CHAPTER NINE
“That’s it,” Damon said a couple weeks later, rubbing his palms together and smiling down at Max. “That concludes the series. Published and ready for download. Want to grab a beer to celebrate?”
Max, who had regained some of his strength during the past month while his owner worked on editing his latest book around the clock every day of the week, grinned at him and clawed at the floor, indicating that he wanted to eat.
“You don’t want a beer?”
Max whined. He pawed the ground again.
“You want broccoli and spinach? Are you sure? A Miller Light tastes a lot better.”
He lowered his head to the ground and looked up at Damon.
“Okay, okay.” Damon pushed out of his chair and got to his feet. “An MGD it is,” he said in a humorous tone. “You drive a hard bargain in your old age.”
Max rose on unsteady legs and took his time following Damon to the kitchen.
As he finished pouring some Blue Buffalo dog food into Max’s bowl, Damon’s cell phone rang. Recognizing Alex’s number, he accepted the call. “Hey, buddy. How’s it hanging?”
“Awesome. Sorry for not calling lately. Marisa and I have been spending a lot of time together.”
“It makes sense, but what happened to that whole – ‘I’m not going to drop out of your life’ speech you gave me?”
“I know, I know. But that’s why I’m calling – to make up for it. Do you have plans for Thanksgiving?”
“No.”
“My parents invited you over tomorrow. Since we haven’t talked much lately, I’m not sure if you’ve been seeing anyone, but if you are, bring her along.”
Damon hadn’t visited a bar or club since that disastrous night at Within Temptation last month. Whether or not he brought a girl depended on whether or not Kelsey planned on attending dinner at her parents’ house.
“It’ll be me and Marisa, my parents, and Kelsey, and I’m pretty sure she’s bringing that guy, Paul. Apparently, about a month ago, they stopped seeing each other after he got into a fight. The other guy knocked his two front teeth out. Pretty crazy, but I guess she’s giving it a second try with him.”
Damon wondered why they hadn’t seen much of each other, but he felt a great deal of pleasure knowing that he’d busted out Paul’s two front teeth. Even better, he looked forward to seeing him again. Damon wanted to find out what would happen between them. “Sounds like fun, bro. I’ll be there.” After getting the particulars, he hung up and immediately placed a call to Cassandra.
She answered on the fourth ring. “Hello.”
“Hey, it’s Damon.”
“Damon, who?”
“Very funny. Are you free tomorrow?”
“For Thanksgiving? No, what would give you that idea? Of course, I’m busy. I’m visiting my parents for a late dinner at 7:00.”
“Great. Then you’ll have no problem joining me at Alex’s parents’ house during the mid-afternoon.”
She released a drawn-out sigh. “I told you not to push it with Kelsey.”
“Their parents invited me. And Kelsey will be bringing Paul.”
“What time?” she asked in an excited tone.
* * *
On Thanksgiving morning, Kelsey lay in bed under the covers at home holding her iPad as she finished the final page of Damon’s seventh novel, The Wicked and the Damned. She didn’t know whether to smile—or to cry. The book, and those that preceded it, showed the depth and fragility of human complexity when it came to male-female relationships. Each novel featured well-drawn characters that loved with reckless abandon and lost with great compassion. The sex scenes scorched with a sensual delicacy that turned her on so much that, on a few occasions, she resorted to self-stimulation (she didn’t even need a battery-operated device) to stem her arousal.
And in those cases, as well as at this point in time, she didn’t imagine the male protagonists in bed, titillating her with erotic pleasure. She envisioned Damon lying naked beside her, every movement making those impossibly well-defined muscles tighten every time he shifted position to ensure that he provided her with exquisite gratification.
And try though she might, Kelsey couldn’t stop thinking about him. For reasons she couldn’t explain, she suspected that Damon was not the type to get into fights. But if that was the case, why did he punch Paul? She couldn’t imagine Paul starting the fight; Damon would crush him.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but feel that Damon had never been given the benefit of the doubt. And because of the depth of feeling in his novels, she wanted to believe that he had nothing in common with the man Alex described. But she had lived with her brother every day for almost two decades. He had trusted her, believed in her, and defended her. So no matter how much she wanted to believe in Damon, she decided to trust her brother.
