Bunco Babes Tell All

by Maria Geraci

  Shea and Pilar exchanged a look. They knew Bull Durham almost as well as Kitty did.

  “Strange coincidence, huh?” said Kitty.

  “What do you mean he’s not a plumber?” Shea asked.

  Kitty shrugged. “He told me he’s not a plumber.”

  “So what does he do?” persisted Pilar.

  Shea dipped her spoon in Kitty’s plate, taking away a healthy portion of brownie. “How old is he? Did you find out how many times he’s been married?”

  “What is this, twenty questions? And eat your own brownie,” Kitty said, pointing to Shea’s plate.

  “We’re your best friends, and between the two of us we’ve been married a total of over twenty years. To wonderful, fabulous men, of course,” Shea said, “but if we have to put up with hearing about the woes of single life, then we deserve to hear the good stuff too.”

  Pilar nodded enthusiastically.

  Kitty was beginning to feel sorry she had brought the whole thing up. “There’s not much to tell. Like I said, he came back and after some small talk, I asked him if he wanted to stay for a glass of wine. Then he kissed me, and before I knew it we were doing it in the shower. Honestly, we didn’t talk a lot.”

  “In the shower?” Shea repeated.

  “It was hot as hell in the house, which reminds me, my air conditioner is broken and I still haven’t called a repairman.”

  Kitty flipped open her cell phone to call information, but Pilar snatched the phone away before she could punch in the number. “Your air conditioner can wait. Finish the rest of the story.”

  Kitty sighed. “Then we had some more incredible sex, and that’s it. Satisfied?”

  “Wow,” said Shea. “Moose and I didn’t do shower sex until we were engaged.”

  “So why aren’t you going to see him for more incredible sex?” Pilar persisted. “Isn’t he going to be in town for a few weeks?”

  She wasn’t going to see him again because he hadn’t said he wanted to see her again. But it was too humiliating to admit. Even to her two best friends. Of course, there was no rule that said she couldn’t call him. But she’d already decided there was no point.

  “Maybe I’ll see him again or maybe I won’t,” Kitty said, trying to sound nonchalant. “Who knows? But that’s enough about me.”

  They both looked ready to protest, so Kitty intercepted them by turning to Shea. “Your turn. Tell us about last night. Is baby number three on the way?”

  Shea flipped her red hair off her shoulders. “It’s not that easy, you know. These things can take a while. Besides,” she added with a sigh, “we never got to do it. Briana was in bed with Moose when I got home. She’s afraid of the dark.”

  Pilar shook her head. “I still think you’re crazy wanting another one.”

  Shea scowled. “What does Nick think of your ‘one child only’ proclamation? He told Moose last month he was hoping you’d get pregnant by the end of the year.”

  “He did? Well, considering we haven’t had sex in over two months it would be a damn miracle.”

  Kitty felt her breath catch. She put down her spoon and laid her hand over Pilar’s arm. “Are you and Nick having problems?”

  “Not any a vasectomy won’t take care of.”

  “I thought Catholics weren’t supposed to practice birth control,” Shea said.

  “Nick’s not Catholic.”

  “But you are,” Shea said.

  “Exactly. And the guilt of being on the pill is eating away at me.”

  Kitty shook her head and resumed eating. “You’re so full of it.”

  “High blood pressure runs in my family,” said Pilar. “Why should I be on the pill? I’ve already had a C-section. It’s Nick’s turn to go under the knife.”

  “But a vasectomy is permanent,” Shea said.

  “Exactly. I already told you I’m perfectly happy with just Anthony. If Nick Rothman ever wants to have sex again, he’s going to have to get snipped.”

  “That’s so mercenary.” Shea narrowed her eyes. “So . . . well, so you.”

  Pilar tossed down her napkin on the table. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “If you feel comfortable blackmailing your husband into a vasectomy, then—”

  “I think Steve the Non-Plumber is a little kinky,” Kitty blurted.

  Where the hell had that come from? But it did the trick. They stopped their arguing and turned to stare at her.

  “Really?” Pilar said, her voice rising a notch.

  “Spill,” Shea demanded.

