Pucked Love

by Helena Hunting

  “Are you sure?” My God. My heart feels like it’s part of the backbeat to a techno track. It was bad enough when my mom parked her stupid mini Winnebago in my driveway for three days, but a full-sized RV is a whole different bag of no-fucking-way.

  “I’m sure. We can’t see it anymore.”

  I uncover my eyes and slowly pull myself back up, checking to make sure Violet isn’t lying. The girls are looking at me like I’ve lost my mind.

  “Are you okay?” Lily asks.

  “Fine. Good. Sorry about that.”

  “Once when Lily and I were little, we went to the park and there was a guy in a white van with no windows and he offered us candy. Remember that, Lily?” Sunny asks.

  Lily nods and shudders. “Sure do.”

  “Thankfully Alex was there playing hockey with some of the boys in the neighborhood. They started shooting their pucks at the van and broke the windshield.” Sunny twirls her hair. “Ever since then, white windowless vans give me the willies.”

  “That’s totally reasonable.” I nod my agreement. “I feel the same way about RVs.”

  “Bad people are everywhere,” Sunny says softly, still rubbing her belly. “I’m glad this one will have an older brother to protect him or her.”

  Violet and Sunny start talking about what it’s like to have an older brother. Violet’s experience is a lot different than Sunny’s. Skye and Sidney married when Violet was a teenager, and she and Miller only had to go to the same high school for a year. But Miller and Vi really do act like brother and sister, and always have, as far as I know.

  We pull into Violet’s driveway a few minutes later. There are yellow balloons tied to the trees with Happy Birthday written on them.

  I give Violet the eye. “I thought this was going to be more like a Memorial Day Weekend party.”

  She shrugs. “We’re celebrating all the things, and as your best friend, I reserve the right to make a big deal out of your birthday even if you won’t. Plus, Darren can be pushy when he feels like talking and making demands.”

  “He’s good at that, the making demands part,” I agree.

  The guys are already in the backyard, playing Frisbee in the pool.

  “The birthday girl has arrived!” Violet yells.

  Darren turns as Lance lets the Frisbee go and ends up getting clocked in the back of the head. He nabs it before Randy can and hurls it back at Lance.

  “Aye, fucker! It’s nae my fault yer no payin’ attention!” Lance’s usually mild Scottish accent grows thick, and he winks in my direction as Darren wades to the shallow end. He pulls himself out of the pool, wearing a sinister smile as he rushes me.

  “Don’t you dare! I don’t even have my bathing suit on yet!”

  “You should’ve been better prepared, firefly.” His smile widens as he hauls me against him. My yellow sundress soaks through and I push on his chest, trying to get free, but it’s impossible.

  “You’re not supposed to run on the pool deck!” I shriek as his lips find my neck, and then we’re airborne. The water is warm, but still a shock when we go under.

  Darren brushes my hair away from my face and bubbles burst out of his mouth as he laughs, possibly at my expression. He launches us skyward when our feet touch the bottom of the pool.

  Before I can yell at him for ruining my hair and the only outfit I brought with me, he grips the back of my neck and locks our mouths together. Someone whistles, and I’m pretty sure Randy tells us to get a room.

  “You’re a jerk,” I mumble around his tongue.

  He laughs and swims me to the shallow end. “I’m your jerk.”

  “You could’ve waited until I was wearing a bathing suit! I don’t even have a change of clothes.”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got you more than covered.” He grabs a towel from the edge of the pool. “Want some help changing out of your wet clothes?”

  “From you? Nope.” I push on his chest, biting back a grin as I climb out and wrap myself in the towel.

  “We’ll get him back for you later, Char,” Miller calls after me.

  “Oh, don’t you worry. I’m more than capable of making him pay for his transgressions, and I’m sure my punishment will be far worse than anything any of you can dream up.” I arch a brow at Darren and grab my bag, smiling at the chorus of laughter that follows me into the pool house.

  Darren and I both know any kind of “punishment” I’ll be doling out will be of the teasing variety, but they don’t need to know that, and sometimes it’s fun to keep them guessing.

