by Ann Major
Cole hated the cold, ruthless man Eli described. And he was scared that was the real him, that if he got his memory back, he’d be that man again.
Normally Lizzy never stopped by SEX-E-E, the fetish shop, where Mandy worked. The two friends usually met somewhere far more discreet for lunch.
Like Bryce’s gifts of sexy French lingerie, the shop wasn’t Lizzy’s kind of thing, and it amazed her that an honors graduate in English from Princeton, no less, who was the daughter of a wealthy, high-profile family, would choose to work here. And yes, this job was definitely Mandy’s choice.
“Okay, I’m going to be a writer when I grow up, if you have to know, kiddo,” she’d confessed to Lizzy once at breakfast when they’d been munching bagels after the journalism class they’d taken where they’d met. “So, I’ve got to do interesting things now, so I’ll have something to write about later. I was born rich, and you can’t imagine how boring that is.”
“Right. I thought maybe you just wanted to shock your family.”
“Those repressed snoots? They gave up on me after the first few piercings and Internet lovers from the wrong side of the tracks.”
“I admire you so much for being so sure about what you want and don’t want.”
“I’m just a brat. Nothing admirable about being a rich, rebellious brat.”
Mandy was with a customer when Lizzy opened the doors, causing lots of little silver bells to tinkle. When the door closed behind her, Lizzy wrinkled her nose and waved her hand because the air was so thick with incense.
Maybe she was rich, but Mandy fitted right in here. She had bright, bottle-red hair and wore a tight, stretchy black tank top that didn’t quite meet the waistband of her low-riding jeans. Her eyebrows, ears, nose, belly button and tongue were all pierced with small ruby studs, and she had a little rose tattoo above her left breast—of course, almost always, the tank top was low enough for the rose tattoo to show and short enough for the ruby in her navel to twinkle. She had another tattoo on her butt, that one being a cute, smiling dragon wreathed in scrolls of flowers that showed when she wore a bikini or low-rise jeans, like today.
“I wish you’d been with me when this big old weirdo with huge loops in his ears and nose and long dirty fingernails was tattooing my butt. It was a hoot.” Mandy had laughed at the memory as if she still relished it.
“Have you told your mom that story?”
“Even though she’s a connoisseur of art, she might not appreciate it.”
Mandy waved at the sound of the silver bells and Lizzy fluttered her fingers and blew air kisses. Eyeing her friend’s exposed navel with the ruby enviously, Lizzy pushed at her own waist and squirmed, fighting like the dickens for a satisfying breath as she readjusted Bryce’s awful corset. Underneath her flowing Indian red dress, Lizzy was still wearing sexy French lingerie.
The tight black corset with the little red ribbons on it made her breasts bulge above it like balloons. She’d laced the thing up and then had lost her nerve when she’d seen herself in the mirror. When she’d dressed, she’d donned a loose, flowing red gown that hid her astonishing hourglass curves instead of a tight sheath that would have made her look, in her opinion, like a harlot.
The underwear was sexy all right, but was any man worth this much pain?
Positive thoughts. Affirmations.
Bryce is worth it. I can change. Where there’s a will there’s a way. I love the new exciting me.
While Mandy waited on her customer, Lizzy hummed, practiced some yoga breathing and tried not to stare at all the crazy stuff in the shop. Impossible. The huge vivid posters of women dressed as dominatrices that lined the walls grabbed her attention and held it like magnets.
Glancing anywhere but at those posters, her gaze fell on the counter beside her that was stacked with boxes of edible underwear that apparently came in all sizes, chocolate sculptures of body parts to be nibbled on, bright red vibrators and books about naughty things.
When Mandy’s customer began to shyly whisper about a chocolate phallus, Lizzy jumped away from the counter and headed to the rack of sexy costumes in the back of the store. After all, she’d come here to buy an outfit that would make her look so wanton and desirable tonight that Bryce could not resist the new, exciting her. Forcing herself to concentrate on the filmy scraps of material on the hangers, she thumbed through transparent blouses and skirts slit to the waist.
