Trixsters Anonymous

by Ahren Sanders

  “Did you see the four other emails we received this week?” Maren sips her drink.

  “I did. What are you thinking?”

  “That I’m losing faith in the sanctity of monogamy, and I’ll be single for the rest of my life.” There’s a hint of sadness in her tone, and I reach across to squeeze her hand.

  “Mare, you are not going to be single forever. We’ve gone over this. You’re better off now, and you can completely explore what the dating world has to offer.”

  “I’m not sure you are the one to be offering guidance on dating. When’s the last time you had a date?”

  “Hey, ladies!” Nina joins us with our friend Rachel. We all exchange hugs, and they pull up stools to sit with us. “What’d we miss?” Nina motions to the bartender.

  “Nothing much, it’s about to get interesting,” Maren answers.

  “Oh, really, why is that?”

  “Emi is about to give me dating advice.”

  “Wait, did I miss something? When did Emi get a dating life?”

  I shoot Nina a dirty look and catch Rachel’s grin.

  “I have a dating life, thank you very much,” I defend myself.

  “Since when?” they all say in unison.

  I drain my drink, trying to think of the last time I had a real date. Shit, it’s been… three… four… five months??? I should learn to keep my mouth shut.

  “Okay, I admit it’s been a while, but this isn’t about me. It’s about Maren’s stupid idea she’ll be single forever.” Take that, hooker! I toast my empty glass in the air at her, proud of my rebound.

  “Oh, no, you don’t! This isn’t about me.” She throws it back to me. “This is about you now. Let’s hear all your worldly wisdom on dating.”

  “What can I get you ladies?” the bartender interrupts, and I’m so grateful I almost leap across the bar to kiss her.

  “I’ll have another of these, maybe two.” I point to my empty martini.

  “Beer,” Rachel tells her.

  “Cosmo,” Nina orders.

  She starts working on our drinks, and I focus on her like she’s creating a masterpiece. Anything to escape the inquiring eyes of my friends.

  “Does she think avoiding us is going to stop the conversation?” Rachel asks the other two loudly.

  “She’s going to try, but what she can’t evade is the talk around the police station that she’s caught a certain detective’s interest. I personally witnessed this said detective’s expression when he received her phone call on Monday. There was an unmistakable happiness on his face the instant he answered.”

  This gets my attention, and my head swings to Nina. “Really?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Nina! Why didn’t you tell me?” Maren glares at her cousin. “This is the shit you are supposed to report to me!”

  “Wait.” I slap Maren’s hand down. “Tell me more.”

  “He had just finished telling Oliver and Captain Corny about his meeting with Carlton, and your car was being taken care of. Captain told him you are known around town as a spitfire, and Oliver looked like he’d lost his puppy. Then Captain mentioned you were a handful.”

  “That explains why he hasn’t called,” I mumble, slouching my shoulders in disappointment.

  “I don’t think so,” Nina goes on, her face lighting up. “Because he said, and I quote, ‘nothing I can’t handle’.” She uses her fingers to air quote, and my heart flips in my chest.

  “I knew it!” Maren starts clapping and jiggling in her seat. “You’re going to owe me a hundred dollars.” She points at me laughing.

  I smack her hand away again and roll my eyes as she explains our stupid bet to Nina and Rachel.

  “Here you go.” The bartender slides the drinks to me, and I pass them around.

  “Let’s do a toast.” Rachel raises her drink in the air. “To Emi, may the next time we get together, you actually have a dating life.”

  “To Emi,” they toast.

  “Hardy har-har.” I click my glass with theirs, feigning irritation.

  The next thirty minutes are spent catching up on everyone’s lives. I’m grateful to no longer be the topic of conversation, and I mostly listen. I’m mid-sip when Rachel surprises me by looking at Maren and dropping a bombshell.

  “I told a woman at the salon about Trixsters Anonymous. She’s convinced her boyfriend of two years is stepping out on her. I hope it’s not true, but I mentioned your situation.” Rachel works at one of the most exclusive salon and spas in the area.

