Wardrobe Malfunction

by Samantha Towle

  “Jesus, Charly.” He grabs my face and turns my eyes to him. The look in his is fierce and determined. “I want you there.”

  “No, you don’t. I heard you, Mr. I Don’t Take Women Home.” I mimic his voice. “And that’s fine, Vaughn, but just don’t make out that this is something it’s not. You don’t want to take me home as the girl you’re dating; it’s fine. And, like you said, we’re still in the closet, so it makes sense anyway.”

  “First off,” he growls, “I’m glad you finally said we’re dating because that’s exactly what we are doing. And there are no worries about taking you home to my family as my girl.”

  His girl.

  It’s stupid how crazy my heart goes at that.

  “My family knows better than anyone how my life is. They don’t talk about my private life or me—ever. And not just my family, but also the people in the town I grew up in Oregon. Keno is a small town and a safe place for me. My family has lived there for generations. After I got famous and my status started to rise, the press began turning up in town, trying to get dirt on me. The townsfolk quickly made them aware that they weren’t welcome there. And, yeah, the press knows I’m from Keno, but they don’t know I still live there now. Not many people do.”

  But I do, and he trusts me with that information. I feel a confliction of happiness and shame because he doesn’t know everything about me.

  “My house is well hidden. Exactly how I want it. And second”—he ticks off his finger—“I want you there as my date for the wedding. I want my family to meet you—”

  “But—”

  “Let me finish, Charly.” He presses his fingers to my lips, silencing me.

  “Yes, I didn’t say anything in answer to what Natasha said because I hadn’t thought about it. I’m a guy. I’m slow, and I don’t consider these things. It’s not out of malice. And then my mom called about the wedding dress, and that took over. But I have thought about it…taking you home. I’ve thought a lot about it, and I do want to take you to meet my family. And I’ve wanted to ask you for a while now, but I’m a chickenshit. It seems like a big deal, asking you to come to my sister’s wedding with me and meet my whole family. I was worried that I might scare you away.”

  He wants me there. He didn’t want to scare me away.

  He wants me there.

  My heart has fluttered out of my chest and straight into the palm of his hand. And I’m not sure if it’s ever coming back. Or if I want it back.

  “You could never scare me away,” I whisper, toying with the hem of my top.

  “What if I told you I wanted to spank you with a paddle?”

  My eyes flick to his, and I see the playful look in them.

  “Okay. So, maybe you can scare me away.” I grin.

  He chuckles and then tugs me back down to the bed. This time, I go with him, and we’re back to lying face-to-face.

  “So, will you be my date to the wedding?” He brushes my hair back off my cheek, tucking it behind my ear. “I really want you to be there.”

  Then, it stupidly dawns on me that, after all the fuss I just made, I can’t go anyway.

  “I want to go.” I grimace. “But I’m scheduled to work those three days.”

  “But I won’t be here.” He frowns, like he expected I wouldn’t have to work if he wasn’t.

  “I do dress other actors aside from you, superstar.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m changing that,” he says, still wearing the frown. “I don’t want you accidentally pinning anyone else’s balls.”

  “Asshole.” I slap his chest.

  He catches my hand, kissing it. “Another of the many things you adore about me. And don’t worry about getting the time off work. I’ll sort it out.”

  “You will? Well, okay,” I say, “if you really want me there—”

  “I really want you there,” he says softly, his eyes caressing my face, making my insides gooey.

  “Then, yes, I would love to go.”

  “Good.” He smiles.

  Then, he kisses me with that smile, and I let myself absorb that happiness, making it mine, too.

  “Vaughn—”

  “I was kidding about the paddle spanking.”

  “Oh, good.”

  “But let’s talk about the kinky and dirty that you’re not averse to,” he says, lifting my leg and hooking it over his hip.

  “Cool. But, first, can we talk about what I’m going to wear to your sister’s wedding? Because I have two days and nothing to wear.”

  “Oh God,” he groans, falling to his back, covering his face with his hands.

