Trixsters Anonymous

by Ahren Sanders

  When he came back into his room, I remember the way my heart started racing. He changed into loose shorts and nothing else. The picture of him in the boxing ring was nothing compared to the real-life vision. My eyes raked over his bare chest and ripped muscles, then landed on the tattoos that covered his left bicep and shoulder. When he got into bed, my hand instinctively reached out to touch them. His body went still as I traced each line, swirl, and curve of the intricate design. Halfway down his bicep was the American flag waving with a bald eagle in the middle, the words US ARMY underneath. Once I reached the last point of the ‘y’, he kissed me deeply, then shuffled me to lay on his chest. He ran his lips along my forehead a few times, and I curled into him quietly. My stomach was full of delicious food and three lemon drops, so I easily fell asleep.

  My dreams were filled with the memories of the night: the way he looked at me when he picked me up, the way he kissed me that first time in his living room with all the deer staring at us, the way we made out until the steaks almost burned. Then the tattoos, his hard chest, the plains of his muscles beneath my fingers.

  All of it drifted through my head as I slept on top of him until that damn buzzing sound. We may have to have a chat about this six-thirty wake up time.

  But maybe early mornings with Walker could be worth it?

  I’m dozing happily when his lips brush the back of my neck, and I grin into the pillow.

  “Baby, how do you take your coffee?” He kisses along my earlobe. His cologne mixed with body wash fills the air around me. I inhale deeply, enjoying the fresh smell.

  “Dash of milk and half a package of sweetener,” I answer dreamily.

  “Meet me in the kitchen. We need to get a move on. I put the toothbrush on the counter.”

  “I’ll get dressed and be there soon.”

  “You don’t have to get dressed.”

  “I’m in my panties and your t-shirt. I need to wear clothes home.”

  “Throw on your jeans and keep the shirt. I like you in it.” He pecks my jaw and leaves, but surprises me by yanking the covers with him.

  “Hey!” I yell when the cold air hits my skin. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting you up. Saturday, we can lay in bed longer.”

  “Ass,” I say under my breath and crawl to the other side of the bed.

  His laugher doesn’t fade until I shut his bathroom door. As I suspected, I’m a hot mess. There’s not much I can do except whip my hair into a high bun and wash the remaining make-up from my face. I open the toothbrush and smile when I see it’s a rotating bristle, exactly like mine at home. After I’m done, I slip back into my jeans, throw my sweater in my purse, and head to the kitchen.

  Walker hands me a mug of coffee but keeps it gripped in his hand, stepping close. “Is it safe to kiss you now?”

  “I’m gonna say yes, but know if you wake me at this hour again, we may have serious problems.”

  His grin grows wider right before he trails his lips across mine in a gentle, closed-mouth kiss. I don’t hide my disappointment when he steps back and releases the coffee mug.

  “What’s on your schedule today?” He picks up his own cup and looks at me.

  “Fraud, fraud, and more fraud.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  “Maren will be at my house around five to drag me to her yoga class, pretending we need to exercise, but actually, she’ll drill me for details on last night.”

  “Yoga, huh?”

  “Yeah, she swears by it. We used to do Pilates until our instructor slept with Carlton, then Maren decided yoga was better. I think she likes to see me make a fool out of myself. That stuff is hard.”

  “I’d like to see you do yoga.”

  “Believe me, it’s not pretty. Some women are graceful, elegant, and really pose with form. I resemble a pretzel unraveling. Last time I went, she almost peed on herself when I went elbow over knee and ended up doing a somersault into the lady in front of me. Now, they ask me to stay in the back corner, far away from anyone.”

  Humor lights up his face and he grins wide. “I bet it was sexy.”

  “Are you crazy? There was nothing sexy about it.”

  He takes another sip of his coffee, staring at me in a way that says he thinks differently.

  “What about you? Any huge police things happening?”

  “Car theft ring is making its way around the area. I’m looking into it. A few other things.”

  “Do you ever do stakeouts?”