  Maren stiffens but hides it with a sad smile. “They really helped me.”

  “I think it’s a great service. If anything, it’s the mystery surrounding it. No names, no identities, just a true service. I can’t tell you how many PIs come into the station, babbling about women wanting to catch their men cheating. No one genuinely takes them seriously. At least, with this, there’s a sense of belief,” Nina tells us.

  It’s weird hearing them discuss our business right in front of us, not knowing we are the Trixsters. Maren starts to drum her fingers on her knee, her nervous tick, and I know it’s time to intervene.

  “How about another round?” I announce louder than necessary and wave at the bartender, circling my finger to our group.

  “Let’s go back to talking about Emi and her non-existent dating life,” Nina teases, and I bang my head on the bar, not interested in reliving this conversation.

  Instead of the usual chatter that would follow, the group goes silent.

  Too silent.

  “That sounds like a conversation I’d like to hear about.” The deep rumble from behind me makes the hair on my arms stand.

  God, no, please no… I slowly lift my head and turn to find Walker Scott and another man at the edge of our circle.

  “Walker?”

  “Emerson.”

  The way he says my name shoots shivers down my spine. God, he’s gorgeous. It should be illegal to look the way he does. The breeze on the rooftop picks up, causing the scent of his cologne to drift my way. I inhale softly, the scent every bit what I remember from last Friday.

  His friend steps up, breaking the awkward silence. “Now that we’ve established who they are, I’m Marcus.”

  I barely hear my friends introduce themselves. Walker’s eyes hold mine, and I fight to find my voice. His lips part, splitting into a half-crooked smile. The small indent of his dimple pops, and I’m held captive at the sight. The air between us changes, and neither of us breaks the connection.

  A painful stab in my shin causes me to flinch and yell out, “OW!”

  “Sorry,” Maren says unapologetically.

  I shoot her a dirty look in time to catch her wiggling her eyebrows.

  “It’s obvious this is a girls’ night, but would it be presumptuous to join you ladies?” Marcus asks the group, but his question is pointed at me.

  “No, of course. We’ll pull up some chairs.” I start to stand as he holds out his hand to stop me.

  “We’ve actually got a section available if you’re interested.” He points to the private seating area.

  Maren, Nina, and Rachel all shriek in delight. This is the best place to sit on the whole rooftop terrace. The view of the water is visible through the buildings, and it’s adorned with twinkly white Christmas lights. There are two plush rattan love seats with two matching chairs and a table in the middle. It also has the tall standing heaters that make it bearable to sit in the open area in January. The area is reserved weeks in advance, and Maren and I have always glared enviously at the parties that take place in this section.

  “Perfect!” Nina jumps off her stool and reaches over my shoulder for her fresh Cosmo.

  Maren and Rachel do the same, following Marcus excitedly. Walker steps forward and offers me his hand to help me stand.

  “Thank you.” My voice trembles.

  “Is this yours?” He hands me the martini I completely forgot about ordering.

  The bartender appears at that moment,
looking between us with a knowing grin.

  “Transfer their tab to ours. We’re moving,” he instructs her.

  “You got it, Detective,” she replies mockingly.

  He guides me to the section with our friends, never letting go of my hand. When we get there, I notice they’ve conveniently left one loveseat free for us. My face heats when Maren winks openly.

  “Pardon me, I need to use the restroom,” I announce, expecting at least one of them to get the hint and come with me. They ignore me, turning back to Marcus. I sip my drink and place it on the table, taking my hand from Walker’s.

  He steps to the side, allowing me to pass as I head to the safety of the bathroom to find a dose of sanity. My mind is scrambled from just being around him, not to mention holding his hand.

  A few feet away from the door, goosebumps form on my arms. Glimpsing over my shoulder, I stop mid-stride. Walker is strolling casually behind.

  “What are you doing?”

  “What does is look like?”

  “Do you have to use the restroom?” As soon as I ask, I flinch. “Don’t answer that. It was crass.”

