by Emma Hart
“Ah,” she says, shutting the door. “Barbie’s going to be here.”
I mutter something so unintelligible I don’t even know what I said. Not that it matters if Nina will be here or not. She knows better than to bring up my unrequited love. So does everyone else, not that anyone actually pays attention to me.
“I agree,” Billie says sarcastically, sweeping her hands beneath her black dress with a cherry print and sitting on the edge of the bed. She smooths down the bright red collar circling her neck and clasps her hands in her lap.
If you didn’t know otherwise, you’d say she was a British lady or something. She definitely got my serving of dignity as well as her own.
“Well? Is Barbie going to be here? Is that why you look like a pin-up slut?”
“That’s it,” I say, dropping onto the bed next to my sister. “I’m going home.”
Billie puts her hand over mine as I bend to pull off one of my black heels. “No, you’re not. You look hot as shit. You know I’m messing with you.”
I give her my best side-eye. “Next time I see your kids, I’m feeding them pure sugar.”
“No doubt.” She moves on without batting an eyelid. “Have you called Simon yet?”
Carly snorts. “Like she would.”
“True,” Billie replies. “I don’t think she’s called a guy, ever. Except Cain.”
I’d like a new life, please. I want to get off this one. It sucks. I want a refund.
“That’s because she hasn’t,” Carly says, smoothing out her figure-hugging pencil skirt before she puts her hands on her hips. “She hasn’t set up her own date in weeks. That’s why I’ve taken matters into my own hands.”
What?
“Oooh, yay!” Billie claps her hands together, her scarlet-red nails flashing through the air. “Who, who, who?”
Carly shoots me a devilish grin. “Simon’s coming here tonight.”
“What?” The word explodes out of my mouth, and I push myself up to standing. “He is what?”
“Coming here today.” Her grin doesn’t drop. “So is Ian.”
“Are you high?” My voice is way too high and way too shrill, but is she high? “Have you lost your mind? He hasn’t called me, Carly! Why the hell would you invite him here? Oh my god! You’ve invited him here and...and...”
“You look like a pin-up slut?” Billie offers with a wide smile.
“Ahhhh!” I throw myself face down on the bed. My second scream is muffled by the covers, and you know what? I don’t even care that my dress has flapped up and my ass is on show. Not one bit. Not even a goddamn sniff.
“Are you guys okay?” Cain’s voice comes through the door.
“No!” I shout, lifting my face. “I want to get off the world!” I press my face right back down again.
The door opens, and a second later he asks, “Can you pull your dress over your ass before you do that? Your underwear might scare the aliens.”
“Rahhhh!” I scream into the bed and slam my fists down.
Someone—presumably Billie—pulls my dress down.
“Um,” Billie says, confirming my thought. “It doesn’t, um, cover your ass.”
I turn my face to the side. “You pushed three children out of your vagina and had at least three different people each time insert their fingers up there and you’re bothered about my ass on show?”
“You’re right!” The bed bounces as she moves up. “It’s not my ass. I’m not showing panties bigger than the White House.”
“God! I hate you people so much.” I roll over and sit up, just about covering the rest of my dignity, and look at Cain.
His eyes are focused on me, and my demand to know what he wants dries up on my tongue and disappears into freaking nothing, much like my sanity. For all that’s fucking good and sinful and holy and lordyshitfuckshittyshit!
Cain Elliott should not wear a suit. Ever. Especially not one that’s clearly tailor-made. And gray. And did I mention it’s tailor-made? Because it’s hugging his body the way a koala hugs a eucalyptus tree—also the way I’d like to hug him—and no item of clothing should fit as well as his suit fits him.
Is it because the last time I saw him in a suit was our senior prom six years ago? Or is it because he’s now three times the man he was then? I don’t think he knew what muscles were back then, but now I know for a fact he’s nothing but muscle from the hard labor of his job.
This is a five-piece suit: white shirt, gray pants, jacket, and vest, and black tie. And he even has a fucking matching fedora in his hand.
Kill me.
Right now.