  They both leaned forward. The anticipation on their faces made Kitty laugh. “You guys are so high school. Okay, so maybe he’s not exactly kinky . . .” She felt stupid now for bringing it up, but she also knew they would never let it go unless she gave them something. And it wasn’t like she was betraying some sacred memory.

  “He did get a big kick out of this pink-and-black-polka-dot thong I had—”

  “Victoria’s Secret catalogue? Summer issue?” Shea interrupted.

  Kitty nodded.

  “I ordered the baby blue one,” Shea said. “Go on.”

  “He asked me to wear it while he . . . you know, went down on me.”

  They flopped back in their seats. “That’s it?” Shea said. “That’s not kinky.”

  “Well, he also asked me to wear the feather boa.”

  “Did he tie you up with it?” Shea asked eagerly.

  “No. But for a few seconds there, I thought he was going to.”

  Pilar giggled. “A pink-and-black-polka-dot thong?”

  “Yeah, when I find it, I’m going to get that sucker bronzed.”

  Shea snapped to attention. “What do you mean, when you find it?”

  “I looked, but I couldn’t find it this morning.”

  Pilar wrinkled her forehead thoughtfully. “Maybe it fell under the bed.”

  “I checked there and under the sheets. I found my hair clip, but, I don’t know, maybe—”

  “Do you think he took it?” Shea asked.

  “Who?”

  “Steve the Non-Plumber, of course,” Shea said.

  “Why would he take my thong?”

  “You said he had this thing for it, and he made you put it on, and now it’s gone. The guy probably collects little souvenirs from all his conquests.”

  The chocolate brownie suddenly felt wedged in her chest. Kitty swallowed hard and glanced around the restaurant again. Thankfully, none of the nearby diners seemed to be listening in.

  “Let’s not jump to conclusions here,” Pilar said carefully.

  “What a perv,” Shea muttered.

  Pilar kicked Shea under the table with enough force that Kitty would have had to be totally clueless to miss it. Shit. Pilar thought Steve had taken the thong too.

  “Don’t listen to her,” said Pilar. “You don’t have any evidence to back that up.”

  “No, Shea’s right.” Why had she eaten so much of the brownie after her big lunch with Ted? She felt like throwing up. “If Steve didn’t take my thong, then where is it?”

  Pilar sighed. “So what if he did take it? You had a great night, which you totally deserve. You’re never going to see him again, so I say forget it.”

  “Forget it?” How dare he take her thong? How dare he have sex with her and not stick around to say good-bye?

  “The man probably has my underwear hanging off the rearview mirror of his pickup truck. I can’t just forget it. I need to get my thong back.”

  “Bad idea,” said Pilar.

  “Pilar’s right,” said Shea. “He’s probably just going to deny taking it anyway.”

  Pilar looked at Shea and nodded, the two of them back in sync. “And then what? You’ll end up with egg on your face. Remember freshman year in college, when you had a crush on that guy from Pike house? What was his name . . .”

  “Phil Fembarti,” Shea supplied.

  “Yeah, Phil,” Pilar said. “And after a couple of weeks of giving you the rush, he d
ropped you for that slut Jenny Moor-house? You insisted on going to see him, even though Shea and I told you it was a bad idea.”

  “I had a right to know why he stopped calling.”

  “Agreed. But we all know how that turned out. You stuck your nose in a book and didn’t look at another guy for the rest of the year.”

  “Phil Fembarti was a dipshit and I was eighteen and stupid. What does that have to do with getting my thong back?”

  “I had a bad feeling then, and I have a bad feeling now. Call it my Cuban intuition, but you need to let this go.”

  Kitty stood with as much dignity as her shaking legs would allow. “Thank you for the birthday song and the ice cream and brownie.” She leaned down and gave them both a quick peck on the cheek, then picked up her bag and looped it around her shoulder.

  “Where are you going?” Shea asked. “We’re not finished.”

  “I’m going to get my underwear back.”

  Pilar placed her head in her hands. “Ay, caramba.”

