by Melissa Good
Dar winced. “Oh boy.”
Chapter
Twenty-three
KERRY HAD ALMOST, twice now, asked Dar to simply keep on riding instead of going into the large, buff colored building she could see looming just ahead. Riding a motorcycle was way more fun than she’d anticipated, especially when it became apparent that Dar did, indeed, know how to operate one of them. She was tucked in back of her taller friend, with arms around Dar’s middle, and just having a grand old time.
“You know,” she murmured into the fairly close by ear, “it would be really cool to go up A1A on the beach, all the way to West Palm on this thing.” Dar’s head turned slightly. “I could cope with that.”
“Hmm.” Dar kept one eye on the road and peeked at her. “Am I getting the message that we need to invest in a bike?” She grinned. “How about a ride down to Key West?”
“Ooo.” Kerry squeezed her. “Now you’re talking.”
Dar chuckled and faced back around, leaning the cycle a little to turn into the parking lot of the school. There was a crowd outside the door and more people entering, and she was relieved to see most of them had entered into the spirit of the occasion and were wearing relics from bygone years. Though. She tilted her head. Wearing football pants three sizes too small and a full set of spikes was of at best, dubious intelligence. She squinted a little. That would be Barandon Pitts, she decided, the school quarterback her senior year. The homecoming king, boy voted most likely to do just about whatever he wanted, and senior class president had ended up going into the Navy, she remembered reading in the local press, and came out several years later to take over his father’s local chain of coin laundromats.
Against the odds, she’d liked Barry. He shared her dry sense of humor and refused to take any of the high school hoopla over him seriously, getting in and winning his share of games and getting out with a comfortable slate of memories and not much else. He was smarter than they gave him credit for and wiser than an eighteen-year-old boy typically was in the way of life. Dar smiled now to see him amiably stuffing himself back into his old togs and talking to what appeared to be some cheerleaders who were reliving memories.
Kerry peered around with interest as they parked, her chin resting on Dar’s shoulder and she exhaled. “This is soooo different than my Eye of the Storm 211
school was.”
“Yeah?” Dar put both booted feet on the ground.
“Private, girls only, Christian.”
“Oh.” The dark haired woman made a face. “Sorry.”
“No. It wasn’t bad, actually. It was kind of good, in a way,” Kerry said. “Everyone competed a lot, but it was never mixed up in that pseudo chivalry stuff, and no one told you to be good, or bad, in anything because you were a girl. Everyone was considered equal.”
“Mmm.” Dar thought about that as she swung her leg over the bike’s engine and stood, dusting her jeans off. “Interesting.” She offered a hand to Kerry with a hint of self consciousness. “Shall we?” After some serious debate, she and Kerry had finally decided that the blonde woman’s outfit was just a little too…well just a little too, that was all. Kerry had switched the extremely skimpy skirt for a pair of her oldest, most faded jeans, which were very snugly fitted and tucked into the tan leather boots that she’d gotten at the store. She’d kept the leather tooled belt, though. “You okay?”
“Mmm.” Kerry plucked at the soft leather jacket she’d worn while riding. “Hope it’s air conditioned in there.”
Dar chuckled. “It is.” She straightened the silver chain around her partner’s neck, holding the old fashioned, age darkened setting they’d found in Aunt May’s trunk. “Matches your eyes.” She flicked the ear cuffs dangling from Kerry’s ears. “You look very…um…”
“Post-apocalyptic retro,” Kerry decided. “But I like it. And I like that outfit on you, so let’s go get stared at.” She peered at some of the other people making their way towards the school. “At least ours fits.” She squinted. “That’s not a tube top, is it?”
Dar tilted her head, then tilted it the other way, then removed her sunglasses and rubbed her eyes. “I don’t want to know,” she muttered, resuming the lenses and leading the way across the heat softened tarmac.
Getting stared at wasn’t going to be a problem, she soon realized, as she used her darkened lenses to peer around unseen at the gawking faces.
Well, that certainly wasn’t any different than when she’d attended the place, that’s for sure. She kept her head faced forward and mounted the low stairs up to the door. It opened and public school scent wafted out, making her nose wrinkle in memory as she passed through into the building.