  “What?” I say, laughing. I climb over him and straddle his hips.

  He pulls his hands from his face. “I want to get it on, and my woman wants to talk clothes.”

  “Hey, you knew what you were getting into when you got involved with me.” I smile, loving that he just called me his woman.

  He sits up, putting us face-to-face. His big hands grab my hips, and he yanks me onto his cock, which is hard.

  “Oh,” I say, my eyes widening.

  “Yeah, oh. So, do you still want to talk about clothes? Or do you want me to make you come? Multiple times.”

  I scrunch my nose up, like I’m thinking about it. “I guess…we can talk about clothes later.”

  “That’s what I thought,” he growls. Then, he attacks my mouth with those gorgeous lips of his.

  Vaughn

  My dad is waiting for us in the parking lot at Klamath Falls Airport.

  We flew by private jet, like I always do when I go home. Charly had never flown private before, so she was pretty excited. It was cute to see. She kept taking photos of the plane and the views.

  We left Vegas at two thirty, and we landed at four thirty, so we made good time. And, now, I have three days off, which also means three days alone with Charly at my house. I can’t deny that I’m looking forward to being free about our relationship here.

  “Hey, Dad.” I walk over to him.

  He’s standing by my car. He puts out his cigar. He thinks my mom doesn’t know he smokes them.

  I put my bag down and hug him. It’s been a while since I last saw him. A few months at least.

  “Good to see you, son.” He hugs me, patting my back. “How was your flight?”

  “Good.” I smile, stepping back. “Dad, this is Charly.”

  She’s lingering back a little and steps forward when I introduce her.

  “Nice to meet you, sir.” She waves.

  God, she’s cute.

  My dad smiles at her. “Call me Anthony. And it’s nice to meet you, too, Charly. You’ve stopped my daughter from canceling her wedding, which has cost me thousands of dollars, so you’re my new favorite person.”

  “Oh.” She blushes. “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you.” He opens up the trunk of my car and picks my bag up, putting it in.

  I take Charly’s bag and the garment bag containing my sister’s wedding dress from her. She didn’t let me carry it at all on the way here. I kid you not; it had its own seat on the plane, next to her. I was relegated to sitting across from her the whole way here, which wasn’t too bad, because the view was pretty as hell.

  “It was real good of you to fix Sasha’s dress on such short notice.”

  “Oh, it was no problem.” She waves him off, her face reddening further.

  I open the back passenger door for her, and she climbs inside.

  “You driving or me?” Dad asks, closing the trunk as I shut Charly’s door.

  “I’ll drive.”

  He tosses me the keys, and I go around to the driver’s side. Climbing in, I buckle up.

  “Nice car,” Charly muses as my dad climbs in. “Yours?”

  “Yep,” I answer, smiling, as I start my car. She purrs like a kitten.

  My Range Rover Sport is top of the line. She cost a pretty penny. I bought her a year ago when my Dodge pickup had seen her final days. I love this car, and I don’t get to drive her too often.


  “So, your mom’s stocked up your fridge. Steaks, chicken breasts, pork chops, sausages, and God knows what else,” he tells me. “She went a little crazy at the store.”

  “She does realize I’m home for only three days, right?” I chuckle, pulling out of the parking space and heading for the exit.

  “You know your mother. She likes to make sure you’re well fed when you’re home.”

  “Well, considering I eat mostly at your house, Jester’s gonna be in meat for weeks. How is Jester? Still in the doghouse?”

  “Sasha still hasn’t forgiven him, but hopefully, when she sees her dress—thanks to Charly here—it will put him back in her good graces.”

  I glance at Charly in my rearview mirror to see her blushing again.

  She’s being oddly quiet.

  Maybe she’s just nervous about meeting my dad. Feeling a little out of her element. Once she gets to my parents’ house, she won’t have time to feel shy. Not with the women in my family.

  I drive the usual route on the OR 66, heading west, soaking up the greenery of home.

  I can feel the dirt of Hollywood falling away from me and the clean of Oregon seeping into my pores.