Kaput.
“Well, well, well,” Billie says in a strange mix of teasing and seduction. “If I weren’t married, Cain Elliott...”
Cain bursts out laughing, his smile stretching right across his face. “You’d be too old for me, Bills.”
“Too old? You little shit! I’m twenty-seven!”
“See? Old. That’d make you Madonna.”
“Keep hold of that hat, mister. I have three kids. I know a trick or two that’d make you and your brothers blush,” Billie warns.
“Make who blush?” Zeke sticks his head in the room. “Well, hello, Brooke!” He whistles low. Cain’s brother, only eighteen months older than us, lands an appreciative gaze on me.
Or my legs. Whatever.
I snap my fingers by my cheek. “My face is right here, Zeke.”
“Hey, Zeke,” Carly calls. “You look like Danny Zuko in a suit too?”
Ezekiel ’Zeke’ Elliott steps fully into the room, his large frame filling out the doorway and almost casting a shadow across the floor. He’s wearing gray pants to match Cain’s, but he has no jacket. His white shirt hugs his lean upper-body to a tee, and his vest is navy blue, matching his tie. “Danny Zuko wishes he were as good lookin’ as me, Carly. And don’t you look like a peach?”
“This peach has enough give in her skirt to stick her heel up your backside, Ezekiel Elliott, so quit it.” Carly points her finger toward him. “Your flirting is wasted here.”
“Why? You seein’ that jerk Ian again?”
“Coming from the guy who practically jilted his fiancée at the altar.” Billie rolls her eyes.
I snort.
“Hey, hey,” Zeke says, holding his hands up. “She was screwing some other guy and I found out a week before the wedding. What was I supposed to do? Marry the bitch and let her bleed me dry after?”
“Bleed you dry?” Cain questions. “Your most valuable asset is the sixty-nine Mustang you put in Dad’s name before you asked her to marry you.”
“Ooh, big spender,” I tease him.
“Hey now,” Zeke says, turning his full attention back to me. His attention lasts a little too long, if you ask me. Especially at the top of my thighs where my dress doesn’t quite meet the top of my stockings when I’m sitting down.
My sister’s right. I am a pin-up slut.
Shit.
Zeke brings his eyes up to mine. “Your mama just told me that guy your best friend arranged for your date tonight ain’t called you back yet.”
“You told my mom you were bringing him?” I exclaim at Carly at the same time Cain asks, “You have a date? Who?”
“Yes!” Carly answers, flapping her hands in front of her. “She called me! What was I meant to do?”
Billie inhales deeply.
“Not answer the phone!” I yell. “Oh my god. Now I remember why I want to get off this planet at the next stop.”
I flop back on the bed, this time staying on my back. I also clamp my legs together and grab the hem of my dress to stop it riding up. Cain seeing my granny panties is one thing—hey, he’s bought me tampons before—but Zeke is a whole other ballgame.
Mostly because no. No to Zeke.
Don’t get me wrong, Zeke is hot as hell. His eyes are a strange oceanic mix of blue and green, but his hair is just as dark as Cain’s. Slightly longer, sure, but otherwise, their faces are similar, if you discount the fa
ct Zeke’s jaw is always clean-shaven. Strangely, it doesn’t make him look younger at all.
“What’s wrong with Simon?” Cain asks. “Isn’t he that guy you went on a date with last week? When you were doing your freaky rendition of Dirty Dancing in your underwear.”
Carly snorts, but her amusement is swiftly cut short.
“Who was dancing in their underwear?”
We all still.
Oh, shitty, shit, shit.
Barbie’s here.
I sit up with a helpful tug from my sister. She quickly smooths some hair from my face and secures it with a bobby pin before nodding in happiness.
Zeke rolls his eyes. “It was me, Nina. I wanted to be Baby, but Brooke dropped me, the bitch.”
The excuse is so unexpected that a big laugh barks out of me. “Like I could lift you up! You’re twice my freaking weight.”
“I don’t know,” he says, looking at me with his eyes glittering. “Those thighs...”