The main hallway was filled with clumps of people, some in business clothes, some casual, some in outfits more appropriate to the teenagers they had once been. Dar took a breath of the air conditioned air and released it. “Looks the same,” she commented peering around. Same oatmeal colored walls, same institutional tile floor with curves of oatmeal colored carpet liberally stained with toner, same rows, off to the left and down, of buff colored, paint chipped lockers.
Across the walls near the ceiling tiles were painted banners, welcoming the old students home and to the right hand side, the folding walls had been pulled back, exposing the round tables of the cafeteria.
212 Melissa Good
“Hey, Dar!” Barry’s voice boomed at her elbow and she turned to see the tall, heavyset man beside her. “Can’t believe ya showed up.”
“Hello, Barry.” Dar removed her sunglasses and extended a hand.
“Nice to see you again.” She half turned. “This is my friend Kerry.”
“Hey there, Kerry.” Barry released Dar’s hand and took Kerry’s.
“Well, ain’t this a pile of pretentious preppies.” He turned to Dar. “Glad to see you ain’t changed any. Still the rebel, huh?” His pale hazel eyes twinkled. “At least after business hours, anyway. Saw your picture in the paper couple months back, that was a kick, lemme tell ya.”
“Mmm. I can bet there’s a few folks here that never expected me to grace Business Monday, that’s true.” Dar chuckled. “Thanks. Things are pretty good, yeah. What about you? Still running that chain?”
“Branching out.” He scratched his shoulder under the pads. “Business is good. I got married, got two kids, you know.” Barry looked around. “Damn, things don’t change much, do they? Same groups.
There’s the jocks, there’s the brains, and the geeks.”
Dar followed his finger. “Yeah, and the outcasts.” She nodded towards a group off by itself, in clothing a bit like hers, most of the men long-haired and the women with body piercing. “Is that Cathy Singer?”
“Yeah. Guess she didn’t join a cult and go postal after all. I always figured her for that.” The very tall, muscular woman across the floor laughed and hooked thumbs in her belt loops, exposing luridly tattooed arms that somehow matched her bright orange crew cut. Barry scratched his ear. “Unless she’s out on parole again.”
Dar’s brow lifted. “What did they get her for?”
“Assault. When she got out the last time, she came over looking for a part time with me. I,” Barry looked a little embarrassed, “I felt bad for her, y’know? But she was scaring the customers.”
“Ah.” Dar folded her arms. “Figures. We had a few run ins back when.”
“Why?” Kerry spoke for the first time, having been busy absorbing the scene with interest. “I thought you were part of that kind of group?”
“Naw.” Barry laughed. “Dar weren’t part of any group, that’s the trouble—she qualified for all of ’em and it drove ’em all nuts.”
“I was pretty cocky and not very tactful in those days,” Dar advised her lover.
“I’m sure I would have hardly recognized you,” Kerry murmured, returning the polite smiles of a group of letter sweatered women in cheerleaders skirts and sneakers nearby. “Are those drinks I see in there? All this leather is making me thirsty.”
Dar’s nostrils flared and she bit the inside of her lip to keep from laughing. “Right. See you later, Barry.” She nudged Kerry in the direction of the cafeteria, returning the wary nods of recognition from several people as they worked their way through the crowd. Dar stopped to read the brightly colored schedule on the outer cafeteria wall and exhaled.
“They’re calling this the Get to Re-Know You Reception,” she commented. “Then we have the Old Times Cafeteria Spaghetti Dinner and the Eye of the Storm 213
Squeaky Shoe Gym Dance.” She put a hand over her stomach. “I think my stomach flu’s recurring.”
“Dar.” Kerry pushed her gently towards the makeshift bar, where a sweating bartender was dispensing cheap beer and jug wine. “Would you give me a tour around the place? I’d like to see where your classes were.”
She could sense how uncomfortable Dar was and was beginning to regret coaxing her into coming. “Barry seemed nice.”
“He is.” Dar ducked past two men in leisure suits, one of which she seemed to remember as a math whiz in eleventh grade. “He and I used to hang out just to make everyone wonder.”