Just as she was thinking that there was no way she’d allow herself to be caught dead in any of this stuff, Mandy’s voice floated from behind her.
“I pulled a few things for you that will be perfect, especially since it’s Halloween.” She held out her selection. “I thought this would work. Think theme—”
“Theme?” Baffled, Lizzy turned.
Mandy was holding a sequined cowboy hat and cowgirl dress that would have been perfect for the notorious stripper in Houston who was auditioning to be her stepmother.
“Definitely not that!”
“But you’re from Texas—”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about that—”
“Fill me in. I’m all ears. I’ve got—” She glanced at her black watch with blue rhinestones. “I’ve got a witch costume with a slit up the thigh.”
“I can’t do this.”
“We’ve got until two. Do we eat first or shop for your costume?”
“Eat. No way can I buy something like this on an empty stomach. I need courage.”
Mandy laughed. “That domineering daddy and strict mama really did a number on you in Texas. You’ve got to break out. You’ve got to show people what you’re really capable of.”
“I need a salad…organic.” I love the new, exciting me. I love the new, exciting me, she repeated silently.
“But isn’t it my turn to pick the restaurant?” Mandy asked innocently.
“You picked last time.” I love the new, exciting me.
“I did?”
“Spicy pasta, remember?”
“Hey, I know this darling new little sushi place,” Mandy persisted.
“Raw fish?”
“It’s upstairs. Nobody knows about it. Wonderful service.”
“Okay,” Lizzy said, even though it was her turn to pick and she couldn’t stand sushi.
I love the new, exciting me, she repeated, trying not to dwell on the sushi.
They didn’t really take turns picking the restaurants. They always ate where Mandy wanted to, which worked out for the best since Mandy was a real grump if she didn’t get to eat exactly what she wanted.
Better to brave sushi than deal with Mandy complaining endlessly and abusing the waiters.
The restaurant, which had white walls, golden oak floors and low tables with soft little cushions to sit on was as quiet as a tomb. Mandy led her to a table by the window so they could watch traffic and people stream beneath them.
“I love this city, don’t you?” Mandy said, staring at the endless flow of people as they sat down. Then she called the waiter over and ordered hot tea. “So, am I still on to take Vanilla to that Halloween block party tonight? Say ‘yes.’”
“Yes.”
“And you’ll actually let her spend the whole night with me?”
“To tell you the truth, I sort of need a break.”
“I can’t believe you trust me with that precious little angel.”
“But you’re great with her.”
“I raised all my little brothers and sisters.”
“Do they all have dyed red hair, piercings. No—don’t tell me.”
Mandy laughed. “Hey, kiddo, I’m the only one who got into an ivy league school. Isn’t that a hoot—me the family genius?”
The waitress came, and Mandy ordered for both of them as she always did. “Okay, so I’ll come by for her at six tonight,” Mandy said.
A few minutes later the waitress brought something that looked alarmingly like raw octopus on little crackers served on two black plates.
Lizzy stared glumly at the
window, repeating to herself, I love the new, exciting me.
“So, kiddo, you said Bryce just moved out? How come?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters.” Mandy dipped an octopus tentacle into brown sauce and began to chew. “You two were great together.”
“We…we used to laugh about the same things.”
“He couldn’t commit? Is that it?” Another octopus tentacle was lifted toward Mandy’s mouth.
“Why does there have to be a specific reason? Can we talk about something else?”
Mandy’s brown gaze drilled her. “You don’t look so hot. Hey, you’re not eating—”
“Go ahead and eat my octopus if you want to.”
“You sure?”
Lizzy nodded. “Okay, maybe he couldn’t commit. We were good together at first—and then slowly…everything changed.”
“You should never have brought the baby to New York, kiddo.” Mandy paused to devour another tentacle.
“Maybe. Look, I could think about this forever and never figure it out. My plan is to get Bryce back. There’s a wild party tonight that we were both invited to. We sort of quarreled about it. He’s going, and I need something to wow him at the party.”