  “I do, why?” his eyes narrow.

  “No reason.” I shrug nonchalantly. “I just wonder if I could do one with you sometime.”

  I don’t dare mention that I’m actually interested in learning professional techniques to share with Maren.

  “Emi, you realize the last time we were together in a parked car, you were plastered on my lap, grinding on my cock? I’m not sure you and me on a stakeout would be a good idea.”

  “Good times,” slips out as I remember that fondly.

  “Fuck me.” He places his mug in the sink and reaches over, taking mine as well, then tugs me close. His hands slide down my sides until he’s cupping my butt. “You want to go on a stakeout with me, or you want to sit on my lap and tease me by wiggling your sweet ass?”

  “Both,” I answer unashamed.

  He squeezes and lowers his mouth to mine. “It’s going to be hard to concentrate today, knowing what I have waiting for me.” Then he kisses me until that’s all I can think about, too.

  “Get in here!” I throw open my door and sling Maren inside.

  “What the hell?”

  “I’ve been dying to talk to you.”

  “Ooh-la-la, did someone finally get laid?” She thrusts her hips suggestively. “It’s about time.”

  I slap at her. “Ugh! Stop gyrating. You look like a fool.”

  Her face falls and she stops moving. “Oh, God, he was awful in bed. All those looks, and shit between the sheets. What a shame.”

  “No, you dingbat. I’m not talking about that. I’m talking about the fact that Marcus is a divorce lawyer. More importantly, he’s Jean’s divorce lawyer, and her friend’s, too.”

  She stares at me with indifference, tossing a hand in the air. “So?”

  “And, he’s got the video and pictures from the other night.”

  “I’d guess he does. I told you she had a lawyer and was moving forward.”

  “Yes, but with Marcus? Doesn’t that freak you out?”

  “Not at all.”

  “But Marcus is Walker’s best friend,” I squeak out, trying to express how bad the situation is.

  “Emi, come here.” She takes my elbow and leads me to the sofa to sit. “What’s got you so freaked out?”

  “What if we’re discovered?”

  “How? We are completely anonymous, or did you forget?”

  “I didn’t forget, but even anonymous can be uncovered.”

  “Yes, but we’ve taken a lot of steps to be careful. Calm down.”

  She mimics deep breathing by inhaling and exhaling loudly, encouraging me to do the same. I take a few breaths, blowing them out and trying to release the stress. Oddly, it works, and I’m calm enough to explain my rationale.

  I tell her about my conversation with Walker last night and the surprise of learning Marcus was handling their divorces.

  “Okay, I can understand the initial shock, but now, it’s done.”

  “You’re right,” I agree. “We’re fine.”

  “I personally think it’s cool to have a divorce lawyer in our crew. We can punt business his way without him knowing. Then we can let him buy us twenty-dollar martinis knowing we earned them. It’s like taking from the rich and scummy and paying us back.”

  “That’s a terribly demented Robin Hood reference.”

  “Maybe, but it’s true.”

  “I guess I freaked because of the close connection, but you’re absolutely right. We’re not doing anything illegal, and the chances of Walker findin
g out are slim.”

  “Right, so are you cool now?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Good, because we have a new client.”

  “I saw the email. What’s going on?”

  “This one’s a little out of our wheelhouse.”

  “How so?”

  “We’re being hired to follow a woman.”

  “We’re women. Shouldn’t be too hard.”

  “It also requires us to go to Myrtle Beach.”

  “When?”

  “This weekend.”

  “All weekend?”

  “Saturday night only.”

  “Okay,” I agree.

  “Now, we have to think about our cover story.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Walker.”

  “What about Walker?”

  “Emi, you have a boyfriend now. We need to have cover stories. For someone so worried about Marcus, you sure don’t seem too concerned about yourself.”

  “Boyfriend?”

  “Are you dense?”

  “Hey.” I smack her shoulder. “That’s not nice.”

