Curves Ahead: a romantic suspense novel

by Andi Jaxon

  At the head table, I take my seat next to Alister but don’t really eat. I don’t want the alcohol to be absorbed by food, I want the alcohol to numb my brain, just for a little while.

  “Are you trying to get alcohol poisoning?” the snark filled comment directed at me, pulls my attention to the woman causing me nothing but problems.

  “One beer is going to give me alcohol poisoning?”

  “After last night, it wouldn’t surprise me.”

  “I had one beer last night. Not everyone was as hammered at you, lightweight.” Kristen takes a sip of water from her glass and turns away from me, her nose in the air. She’s so prim and proper when she wants to be, a product of her upbringing.

  People come up to the table to congratulate Alister and Ben, effectively ending our sparring match as she picks at her food as well. Pushing my chair back, I walk around the table and sit next to her plate, startling a raised eyebrow from her.

  “What do you think you’re doing, Alexander?”

  “I love that hoity toity tone when you’re pretending to be annoyed at me.”

  “Trust me, I’m not pretending.”

  “My mother is the only one who ever calls me Alexander by the way, but I would gladly hear you scream it for me.”

  “Have Mommy fantasies, do you? Are you a naughty little boy in need of a spanking?”

  My head drops back on my shoulders as I laugh loudly. These little matches are the exact distraction I need. “I’m not typically the one getting spanked, I’m pretty good at doling them out though.”

  Her chest turns red in an instant, my eyes tracking it as it climbs her neck to color her cheeks. “Are you capable of having a conversation without referencing sex?”

  “Absolutely, but that’s not nearly as much fun.”

  Kristen rises from her chair, her hand on her hip. Even in heels and with me sitting, she’s still not as tall as I am. She reminds me of Tinkerbell.

  “I’m going to be real with you, Alex. This isn’t my idea of fun. It’s annoying, frustrating, and leaves me with a headache. I don’t know why you get such a high out of irritating me, but I would greatly appreciate it, if you stopped. Now, I’m going to the bathroom and when I return, I don’t want to see you sitting next to my plate.”

  Sliding off the table, I sit in her chair and watch her walk away. The fabric cups her ass just right, I could use those globes as a bongo drum.

  “Alex!” Looking at Alister, I can see that he’s called my name more than once. Oops.

  “What?”

  “Leave Kristen alone,” Ben and Alister say at the same time.

  With a huff, I stand and wander around. Needing a distraction I find my way to the DJ. “Hey man, can you play the Macarena, YMCA, or something like that?”

  “Yeah, I can handle that. Time to liven it up in here, huh?”

  “For sure, gotta get that food digesting.” I bump my fist with his as the first notes of Macarena blast from the speakers. Sliding across the dance floor, I take up residence right in the center and start dancing, staring directly at the head table. It’s only a few minutes before people join me, quickly filling up the floor. Laughter and dancing abound as the music plays.

  This is what weddings are remembered for, tacky line dances that everyone knows. They’re fun, getting people moving and feeling good. My ears pick up Kristen’s laugh and the smile on my face splits even wider. As much as I love when she’s snarking at me, turning red and rolling her eyes, when she laughs it’s world stopping. No chicks laugh has ever caught my attention like hers does. I don’t understand it but that carefree, happy sound makes my heart race. I want to hear it all the time, every day. Record it and play it on a loop so I’ll never feel anything but happy.

  The DJ plays a few more songs that everyone knows the dance moves too, The Electric Slide, Cha Cha Slide, and Cupid Shuffle before slowing it down. Mom approaches me for a dance as I hold my hand out to her. My hand at her waist and her hand in mine, I twirl her around the dance floor. It’s been a while and I’m a little rusty, but the steps to the Waltz come back and soon she’s smiling and laughing.

  “I was surprised you took to dance. I was sure I was going to have to badger you into it.” Her green eyes shine up at me.

  “I was definitely ready to put up a fight, until that first class. Ali and I were the only dudes, my chance of getting a date skyrocketed.” Mom giggles like a teenager, the wine she had with dinner obviously taking a toll.