  11

  If she wanted her thong back, she was going to have to go to Pappas and Son Plumbing to get it. She didn’t have Steve’s cell number—if he even had a cell phone, that is. And it didn’t feel right to confront him at Gus’s house. She would swing by the plumbing office and let Gus know she needed to talk to Steve. It would be awkward. Gus would wonder what she wanted to talk to his nephew about. But there was no other option. Kitty could only hope Joey was off somewhere waist-deep in the middle of a septic tank accident.

  She pulled her convertible into the gravel lot. Steve’s truck was parked in front of the office. Her stomach bungee jumped straight to her knees. Even though his being here made it a lot easier, she had thought she’d have a little more time before confronting him.

  She threw back her shoulders and stepped out of the car. This was no time to be having second thoughts. She was on a thong retrieval mission, damn it.

  Her four-inch stiletto heels weren’t meant for walking across rocks. Kitty stumbled twice before she reached the door to Pappas and Son Plumbing. She stepped inside the cool air-conditioned building and came face-to-face with Joey.

  So much for septic tank fantasies.

  His eyes widened. “Hey, Kitty. What’s up?” His gaze nervously shot to the back door.

  A warning bell rang in her head. Joey had never called her Kitty before. Not even when they were in school. She was always Kit Kat or some other cutesy-obnoxious version of her name.

  “Hey, Joey,” she said cautiously. “I came by to talk to Gus about installing that toilet for me. Is he around?” It wasn’t actually a lie. She really did need that new toilet.

  “I thought I heard someone,” Gus said, stepping into the office from the back room. Gus was in his mid-sixties, tall, with a head still full of dark hair. Three years ago after his wife died, Kitty had helped him sell the large four-bedroom home where they had raised their family. “Too many memories here,” he had said. He was now living in a two-bedroom, two-bath bungalow on the beach that Kitty had found for him. He opened his arms and gave her a bear hug. “What brings you here?”

  From the corner of her eye, Kitty could see Steve lingering near the back door. “I . . . I want to schedule that toilet installation,” she said, feeling her face go warm.

  Steve wore a baseball cap, shorts, and a raggedy T-shirt. He looked like he’d just come in from a day of fishing. All sweaty and male and 100 percent gorgeous. Her mind went blank. What happened to the scathing speech she had rehearsed all the way from the restaurant?

  She shuffled her weight from foot to foot.

  “I was going to call you when the new toilet came in,” Gus said. “Remember?”

  “Oh, that’s right. I guess I forgot. Well, that’s great. I’ll just wait for you to call then.”

  Why had she let Shea rile her up? Pilar was right. There was no actual evidence Steve had taken her thong. This was a mistake. Maybe if she slipped off the heels she could run all the way back to her car.

  “How did my nephew do last night?” Gus asked, slapping Steve on the back.

  Joey snickered.

  Kitty glanced at Joey. He quickly wiped his expression clean. “He . . . he did fine.”

  Gus nodded. “Normally, I would have come myself, but I really didn’t want to miss the bowling tournament.”

  “It was no problem,” Kitty said.

  “He’s a good-looking guy, huh?” Gus asked.

  Kitty couldn’t be sure since his face was already a little sunburned, but she thought Steve’s cheeks pinked up. She met his gaze head-on for the first time. He looked uncomfortable. And guilty.

  Her knees began to wobble.

  “He’s had a string of bad luck,” Gus continued. “What he needs is a nice Greek girl to straighten him out.”

  “He’s already had one of those,” Joey piped in. “More than one, actually.”

  “Hey!” Gus glared at his son. “There’s a lady present.”

  Steve’s mouth settled into a grim line.

  Kitty swallowed past the knot in her throat and tried for a warm smile. “He’s handsome enough, but he can’t hold a candle to his uncle.”

  Gus beamed. “You sure you’re not Greek?”

  “I’m positive.”

  “We might have to make an exception, then,” Gus said, still smiling.

  “I don’t think Steve cares if Kitty’s Greek,” Joey said smoothly. “Do you, big guy?” He winked at his cousin.

  Oh my God.

  It was her worst nightmare come true. No amount of kick-ass sex was worth this.

