by Leslie Pike
Text copyright ©2017 by the Author.
This work was made possible by a special license through the Kindle Worlds publishing program and has not necessarily been reviewed by Marina Adair. All characters, scenes, events, plots and related elements appearing in the original St. Helena Vineyard Series remain the exclusive copyrighted and/or trademarked property of Marina Adair, or their affiliates or licensors.
For more information on Kindle Worlds: http://www.amazon.com/kindleworlds
Destiny Plays
Leslie Pike
Contents
DESTINY PLAYS
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Books by Leslie
Playlist
Dedication
To the readers who’ve brought my characters into your fantasies.
Thank you for keeping them alive.
Chapter One
Christos
I’m beginning to hate the numbing routine of my life. That’s not true. I’ve hated it for a while, but it’s only in the past couple months I’ve come to admit it. One day moves to the next without variation. Get up, work out, get dressed, go listen to unhappy couples wanting to stick it to their spouse. I live in a world where love goes to die.
Driving is the one time I let myself think about what a fool I must be to question a life like mine. I imagine a disgusted god saying, ‘What more could you possibly want, Christos?’ There’s a kind of empty feeling that floats around me. But I have no idea how to fix it. To wallow in it, unhappiness requires solitude. So, all I need for company tonight is the sound of a twin turbo engine and the quiet interior of my Porsche.
Maybe it’s not such a good idea to go down this dark path. Soon I’ll be with family, and I wouldn’t put it past my mother to sense my mood. Sophia Santini’s an expert at reading all six of her children. She’ll be all over it in thirty seconds.
Even though it’s a short two-day visit, I know I’m going to be grilled. If I’m not being asked about my love life by one of my siblings, I’m being quizzed by my parents on my hopes for the future. Marriage? Children? What do they want me to say? I don’t see either happening.
I have a complicated history with women. They blind me with soft lips, smooth skin and young lean bodies. A gorgeous set of bouncing boobs will do it. Or even tiny A cups with pink erect nipples. I’m an equal opportunity lover. Add a round ass sitting high on long legs and I’m a goner. But it never lasts much further than the initial flash of a new relationship. And that’s all me. When it comes to the female sex, I have the attention span of a frat boy. Not a great way to get to know someone. And not a good look on a forty-year-old man, so I’ve been told by more than one twenty-something girl. They think it’s the ultimate insult to mention my age. They’re hoping for a fatal wound in response to my waning interest. But in truth, I find it kind of funny. Tragically funny.
God. Snap out of it!
A fat drop of rain hits the windshield. Figures. The car was detailed earlier today.
“Shit.”
The dark grey sky opens and one raindrop turns into a hundred, bouncing off the rich white paint of the hood. I downshift into second and take the turnoff towards St. Helena. The trick or treaters are out of luck this year. No one’s going to be walking in this downpour. Directly ahead, pulled to the edge of the curve, is a small car with its hazard lights flashing. As I pass, I look into the driver’s side. It’s empty. Driving on, I turn to Sirius to change my mood. The car is filled with the sound of “Spooky”. I’m not gettin’ kinda groovy like the song says, but it’s Halloween night, and I expect to hear this over and over until I want to shoot myself.
“What?” I say aloud.
Up ahead is a lone figure in a long dark dress and pointed hat. As I get closer, I realize it’s someone in a drenched witch’s costume. I slow down, pull up beside her and bring down the window. “Can I give you a lift?” I yell over the sound of the rain.
She turns. Damn! This is one hell of a makeup job. She’s ugly and old with a long and crooked nose. She’s wearing yellow contacts. Stringy, wet, black hair falls tangled on her shoulders. I’m greeted with a big smile and a mouth full of rotten teeth. Green paste covers the edges of her gums.
“Yes! Oh, thank God!” She pauses at the window and leans down. Even her hands resting on the opened window are witchlike with engorged veins and long yellowed nails. “You’re not a serial killer, are you?” she says.
“No, but I don’t think I’d be telling you if I were.”
I turn on the interior light, throw my jacket in the back, and before I have time to think it out she’s climbed inside. Water falls from her sleeves, the hat, and the bulky long dress. My eyes follow their drip all the way from the tip of the hat down to my black leather seats and finally to the carpet. Crap. Muddy witch boots rest crossed at her ankles.
“Was that your car back about a quarter mile?”
“That piece of tin. My cell died and walking was my only option.”
It’s funny because her voice is melodic and soft. It’s sexy. A complete contradiction of everything I’m looking at. There’s no guessing how old this woman is.
“Want to call a tow for your car?”
“I’ll call when I get to my aunt’s.”
“I take it you’re headed for a Halloween party,” I say turning off the light and pulling back onto the road.
“No,” she says with a confused inflection in her voice.
Oh brother. Did I just pick up a crazy chick who likes dressing up as a witch? She stares straight-faced for a good ten seconds until she can’t hold back any longer, then bursts into a rolling laughter.
“What gave me away?” she jokes.
“I think it was your dental work.”
