He leaves before I can reply, and dammit, my comeback was a good one.
Chapter Four
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
Percy
The pain dogging me as I make my way around the room passing out snacks or whatever the heck it is that Callie and that chef dumped on me is excruciating.
Okay, so maybe I went a little nuts on poor Monday and put on a show that would rival the Animal Planet he never got to watch. The truth is that after Marks dropped by and left me snarling at Tom Cruise while scraping the empty Brownie container, I felt empty and angry.
And pissed off that I sat there in one spot in the dark for hours looking at my life and seeing stuff I didn’t and still don’t like. Part of me hates saying this, even just to myself, but I get what it is that people see when they look at me.
I’m in my thirties with the same weird look I had back in college and a bag of men that I drag around behind me like a talisman.
The honest truth is that I use them as much as they use me, and while I’m not apologizing to anybody, I will admit to knowing how shitty that is.
I am hiding from life behind my sarcasm and the loose image I portray. For instance, the priest? He’s hot, don’t get me all wrong and shit, but I’m not a fool. I know how gross it is to come onto a man of the cloth.
Want to know why I did? Because I could. The answer is that nasty and eerily adorable, as Gruffy says. I could flirt and simper and make an all-around fool of myself because it’s not like anyone expects any better of me.
I’ve set the bar so low that honestly, not even Gruffy cares much anymore beyond the occasional cane bash against the skull and some colorful words I bet that priest would love to hear in confession.
And yes, it sucks that I’ve made myself into this low-morals, swearing, partying woman because now I don’t know what to do with myself most days.
I’m grown and should be a lot more than what I am, but I just couldn’t be bothered anymore. I have a closet full of jewelry that will never sell because I’m too scared of failure to leave Delights and set out on my own.
I have drawers full of clothes that I made on the sewing machine Gruffy gave me, but never allow the light of day because in the back of my mind, if I pretend those dreams don’t exist, it won’t hurt me to see that I’ve settled instead of going for it.
I love Delights. I mean I get to do one thing I’m good at without judgement and cowardice, but the rest is just collecting dust.
And all because I can’t stand to dust them off and reveal them after the dreams I once weaved. I always saw myself on whatever the hell farm Marks would crow about, fitting women for gowns and stuff, matching my jewelry to them and being my own version of Martha Stewart.
And that there is the problem. In every one of those dreams Marks was there.
“Hey, gorgeous, you okay?”
I turn just as Woody filches a handful of canapés and take in his super neat brown hair and green eyes that sparkle with mischief as much as they do care.
Woody is one of my favorite men, along with Jack and Freddie, because he’s just cool. He loves love in every form and never lies about himself. Hell, I’ve never gone more than a day without hearing how one of his ex-shags sent him something to say hi, that’s just how it is.
He’s so sweet and nice and loving to all women that even though he’s not about to commit and more than likely will only tap a girl once, they still end up adoring him enough to want friendship.
That’s not what I like about him most, though. What I will always appreciate is his sensitivity coupled with his discretion. I could tell the man I planted a bomb in someone’s car and he’d freaking provide an alibi for me.
Now that’s a man.
“I’m good, just tired and hoping tonight flies by is all. I incurred a sex injury and man oh man is this stuff harder to get over now than it was in my twenties.” I laugh, tongue in cheek.
“Yeah, tell me about it. You know flexibility wanes, that’s why I bought a sex swing and massage oils.”
“Gross, Woody, oils?”
“Hell yeah, gotta make them ladies feel good before I expect them to be contortionists, ya know. But enough about my awesomeness, what’s up with you? I saw you and that Marks guy at the wedding. Listen, Perc, you know I like you and I’m your guy for whatever, whenever, however, but I’m begging you, don’t go near Marks if you’re not into more than sex. The man’s had a shitty few years and he doesn’t need to be falling for all this hype.”
What? Did he just say Marks has had a shitty life?
Shouldn’t I be leaping around clapping and crowing?
Shouldn’t I be laughing my ass off that I’m not the only schmuck who ended up raw and messed up?
“What? What are you talking about? I thought he was just another moneyed playboy?”
I can’t fish for shit but that doesn’t mean I can’t play the ditsy blonde and get what I can from Woody. And no, I don’t specifically care about what’s happened in the ensuing years, but I am curious if nothing else.
“No he isn’t. Marks is one of the Tennessee Markses, you know, the guys who established and branched out Mulligan’s Finest.”
“The whiskey?” I wheeze.
That is like my favourite brand, no freaking joke. The stuff is hella expensive and me and Indie only get into a bottle when three things happened.
One, when Indie had the crab scare that forced her to shave her pubes and apply the shampoo, only to discover that Callie was messing with her panties.
Two, when my cat died. Okay, so it was a stray I was trying to tame, but I loved Grimmy a lot and seeing him fall out of the apartment window was horrible. I thought they always landed on their feet.
Three, the day we opened Delights and started worrying that every penny of our savings would go south and we’d be living with Gruffy again. Shudder.