“Don’t think I won’t get you and beat you down, Ezekiel, you pig.”
He winks at me, knowing Nina can’t see. “You beating me down? Shit, Brooke. Shouldn’t you leave that talk for private?”
My jaw drops. Meanwhile, Carly and Billie are both biting their lips.
So much for their support here.
“Cain? Who was in their underwear?” Nina asks, still out of my line of sight.
I shake my head frantically, knowing that if I can’t see her, she can’t see me.
Cain looks at me, resignation in his green eyes before he sighs and says, “I had to take something to Brooke’s place last week before she went on a date. She had her music up too loud and I was treated to the sight of her dancing awkwardly in her underwear when I let myself in.”
“Let yourself in?”
“Boy, this is awkward,” Billie whispers in my ear.
I grimace in response. No kidding.
“Can we talk in private?” Nina asks from somewhere in the hall.
“Sure. Knock yourself out,” Zeke says, leaning against the wall and shoving his hands in his pocket. He actually looks like a fifties gangster. He just needs the cigarette.
Cain looks at us. “They’re using this room. They’re not going anywhere.”
“What do you mean they’re not going anywhere?” Nina’s voice is edged harder, yet it’s shriller.
“Because we’ve been here for four hours already!” I finally snap. “If you wanna go whine, go do it somewhere else before I let my bitch flag fly.”
“Cain!” Nina gasps. “Are you going to let her talk to me like that?”
Cain looks between me and Nina. I raise my eyebrows in a “try me,” challenge, and given the shrug of his shoulders, he obviously decides that after the last couple days, Nina is the lesser of two evils.
Or he just really meant what he said when he said he cared about me more than her.
“Let’s go over to my apartment,” he says, turning his back on us. He disappears to the sound of her sputtering her annoyance at him not telling me to shut up.
Zeke shudders when they’re out of earshot. “Well, he’s up shit creek without a paddle.”
“Or a boat,” Carly quips.
Billie raises her eyebrows and nods. Then she turns to me, her lips curving up slyly. “I didn’t know you had that in you to call her out.”
“Where she’s concerned, I have murder in me,” I mutter.
Zeke bursts out laughing. “I think that’s the fate Cain’s about to face if he doesn’t have a good explanation for watching you dance in your underwear.”
I roll my eyes. Lord. These people. “He did not watch me dance,” I say. “I was ironing in my underwear, happily singing along to Will.I.Am, and didn’t hear him knock.”
“If you didn’t hear him knock,” Carly says, “then how do you know he wasn’t watching you?”
I open my mouth to reply, but all that comes out is, “Eeeeeeeh.” Like a strangled cat. Ten strangled cats.
Zeke laughs again. “Today is not your day, is it, Brooke?”
“It’s never her day,” Billie offers. “She gets maybe three good days a year, but they generally involve pizza, wine, and being alone.”
“And no pants,” I add. “Definitely no pants.”
Zeke raises one thick, dark eyebrow. A mischievous glint in his eyes shines back at me. “Brooke, pizza, wine, and no pants? Wanna change your plans for the night?”
“You’re an incorrigible flirt,” I scold. “But as it happens, I’d love to change my plans. Just not to that.”
Billie and Carly laugh.
He dramatically grasps his chest. “You kill me, baby.” He chuckles. “As it happens, I do have another plan for you—and it’ll get you out of Carly’s hellish plans.”
Carly gasps. “Simon is a perfectly lovely gentleman!”
“Then you date him.”
“I don’t want to date him.”
“Isn’t the first rule of Girl Code not to make your best friend date anyone you wouldn’t date?”
“Ha!” Billie barks. “What do you know about girl code, Zeke? You once slept with two best friends on the same night at senior prom just because you could.”
“That was me bein’ helpful,” he answers. “Teaching them hoes before bros and all that.”
“Only guys say the hoes thing,” I tell him. “It’s sisters before misters.”
He holds his hands up. “All right, femi-nazi. Untwist your grandma panties.”
“Can we get back to the point where you said you have a plan to get me out of a second date with the guy who said he wanted one but never called me?”