  “You always did have an eye for the girls,” she shakes her head and lets me lead her across the dance floor. As we circle our way around the room, Mom sighs a deep contented sound. “When are you going to ask Kristen out on a date? She’s a lovely young lady.”

  “Ha!” I almost stumble over my feet at the unexpected question. “How much wine have you had? Kristen hates me.”

  Mom stops in the middle of the floor and stares up at me. “She doesn’t hate you. She doesn’t know you. Not the real you. Show her who you really are, and I guarantee she’ll love you.”

  “Are you psychic now? You can’t guarantee that. Not even the genie could change free will.” Dad approaches us and steps in, taking drunk Mom off my hands. In a matter of seconds, her face is lit up like a Christmas tree. Dad is strutting around like a gold metal Olympian.

  Someday I’ll have a love like that, like is written about in books. A love that encompasses my entire world. A woman that sets my soul on fire, looks at me like I hung the moon, and loves me just as fiercely. Some day.

  Kristen

  AT SIX AM MONDAY morning, the alarm on my phone starts screaming. Sitting up, I dismiss the notification and look around. A smile tugs on my lips as I look at the boxes still crowding my space. My space. If I never want to finish unpacking, I don’t have too. It’s my choice. For once in my life, I feel as if I can do anything. Finally. I don’t have anyone breathing down my neck, nagging me, or staff to do shit behind my back. Things will be left where I set them.

  Hopping out of bed, I leave the blankets pulled back and smile like an idiot before heading to the kitchen to make some coffee. Buying a Keurig and a tacky coffee mug was the first thing I did when I got my keys. Coffee isn’t merely a beverage, it’s a way of life. Stirring cream and sugar into my coffee, I bring my unicorn mug with me to sit on the couch. The sounds of cars passing below my apartment the only background noise as I sip the nectar of the gods.

  For the first time in years, I don’t have to rush anywhere, Mother isn’t telling me how terrible I look or what social occasion she expects me to be at. I can take my time, get ready as I see fit. While I do have a job at a local newspaper, I’m not expected to show up in the office very often. I go in once a week for meetings on Wednesday, but other than that, I turn in everything electronically. I’m free to scout out stories on my own and if I need help, I just let them know.

  Pulling my hair into a messy bun on top of my head, I set my mug in the sink and go about unpacking boxes. My bathroom and bedroom being the first to be done is important to me. I can’t get ready for the day if I can’t find my shit and living out of boxes sucks. As much as I would love to leave them, just because I can, they drive me crazy. Though, I may never make my bed again.

  Three hours later, my bathroom is as put away as I can get it, I’ve made a list of things I need in order to finish organizing, and my bedroom is mostly put to rights. I’m sweaty, tired, and hungry when my phone buzzes with an incoming call.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, this is Jane Bennet. Am I speaking to Kristen Collins?” Jane?

  “Yes, hi Jane. What can I do for you?”

  “You’re a journalist, correct? I have a story you may be interested in.” Sitting up straight, I grab my note pad and pen and prepare to take notes.

  “Yes, I am, tell me about the story. Who, what, where, when, how?”

  Her laugh filters through the phone. “I think it would be better if you joined me. Do you have plans for the fourth of July?”


  I wrack my brain but come up blank. “I don’t think so.”

  “Perfect!” I can practically hear her clap of delight. “Why don’t you meet me at my house at say, four pm, and we’ll head over together?”

  “Sounds like a plan, thank you for thinking of me.” Excitement over a new story courses through me. I want to know all the details right this second, waiting another week may be the death of me.

  “Of course, dear. I hope you find it good enough to write about.”

  “Coming from you, I’m sure I will.”

  “I’ll see you next week, dear.”

  “Bye, Jane.”

  We hang up but I don’t move. The possibilities of what this story is about are endless. Knowing that Jane works with at risk youth, means there’s a good possibility the story involves children. Her tone didn’t make me think tragedy or injustice, so, feel good story?