Mulligan’s Finest got us through many bad times and I love that stuff. And Marks is the…
“Yup. A few years ago Marks’s father Geoffrey died on his way to…well he died and left the place to him. Unfortunately his uncle had a few other ideas that entailed taking it all over after contesting the will and throwing his mom and family out of their home. The poor guy had to leave school and his football career which was just taking off and go home.”
“Okay,” I murmur, following him to a corner and grabbing a bottled water to settle in for this. “So he got it back. What’s the big deal?”
“He didn’t. See, the dispute dragged on for two years while the company was handled by the board after the judge put that in place. His family was left destitute, all accounts frozen, and it was up to him to fix it. I think Paul told me he worked construction for three years to keep a roof over their heads and food in their mouths while they waited on the ruling.”
Well shit. That totally kills my flow and makes me feel like crap. I know what it is to work like a dog and scrape and save every penny. The girls and I did it for a long time before we had enough to open Delights. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for him.
You have to understand, Marks was super ambitious. He had these dreams that included playing pro ball for a few years till he’d saved enough of his own money to live his dream.
I got the impression, even then, that he and his dad were not exactly on good terms, but he loved his mom a lot and from what I’ve managed to piece together he also got two more mouths to feed the day his dad kicked it.
So…
“But they’re okay now.”
“Sure,” Woody says, snorting derisively. “If you consider what happened after that. Christ, I just about cried for the guy and I only know him through Paul and Jack.”
“What happened?”
I’m so ravenous for information that I want to shriek when some idiot stops by and starts prattling on about some business I don’t care about.
“Wood—”
“Sorry, babe, I gotta go, I’ve been after this guy for a meeting fo
r weeks, can’t miss this opportunity. Tell the girls I say hi.”
Well poop in a bag, that freaking sucked balls.
“Would you stop boozing in the corner and come help me in the kitchen! Callie blew chunks all over the floor, Hector ran away, and the new chef is threatening to quit if she has to mop it up,” Indie hisses, making me jump sky high when she just pops up out of nowhere. “And FYI, if you’re not intending to see that guy you thumpered at Dot’s wedding I’d get your ass into the kitchen pronto.”
I do, even as I crane my neck searching for Marks.
“So. You still hankering after him?”
“What, no!” I yell, gagging a little when the smell of peanut butter and chunks hits my nose. “Seriously? I thought the sickness stuff was over!”
No way. No freaking way. The floor looks like a team of hazmat-suited bad boys couldn’t get through it without running.
Yikes.
“She’s got a cold and she’s been hacking back like a prizefighter. Hector got her with the lobster again…”
Dammit, I thought we banned that crap from all events until Callie popped this one out.
The cleaning is gory, stomach turning, and not in the least palatable but I hunker down with a roll of paper towels and clean while Madame Fifi stands watching, her blond hair shining beneath the lights as she eyes me.
“You know how I sort of like you as a person and would love you if I were capable of that shit?”
Snort.
“Yeah?”
“Well I think it’s just about that time you should tell me what’s really up and was really up with that fella out there. I’ve never pried, and God knows I never would, but this is affecting not only you now, so I’m gonna need to know exactly what’s going on with Markus Marks and you.”
“What? Nothing! He’s in the past, I told you that,” I mutter, heaving a little when evidence of Callie’s cold drips off onto the floor in a slimy ooze.
Blech.
“Yeah? Then why did a woman looking like Mary freaking Poppins turn up at Delights today to book four very unrefusable dinner events under the name Marks?”
“What? No. I-I am, this is…”
Remember how I said the man is like a shark when he wants something? I was wrong. He’s a freaking tank. He never stops when he sets his mind to a task and I should know.
I flirted with Marks that first day I laid eyes on him, I won’t lie, but the man did every bit of the chasing and he didn’t relent until I gave in.
He’s…
“You have to refer them or cancel or something. Please, Indie. You don’t—”
“No. First of all, these four parties will bring in enough money to get a new van, non-negotiable, and secondly, I’m not letting your personal stuff affect what we’ve built. Now you can either explain to me why I should cut you a break and not force you to take this thing, or I’ll let it stand.”
Why?
I can’t ever tell anyone why, not all of it. Hell I hardly let myself think of the why even now.
“We have a past, Indie. I, we were together for a long time. A year. I loved him a lot and he just left,” I admit, despising the sympathy that shines there.
To anyone else this would be a WTF moment and I understand that. She gets it though. With me, it wasn’t him breaking up with me that was the real issue, though really, he didn’t. He just left. It’s the abandonment thing that really felled me.
“Honey, I heard what Woody said to you—”
“What are you, a ninja? Shit, Indie, you should really apply to the freaking CIA or something with those spy skills because they are totally being wasted right now.” I huff, wiping up the last puke string and going for the mop.
“Whatever, you get what I am saying. The man obviously had a lot on his plate and—”
“And you feel all soft and warm all over about his plight so you’re sticking me with Mary Poppins and her crew?” I hiss, scrubbing at the floor in a frenzy.
“That about sums it up. Yeah. Whatever you have going, whatever issues you got, you need to either move on in a way that you can function without screwing every man you meet or just…just grow the hell up already!”