  It’s a hot day in late May, and the air conditioning is on in the pool house. Goose bumps flash over my skin as I pad across the cold tile floor to the bathroom. On the counter is a yellow gift bag tied with a bow. My name is written on the little card in Darren’s neat cursive.

  Before I open the gift, I strip out of my clothes and wrap myself in the towel. I pull the satin ribbon, wondering if the whole dragging-me-into-the-pool business was an orchestrated move. I assume so. Darren doesn’t do anything without plan or purpose. I remove the tissue paper, noting the firefly print.

  Inside is a small package wrapped in more tissue paper; this time lavender. I pluck at it from the back and gently tear the paper.

  A soft knock is followed by the twist of the doorknob. “Charlene?” I’m unsurprised that Darren has followed me. I’m curious as to what his plan is—whether it’s going to be a delayed-gratification day, or the kind where we sneak off and satisfy our cravings for each other in short bursts of need and want. I’m banking on the latter since it’s my birthday, and I should be able to call all the shots.

  I clear my throat, my body already warming. “I’m getting changed.”

  “I came to assist with that.”

  I bite back a smile as I open the door and peek through the gap. Darren grips the doorjamb, eyes moving down my neck to where my pearls lie, then dipping lower to where I clutch the towel.

  “What if I don’t want your assistance?”

  “I can just watch if you’d prefer.” His smile is full of dirty promises as he pushes on the door, and I step back, allowing him in. He closes it and flips the lock. “It’s your birthday. Whatever you want, you get.”

  “Whatever I want?” I tap my lips. “Hmm. You know, I’ve been looking at those new Teslas. I think I’d look pretty great in the driver’s seat.”

  “We can go car shopping later.”

  “Haha.”

  I’m clearly joking. It’s a two-hundred-thousand-dollar car. I would actually be terrified to drive it. Darren is quite sensible about his purchases. He has two vehicles—an SUV and a sweet sports car—neither of which cost an excessive amount of money. It’s one of the many things I appreciate about him. His most frivolous purchases are usually lingerie related, or at least they were until a couple of months ago when he discovered his love of cotton panties that retail at five dollars a pair.

  I turn back to the lavender tissue paper so I can finish unwrapping what I suspect is the first of many gifts. I find a brand new bikini in a soft, pale purple—one I’ve looked at more than once over the past month or so.

  “This one is as much for me as it is for you, hence the color.” He drops his head, lips finding my shoulder. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like my assistance?”

  “Everyone is going to know what’s going on in here.” I point out as he kisses up the side of my neck.

  “I don’t mind if they know I’m apologizing for throwing you in the pool.” He untucks the edge of the towel, and it falls to the floor.

  “Is that what you’re doing? Apologizing?”

  He skims the curves of my hips, making fresh goose bumps flash over my skin again. “You mentioned something about a punishment. I thought it might be a good idea to get that over with now.” His lips lift against my cheek.

  “You’re welcome to serve your penance on your knees.”

  His mouth touches mine for the briefest moment before he drops to the bathmat.

  Lifti
ng me onto the vanity, he hooks my legs over his shoulders and shows me exactly how sorry he is with his mouth, and then again when he gets inside me.

  It’s a good half hour before we come out of the pool house. I’d be embarrassed, but this happens quite regularly with my group of friends—although usually it’s Randy and Lily who make use of the various bathrooms. Hockey players have high sex drives, and watching their girlfriends or wives wander around in bikinis gets them excited. There are worse problems to have.

  Lily passes me a glass of champagne as soon as I settle myself in one of the loungers.

  “Oh! I like this!” She motions to my new bikini. “Do you know if they have the bandeau-style top?” Lily is modest in the chest department. She’s incredibly lean and so fit she has a four pack.

  “I think they might. I’ll text you a link to the site.”

  Violet lowers herself into the lounger beside me. She adjusts her bikini top with a frown. “What the hell am I going to do if these get bigger? I’m already busting out of these tops as it is.”

  “Doesn’t Alex buy you a new bikini every week?”

  “I have some from my last pregnancy that might fit you,” Sunny says from under her sunhat.

