Calamity Rayne II: Back Again

by Lydia Michaels

  “Well, did he ask you to join him in the hot tub?”

  “What?” Scowling, I faced her. “Did he ask you that?”

  She shrugged. “You went inside to see Marta and he made a few comments. He’s a bit of an old perv, but I can see how women fall for him.”

  “I can’t believe he said something like that to you.” He would definitely be hearing about this. “Stay away from him.” Jesus. And she was passing time with Barrett. Couldn’t this man find his own women and keep away from his sons’?

  “Relax. It was funny. He knows I’m not interested. He’s old.”

  “He’s a pig.” I couldn’t believe he hit on my friend.

  “My point is, he’d never look at you that way.”

  I didn’t know if I should be flattered or insulted, so I remained disgusted.

  Once we were finished with our manicures we went to another part of the salon where we changed into robes and had tea sandwiches and champagne.

  “Hale’s awesome. This is nicer than any spa I’ve ever been to,” Elle commented and then laughed. “I think.”

  I didn’t have a point of reference when it came to girlie places like this. “This robe is nice.” I shifted. “Are you wearing underwear?” They said to take everything off. I removed my underwear, but maybe they meant for me to keep them on.

  Two men appeared, dressed in black. When they announced they’d be giving us a massage, I panicked. I probably should have left my underwear on. Damn it!

  “I’ll see you in an hour,” Elle waved, following one man into a private room.

  I stared at the other man. “I’m with you?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He led me into a dim room with soft music playing and a very intimidating table. “Once you remove your robe, lay face down on the table and use this sheet to cover your body. I’ll give you some privacy.”

  But there was nothing under my robe. I stared at the table.

  Shit.

  Working quickly, I stripped and climbed onto the table with the grace of a hippo mounting a tall rock. I rushed to cover my body before anyone came in. Fluffing out the sheet, I draped it over my back, covering my body, shoulders to my ankles, totally out of breath and sweating.

  There was a light knock. “Ready?”

  No. “Yes.”

  My face wedged into the padded hole as I heard him enter. The music was soothing but I was far from relaxed. The slick sound of oil being lathered between fingers had me looking nervously side-to-side, but all I could see was floor. Wait… The man’s shoes came into view. Oh, god. He was going to touch me.

  “So are you vacationing or do you live around here?” His feet disappeared and the sheet lifted off my ankles.

  Oh, God. He was definitely touching my leg. “We just moved here.” Well, that felt kind of nice, but I panicked when he reached my upper thigh. “Do you live here?”

  Of course, he lived here. He fucking worked here. I was an idiot.

  “All my life.” He switched legs. “I like the color on your toes.” His fingers slithered through said toes as he massaged my feet.

  “Thanks?” No matter how much I tried, I couldn’t relax. A man was touching me. Stranger danger!

  He came extremely close to my bare butt and when he worked on my arms his fingers brushed my armpit. Not that the armpit was any sort of erogenous zone, but it was neighboring Boobie Boulevard. I was obviously too immature to enjoy a massage.

  A cool breeze crept over my entire back as he lifted the sheet. “Turn over.”

  Christ! I flipped to my side, unable to see his face behind the sheet, and rolled to my back. When he covered me I screwed my eyes shut, because I never intended to look him in the eye again.

  He returned to my legs and this time when he passed my mid-thigh I started to laugh nervously. “Crazy weather here,” I blurted.

  “What was the weather like where you’re from?”

  I couldn’t remember, on account of him being six inches from my hooha. “Frigid.”

  He chuckled and moved to my shoulders. “Is this your first massage?”

  “Yes.”

  “You seem tense.” He lowered the sheet, not exposing anything, but my nipples got hard. What is wrong with me?

  When it was finally over I was edgier than before. Elle, however, looked like she’d just had sex.

  “That was incredible,” she sighed, with half-lidded eyes.