“You—”
“No. I may not be all that great, but at least I have a very real reason for feeling the stuff I do. Your parents are asses. Boohoo. At least you had them. And Marks? If he was that important to you, you wouldn’t have hidden him like a dirty little secret for so long. You think I didn’t know about him, Percy? Come on. You were never around and you swanned around with hickeys the size of a dollar bill all the time. Face it, bitch, you weren’t all that great as a girlfriend, either. Oh, and by the way, I called all the Days and told them you were out for the next three weeks. And I erased their numbers from your phone while you were in the bathroom doing number two. You’re welcome.”
What I feel right now isn’t anger, hurt, or sadness. I only feel dumbstruck.
“I need them.”
“No. You need to get over whatever it is that you still won’t tell anyone about, and then you need to do something about all that hot shit you’re hiding in your closet. FYI, I call dibs on the little black number with the cutouts. Had my eye on that thing for two years now.”
“You sneak!”
Okay, so I’m riding a little high that that secret is out. Now I can sew whenever I want without having to put music on.
“You asshole. I’ve watched you go through this shit for years while you pretend not to care about anything. Don’t get me wrong, it’s your choice what and who you do, Percy, but honestly? Can you really look me in the eye and tell me without lying that you’re over what happened in college? If you can’t, if part of you is still messed up by that, then I’m telling you to face it. Do these jobs, have it out with him, hell, fuck him out of your system if you need to, but do something. Please.”
With that I’m left alone in the kitchen with a pukey mop in my hand, no words to say, and the killing blow of being free on the weekdays.
Looks like at least my back won’t be taking a beating tonight.
***
I’m cranky and ready to rip heads off when I trudge up to the house that looks like it’s some crap straight out of Full House and ring the doorbell. Last night did not go well, and instead of cuddling and getting an hour or two while napping with Tuesday like I usually do, I lay awake all night staring at the ceiling while Indie played Xbox and turned the apartment into a hot box.
It got so bad that I almost cracked and went Dahmer on her, but whatever. I’m here now and as I wait for the door to open, it’s taking a lot not to say screw this and run like hell.
I do not care that Marks has had a rough time of it. I don’t. I DON’T.
The door finally swings open and I have a straight-up flashback to Mary Poppins and her magical umbrella when a short little blonde with eyes like a Norwegian spring smiles up at me.
Holy cow.
“Why hello, darling, I’m Astrid, you must be Percy. Come in, come in.”
Twilight zone. Straight up, I think as I step into a normal house that looks like normal people live here. Weird considering the Deniro they’re about to lay out for two dinners and two lunches.
“Er, uh, nice house,” I mumble as she leads me into the living room where a little woman with darker blond hair and blue eyes sits yelling at her knitting needles while a man about six years my junior laughs his ass off.
He looks so much like Marks I know immediately that this man can’t be anyone other than the brother he told me about in Paul’s office. The only difference is his height. He’s maybe two inches shorter and he’s lankier.
Not lean, just not as big around the shoulders as Marks. He’s hot, though. Seriously hot. Tongue-waggingly hot. Seriously, my tongue is lolling as I take them in and consider getting the hell out of here.
Because they all know exactly who I am. I can’t miss it in the way they all smile and Mrs. Marks practically shoves me into a chair and sits so close
she may as well be in my lap.
“You’re so pretty! Isn’t she pretty, Edie? Just look at that hair and those eyes. I knew she’d be a stunner,” she gushes, making my lips twitch with the need to spew a denial just to avoid whatever the heck else is about to come out of her mouth.
“Erm. Yeah, thanks. Really nice of you to say and all that but, er, could we just talk about the dinner tomorrow night and what you wanted on the menu? Indie gave me the rough draft but I need to see the space I have to set up and get the waiters on call and order the things we don’t have at the kitchen.”
“Nonsense, dear! As I said to that darling tattooed little imp yesterday, this is an on-site event. All the food will be brought in, all you have to do is cook it. Now then, let me get a good look.”
I’m stood up, twirled, and inspected like one of Paul’s prized cows as Edie and Astrid start cooing and stopping just short of checking my teeth. I think one of them even goes in for a feelsie before Finn starts laughing and rescues me from Gruffy Two and Three respectively.
“Stop that or we’ll all be in hot water. Now come on then, give the woman some breathing room.”
“But—”
“We wanna—”
“Stop measuring her for the dress and calm down. Shit, I think you’re foaming at the mouth, Ma.” He chuckles.
“Dress? What dress? Listen, this is really just weird. You know I know Marks and basically want to kick him in the nuts, right?” I wheeze, taking a cautionary step back from Julie Andrews and a blonde Susan Sarandon.
That’s how I see them since they may look all innocent, but I just know they can cut a chick.
“Oh pooh!” Astrid purrs, giggling with Edie as if I didn’t just insult and technically threaten her only offspring with bodily harm. “He probably deserves it, dear, just leave something working, won’t you? I’m old. I need grandchildren.”
That sets them both off laughing like loons and I look to the man for help, anything to get me out of here.
THE NAUGHTY ONES: The Complete 5-Books Series Page 39