  He chuckles, the sound coming out more as a sexy rumble. “No, Emi, I don’t have to use the restroom.”

  He closes in until I’m backed against the wall and we’re inches apart. My heart thunders in my chest when his thumb grazes over my upper lip delicately. There’s a tingling on my skin where’s he touched that intensifies when his tongue skims along his bottom lip. I can’t stop my breath from hitching, which causes his eyes to flare.

  “There’s some sugar on your lip.” His voice drops to a husky grumble, and my knees go weak.

  It’s an effort to remain standing at all when he licks his thumb. “Lemon Drop,” he correctly guesses.

  “My favorite,” I rasp.

  “Good to know.”

  He doesn’t move, and the warmth rolls off his body, surrounding us. My hands hang loosely at my side but twitch to grasp onto him for support.

  “I want to take you out, Emi, tomorrow night.”

  I start to nod until the bells start ringing in my head, reminding me of Jean. “I can’t.”

  Disappointment flashes across his face.

  “I mean, I can’t tomorrow night,” I rush to explain.

  “Sunday,” he declares with no question.

  “Sunday,” I confirm.

  We stand, staring at each other with the heat building between us. He breaks the spell by hitching his hand to my hip and squeezing lightly.

  “Go to the bathroom, Sweet Emi. I’ll be here when you get out.” He gently urges me away from the wall and pushes me toward the door.

  I walk in dazedly, my head spinning. Thankfully, the room is empty and I can collapse partially on the vanity and try to gather my thoughts. After an acceptable amount of time, when I think I have my wits, I wash my hands and walk out. He’s waiting for me, leaning against the opposite wall with his arms and legs crossed, eyes on the door.

  Without a word, he takes my hand and leads me back to our group. Every head turns to us, eyes wide. My girlfriends look on curiously, Marcus with a shit-eating grin.

  We sit in the open seat, him scooting close and draping an arm around me. I square my shoulders and try to act normal, grabbing my drink from the table. The calm façade vanishes the instant Walker reaches in his pocket and hands a hundred-dollar bill directly to Maren.

  “I believe you won a bet,” he says confidently.

  She lets out a high-pitched hoot and falls back in her seat, waving the money in the air. Everyone joins in the glee, even Walker, his dimple wide.

  Oh Boy.

  “How am I supposed to dress you if he didn’t tell you where he’s taking you?” Maren moans in frustration.

  “Let’s go with black. Black is always good. We’ll spice it up with some color in the shoes and accessories so I don’t look like I’m going to a funeral.”

  “Okay, I can get on board with black.”

  “I still want to know how he knew about the bet. It doesn’t make sense.” I squint at her and see her brows furrowed and lips pursed. “Maren, what aren’t you telling me?”

  “It was the bartender. When you two disappeared for your bathroom break, she came over to Marcus. He thanked her for the information and gave her a hefty tip.”

  “How did she know?” Then the answer slams into me. She was making our drinks at the exact time Maren mentioned it to Nina and Rachel. That explains why she referred to him as Detective when we were leaving the bar.

  “Oh my God, how embarrassing.” I bang my head on the headrest.

  “Nothing embarrassing about it. He was there for you, Emi. Marcus told us that. I think it’s sexy.”

  “Do you think he asked me out because—”

  “Shut your trap! Don’t say it. He was a man on a mission.”

  “But why? He doesn’t even know me.”

  “Maybe because you’re gorgeous, funny, sweet, blah-blah. Nina said he was interested.”

  “No, Nina said he could ‘handle’ me.”

  “What’s wrong with that? No woman in her right mind would be swayed by being handled by a man like Walker. I bet it’s scorching hot.”

  She’s right about that. Since leaving the bar last night, I’ve been on a high. Walker insisted on walking Maren and I to her car, his hand on my back the whole time. He kissed me briefly on the cheek before promising to call me tomorrow to firm up our plans.

  The entire way home, Maren delighted in her victory, gushing about being right. Then she went on to say how good we looked together. I was back in a daze, grinning goofily. There was no way I could fall asleep until I replayed the scene outside the bathroom in my head a hundred times. This wasn’t the best idea because it only made me hotter.