“Paladario!”
Dar physically flinched. Oh shit. She forced a smile on her face and turned. “Hello, Patricia.”
A tall, very well endowed blonde woman bore down on them, a delighted look on her tanned face. She had short, feathered hair and was wearing an old, wool band uniform. “How are you? My god, I didn’t think you’d show up for this. If I’d know I would have told Sally and Carol to come too, though I think they’ll be here later how’ve you been?”
She grasped Dar’s arm and squealed. “You look wonderful.”
Kerry judged angles and distances, and calculated that Dar would effectively toss the woman right into the next concrete pylon, quite possibly within the next ten seconds if she didn’t do something. “What a nice uniform.” She smiled brightly. “Is that a cummerbund?”
“Oh.” Patricia stepped back and tugged at it, necessarily releasing Dar’s arm. “Why, yes. I had it dry cleaned twice and I think I got all the mildew out of it.” She beamed at Kerry. “Do I know you?”
“No. Sorry. My name’s Kerry.” She stuck out a hand. “I’m a friend of Dar’s.”
“How nice.” She dismissed Kerry and returned her attention to the tall, dark haired woman. “I can hardly believe it.”
Fortunately, the interlude had given Dar a chance to regain her composure. “Been a long time, that’s for sure.” She nodded gravely. “I’m doing well, thanks. And you?”
“Oh! I have a thousand things to tell you. Just wait until the gang hears you’re here, don’t move, Dar, I’ll be right back.” Patricia bounced off, heading towards a table full of uniforms in various states of repair.
Dar and Kerry eyed each other, then Kerry firmly took her elbow and headed for the door, not stopping until they were down the left hand side hallway, in a quieter spot. “Oh, my god.” Kerry took a breath. “Don’t tell me that’s a friend of yours.”
“Ahem.” Dar tugged her earlobe. “Actually, she’s my cousin.” She almost smiled at Kerry’s dropped jaw. “On my father’s side.”
Green eyes peered at her, then Kerry turned around and looked at the entrance to the cafeteria. She swiveled slowly back. “Does he know?”
Dar sighed.
214 Melissa Good
“AH AM GONNA kick her butt.”
Cecilia prowled around the huge cottage, all three bedrooms and two bathrooms of it, with kitchen. “Well…it’s um,” she put a finger out and traced the marble countertop, “not a Motel Six, that’s for sure.”
“Ah am gonna take that child up over mah knee and spank her till she yelps the Pledge of Allegiance in six tongues.”
His wife opened a closed door and found a huge, turbidly swirling hot tub tucked behind it, raised, with ledges comfortably niched for drinks. “Hmm.” She left the door open and wandered into the kitchen, peeking inside the refrigerator and finding champagne and a tray of assorted chocolates and cookies. She picked up a square of dark truffle and returned to the recalcitrant figure standing in the hallway, legs braced and arms folded.
“Ah swear, I’m—fmf.” Andy bit down on the unexpected object in his mouth. His brows lifted as he chewed. “Mmm. What the hell is that?”
“Chocolate,” Ceci advised him knowingly, patting him on the stomach. “C’mon, relax. It’s only for one night.” She looked around and shrugged a bit. “It’s like being in a miniature castle.” She took his hand.
“With my very own prince.”
“Mmph.” His eyes dropped.
“Besides, you never could stand to lay a finger on that kid, and you know it. All she had to do was look at you with those big blue eyes and you folded,” Ceci reminded him with a gentle poke.
Andy sighed. “Well, all right. I guess one night in here won’t kill me.
What is that noise?”
“Hot tub,” Ceci told him succinctly. “Dar has one, outside.”
“Huh.” He ambled over and stuck his head in. “Jesus H. Christ. I seen swimming pools on Navy ships smaller than that.” He peered over his shoulder at her. “You ever tried one?”
“Mmhmm.” She wandered over to one of the closed doors and opened it, revealing a bedroom with an old fashioned four poster bed with a canopy. The room was painted in eggshell and coral, and a multi bladed fan over head passed lazily through the cool air. Two very fluffy, beige bathrobes lay folded on the dresser.