  Charly starts to chat a little more on the drive, asking questions about the place I call home.

  She seems enthralled by the roaming fields and greenery that sit off the highway.

  We cross the bridge over Klamath River into Keno, and I’m home.

  I drive past my old elementary school.

  “Is that where you went?” Charly asks.

  “Yeah.” I smile.

  “Looks like a nice school,” she observes.

  I wonder what her school was like back in Philadelphia.

  “So, where are you from, Charly?” my dad asks.

  “Philadelphia originally. But New York is home now.”

  I know the question is coming, but I can’t stop it.

  “And your family? They still back in Philly?”

  “No, sir.” She clears her throat. “I was raised by my grandma, but she passed years ago.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” my dad says.

  “Thank you,” she says politely.

  I glance back at her in my rearview, but she’s not looking my way, her eyes on the window. Something pulls in my chest for her. Protectiveness. I feel like I should’ve protected her from my dad’s innocent questioning.

  I’ve never felt this protective over a woman before.

  Maybe it’s because Charly was dealt such a bad hand in life, and I was raised with a great family.

  Or maybe it’s just because I’m crazy about her.

  I turn on the long drive, taking me up to my parents’ house.

  When I pull up outside, Jester, the dress destroyer, comes bounding up to the car, attacking me the moment I step out of the car.

  “Hey, buddy.” I crouch down, picking him up, and he covers my face in sloppy licks.

  Charly comes over, scratching Jester’s ear. “So, this is the little man who caused all the problems.”

  The moment he sees her, I’m totally forgotten about. He all but leaps into her arms and starts smothering her in doggie kisses.

  She laughs, scratching his ear, and he’s putty in her hands.

  I know how you feel, bud.

  “I’ll get the dress,” Dad says.

  “Oh, can I?” Charly says, putting Jester down. He’s at her feet, following her to the trunk of the car. “No offense,” she says to my dad, “but I wanted to give this to Sasha. When I do a job, I like to be the one to deliver it.”

  “No worries.” My dad winks at her, handing the garment bag over.

  He shuts the trunk, leaving our bags in there, as we’ll be driving over to my house soon.

  “Now, Jester, no chewing on this dress again, do you hear me? It took me a long time to fix it after your last playtime with it,” she chats away to Jester as we walk up the steps of the porch, making me smile.

  Jester is just trailing along behind her, gazing up at her, like a puppy in love.

  “We’re home,” Dad calls out as we step through the door.

  My mom comes bustling out of the kitchen. “Vaughn!” she calls, walking toward me, arms outstretched for a hug.

  “Hi, Mom,” I say, stepping into her hug.

  “Missed you.” She kisses my cheek and then cups it, leaning back to look me in the face.

  “Missed you, too,” I tell her.

  “You look good, baby. Really good.”

  That’s a change from what I get every time I come home. I usually get the spiel that moms generally give once you’ve left home. You look tired. Are you eating properly? Sleeping enough? It’s probably thanks to all the sex I’ve been having with that little vixen back there, but I’m not going to say that to my mom.

  Her eyes move past me to Charly.

  “Charly!” my mom greets her like a long-lost friend. “I’m Everly, Vaughn’s mom, but everyone calls me Evie. Is this it?”

  Charly looks down at the garment bag hanging over her arm. “Oh, yeah,” she says almost shyly.

  “Oh, wonderful! You’re our lifesaver, Charly! Come here.” My mom bundles Charly into a hug.

  I see Charly freeze the instant my mom’s arms go around her, and then she slowly puts her one free arm around my mom, hugging her back.

  I know Charly has issues with hugging. I don’t know where it comes from. Maybe it’s from a lack of affection growing up; she told me her grandmother wasn’t that loving. I’m not going to question her about it. She’ll tell me if she wants to. But that’s why I make sure to hug her as often as possible—for all the years she wasn’t hugged.

  “Where are Gran, Meg, and Sasha?” I ask Mom.