“Pretty good, huh?” When she smiles or laughs, the wrinkles on her face move with her expression. This is no quick home job.
“Are you a makeup artist?”
“I’m an actress. Our hair and makeup department helped me out.”
“No wonder. Well, it looks very authentic.”
“How come you’re not in costume? No party for you tonight?”
I snicker at the thought. I haven’t worn a costume since I was ten when I went dressed as a Ninja Turtle.
“Not my thing.”
“Parties or costumes?” she says with an incredulous look.
“Both.”
“Oh baby, you don’t know what you’re missing.”
Did I just hear baby?
“What would that be? I have no interest in—” I’m interrupted by the sound of a distressed cat.
“Meowwww.”
She starts wiggling and clutching at her torso. Something’s going on in there, it’s plain to see.
“Ow!!” she yells.
“What the hell?”
She reaches inside the dress that hangs in folds around her and brings out a wet and frightened, skinny, black and white cat. It bolts within the confines of my 911.
“Oh shit!” she says. The cat bounces into my lap and digs his long claws through my pants and into my flesh.
“Ow!!” I holler.
As I pull the car to the side of the road and turn on the interior light, the witch is trying to recapture her fucking psycho cat. It’s jumping from lap to lap to floor and then finally over my expensive leather seats to the back where it crouches on my suit jacket. It’s left a trail o
f muddy paw marks. Perfect. I hear a hiss of a warning to stay away.
“I’m so sorry! I thought he’d stay inside my gown! Are you okay?” she says looking at my pants and then quickly looking away.
I give her a withering glance and look down. Blood. My pants are pulled and there’s small dots of blood seeping through. I probably have some fucking cat disease now.
“You could have warned me.”
Her eyes widen and she presses her lips together like a kid caught doing something naughty.
“Do you have a towel?” she says.
“No. Forget it. Where can I drop you?”
“Hilltop Drive. It’s about two miles past downtown. My aunt’s throwing a party. Hey, I’m really sorry. Come to the party. You can go as Pissed Off Guy in a Porsche.”
I laugh. Okay, that was kind of funny. This whole picture is funny. The witch, the cat, my pants and the car. I turn off the light and pull back onto the road.
“What’s the wild thing doing back there?” I say looking in the rearview mirror for the beast behind me.
She turns and checks things out.
“He’s fine. I found him on the side of the road wet and afraid. I had to take him with me.” She says it as if it’s a given and I’m crazy if I don’t agree.
“Ah huh.”
“Come on. Would you have left him?” she challenges me to disagree.
“If I did I’d be kicked out of the family. My brother’s the vet in St. Helena.”
Her homely face lights up. “Really? My aunt provides foster care to animals. They’ve got to know each other!”
She acts as if we’ve just discovered we’re long lost family members.
“Maybe,” I say.
“No maybes about it. See, now we know there’s only three degrees of separation between us. We’re practically friends already.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works.” She sits staring at me for a few beats. I turn and look in her freaky colored eyes. “What?” I say.
“I’d bet you need a good time,” she says nodding in agreement with herself.
“What makes you think that?” I say sternly.
“I can practically smell the tension in your . . .” She runs her hand in the air up and down the length of my body.
“My what?”
“Your body. You need to relax.”
This pisses me off, proving her point. “We just met. You’re an expert on me already?” -
“Actually, we haven’t met. I’m Kate Cornell.”
I hesitate for a few seconds, wondering if I’m going to regret giving her my name. I turn and look at her. “Christos Santini.”
“Well, if that isn’t the sexiest name I’ve ever heard,” she says raising a wrinkled brow. The way she says it, so soft and sensual, makes me more than a little curious. Is this a hot chick buried in makeup and costume? Or is she a sixty-year-old free spirit not afraid to say what’s on her mind?
“Look, you need to clean those wounds and I can get you a drink while you’re doing that. Don’t you want to play a little? That’s good for what ails us all.”
Play a little? I don’t answer because I’m thinking. I could use a drink and a few laughs. What’s the worst that can happen? I can leave anytime. I feel her eyes on me as we drive.
“So, what kind of actress are you?”
“A good one.”
“She says humbly,” I tease.
“There’s no need for false modesty in my profession. Lord knows every actor is stripped of their confidence enough times. It’s necessary to believe in yourself, in your talent. Otherwise you don’t make it through.”
She’s sure of herself, this one. That’s my first clue. There’s no twenty-something girl here.
“What about you? What’s your passion? Wait! Let me guess,” she says holding up a snarled hand.
“Go for it,” I challenge.
She takes a few beats then tilts her head for emphasis.
“You’re an attorney.”
Maybe she is a witch.
“Lucky guess.”
“I’m right?”
“Not sure how you figured that one out, but yes.”
She laughs and reaches a hand back to pet the hiding cat. I watch in my mirror as he warns her to back off with a swipe of his paw. “Tell you how I did it. Actors are observers. You did at least three things that formed my conclusion,” she says.
“Tell me.”