  I frowned because now I regretted being too in my head to enjoy the experience the way she obviously had. Still in our robes, we waited in another room as the masseuses handed us two heavy menus.

  “Latisha will be right with you.”

  “Who’s Latisha?” I whispered to Elle, who was frowning at the menu.

  She closed it and put it aside. “I think I’m going to get everything. My eyebrows are in horrible shape and I don’t even want to tell you what’s going on downstairs.”

  “You mean wax?” I looked up, trying to see my brows. “How are my eyebrows?”

  She glanced at my face. “You need them done. While we’re here, you might as well take care of everything.”

  “Why? You think I need to do my lip?” Shit, was I getting a mustache?

  “Not that. I mean your bikini line. I’m getting a Brazilian.”

  My eyes widened. “Doesn’t that hurt?”

  “Yes, but I’m tired of shaving every time I put on a bathing suit. Trust me, it’s the way to go.”

  I smiled at her, momentarily speechless.

  “What? You’re creeping me out, Ray. The mention of my vagina shouldn’t put that grin on your face.”

  “You remembered.”

  “Remembered what?”

  “That you used to get Brazilians and how much they hurt.”

  Elle paused, her confused expression morphing into one of pleasant surprise. “Alicia waxed me. Oh, my god. She’s probably wondering why I missed my last few appointments.”

  It was the silliest thing to get excited over, but it was also a monumental moment. I gripped her hand and squeezed. “You’re getting there, girl.” I was certain. All because of Elle’s once impeccably maintained and well-groomed vagina.

  Latisha arrived and I sent Elle back first. No sound came out of the back room while she was in there and when she returned, her brows were defined and she appeared unharmed. A little rosy in the face, but at ease.

  I followed Latisha back to the room. There was a white leather chair and a little pot of hot wax.

  “So what are we having done today?”

  “Um, just my eyebrows.”

  She examined my brows, combing them into place and staring through a magnifying light. The wax was warm, but not hot. However, when she ripped that first piece of fabric away it stung like a motherfucker.

  I endured the process because I was a girl and Elle said my brows needed this. But then I started thinking about my vagina. My vagina and I had a newfound bond. We’d come to an understanding of sorts, and both benefited from my new sex life. I’d done a little landscaping before I went back to Oregon, but since returning to Florida, I’d let things go.

  Hale liked when I was smooth, but he didn’t complain when I had hair either. Maybe he’d like me waxed and if I got the Brazilian I might not have to shave as frequently.

  “Does waxing last longer than shaving?”

  Latisha applied some lotion to my brows and plucked a few strays. “You mean with a bikini wax? Yes. Are you grown out?”

  I twisted my lips. What kind of question was that? “I’m regular.”

  Without any sort of invitation, she parted my robe and looked right at my twat.

  “Uh…”

  “You could use a wax.”

  Apparently, my curiosity was consent. She reclined the chair and shifted my legs, once again parting my robe. My eyes went wide as she slathered wax on me. There was no getting that shit off now.

  Biting my lips, I frowned and held my breath, anticipating the pain to come. Why had I opened my mouth?


  The strip of fabric pressed into my skin and then—

  “Fuck you, you fucking fuck!” I cupped my poor vagina and glared at Latisha. “Are you crazy?” Fuck. I was going to pass out from the pain. Why the hell did women do this?

  The sadist with the wax weapons laughed. “I have cooling gel. I’ll put some on as soon as I do the other side.”

  “The other side!” I practically fell off the chair getting to my feet and knotted my robe. “I’m good. I’ll shave the rest.”

  Then I frowned. My vagina was closing up. Literally locking together like some sort of sea mollusk in the deepest abyss of the darkest part of the ocean. Glancing at my pelvis, I turned and opened my robe and whimpered. Sticky shit was all over me. I lifted my leg and whimpered again.

  “I haven’t removed all the wax yet.”

  Oh, God. I was going to have to finish this or walk around with Venus flytrap pussy for the rest of my life. Reluctantly, I slid back onto the chair. As Latisha got back to work I tried to think of anything this painful that men might go through to make their genitals more attractive. There was nothing.

