by Quinn, Cari
Their large screen television was still there by some miracle.
Simon found the remote in the drawer of the table and clicked it on. It blipped and fuzzed then came clear.
“Ha. Our cable steal job still works.”
Simon grinned and walked around the perimeter of the room. A purple beanbag chair was stuffed in one corner. He kicked it out into the middle of what used to be the living room. He heard Nick collapse into it. The slushy hiss of the Styrofoam beads and Nick’s groan of pleasure made Simon grimace.
Way too happy to have his ass in a pile of Styrofoam.
He walked down the hall and found his old pallet with the futon mattress still there. The heavy scent of dryer sheets permeated the moist heat that never seemed to leave their sleeping area.
He followed the maze of a hallway to the back bedroom and found Nick’s battered boxspring and mattress stacked against the wall. The room had been swept out, but no one bothered to take the beds.
Probably Jazz or Deak. Only they would make an effort to clean up.
Simon slapped his hand against the doorjamb. He heard the television cycle through channels at light speed, Nick’s version of a channel surf. Simon had no idea how he knew what he was seeing when he went that goddamn fast.
He slapped the flat of his hand on the wall twice.
“For fuck’s sake, what?” Nick stomped through the doorway. His face went from a frown to a smile. “Oh, shit. It’s still here?” He smoothed his hand over his mattress. “I can’t believe it.”
The ownership gleam in his eyes made Simon shake his head. The guy didn’t let anything go.
“I can’t believe Mrs. Martine didn’t rent this out.”
Simon shrugged. Hell, she hadn’t really rented it to them either. It was more of a please keep the place up and I won’t kick you out kind of thing. But it was nice to see one thing in his life that hadn’t changed. Venice Beach was one thing, this…this was his. Theirs. And it was almost untouched. Absolutely insane.
The solo to “The Devil Came Down to Georgia” bleated from his bag. He grinned and slid around Nick. He moved into the front room and reached in for his phone. Violin Girl’s name slid across his screen.
“Well, I can guess who has that ringtone.”
Simon smirked up at Nick. He swiped the message open.
Do I have to put a bell on you now? Where are you?
He huffed out a near laugh. He typed back a response.
Meet me near the rollercoaster at the Santa Monica Pier.
Her message bubble came back right away.
I don’t ride rollercoasters.
He started typing his reply.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see the day.”
He looked up, his thumb hovering over the send button. He lifted his eyebrow in question.
“You, and your cock, locked all up by a girl.”
Simon mouthed, “you should try it,” and checked his message before hitting the send button.
That’s okay, you can ride me instead.
He zipped his bag and clutched his phone in his hand. He was gone over Margo. It was one of the few things he could understand in his life right now. Even if the timing was less than ideal. And they really hadn’t had a moment alone together since the bus.
Since he’d blurted out those three little words that had shocked her into silence. Part of him wished he’d never uttered them, but the other more possessive part wanted to whisper them in her ear as he fucked the truth into her. Because it hadn’t been a heat of the moment confession, even if it had looked and sounded like it.
It had just been the first time he’d had a real intimate moment with her. Neither one of them running off after their skin cooled. In fact, he took it as a good sign that she’d let him stay with her the whole night. He’d already boarded the crazy train for the love destination, she just had to get up the stairs and safely inside.
Or he had to get inside her.
Whichever.
“All right, enough. I can’t watch you grinning like a geek any longer. Let’s get out of here.” They climbed the stairs and Nick peeked out, waving at Simon to follow.
Simon texted him, asking how he got there.
Nick unearthed his phone from his pocket and read it as they headed out into the humid night. “I borrowed Pix’s car. Do you need a ride back?”
Simon asked him if he could drop him near the Santa Monica Pier.
“God, why?”
He sighed and texted him back.
Because I want to show my girl the sights.
“Ah, so Violin Girl is back in town? So, you probably won’t be back tonight?”
He waggled his eyebrows in answer and Nick made a disgusted snort.
“Yeah, c’mon.” And with that he loped across the side street. Simon followed him down the block. Parking was precious in any part of the west side, but somehow Nick always lucked into a spot.
He climbed into the oven otherwise known as Jazz’s car. It smelled like a woman, sweet with a little cock-tickle-inducing musk. God, he loved the smell of females. So much better than the memories of sweaty bunks and the dank basement.
Nick tossed a cigarette between his lips and snapped the lighter in to heat. “Shut up,” he said around the filter.
Who the hell was he to say anything? He held up a hand in surrender.
After easing into traffic, Nick rolled down the window and blew out the first stream of smoke with a long sigh. Evidently his best friend had given up quitting this week. He didn’t blame him. He’d never liked smoking, but it was definitely off the list even if he’d wanted to take up the habit.