  “Yeah, I might have to take you up on that. I’m constantly at risk of flashing a nipple here.” Violet leans back in her chair, and then checks to make sure the movement hasn’t exposed anything it shouldn’t.

  Lily, Poppy, and I drink champagne while Violet and Sunny drink fizzy grape juice with strawberries floating in the glass. I survey the pool, smiling as the guys play volleyball and Lily’s and Sunny’s dogs—Weiner, Titan, and Andy—run up and down the length of the pool, waiting for someone to throw them a ball or a Frisbee. As far as birthday celebrations go, this is my idea of perfect. I have almost all the people I care about right here.

  About an hour later, commotion in the driveway draws my attention. Darren pulls himself out of the pool and heads for the gate. Robbie and Sidney appear, both carrying coolers, and behind them are Daisy and Skye.

  When they move to the side, I shriek and jump out of my chair. “Mom?”

  She grins and gives Darren a nervous smile before she does jazz hands. The best part is she’s dressed like a normal person. “Surprise!”

  I rush around the pool and throw myself into her arms. “I thought you were in the middle of filming.”

  “I might have fibbed a little. As if I could miss my baby girl’s champagne birthday.” She hugs me tight. “Darren called me last week and arranged to fly me out here.”

  He shoves his hands in his pockets and smiles. “I thought it would be a nice surprise.”

  After I’m finished hugging my mom, I launch myself at him. He catches me as I wrap my arm and legs around him. His smile grows, and he chuckles. “I did okay?”

  “You did amazing. Thank you.” Other words I want to say get trapped in my throat, so I kiss him instead.

  The afternoon is full of appetizers, dips in the pool, crazy conversations between the moms about pregnancy, sex, and other things I’ve never wanted to know about Violet or Alex’s moms, or mine. But I wouldn’t trade the crazy for anything in the world.

  We’re in the middle of setting the table for dinner—I could use the food thanks to the amount of champagne I’ve consumed this afternoon—when another commotion at the gate draws my attention.

  “What’s going on over there?” I ask Violet, who’s busy trying to attach pickled pearl onions to baby gherkins and wrap them in ham so they resemble mini Super MCs.

  Violet looks over her shoulder and shrugs. “Maybe it’s another delivery, courtesy of your boyfriend?”

  “I’m going to check it out.”

  Darren has bought me a ridiculous number of gifts, and apparently there are more waiting at his place. I’ve unwrapped a new closet’s worth of shirts and leggings this afternoon.

  I tiptoe stealthily across the patio in hopes that I can catch a glimpse of whatever is being delivered.

  “What the fuck is going on?” Darren mutters. “Why is this thing parked in your driveway? We need to get it gone before Charlene sees it.”

  Darren is standing shirtless with his arms folded across his chest, Alex beside him, adopting the same pose. I suppress a shudder when an RV comes into view. It’s parked in the driveway. It looks eerily similar to the one that was parked on my street earlier today.

  The door to the RV opens with an ominous creak. Anxiety ricochets awkwardly through my entire body as a man appears in the doorway.

  I break into a cold sweat as memories I’ve spent the past decade trying to keep locked away and buried claw their way to the surface. I’ve never been more terrified of beige khakis with an elastic waistband and an off-white golf shirt. I feel like I’m being pulled into a nightmare. This can’t be happening—not now when everything is so perfect. Not when I finally have all these good things in my life.

  I fight for breath as he searches the faces of my friends, his combover lifting in the air like a hand waving. I take a step back, seeking cover, my knees wobbling perilously as his wild eyes land on me and a creepy-ass wonky-toothed smile spreads across his pale, doughy face.

  “I knew the signs would lead me to you!” He spreads his arms as if he expects me to run into them. “I’ve come to bring you back into the fold!”

  I’m pretty sure my scream can be heard all the way to Canada.

  DARREN

  Everything awesome about today dies a horrible tragic death when some pasty fucker steps out of the massive RV parked in Alex’s driveway and starts yelling about signs and “the fold.”

  I question whether this is someone’s idea of a practical joke, and whether or not I’m going to have to kick some serious ass, because it’s sure as fuck not funny.