  We women got the shit end of the stick all the way around, period cramps, childbirth, hot flashes. The next time I heard of a man complain about getting a finger up his ass for a prostate exam I was going to laugh. This girl had no sympathy for the opposite sex after this.

  The strip tore away.

  “Goddamn it! Fuck!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  What the fugu looking at?

  That night I joined Remington for dinner. I had expected to eat at the house, but now that he was walking around the man didn’t idle long. It was nice to have an evening just the two of us.

  He took me to a nice restaurant looking over the ocean. Remington was fancy business and did things with old-school class. I realized this when he took the liberty of ordering for both of us. “We’ll start with two dry martinis and the fugu.”

  The waiter nodded and left. I googled fugu. “Um, we’re eating a puffer fish?” All I could think of was the cast from Finding Nemo.

  “It’s a delicacy.”

  “It says here one drop of poison could kill an adult. Holy shit, a hundred people die a year from eating fugu. Are you trying to kill me?” People kept trying to hurt me today.

  “Put your phone away, Meyers.”

  I slid my phone into my bag, unsure if I was brave enough to risk my life for food. “So…”

  Remington eyed me and frowned. “You’ve lost weight.”

  “I’ve been under some stress.”

  “Understandable, but your friend’s recovering.”

  “Speaking of my friends, could you please not hit on them?”

  He smirked. “I don’t think she’s interested in a man my age.”

  “You’re right. So stop.”

  The waiter delivered our drinks and my eyes watered as I took a sip. “Wow, that’s one dry martini.”

  Remington sipped his without issue. “Hale doesn’t want you to work for me.”

  “Hale isn’t the boss of me.”

  “Are you sure?”

  My lips twisted. I wasn’t sure who was running the Calamity Rayne Show these days. Elle used to be my director, but then I started taking orders from Remington until Elle got hurt. Now, we were all jumbled together and Hale wanted to call the shots, but I sort of wanted to call them myself, only not really by myself. Gah! I had no clue what I wanted.

  “Do you think I made a mistake moving in with him?”

  “Yes.”

  Well, that was blunt. “Why?”

  “Because Hale has a lot on his plate right now and so do you.”

  “Not really. I mean, there’s Elle, but other than that—”

  “Exactly what I’m talking about, Meyers. There should be something other than your friend’s prognosis directing your life. You’re supposed to be looking at college courses.”

  “Remington, you know that isn’t happening.”

  “I know no such thing. You made a deal with me and I expect you to uphold your end of the bargain.”

  The whole college thing happened when he refused to meet his granddaughter. Once he met her, I was over our bargain. Apparently, he wasn’t. “I have no interest in a business major.”

  “Then major in something else.”

  I arched a brow and laughed. “So you’d be okay with me choosing something like art or philosophy.”

  “I would.” He took another sip of his martini. “The point is to get you moving in some sort of direction. Your life is stagnant.”

  “I haven’t told Hale you offered to pay for me to go back to school.”

  “It doesn’t concern him.”

  I rolled my eyes. “This is why he gets weird about me working for you. He’s your son, Remington. Stop treating him like the opposition.”

  “He claims to want the best for you, but he’s holding you back.”

  “No, he’s not.”

  He arched a brow.

  “If I told Hale I was going back to school he wouldn’t object.”

  “So why haven’t you told him yet?”

  “Because I haven’t made up my mind about going.”

  Remington shook his head. “You’ve been drifting through life for years, Meyers. It’s time to decide something.”

  I wished he’d ordered me something else to drink. I wanted the alcohol in my glass, but it was too strong to chug. “So tell me what you think I should do.”

  “You should come back to work for me. Take a few night courses. Help your friend find an apartment. And get that girl out of my son’s house.”

  Whoa! I frowned at that last bit. “Do you have something against Elle?”