  “Am I right?” Maren interrupts my dirty thoughts of what I imagined Walker doing to me.

  “Huh?”

  “Never mind, my answer is written on your face.”

  “What—” The question dies on my lips when she gasps and slides down in her seat. Across the wide street, a champagne BMW is pulling into the Wills driveway.

  Maren props her camera on the dashboard and adjusts the zoom lens as a leggy redhead emerges from the car, carrying a bag, and walks up to the door. It swings open, and Don Wills opens his arms in greeting, tugging her into him. The camera clicks until the door closes.

  “Son of a bitch. He is doing this right under his wife’s nose, and in their home. How is that even possible?”

  “Huge neighborhood, surrounding houses are empty… He probably thinks he’s untouchable.”

  This is proof, but we need more.

  “Yeah, it’ll be dark in half an hour. We’ll get closer then.”

  As soon as darkness hits, I pull away from the secluded spot and drive to the clubhouse, which is full of cars. It’s the perfect place to park inconspicuously away from the security cameras. We both tug our dark hats low, sweeping our hair underneath, and grab our things.

  The house is about three-quarters of a mile away, and we walk the golf path, staying close to the trees. When we get to the outskirts of the Wills property, we squat behind the tall shrubbery while Maren gets the camera ready.

  Just as promised, Jean has left the right gate unlocked on the far side of the house. A boost of adrenalin surges through me when we slink through the gate and crouch with a clear view all the way through the open kitchen, dining, and living rooms.

  Don and the mystery woman are wrapped around each other going at it. His hands are threaded through her hair as he kisses her hard, while her hand is rubbing along the crotch of his pants with a clear outline of his erection.

  She breaks their kiss, sliding down his body, undoing his pants as she goes.

  “Please, God, no,” Maren says in a horrified whimper.

  “Here we go.”

  She clicks away as we witness the sloppiest blowjob in history. “Seriously, she’s got slobber rolling down her chin. That’s disgusting.”
I wipe at my chin instinctively and dig into the bag for my phone.

  While I’m digging, Maren inhales sharply and falls on her ass beside me. “Shit, Shit, Shit…”

  “What?”

  “We’ve got company.”

  “What do you mean company?”

  “Another couple walked in the door while he was mid-thrust.”

  “What?”

  “That’s not the worst of it.”

  “What?” I repeat.

  “She didn’t stop. She kept sucking as they walked straight into the kitchen. The other woman’s face didn’t show a hint of surprise. She actually licked her lips.”

  “No!”

  “What do we do now?”

  My first instinct is to run, but then, curiosity wins out. “We stay and see what happens. Give it five minutes and we bolt.”

  She nods and closes her eyes, swallowing hard. “Okay.”

  We start to stand up but freeze when the back doors open and voices fill the space. The women walk out on the deck toward the pool with their backs to us. Our side of the house is pitch black, but the patio and pool area is dimly lit.

  “I can’t believe you started without us,” the newcomer scolds the other woman who was on her knees a few minutes ago.

  “Needed to take the edge off. He’s been stressed lately.”

  Maren nudges my hand and taps on my phone. I set it up and hit record, hoping I can get some audio from this distance.

  “Stressed about what?” Newcomer asks.

  “Probably his hag of a wife. She’s so boring.”

  Newcomer gives a look of disapproval, which strikes me as odd.

  Our mystery woman huffs. “Don’t give me that look. I don’t care if you know her. She’s a hag, and besides, I needed to show him some appreciation for the new car.”

  The women are joined by the two men, and I swallow a cry when I see they have changed. Both men are only covered by towels. Don is carrying a bottle of something with four glasses, which he sets on the table, then adjusts the outdoor heaters. Their blue propane flames roar to life, and he arranges them around the lounge chairs.

  “Looks like we are overdressed, Mitz,” Newcomer says, and I sit in shock as the women strip and it hits me what is going to happen here.