  Steve took her by the elbow. “Let me walk you to your car.” She barely had time to turn and say good-bye to Gus before he hustled her out the front door.

  She yanked her arm from his grasp, almost losing her balance in the process. “Sorry,” he said, backing away to lean against the side of his pickup truck. “I must smell like fish guts.” He gave her a lazy smile. “Nice shoes.”

  “Yeah? Well, you can’t have them.”

  “Huh?”

  A low burst of music filled the air. The tune was “Free Bird.” Steve pulled his cell from his shorts pocket. “I need to make sure this isn’t important.” He glanced at the screen. “Can you hold on a minute? I should take this call.”

  “Go ahead.” He’d find out soon enough she wasn’t going anywhere until they settled up.

  “What do you want?” Steve asked into the phone. After an occasional “uh-huh,” he finished the conversation with, “Look, Terrie, I’m busy. If I hear anything, I promise I’ll call.”

  “Who’s Terrie?” Kitty asked, before she could stop herself. She sounded like some jealous shrew. Which she most certainly wasn’t. Jealousy implied she cared. Which she didn’t. “Forget it. It’s none of my business.”

  “Terrie’s my ex-wife.”

  “The stripper?”

  “No,” he said in a cautious tone. “Terrie’s my third ex-wife.”

  She gasped. “How many ex-wives do you have?”

  “Just three.”

  Just three? “I want my underwear back,” she blurted.

  He pushed up the lid to his Tampa Bay Buccaneers cap. “Your what?”

  “You heard me. I want my underwear back.” She stooped down to peer inside the front seat of his truck. “At least it’s not hanging off your rearview mirror.”

  He frowned. “Sweetheart, you’re turning weird on me. What the hell are you talking about?”

  “I’m weird? I’m not the one who collects women’s underwear.”

  He blinked.

  “Last night, when you . . . you know, did that thing with my thong,” she said, motioning with her hands to indicate the bedpost. He looked at her like she was losing it, which of course, was probably exactly what he wanted her to think. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. When I woke up this morning, it was gone.”

  “And you think I took it? Like some sort of memento?”

  The expression on his face made her pause.
But then, she remembered the way Joey had looked at her. Dear God, had he shown Joey her thong? “I looked for it everywhere. If you didn’t take it, who did?”

  “Wow.” He laughed incredulously. “I must have some invisible crazy-chick magnet tattooed on my ass.”

  Her spine stiffened. How dare he try to turn this around on her? She had checked every inch of that floor. Shea was right. Her thong hadn’t just walked off by itself. “Do you deny you told Joey we slept together?” She was shrieking, but she didn’t care.

  “Yeah, as a matter of fact, I do.”

  “Bullshit.”

  A muscle on the side of his jaw twitched. “Are you calling me a liar?”

  “You can toss in pervert too.”

  His dark eyes narrowed. “I think we both know what this is really about. This is about your ego being bruised because I didn’t declare some kind of undying devotion to you after last night. You’re pissed because you woke up alone this morning.”

  “I am not! For your information, that happens to me all the time.”

  His brows shot up.

  “I . . . I didn’t mean it like that. Look,” she said, trying to stay calm, “just give me back the thong and we’ll forget we ever knew one another.”

  “Believe me, I’d love nothing better. You want your thong back?”

  Her shoulders slumped. “So you have it?” It wasn’t until that instant she realized just how much she had hoped she was wrong.

  “Not on me.”

  “Then—”

  “Go check your laundry room. You’ll find your thong on top of the dryer.” His voice turned low and hard. “For one thing, I didn’t tell my cousin jack shit. Apparently, he cuts through your neighborhood on the way to work and saw my truck in your driveway. And I sure as hell don’t need to collect trophies. But if I did, it wouldn’t have been from last night. It was nice, but you didn’t exactly rock my world.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t think you and I have anything left to talk about.” He then calmly walked back inside the building.

  Kitty stood there a minute, unable to speak, unable to move. She tried to walk to her car with as much dignity as she could, but her heel got stuck in the gravel and she fell, landing flat on her ass in the Pappas and Son Plumbing parking lot.