  “Not her. The other one. What the hell’s her name? Brianne? Courtney?”

  “Brynlee?”

  “Yes.”

  I grinned, shocked. I finally found someone who didn’t immediately love the nanny. “Why don’t you like her?”

  “I don’t have an opinion about her. But I know how these things work. If you think I never fooled around with my children’s au pairs you’re out of your mind.”

  All of my illogical opinions settled into something heavy and unwelcome. “Hale wouldn’t do that.”

  “I’m not worried about Hale. She’s younger, good with his daughter, nurturing, and very aware of his success. Get her out of there.”

  “But what about Elara?” Remington already made it clear he didn’t want me playing nanny.

  “There are plenty of unattractive women out there. Hire one of them.”

  I stared at my martini and sighed. “I don’t think she’d do anything. Hale and I live together now. That would take balls to try something with me in the house.”

  “You’re not home now.”

  “Jesus. Are you trying to ruin my dinner?”

  The waiter delivered a plate that looked like fried licorice. Remington sliced a shard off and swiped it in a dollop of white sauce. I waited to see if he died.

  “Try it. You’ll like it.”

  Cutting off a small strip, I dipped and sent out a little prayer that, should I be poisoned to death by a cooked puffer fish, someone had the sense to erase my browsing history on my laptop. I was curious!

  Popping the small bite in my mouth I chewed and, well, it was rather tasty.

  “Do you like it?”

  I sliced off another piece. “It’s good. I like this sauce. What are these little orange balls?”

  “Roe.”

  They were delicious. I took another bite. “What is that, a plant?”

  “They’re fish eggs.”

  I stilled. “Aw, man.” More images from Finding Nemo filled my head, only now I was imagining the sad beginning when the mom and all Nemo’s siblings died.

  “Stop being such a pacifist and enjoy your meal. You eat chicken eggs.”

  True.

  Remington ordered bluefin tuna for our main course and that was equally delicious. On the limo ride home, he
readdressed our earlier conversation. “You know you have a room at my house, Meyers.”

  “I know.” But I couldn’t do that to Hale. “This is the first time in my life I’ve committed to something. I don’t want to walk away like I always do.”

  “Maybe you should consider if this is about proving something to yourself, or being where you want to be.”

  “I love Hale.” I did. I loved him. We were in love. He was my boyfriend.

  “Sometimes we love the wrong people.”

  Truer words had never been spoken from a man like Remington Davenport. He’d loved too many people, and his love came with zero reassurance.

  When the limo pulled up to Hale’s I thanked Remington for dinner and told him I’d think about everything we talked about. When I let myself in the front door my ears perked up.

  Laughter came from the den so I went to see what was so funny. There was nothing funny about what I saw. Elara lay on her back on the carpet while Hale and Brynlee kneeled beside her, their heads so close they were nearly touching. Two glasses of red wine perched on the side table.

  “Who’s got a big smile?” Brynlee cooed, a little too breathily for my taste, and Hale chuckled.

  “What are you guys doing?” I asked, unimpressed, since no one seemed to care that I was home.

  Hale turned and grinned. “Elara’s smiling. Come see.”

  I stepped close and my frigid mood warmed, because who could frown when looking at a smile that angelic? Then Brynlee blew raspberries on Elara’s stomach and my grin fell away. That was my game.

  “How was dinner?”

  “Good.” I paused as the nanny’s blonde flowing hair fell in waves to the carpet. She wasn’t a part of this conversation and someone should tell her I could see down her shirt. “I think you missed a button. I’m tired. I’m heading up to bed.”

  His gaze turned guarded. “Okay. I’ll be up once I get Elara down.”

  Why the fuck was she here? I turned and went upstairs, but their laughter continued and with every echo, I grew more disgusted.

  I was appalled by my insecurities, shocked that Hale acted like nothing was wrong with her being here when he was completely capable of taking care of his child after work. And I was utterly repulsed that Remington’s warning about the other woman had made everything worse.