Her cell phone rang from on top of the nightstand. She reached for it and accepted the call without thinking. “Hello,” she said in an airy, fulfilled tone.
“Hello Kelsey,” Paul said.
She jerked her body up in one quick motion, as though hearing his voice meant that he could see her in bed. “Um…hi.”
“Is 2:30 a good time to pick you up this afternoon?”
“Yeah. Sure. That’s fine.”
“Are you all right? You sound…distracted.”
“Not at all. Just…relaxing. This is my first day off since July fourth.”
CHAPTER TEN
“Are you sure I look okay?” Cassandra asked on the doorstep of the Lawfords’ two-story white colonial home. She combed a few fingers through her bobbed hair and adjusted the black sweater over a white blouse as she tried to look at her reflection in the diamond-patterned glass of the giant oak front door.
Damon smoothed down his sky-blue dress shirt, glad that the grease from Cassandra’s French fries (she dealt with anxiety by indulging in fast food, so she made him stop at McDonald’s), never made it to his lap. He cracked a smile, indicating that most women would relish looking that fabulous. Apparently, even though Alex and Marisa were exclusive, Cassandra wanted to look her best in front of Alex.
The door opened. Alex wore a navy blue Chicago Bears T-shirt (since they were playing their division rivals, the Detroit Lions today) and stood in the threshold with a big smile…until he saw Cassandra. “Hi…you guys?”
Cassandra wore a pleasant smile and held out her hand. “Good to see you again, Alex.”
“Yeah.” His face turned white. “You too.”
“If you aren’t going to invite us in anytime soon,” Damon said, “we could use a couple lawn chairs out here.” He pointed to the window, behind which a flat screen displayed the Dallas Cowboys-Washington Redskins game. “We can sit down right here to watch the game. It’ll look a little weird, but I’m sure the neighbors won’t think anything of it.”
Alex lost some of his wariness. “I’m sorry. Come on in.” He spread the door open and welcomed Cassandra inside with a gesture of his hand.
She stood in the doorway, looking amused. “Really, Alex? We share an intimate past, and not even a hug?” She shook her head in disappointment. “I don’t think so.” She stepped forward with a smile and embraced him.
Alex stood there with his eyebrows shooting upwards. Hesitating, he looked at his friend for proper protocol.
“Are you serious?” Damon asked, seeing Marisa walking up behind Alex. “It’s not a big deal.”
Now given clearance to hug Cassandra, Alex wrapped his arms around her, although he looked stiff and uncomfortable.
“What’s this?” Marisa asked, appearing beside Alex. She tried to glare at Cassandra, but she failed miserably. “Trying to steal my man again?”
“I wanted him first,” said Cassandra, extracting herself from Alex so she could face Marisa. “You only wanted him after I told you what a good kisser he is.” She revealed a half-grin as well.
Alex stood there, stunned. He turned to Damon and held out his hands, palms uplifted as if
to say, “What do I do now?”
Damon rocked on his heels and let out a long-winded laugh. He stepped forward, reached over, and brought Alex in for a man-hug. “Thanks for the invite, buddy.”
“Sure,” Alex said, patting his back. He turned back to Marisa and Cassandra, only to watch them break away from an embrace before walking into the dining room while chatting in hushed tones. He led Damon through a homey room with a wall containing a collage of framed photos of Alex, Kelsey, and their older sister, Ashley as they grew up over the years.
“Hey, you played baseball?” Damon asked. “How come you never told me?”
Although he’d spotted Alex in a pose wearing a baseball uniform and holding an aluminum bat against his right shoulder as he looked at the camera, Damon glanced at pictures of Kelsey: at six-years of age, she wore a pink leotard with her hair in pigtails as she spun around on tiptoes in a dance studio; a couple years later, she displayed a winning smile, despite missing one of her front teeth, for a school photo; at ten, Kelsey ran across a green field before kicking a soccer ball; at twelve, looking petrified and uncomfortable in braces while cloaked in a green robe, she addressed parents and guests at her middle school graduation ceremony; a few years later, she wore a tight blue and white uniform that ended with a low-cut skirt as she held out pom-poms and grinned while cheering on the sidelines at a football game.