  “Hmmm…” I tap my pen against my lips as the wheels start turning. This is going to drive me insane.

  Setting my pen and notebook down on my bedside table, I look around my bedroom. Besides needing to take the empty boxes and packing paper out, it’s basically done. Though my list of needed items from Target has grown.

  Pulling on a pair of workout shorts, I grab my phone and head to the door. I slide my feet into a pair of shoes and swing my purse over my head before leaving to find some food. I’m thinking a little café with sandwiches would be perfect and the walk will clear my head.

  I want to call Ben, see if he has any ideas what this story could be about, but he’s lying on a beach in Fiji with Alister. The pictures on Alister’s Instagram make my heart happy, and maybe a little jealous. I’ve never been to Fiji, but it looks amazing. Who wouldn’t be happy in a beautiful place with a handsome man with them? Neither Ben nor Alister are hard to look at shirtless in the sand.

  After placing my order, I take a seat by the window and watch people rushing past. It’s summer in the Pacific Northwest but that doesn’t mean it’s hot. Today, it was cold and foggy when I woke up but it’s clearing up some. We might just get a beautiful day today, one where I can open my windows and let the fresh air off the water come in.

  My cappuccino arrives with my pesto chicken sandwich. “Thank you, Alice.”

  “You’re welcome Kristen, do you need anything else?” The redheaded barista with a black apron around her hips waits with a smile on her face. I’ve been in here almost every day since I moved, I know the fulltime employees already.

  “No, I think I’m good. Thanks.”

  “No problem,” she pats my shoulder has she walks away. I’m comfortable here. The café sits on a corner with huge floor to ceiling windows, the scent of coffee beans heavy, quiet music in the background. It’s the perfect place for me to work on my articles. Taking a sip of my coffee, I sigh, everything is just about perfect.

  My phone lights up with an incoming call, with a sigh I pick it up and answer it.

  “Hello, Mother.”

  “Kristen Grace, I need you to come to dinner tonight.” Her high and mighty tone grates my nerves.

  “Nice talking to you too, Mother, I’m doing well, thanks for asking.” Sitting back in my chair, I cross one arm over my chest, my other elbow resting on my wrist.

  “Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. You haven’t been to the house since you moved out. Your father has requested you be home for dinner, and I will make sure that happens.”

  “Fine, I’ll be there for pre-dinner drinks.” Resignation heavy as my shoulders fall.

  “Make sure you are dressed appropriately, no ripped jeans or sneakers.” Rolling my eyes, it’s all I can do not to mess with her.

  “Okay, Mother, I’ll be dressed like the perfect little girl you try to make others believe I am. Goodbye.” Ending the call before she can respond, I check the time and see that I need to pack up and get ready. It takes a bit of work to be Collins’ approved.

  Alex

  ROLLING OVER ONTO MY back, I stare at the ceiling, frustration coiling my muscles. I should be asleep but instead I can’t get my brain to shut up. Last year, after Ben’s foster father was arrested, I started to do some digging into Dan’s background. Between working and the neighborhood, I haven’t had much spare time.

  Summer is always busier for me at home, the kids are out of school which means they need more attention, things like bikes need to be fixed and swings need to be repaired. Plus, it’s almost the fourth of July so preparations for that have started too. My deep freezer and my parent’s freezer are full of hotdogs and burgers. My table is covered in buns and condiments, and my fridge is full of lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and sliced cheese. Half my garage is full of drinks and propane for the barbeque. I think I’m down to only needing sparklers, plastic pools for drinks, and ice.

  Sitting up I check my phone for the time, two pm. Great. I’m going to be tired as a motherfucker on my shift tonight. Getting out of bed, I pull the blankets up to half ass make my bed and head to the living room for my laptop and the file folder on Dan. On the couch, I look over my notes. I haven’t found anything that jumps out at me, a few trespassing charges when he was a teenager, but not even a speeding ticket once he turned eighteen.

  He got a job right out of high school, didn’t go to college, bought a house, never married, no biological children. There were a few CPS calls to his house in the early 2000’s but nothing came of them and the cases were closed. To get detailed records of those reports, I’m going to need a damn good reason. My gut isn’t a good enough one.