“And if this fails, is there a plan B?”
Lizzy shook her head.
“So this is all or nothing.” Mandy got quiet for a moment. “You know, I’ve always thought the lure of makeup and new stylish outfits is that deep down we all want to be an exciting, new woman.” She paused. “I’ve got an idea, kiddo, if you’ve got the guts.”
“I’ll do anything.”
Mandy laughed. “A girl after my own heart.”
Anything—except sushi, Lizzy thought as Mandy chomped another tentacle.
I love the new, exciting me.
Six
There should be a rule: no rain or snow on holidays. Joanne associated Houston with wet, drippy days like this. The sky was the color of moldy pea soup, and the air was close and dense. If the weather didn’t improve, tonight would be dreadful for trick-or-treaters.
The rain wasn’t why she felt as if her blood had turned to sludge as she sat wearily in the plush leather back seat of Gigi’s golden Lexus. Still, it was good to be out of the dreadful, prisonlike hospital, to be driven home through the thick traffic that snarled the freeways by a capable chauffeur to her favorite friend’s mansion in River Oaks.
Thank heavens Gigi had been the first to call to invite her to move in. Gigi Banks was discreet and kind and very popular. Not only was she a beautiful brunette, she was one of the richest and most glamorous widows in Texas. When her husband and son had died within months of each other several years ago, she’d all but collapsed. When she’d finally pulled herself together, she’d called Joanne and said in her deep, throaty voice, “I’ve decided it’s time I really did something that matters.”
Gigi loved the arts and halved her time between Houston and Manhattan. She was immensely popular in both places as she spent the bulk of her time giving her vast fortune away with no strings attached. She funded entire ballet seasons and did wonderful things with trees and children’s programs to enhance run-down inner city neighborhoods. She’d been very helpful, working with Walker in the planning of the Golden Spurs Ranch Museum.
No sooner had the Lexus swung into Gigi’s wide drive beneath towering lush pines shading a well-groomed, verdant lawn and beds of bright petunias than Gigi herself burst from the back door of the red-brick, two-story home like a golden genie popping out of a bottle. Forgetting to stay off the wet grass, she skipped lightly across her lawn in designer heels to greet Joanne as eagerly as a young child to welcome a favorite playmate.
Joanne smiled in spite of herself and pressed her fingertips fondly against the window. Then the chauffeur opened her door, and instantly the two friends were in each other’s arms.
“I flew home the minute I heard,” Gigi said.
Gigi had a brand-new Lear jet. “I can’t believe how much easier the jet has made having two homes that are so far apart.” Gigi laughed then. “For ten million dollars, don’t you think it should?”
Joanne clung to her friend. “Thank you for having me. You inspire me.”
“A package was here waiting for you when I got in,” Gigi said, taking Joanne’s hand and leading her up a sidewalk that was lined with perfectly carved jack-o’-lanterns. “Delivered by private courier. It’s heavy and rather mysterious looking really.” Gigi was clearly intrigued.
“Mysterious?”
“It’s from Nicaragua.”
A chill went through Joanne. Six months ago, Electra had been strangled in Nicaragua while on one of her photo shoots.
“Went there once,” Gigi was saying. “Dreadful place. Nobody in their right mind should vacation there. Who in the world do you know in Nicaragua?”
“Not a living soul,” Joanne whispered truthfully, remembering the rainy afternoon when Caesar had scattered Electra’s ashes under the Spur Tree and then, when she’d objected, had thrown Jack up to her as he frequently did when he felt guilty.
“You look awfully tired all of a sudden, ill almost,” Gigi said. “Before you open your package, why don’t we have tea? We’ll chat and rest a little. You must tell me all about Caesar. This is just so dreadful.”
“He collapsed. A stroke. He can’t do much more than stare at me. And he looks…strange, scary almost.”
“Will he get better? Do the doctors offer any hope at all?”
