
Holly turned a bit and looked behind her. She nearly jumped.
The entire crew of the social club had gathered around and slipped within three feet of where she stood. They were waiting for her next sentence; they’d been hanging on to her every word, living vicariously through her flirtations. Emboldened by their excited faces, embarrassed that she was playing out her flirtations live, Holly stood tall and said, “What can you bring? Yourself. Condoms. And an appetite. For everything.”
He laughed. Good natured and self-assured and replied, “Done. Done. And done. I like it when we just say what we want. Can I add one thing?”
“Of course,” she said, one hand on her hip.
“I might not be able to wait until dinner to get my hands on you. You know that right?”
She did a little dance. Tapping her feet and smiling. She couldn’t believe it, she couldn’t believe it—a gorgeous, sexy, soccer player with muscles was coming over to her house in twenty-four hours for sex.
For actual sex.
Holly’s sex in the past decade usually started mid-way through a Hallmark special or something sweaty on HBO and involved her making sure her kid was asleep before deciding if it was worth it to get a vibrator out. It almost never was. The idea of penetration made her ache wildly with anticipation. She wanted to confess it to the girls, but she knew it didn’t matter—that problem was going away.
And she had permission not to feel guilty.
She and Joel mumbled through giddy, expectant goodbyes and Holly hung up the phone before the social club erupted into childish cheering and jeering and joking and good-natured love. Holly had been single the entire time she’d known them, taking note
s on the outside of the circle, devoting herself to her kid and Weight Watchers as some substitute for not getting to date like a normal woman.
She’d been dedicated and amazing with her child and at her job, and she thought maybe Joel was Karma paying off. Holly waited, she was kind and she was hardworking and she only sometimes had to use porn to get off.
And Joel was her reward—brilliant and beautiful and bringing every inch of his love to her at rapid speed. Holly didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. Her drought, her loneliness, and her luck.
With the girls by her side, she laughed.
Chapter Ten
He was glad she’d propositioned him over the phone because he was instantly hard at the thought of her suggestion and it took everything in his power to understand that tomorrow meant tomorrow and he’d have to hold off because what his body told his mind to do was drive over to her house now.
Holy hell, it was happening with Holly. Holly the red-hot-firecracker, with the intense eyes and determined posture—as if she knew the world belonged to her and no one else. And he wanted her. It was true.
The physical parts of her catered to his tastes.
Her ass was out of this world. Big and bubbly and leading to her tiny waist. She had medium-sized boobs and a thin face with a strong nose and chin. It was as though Joyce Jetson and Daphne from Scooby Doo had a baby; that was Holly. And he hated that he loved her body so fucking much because he also really loved time with her.
He’d heard the women in the background—the little Holly entourage—and he felt immediately back in high school again. Every girl who hooked up with him back then seemed to have been encouraged by a whole clan of women. Maybe women didn’t outgrow the need to experience exercising that kind of control of over a man as a unit, a group.
When he was a kid, his dad told him the story of meeting his mom and he thought the whole coupling thing was gross and unnecessary. But in high school, he’d visited a friend’s house and his parents told their love story and it clicked for him: finding your person was the goal.
Dispatched Confessions (The Love is Murder Social Club Book 2) Page 10