“That’s right. Ouch, Carly. You bitch,” Zeke says to her. “Even I know that’s too far.”
Carly rolls her eyes.
He returns the gesture, over-exaggerating it, of course, and looks back to me. “Be my date. I promise not to grope you or make lewd comments. Much.”
Well, that’s a thrilling offer. Be still my beating heart.
Oy vey.
“Brooke! You can’t blow Simon off!” Carly insists, her hands back on her hips.
“I never intended on blowing him on.” I tuck my hair behind my ear and ignore Zeke’s choking laugh. “I intended on coming here, horrifying my mother, planning torture for Nina, and getting drunk.” I turn to Cain’s brother. “You got yourself a date, Zeke.”
“Brooooooke!” Carly whines.
“No, Carly. You’re gonna have to call him and un-invite him.”
“Why do I have to be the jerk?”
“Because you’re the jerk who invited him in the first place,” Billie tells her. “And you know it.”
Carly grabs her phone from the dresser and stalks toward Zeke. “You,” she says, jabbing her finger against his chest. “I hate you.”
He grins as she stomps off down the hall to call Simon. “You’d think by now she’d realize she needs to take a ticket and get in line.”
One thing that might be highly surprisingly to just about everyone who knows my mother is that she loves Zeke. His devil-may-care attitude when it comes to relationships since The Bitch is completely reasonable in her mind.
My same attitude isn’t, remember?
Anyway, she feels more sympathy for him than anything. Actually, my mom loves all three Elliott boys as if they were her own. If I walked through the door with any one of them and introduced them as my boyfriend, she’d probably actually like me for once in my life.
Not that it would ever happen. Gabriel, the eldest Elliott boy, is getting married next year, Zeke is...Zeke, and Cain is, well... Cain. My best friend.
Best friend. Remember that. Best friend, not drop-dead-clitoris-calm-your-tits gorgeous.
Well... He could be both...
“See?” Zeke says into my ear, pressing a fresh glass of wine into my hand from behind me. And his hard body. Eesh. “I told you your mom wouldn’t say a word about the dress when she saw you with me.”
“You were right,” I ad
mit. That, and she was still trying to control Grandpa who, last I saw, was explaining to Cain’s grandfather the ins and outs of creating balloon genitalia. “But I think your mom almost had a heart attack when she saw us together.”
He laughs, slipping around to my side. “Until she realized it was just to get you out of your date.”
“Don’t. I thought mine was going to lose her shit when Carly said I’d blown him off.”
“As you said,” he says with a grin, “you never intended to blow him on.”
I tip my glass of wine toward him. “Exactly!”
It really is that simple. Carly’s heart is in the right place, but sometimes her actions aren’t. Don’t get me wrong, Simon is a perfectly nice guy.
There’s just one problem.
I don’t want a perfectly nice guy.
I want someone who sets my soul on fire.
I sit down on one of the chairs outside of the gazebo where the crazy is happening. I have to arrange my skirt perfectly so that I don’t flash everyone my panties—which I changed after coming under peer pressure.
Because, you know. Potentially flashing my hoo-hoo is better than granny panties.
I sigh and rest my arm on the table. I prop my chin up on my hand and sip from my wine.
Zeke stands up and turns toward the gazebo.
“Geez, am I that bad a date?” I ask him.
He laughs and squeezes my shoulder. “The worst. That’s why I’m getting you something stronger.”
I raise my eyebrows as he releases me and walks back inside. I’m completely alone outside, and it’s actually kinda nice. There are a lot of people inside that gazebo on account of the large size of the yard, and I don’t feel like I’m accidentally going to grope old Mr. Harrison’s butt or something.
That, and I’m not exactly in a partying mood. It’s hard to be when your best friend is on a date with Lord Octopus and your other best friend is with his girlfriend.
I really need to find more friends.
My phone buzzes inside my purse, so I reach down between my feet and pull it out.
Carly: Houston, we have a problem.
Me: Oh no, what did you do?