“When I touched his right hand this afternoon, I think he moved his little finger.”
“You only think?”
“He hooked it around my little finger and wouldn’t let go.”
They exchanged a look.
“Oh, my dear. Poor Caesar. Poor you. He loved you. In spite of what he did with that awful Houston stripper, he loved you.”
Joanne wished she believed that. But how could she? “We’d been talking some lately,” Joanne said.
“Men are such idiots.”
That was so true. But I’ve been an idiot, too. An idiot to marry anyone—especially Jack’s brother—after Jack.
“What about the Golden Spurs? Won’t there be a power vacuum?”
“Trouble was brewing even before this. But let’s have tea and talk of happier times.”
They had tea in a bright corner of Gigi’s white and yellow kitchen, and then Gigi led her through charming rooms filled with bookcases that housed her collection of Irish silver and large, overstuffed furniture upholstered in happy prints. Hand in hand they went up a swirling staircase to a lovely red bedroom furnished with a high-poster bed and antiques. A maid had placed Joanne’s bags on luggage racks and hung her clothes in the closet.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” Gigi said with a smile before leaving her.
A fat brown package tied with lots of string lay on top an antique desk near the window. More than anything, Joanne wanted to collapse on that wonderful bed and just lie there and maybe never get up.
Instead she moved stiffly across that wonderful room and picked up the mysterious package.
It was heavy, and when she shook it near her ear, it was so solid nothing rattled.
A book?
She studied the slashing handwriting. How had anybody known where she would be when she hadn’t known herself?
She shivered when she read the Nicaraguan postmark. Even before her trembling fingers began to undo the coarse strings and peel the brown paper off the cardboard box that was inside, she felt goose bumps prick her flesh.
This was bad.
Manhattan
Lizzy
“Trick-or-treat, kiddo!” Mandy said when Lizzy answered the buzzer.
“The door’s open,” Lizzy replied. “Come on up.”
No sooner did Lizzy hear Mandy’s footsteps on the stairs, than Vanilla began to clap. A few minutes later Mandy burst breathlessly into the tiny apartment wearing a harem outfit that wasn’t much more than a gold bustier,
a thong bikini bottom, and transparent, hot pink pants. Every tattoo and ruby piercing was visible. To complete her costume, Mandy wore a yellow satin mask with black feathers.
“It’s a gorgeous night, kiddo, and the city’s wild. I never saw more people in the streets. I just love Halloween!”
Vanilla hid her face and began to cry.
“Oh, no.” Mandy ripped off her mask and handed it to Vanilla, who stopped crying in midbreath. “See—it’s just me—Mandy.”
Vanilla sucked in another big sob-filled breath and then smiled through her tears as Lizzy came into the room, holding a pair of glittery earrings in one hand and a glass of Chardonnay in the other.
“Wow, look at you!” Mandy said. Turning to Vanilla, she added, “Does your aunt look hot or what?”
Lizzy blushed when Vanilla gazed uncertainly up at her. Then she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror over the table by the door. Sure enough, she’d gone all out, at least for her, for Bryce’s Halloween party.
“Are you sure about this…costume?”
Silently she forced her affirmation. I love the new, exciting me.
“Kiddo, you’re dynamite.”
“I can barely breathe.”
Lizzy was stuffed into Bryce’s corset again, and the torture contraption had her bulging in all the right places. The slippery, little, red jersey number trimmed with black lace that Mandy had loaned her barely covered her hips. The red strappy sandals had her teetering every time she took a step.
“Didn’t I tell you, you’d look great in my black mesh hose?”
“I look like a hooker.”
“It’s called a costume. Tonight you’re Bryce’s fantasy woman. The dress and the shoes go with his lingerie. Trust me, he’ll love the exciting you.”
“He’d better.”
“Hey, what happened to your eye?”
“I was sipping Chardonnay…trying to relax because the outfit has me so nervous. I got too much black liner on one eyelid. Then I tried to do the other one to match. I’m not very good with makeup.”