Damon envisioned Kelsey slipping into what would now be an incredibly snug cheerleading outfit and imagined how her ass would strain against her backside, imagined how much thigh the skirt would reveal, and imagined how her breasts would press against her sweater, threatening to pop open the stitches of the side seam. He grew hard instantly.
Hearing Alex address him, Damon said, “The Bears on yet?”
“So this is Damon?” asked Alex’s mother, Loretta. She wore a plain pink blouse and blue jeans. In her late fifties with stylish, wavy chestnut-colored hair, her eyes glittered behind thin glasses and a warm smile remained fixed on her face as she welcomed him with outstretched hands, expecting to envelop him with an embrace.
Damon couldn’t believe his bad luck. There he stood with a tremendous erection, and Kelsey’s mom wanted a hug. He thought of women who hugged their male friends and copied their A-frame approach; he stuck his butt out. When he embraced Loretta, a pleasant perfume drifted to his nose.
“Well, it’s about time,” she said. “Alex hasn’t told us much about you, except that you helped him with Marisa.”
Having never really embraced anyone with so much feeling behind it—at any other time in his life—Damon would have treasured this heartfelt moment. But instead he was distracted by the rocket in his pocket.
She hugged him long and hard, as though fearful he might squiggle out of her grasp and run away. Damon squinted and crushed his teeth together in discomfort.
When she parted from him, Loretta’s smile stayed fixed in place until something at waist-level must have caught her attention because she directed her gaze right at Damon’s crotch.
“Oh,” she said, startled, her voice clipped in horror. She raised her gaze to Damon, her wavering smile transfixed on him, eyes bulging from beneath her glasses. “I believe the turkey needs my attention.” She spun around in strict fashion, as though trained by the U.S. military, and hustled into the next room, taking short steps.
Alex looked terrified. He pointed at Damon’s offending member that stood at attention, as though it, too, had been trained by the U.S. military. “You’ve got serious issues!”
Damon finally got his breath back. Only now did the pressure in his pants subside. “It’s not what you think.”
“Really?” he asked, incredulous. “You hugged my mom. You popped a boner. What’s so difficult to understand?”
“Hey, wait a minute—”
“I knew you loved the ladies, but Jesus: my mom! She’s twice as old as you. And married. With grown kids.”
“But it’s not—”
Alex raised a finger in his face. “Don’t you dare say MILF.” He walked out of the room and entered the kitchen.
Humiliated, Damon stood there as the pressure below lessened and returned to normal. Only then did he enter the kitchen, making sure not to catch Loretta’s attention, and headed down five or six steps into a sort of quasi basement.
A beefy man with a tattoo of a dragon breathing fire on one bicep and a serpent on the other sat on a light gray leather couch. He was in his early sixties and wore a snug brown short-sleeved shirt with indecipherable symbols running across it and black jeans that couldn’t contain a burgeoning belly that led down to a pair of fuzzy blue slippers that stretched across a glass coffee table.
Alex’s father looked like an old-school badass…until Damon noticed the slippers, which made him second-guess that assumption. Regardless, he hoped that Loretta didn’t mention the incident in the dining room because her husband might test that theory.
“You’re Damon?” He got up from the couch with a grunt and held out his hand. “I’m Glenn.” He slapped Damon on the back. “Good to meet you. Just watching the game. Bears are ahead 20-14.” He indicated a matching leather armchair. “Have a seat. Want a beer?”
“Yeah, sounds good.”
“Honey?” Glenn called out in a booming voice. “Can you get a beer from the fridge for Damon?”
“No, that’s all right,” Damon said, frightened at the prospect of once more coming face to face with Loretta. “I’m good.” If he ever had the good fortune to date Kelsey, he had no idea how he’d approach settling that disturbing incident with her mom.