  “Meg’s in town, running some errands. She’ll be back soon. Sasha’s out back, and your gran is in the kitchen.”

  “No, I’m not. I’m here.”

  I turn at the sound of my grandma’s voice.

  I love all of my family, but my gran is just that little bit more special. She’s impossible not to adore. She’s outspoken, a bit crazy, and fucking awesome. Kind of like Charly.

  “Hey, Gran.” I go over and kiss her cheek.

  “I’ll go let Sasha know you’re here,” my mom says before disappearing off.

  “I’m going back to work,” my dad tells us.

  I watch him go out the front door, and I’m just about to introduce Charly to my grandma, but I don’t get a chance.

  “So, Charly, are you sleeping with my grandson?”

  My head snaps back to Gran. “Jesus Christ, Gran!”

  “Don’t curse, Vaughn Anthony West.” She directs a look my way. “And how many times have I told you to call me Phoebe? Calling me Gran makes me sound old.”

  “You are old. You’re eighty. You’ve got three grandkids and four great-grandkids.”

  “And I would have five great-grandkids if you’d get your ass in gear and give me a grandson who’ll carry on your granddaddy’s name.”

  I groan, rolling my eyes. Like I haven’t heard that before.

  “And,” she emphasizes, “you’re as old as the man you’re feeling, so according to that, I’m seventy.”

  “Jesus.” I groan briefly, closing my eyes in disgust. “I just threw up in my mouth.”

  She rolls her eyes at me. My eighty-year-old grandmother rolls her eyes at me.

  Charly laughs.

  “So, are you sleeping with my grandson?” she asks Charly again.

  Charly glances at me and then looks at my grandma. “Define sleeping,” she says with a curve of her lips.

  My eyes nearly bug out of my head. Just when I think I’ve got Charly pegged, she does something to surprise me.

  My grandma hoots out a laugh. “I like this girl, Vaughn. I think we should keep her. Now, come get a drink with me, honey. Do you like Long Island iced teas? Because I just learned how to make them. I bought this cocktail-making kit, and I’ve been making all the cocktails from the book that
came with it.”

  “How far through the book are you?” Charly asks her.

  “Oh, I’ve already made them all. I’m on my second trip through it.”

  Charly giggles, and my gran laughs.

  And I watch them walk away. Charly tosses me a smile over her shoulder before disappearing into the kitchen with Gran and Jester at her heel. I’m left wondering what the hell just happened and why exactly I am turned on right now.

  You’re a sick man, West. A sick, sick man.

  I follow them into the kitchen. Gran already has a cocktail in Charly’s hand, and she’s finally put the garment bag down, hanging it over the back of one of the kitchen stools at the breakfast bar.

  I watch her take a sip.

  “Ooh, this is really good,” she tells my gran. “Try this, Vaughn. It’s delicious.”

  She hands me the glass, and I take a sip. She’s right; it’s good.

  “You’ll have to get a job as a bartender, Gran,” I tell her.

  She pours me out a glass and hands it over. Apparently, we’re drinking early today in the West household.

  “You’re here! Can I see?” Sasha comes bursting into the kitchen from the back door, advancing on Charly like she’s known her forever.

  My family is a friendly bunch.

  “Sasha?” Charly checks.

  “And you’re Charly! God, Mom was right. You’re gorgeous! What are you doing with my little dweeb of a brother?”

  “Dweeb? Um, what the fuck?” I frown.

  “Language!” my mom and gran scold at the same time.

  “Sorry,” I mutter. “But, um, Glamour’s Hottest Guy of 2016 right here,” I say to Sasha, pointing a finger at myself.

  She ignores me and turns back to Charly. “A stunner like you could pull Brad Pitt.”

  “Brad Pitt’s old!” I scoff. “He’s well over fifty.”

  Amazing actor though.

  Sasha throws me a dirty look. “Brad Pitt is hot. He’s a hot older man. No way will you look that good when you’re fifty.”

  “Love you, too, sis.” I scratch my forehead with my middle finger.