  “Well, open your eyes. Yes, you have a boyfriend, and that boyfriend is the type of man that’s—” She keeps talking but I tune her out.

  I whisper the word in wonder. Do I have a boyfriend? Two dates… one sleepover… Does that make him my boyfriend? Then I think about this morning, the toothbrush, the coffee, the kiss when he dropped me off and promised to be back around seven.

  Boyfriend doesn’t seem like the right term, but what would I call him?

  “Earth to Emi.” Maren claps her hands in my face, jarring me from my thoughts. “Come back to me.”

  “Sorry, I was lost in the fact that I may have a boyfriend.”

  “Well, snap back to reality.”

  “Let’s go back to what we’re going to tell him about going out of town. In case he asks.”

  She purses her lips, scrunching her eyes in thought. “I despise saying this, but let’s play on me being depressed about my broken engagement a little longer. Use it as an excuse to leave town for a night.”

  “I hate to lie, but it’s the best idea.”

  “Okay, so let’s go.” She jumps up, yanking me with her. “Pam is teaching tonight.”

  “Can’t we skip it? Maybe have wine instead?” Anxiety forms in the pit of my gut. Pam is brutal. She’s a contortionist, I swear. Her body can twist, turn, bend, and stretch like a rubber band.

  “Nope, and on the way, I want all the details on last night.”

  “I’m not telling you shit if you force me to go.” I stand firm, thinking she’ll cave. To my surprise, she shrugs and starts for the door.

  “It’s okay, I’m not going to make you admit he’s bad in bed. Maybe things will get better with time.”

  “He’s not bad in bed!”

  “If you say so, honey.” She placates me with a sympathetic smile.

  “We didn’t have sex!”

  Her smile grows wide, and I realize I’ve fallen for her trick. “Maybe tonight’s your night. Let’s go limber you up.”

  I mutter behind her all the way to the car then stay silent, pouting. She laughs at me and turns up the music until I’m forced to sing along.

  Maybe she’s right. Yoga could definitely help loosen me up for a night with Walker.

  Chapter 9

  Walker

  There’s a crash on the other side of the door, followed by a low-pitched moaning that resembles an injured animal. I twist the doorknob but it’s locked.

  “Emi, you okay?’ I knock louder, putting my ear to the door. A scraping sound gets closer until the locks click and the door opens a crack. My heart starts to hammer in my chest at the sight of Emi on the floor, her face twisted in pain.

  “Fuck, Emi, move back. I’m coming in.”

  She scoots on her butt just enough for me to slip through. When I get inside, I automatically look around for signs of whatever crashed earlier. Nothing looks out of place so I kneel in front of her, inspecting her face and body.

  “Babe, what’s going on? Are you okay?” My hands go to her head, tipping her face to mine.

  “No,” she groans. “Maren tried to kill me. I’m down for the count, dying, never ever going to be able to walk again. Leave me to die.”

  She’s holding her hand to her right hip and pelvis, rubbing in small circles.

  “I’m not following. Talk to me.”

  “Maren and her fucking yoga. She insisted I try it, I begged her no, then she dared me. I couldn’t look like a chicken…”

  It all starts to click into place; the story of her uncoordinated efforts come to mind. I catch her hand as she presses deeper into her inner thigh.

  “Lean into me, babe.” I slide one arm under her knees and the other around her back. As gently as possible, I lift and carry her to the sofa.

  Her head falls against my chest, and she grips my shirt until I get her settled in my lap. “Yoga injury,” she confesses.

  “Did you pull your groin?”

  “Yes, how’d you know?”

  “Lucky guess.” I try to hide the hilarity in my answer.

  Her head snaps up and she gives me an evil glare. “You think this is funny?”

  “Not at all,” I lie.

  “You do! You’re trying not to laugh at me.”

  “Am not.”

  “My groin, Walker! Do you know how embarrassing it was? Now, I can’t walk, can hardly crawl, and there are shooting pains from my crotch all the way to my hip. I’m dying, just dying!”