It was overwhelmingly luxurious, almost to the point where she had to laugh at it. But you know, every life deserved a little bit of ridiculous pam-pering, didn’t it? A day or two here and there when you could lose yourself in a marble lined fantasy, surrounded by chocolate, champagne and down mattresses.
A tiny bubble of time to spend reveling in a restored love–a second honey-moon as it were. Of course, she and Andy had never had a first, since he’d been shipped out the day after they’d gotten married.
It was time. Ceci turned and leaned in the doorway. “Have you ever tried one?”
Andy looked up from where he was seated, with his hand stuck curiously in the warm water. “Closest I ever come to this was going out the top hatch of a hunter sub into a riptide.”
Ceci walked over and sat down next to him. “That doesn’t count.”
Eye of the Storm 215
“Sure was a lot colder,” he agreed.
“Would you join some chocolate, champagne, and me in this one?” A hand curled over his. “We might as well take advantage of the place.”
“Uh. Ah don’t think that green eyed gal threw no swimsuit in that bag,” Andy drawled slowly, watching her face.
His wife smiled. “That’s good. Because I haven’t got one either. I guess we’ll just have to make do with what we don’t have.” She flicked a bit of warm water at him. “You up for some impromptu improvisation?”
One grizzled brow lifted. “What you mean by them three dollar words is, you and me are gonna get naked in this here bathtub, ain’t it?”
His tone dropped and took on a faint growl.
Ceci nodded. “Mmhm. That is indeed what I had in mind, sailor boy.” She lifted a hand to his cheek and stroked it, feeling the unevenness of the scars and the light stubble of his beard. “What do you say?”
His skin tensed under her fingers as he released a partial smile.
“What I say is that you are one wanton woman, Mrs. Roberts,” he rasped.
“But I guess we’re gonna get wet.” He flicked back a handful of water at her. “You got more of them chocolates?”
She stood and held a hand out. “C’mon.”
They walked hand in hand into the small kitchen and collected the goodies, brought them back to the tub room, and set them on the marble surround. Ceci fiddled with the wall mounted sound system, achieving sound in a sudden jolt of volume. “Whoops.”
“Yow.” Andy blinked and ambled over. “They got anything that ain’t the macarena?”
“I’m working on it.” Ceci fiddled a moment more, then the speaker produced a much softer, lighter sound. “Better?”
“Mmph.” He slipped his arms around her tentatively and she turned, laying her hands against his chest. “It’ll do.” He paused, and she smiled a touch, then closed her fingers and tugged the dark cotton shirt he had tucked into his jeans out.
He slid his hands around her neck and down under her collar, stopping at the top button on her white, lacy shirt, then with a small, precise motion, undid it. A touch slid down beneath the fabric and separated it.
“You smell nice.”
Ceci trailed fingers over his ribs and leaned close. “So do you,” she whispered, getting her hands under his waistband and unbuttoning it.
“Only cause you made me use that pink soap this mornin’,” Andy teased. “Making me smell all like coconuts. Good Lord.” His jeans dropped loosely around him, and he undid the rest of her buttons, then slipped the pale fabric down her shoulders as she tugged at his under-shorts.
“Mmm.” Ceci felt the soft fabric. “I think I like you in silk.”
“Don’t you start.” Andy ducked his head and kissed her, as their bodies slid together. They worked the rest of their clothes off and spent a moment reacquainting themselves to each other. His hands closed around her and lifted. “Need to feed you, woman.”
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“Look who’s talking,” Ceci retorted, as she was lowered into the tub, followed by a mass of ex-SEAL. The water was warm, but not hot, and pleasantly bubbly. “Here. This is a start.” She picked up a piece of chocolate and offered it to him. “So. How do you like the tub?”
Andy chewed very thoughtfully as he glanced around. “I do believe I like this,” he approved with a nod. “Stock some fish in it, it’d be perfect.”
Ceci laughed. “Andy!”
“Heh.” He stretched long legs out across the bottom of the tub and relaxed, turning to find gray eyes inches from his. “This here tub getting smaller?” His breathing caught as her hands explored below the surface, and he half turned, kissing her as he started his own touch.