Glenn’s face mangled into one of confusion. He shrugged and leaned closer to Damon. “You write books for women, right? I respect that. I’m not much of a reader. I prefer pictures – you know: magazines.”
Damon didn’t follow, but a few seconds later, he realized that Glenn thought he wrote pornographic novels. “Oh, I don’t write,” he lowered his voice, “erotic novels. I write historical romance.”
“I thought there was sex in those.”
“Well, if you want there to be. But it’s…” How should he describe his work to a tough guy without sounding like a pervert? “It’s high-class stuff.”
“Really? Like expensive call-girls, that sort of thing?”
Damon had no idea how he’d ever make a good impression on Kelsey’s parents.
A kind smile developed on Glenn’s face. “I’m just messing with you.”
Letting out yet another sigh, Damon wondered if he’d catch a break sometime soon with Kelsey’s family. Then he remembered giving Alex a hard time at the front door, and he figured he deserved the past five minutes. He knew Glenn had retired as a cop and rode a Harley, but he didn’t know more than that. Likewise, he had no idea how Loretta spent her days. His unfamiliarity with them made him feel uneasy and off-balance. He never before visited the parents of a girl he liked, although in this instance, he hadn’t arrived as her date. Still, he felt pressured to make a good impression.
“Alex tells me you taught him how to ride.”
Damon nodded.
“I can’t tell you how many years I tried getting him interested in riding, and you show up out of nowhere, and he buys a bike. Incredible.” Far from argumentative, Glenn looked impressed.
Damon couldn’t describe how good it felt to earn this man’s respect.
“Dinner’s ready,” Alex called from upstairs.
Glenn got up from the couch. “Good thing we got the flat screen in the dining room. This game has playoff ramifications. Let’s go get a plate.” He headed up the steps.
Damon followed him up the steps and into the dining room, where Loretta and Alex had set up plates and utensils on top of a white linen tablecloth. A fifteen-pound basted turkey lay inside a pot at the center of the table, surrounded by an enormous bowl of mashed potatoes and small bowls of peas, corn, stuffing, cranberry slices, and a plate of buns. Damon’s mouth watered as he stood behind a chair.
Just as Loretta took
a seat at one end of the table, her husband picked up a battery-operated knife and carved slabs from the turkey. A few seconds later, from the other side of the room, Marisa led Cassandra down the steps.
At that moment, the front door opened, and Kelsey said “Happy Thanksgiving!” in a jubilant tone. Wearing a white Brian Urlacher jersey and blue jeans, she brushed back bangs that swayed from side to side due to the draft the open door had produced.
Just the sight of her made Damon’s heart race. His mouth went dry. His hands became sweaty. What had come over him? He hadn’t reacted this way with a woman since…Katrina. And all of the suffering at the conclusion of that relationship sent a stab of fear through his heart. But he pushed away that thought. He’d waited too long to find someone with substance, someone who might give him another chance to find love. And he couldn’t let his past agony cloud the happiness he’d once felt with Katrina. After ten years, he finally had a second chance to claim what he most wanted in life – a woman to help him navigate the slippery terrain of human existence, someone to help him battle the darkness that threatened to overturn the joy that always seemed just out of reach.
Kelsey hugged Marisa and, upon seeing Cassandra, stiffened for the briefest moment, stunned into silence before covering up her surprise with a poker face. Nevertheless, she embraced Cassandra with heartfelt emotion as Paul stepped through the doorway. His gaze turned from the women towards the dining room.
Although Damon expected to see the scumbag, he didn’t anticipate Paul to appear so jovial and innocent. He wore a drab, olive-colored long-sleeve dress shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, where a white T-shirt poked through. He’d tucked his shirt into jeans and wore Reebok sneakers. Paul probably wore the dress shirt to look successful and respectful, and he’d chosen jeans and gym shoes to appear approachable. Damon almost gagged at the ugly outfit and the deceptive intentions behind it. He’d discovered that those who tried too hard to fit in often had the most difficulty fulfilling their mission.
One Last Promise (A Bedford Falls Novel Book 2) Page 10