  I’m starting to understand the melodramatics the guys at the station warned me about.

  “I’ve sprained my groin a few times. I can assure you that you’re not dying.”

  “How long will this pain last?”

  “I’m not gonna lie, you’ll be uncomfortable for a few days. But with the right care, you’ll heal quicker.”

  “Okay, I’ve got loads of stuff to help. No more worries. The pharmacist says you should be able to have sex by next week!” The front door flies open, and Maren comes in carrying bags from the drugstore. She stops quickly, her mouth dropping open when she spots Emi in my lap.

  “Oops,” she says, winking at me.

  “Maren! Haven’t you embarrassed me enough for one day? Maybe even for a lifetime?” Emi cries out and buries her head in my chest.

  “Stop being a baby. Let’s get you taken care of.” She drops the bags on the floor and starts unloading items on the coffee table. “Heating pad, ice pack, arnica, Bengay, muscle tension relief. I got everything the pharmacist recommended.”

  “Any chance you were able to get me pain pills?” Emi mutters in my shirt.

  “No, unfortunately, she wouldn’t budge on those. Recommended Aleve.”

  “Figures, I’m going to start a search tomorrow for a new best friend. First requirement is to be able to steal Oxy when in need. You’re an officer, can you get me some?” Emi raises her face and looks at me hopefully.

  “No, babe. Controlled substances aren’t negotiable.”

  “Shit.” The hope fades and she sighs in disappointment. “I’m sorry to ruin our night. I was going to make you dinner.”

  “I’ll make you dinner after I get you settled.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Walker. I’m sure you’d rather be at home than listen to me whine.”

  I lean into her, kissing her quickly then laying my forehead against hers. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be. If you want to whine, go ahead.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure.”

  There’s a loud sigh from Maren, and we turn to see her watching us with a starry look in her eyes. “I love you with a boyfriend,” she tells Emi.

  Emi goes stiff in my arms, her hand clasping my shirt tighter. “Maren!”

  “Hey.” I cup the back of Emi’s neck and massage gently, drawing her attention back to me. “You think you can stand long enough to shower?”

  “Maybe.”r />
  “Can you help get her undressed and in the shower? I’ll get everything set up out here,” I ask Maren.

  “Sure.” She comes around to help Emi walk.

  “I got this.” I stand easily with Emi in my arms and look for Maren to lead the way.

  Her bathroom is large and spacious with a separate stand up shower. “Let Maren help you. When you get out, put on some comfortable clothes, preferably shorts so we can apply the arnica often. I’ll be in the living room.” I set her down on the vanity and kiss her forehead. “Try not to injure yourself further,” I joke with her.

  “If I’m not dying in pain, I’m dying of humiliation.”

  “Wait until I show him the video of you in action,” Maren says as she shuts the door.

  I chuckle to myself as I take a quick look around the bedroom and see once again, it’s completely opposite of mine. Similar to her living room, she has a lot of brightly colored accent pillows on her bed and side chair. Picture frames cover most surfaces, along with clutter. There is hardly an inch of free space anywhere.

  In her living room, I grab the ice pack, then go to the kitchen to fill it. There’s a full six-pack of my brand of beer in the fridge, and I pop one open as I stare at the contents, trying to figure out what to make.

  “I’ll take care of dinner.” Maren comes in and reaches in front of me to get a bottle of wine.

  “You left her by herself?”

  “She’s a big baby, but if you’re worried, don’t be. She’s soaking in the tub. We got her propped up, and she’s given me explicit instructions on how to make dinner.” She pours two glasses of wine, returns the bottle, and gets out a Ziploc of cooked chicken breast.

  “Can you slice these thinly on a diagonal and preheat the oven? You’re having roasted chicken pizza with gorgonzola and broccoli. Em said you’re a health nut.” She points to the knife rack and cutting board on the counter. “I’ll be right back.”

  I do as she says, grinning that Emi caught onto my healthy eating habits. The chicken is ready when she joins me again.