  Scrubbing my hands down my face, I head to the kitchen to dig a water bottle out of the fridge. Unscrewing the cap, I toss it on the counter and chug half the bottle. Looking over this shit while I’m tired is not doing me any favours. Maybe I should go for a run, clear my head.

  A run sounds like the best option, so I grab some socks, my running shoes, and my headphones. Today is overcast, even though it’s the end of June, and in the 60’s. Life in the Pacific Northwest is weird.

  Jogging off the steps and down the street toward the trail I normally run, music is blaring in my ears, blocking out the world around me. The beat fuels my heartrate, gets my body into a groove that I can maintain for miles if needed. My feet hitting the pavement clears my head, the constant noise quieting, the tension lessoning with each step.

  I’m about a mile in when I really hit my stride, my body moving on autopilot along the trail I know like the back of my hand. My brain is quiet, my heart pounding while my lungs work to keep pulling in enough air. It’s a high that I’ve become addicted too. A place where all my problems cease to exist. The trees creating a canopy and giving the allusion of being in the middle of the forest instead of being in the middle of the city.

  I don’t know how long I run for or how far I go but when I get home, my legs and lungs burn. Sweat is pouring down my body, my t-shirt stuck to me. Dropping down onto the lawn, I lay on my back, eyes closed, and pant. I’m exhausted, physically and mentally, but I’m content and my head is quiet.

  Suddenly, freezing water soaks me. Jerking up with a yell and looking around for the source, a group of girls is bent over laughing and holding a hose.

  “You guys are going to pay for that.” The smile on my lips making my words lose some of the threat. I pull my phone out of my pocket and the earbuds out of my ears, setting them on the deck before charging for them. The girls shriek and split, leaving the hose behind. Grabbing the end and using my thumb to create a jet, I get most of them before they’re too far.

  “You better run, ya heathens!” I holler after them, laughing at their antics. I get the hose turned off and coiled back up so I don’t trip over it later, then head inside for a shower, water, and food before having to leave for work. The kids around here sure do keep me on my toes.

  Kristen

  ARRIVING AT THE MONSTROSITY that I grew up in has a pit forming heavy in my stomach. It’s never felt like home. The only room I ever felt I could relax in was my own bedroom and even t
hat was iffy. Between my parents and the staff, I never had any privacy. My things were always gone through, anything worth mentioning was reported to Mother. I could never really relax.

  Pulling up in front of the house, my uber driver stops at the bottom of the stone steps leading up to a massive wooden door. The valet opens my door and offers me a hand as I step out.

  “Thank you, Thomas.” A sincere smile on my face as I recognize the man that has worked here my entire life. “How is your wife?”

  He smiles as I ask him about his life. I’m the only one who ever has.

  “She’s doing well, Miss Collins. Thank you for asking. Enjoy your evening.” He bows as he leaves me at the top of the stairs, the front door opening to reveal a maid I don’t recognize.

  “Good evening, I’m Kristen Collins. My parents are expecting me.”

  With a nod, she opens the door farther and ushers me in. I’ve always hated the pomp and circumstance of coming in the damn house.

  “May I take your wrap, Miss?” Turning my back to the maid, she removes my wrap and I hand her my purse, sans my phone.

  “Thank you. Are my parents in the sitting room?”

  “Yes, Miss.”

  Following the sound of conversation, I find my parents, the mayor, his wife, and son all chatting together over drinks. I knew it wouldn’t be as simple as having dinner with my parents.

  “Kristen! What a pleasant surprise!” My father stands to give me a hug. Over his shoulder, I can see my mothers’ smirk. She played me and we both know it.

  “Hello, Father.” I return his hug for a moment and step back. My back straightens, the fake smile turning up the edges of my lips, and my brain goes to the same place it always goes when a boring night of bullshit is upon me.

  “Would you like a drink, Miss?” the maid from the door asks, looking expectantly at me with her hands folded in front of her.