“You said your brother’s the vet. So, you most likely are a professional too. Same opportunity of education, same nurturing, same expectations from parents.”
“Okay, I’ll give you that. What’s number two?”
“You’re internal. Like me, you’re the observer, but your observations have made you serious. You’ve most likely dealt with some of the ugliness of life. But not so much that it’s striped you of compassion. You still have a kind heart to pick a stranger up on a rainy night, and not to go ape shit that she’s dripping all over your fine ride. The car tells me whatever you do pays well.”
“Very good. Exceptional deduction. Now, let me tell you something about yourself.” I take the turn towards downtown and head for Main Street.
“Let’s hear what you’ve got,” she laughs.
“You live alone. No husband or children. Am I right?”
“Maybe.”
“That’s a yes. Okay, you obviously had many costumes at your disposal. But you didn’t dress in sexy witch or sexy anything for the party. I don’t think you like to be that obvious. You’d rather show creativity than cleavage.”
She starts laughing.
“Now does that mean you’re old enough to not want to make that kind of statement? Or, are you a very smart young woman ahead of your years?”
“That’s about the most creative way I’ve ever heard a man try to find out how old a woman is.”
Now I laugh. “Did it work?” I say.
“No.”
We’re quiet as I drive through the town and past the last stores on Main Street. I admit I’m not completely mad at myself for picking her up. It’s been entertaining. I haven’t been entertained in a long time. And more than that, I haven’t been curious.
The streetlights illuminate the holiday decorations in the windows. This place always reminds me of a Norman Rockwell painting. Even when I was a kid I saw it was special. I wouldn’t have believed I’d ever move away.
She guides me east, past my brother’s animal hospital and my family’s Italian deli.
“Take the left at the end of the shops and then the first right,” she says pointing with a long yellowed talon.
Following the instructions, we wind our way up into the hills of St. Helena. The rain has lightened to a fine mist.
“What are you going to do with the cat?” I say.
“My aunt will foster him. And his name’s United. You know, black and white coexisting.
“You named the cat you just found half an hour ago?”
She smiles.
As we pull up closer to her aunt’s house at the top of the hill, I see cars lining either side of the road. Kate reaches back and brings the still-wet cat to her lap. There’s no hissing now. I think the guy must be worn out.
“Everyone deserves a name,” she says kissing his head.
But when she starts to pet him, he jumps into my lap and settles in. He moves around until he’s found his preferred spot. He looks up and just stares at me with that detached gaze cats get.
“Look! He likes you.”
“Take him. I need to park.”
So, she reaches over to remove him from my lap. A warning hiss sounds, and his body stiffens as I pull into the last remaining open spot on the street and turn off the engine.
“Wait! I don’t want those claws in me again. Get out and come around to my side. You can grab him that way.” She agrees without a word and exits the car. When the door closes, I give United his instructions. “You better not dig your claws in my crotch, fucker.”
> In response to my insult, he stares as if to say what’re you gonna do about it? My door opens and Kate leans down.
“I’ve got a plan. I’m going to take off my outer gown and pick him up gently with it wrapped around my hands.”
There’s a few ways this could go wrong. But what’s the alternative?
“Let’s try it.”
Standing beside the car, she begins to unwrap her wet gown. I can only see her from her shoulders down because of the low roof. But I watch. She can’t see where I’m looking so it’s to my advantage. Facing me, I’m pretty sure she’s aware there’s an audience. There’s an artfulness in the way she removes the first layer. I really can’t see much. Just her bare arms and a little more of the shape. Nice skin. Her figure looks like a pin-up girl in an old calendar. The words lusty, fully-packed and curves come to mind. But I may be all wrong. It could be the costume.
Taking the dress, she wraps her hands and makes a sling in the middle.
“Okay,” she says bending down.
I gently try to lift the cat, being sure not to startle the animal. But he doesn’t fall for it. His back rises, and he starts hissing. Then his claws dig right into my pants, my crouch, and my balls.
“Son of a bitch!!” I yell, tears of searing pain coming to my eyes.
“Let me try to lift him!”
“No!”
She covers the animal’s head and tries to lift. The claws dig deeper.
“Stop! Stop!” I scream at the top of my lungs.
She backs off, taking the fabric with her. With that, the cat retracts his claws and bolts out the door and into the night.
“Oh no! He’s taking off!” she says.
I’d like to go back in time to the moment I made the decision to pick this woman up. This time I’d keep driving.
Chapter Two
Kate
The problem with red flags is that I’m attracted to them. Right now, I see a little one waving in the distance. Maybe it’s only the fact I’m not into men I consider tame, and my psyche is warning me this one might be too conservative. I like a man who knows how to play.
My attraction to bad boys who are always good at playing is well established. They’re the ones I find most interesting. Until they think they can act badly towards me. Then I cut them loose without a second thought. It hasn’t been a great way to find a grand passion, but who has time for that anyway? A good hot connection is enough. I’ve never been looking for anything more. My art is my one true love.