  An ear-piercing scream startles us all, and I turn to find Charlene standing about ten feet away, eyes wide with terror, one hand clutching her pearls, the other covering her mouth as she continues to scream, and scream and scream some more.

  I know she has some kind of RV-related PTSD, much like I have a complete aversion to open doors—especially in the bathroom—but this reaction is extreme. I’m also concerned she’s going to pass out from lack of oxygen. I don’t know how a person can scream that long or that loud without taking a breath.

  “Charlotte! I’ve come to save you!” Khaki Man yells.

  Who the hell is Charlotte?

  Charlene lurches forward and squeezes between me and Alex. I reach out to stop her, but she pushes away, careening toward Khaki Man. She corrects herself, stumbling as if she’s drunk. She grabs my arm, eyes bouncing around my face as she motions to the RV.

  “Tell me this is a nightmare. Tell me this isn’t happening.”

  “Are you okay? Do you know that man?” I try to wrap her up in my arms, but she pushes away again.

  “No, no, no, no, no!” She grabs two fistfuls of hair, clutching hard as she shakes her head. “This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.” She spins around to face Khaki Guy. When she speaks her voice is clear, but shaky, “What the hell are you doing here, Frank? How did you find us?”

  He makes some random hand gestures while waving around a cell phone. “I saw your mother on the devil’s box, and I knew it was a sign to harvest again. I’ve been searching for you for so long. It’s time to come home.” He opens his arms wide. “Come give your Daddy Frank a hug.”

  “Daddy Frank? Is that Charlene’s father?” Alex asks.

  “I have no fucking clue,” I reply.

  Everyone from the backyard starts to trickle out in the driveway. “What the hell is going on?” Randy asks from somewhere behind me.

  “Oh! Did Charlene’s whole family come to celebrate her birthday?” Daisy asks.

  This Frank guy claps his meaty hands twice and a woman appears at the door of the RV. She’s wearing a white long-sleeve blouse buttoned all the way to her throat and at her wrists, despite it being eighty degrees today. She’s also wearing a white
bonnet, like she stepped off the set of The Handmaid’s Tale. It’s one of the few shows I’ve watched recently.

  She hesitates on the last step, but when he motions her forward, she hikes up her long beige skirt, revealing a pair of white Keds, and takes a tentative step down. She scans the crowd, eyes falling on Charlene, and her expression is a mixture of fear, sadness, and envy. “I thought I’d never see you again,” the woman says softly.

  “What the fuck is happening here?” Lance asks from the other side of Alex.

  Charlene takes a halting step. “Carrie?”

  “Come see your sisters. They’ve missed you, Char-char!” Frank the fucker claps his hands again, and several more women follow the first one off the RV.

  I notice several things: they’re all wearing the exact same outfit, as if it’s a uniform, and the rest of them keep their eyes fixed on their white Keds. They all also have medium to light brown hair that falls to the middle of their backs, which makes them look eerily like Charlene.

  “Do you want me to call the cops?” Miller asks. “I think this guy has a few screws loose.”

  Based on Charlene’s horrified expression, I’m pretty sure Miller is right about that. I step up, because Charlene’s welfare is my first priority and my responsibility. “You need to leave before we call the police.”

  Khaki Man turns his wide, freaky-ass smile on me. “I can’t leave. The devil’s box sent me a sign and brought me here to save my Char-char from a life of excess and corruption.” He motions to Alex’s house and all of us standing there in bathing suits, beach coverups, and swim shorts, and finally to Charlene, as if that’s all the explanation he needs to give. “I knew it was too late for her mother when I saw that awful show.” He turns to Charlene. “But I can still save you. Don’t you see? It’s fate that I’ve found you again. It’s time for you to come home and take your rightful place in the co-op.”

  Charlene shakes her head furiously and side steps toward the house, away from him. “This has to be a nightmare,” she mutters. “You can’t be here. This isn’t happening. This can’t be real.”

  “Oh, shit.” Charlene’s mom pushes through the crowd holding a huge bowl of potato salad, which she hands off to Poppy, who looks confused and alarmed. She stomps across the interlocking stone toward Khaki Pimp Daddy. “Frank! What in the ever-loving fuck are you doing here?”