All of the fun things were, dammit.
Well, except one thing.
“Why are you doing the tourist trap crap with Margo?”
Simon shrugged.
Nick drummed his fingers along the frame of the window. “It’s weird having you so quiet. I thought I’d like it.” He sucked in a lungful of smoke and let it out. “I don’t.”
He dug out his marker board. He scrawled: Imagine that? This fucking sucks.
Nick slumped in his seat. “I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do for six months.”
Simon grinned and squeaked his marker across the pad. Get laid?
“Not everything is solved with a girl under you.”
Simon wrote: Then you’re not doing it right.
Nick wiggled the cigarette between his fingers. “Yeah, well, I guess I might just have to give it a try. Maybe if I shack up with a hot girl for a month, I’ll feel better.”
Simon wrote in heavy block letters: EVERYONE WILL.
“Asshole.” Nick pulled around the corner from the parking area for the pier. “You two have fun. I’ll catch you later.” He eyed Simon’s bag. “Or are you coming back at all?”
Simon lifted his chin and gave a slight shrug.
Nick looked down at his cigarette before flicking it away. He looked out the window, then cleared his throat and turned back to Simon. “You don’t need to do this alone, you know.”
Simon nodded and gave him a long look. There wasn’t much he could say. Some things just couldn’t be dealt with in a democracy. Or their fucked up version of one.
Nick seemed to understand and gave him a half salute. “Check in, at least.”
Nodding, Simon unearthed his sunglasses, tucked his board and marker back inside and re-zipped his bag. He got out and slammed the door.
Nick didn’t wait for him to wave before he tore off.
He gave a long sigh. He couldn’t worry about Nick right now. His best friend was a big boy and could figure his shit out. Things were fucked up enough that he had no choice but to play the tunnel vision card.
And no, he wasn’t entirely sure he was going to go back at all. He couldn’t stand the looks on their faces, or having a way too pregnant Harper try to make all the food on the very short list from the doc.
She should be worried about herself and the baby, not feeling sorry for him. If whatever Ma
rgo was planning didn’t pan out, he’d just find another way to disappear for a while.
He had access to money and Donovan had contacts for his contacts, for fuck’s sake. If he really wanted to find a way to keep under the radar, he could do it. He could even backpack it Banner-style from the Incredible Hulk. Bumming around town to town with no destination in mind actually didn’t sound so bad.
He held his hand up against the late afternoon sun and crossed against traffic. Bleating horns and a mix of Spanish and English expletives followed him into the crush of people.
The foot traffic had doubled with people just getting out of work. A variety of food vendors vied for customers. They weren’t half as interesting as Venice Beach. The promenade and boardwalk was his favorite place, but this would do for a little fun between him and Margo.
He weaved in and out of the crowds until the park came into view. The boardwalk fed right into the mouth of the amusement park. The scent of cotton candy lured him into the front gates and to the first eatery beyond the entrance. He tucked his phone into the waistband of his shorts, handed over a bill and accepted the huge web-like mound of spun sugar.
He wandered his way into the arcades, past the water games and blast of pinball bells and gunfire from the single shooter games with the pure sugar melting on his tongue. By the time he wound his way back to the main drag and into the rides area, he spotted her in front of the rollercoaster.
For the first time since he’d met her, she actually looked her age. Her long, dark hair was scooped to the side in a weird braid. It looked more like a fishtail than the fat braid she wore for sleeping. She wore a white T-shirt knotted in front to show off a slice of her smooth midriff and purple shorts cuffed at the knee with matching Chucks.
His Margo.
In Converse sneakers.
Was the sky falling? Earthquakes imminent?
He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen her in a color besides black or white, let alone in such funky sneakers. That had to be Jazz’s doing. Maybe shopping for their trip?
She spotted him and a wide smile split her face.
Jesus fuck, she was so frigging beautiful. It was the kind of beautiful that stole breath and made a man wonder if he was worthy.
Good thing he knew he wasn’t.
And that was just too bad. He was keeping her anyway.
Five
Margo caught a glimpse of Simon in the throng of people. She wasn’t sure how she noticed it was him—she was fairly certain no one else would. His crazy raven-colored hair was a flyaway mess under the fedora pulled low on his face. If she pulled his hat off, it would have the crazy part in the front that made him look like a two-year-old.
And somehow it didn’t diminish his sex appeal by even a percentage. His boyishly sexy—with a side of decadent male—persona was some weird trick of the fates.
Before she could even say hello, he dragged her in and covered her mouth. He tasted of sugar and the ocean.
Children’s laughter, burnt popcorn, and the grinding of the gears of the rollercoaster above them faded away. He slid his hand around her back, tucking his fingers along the dip in her spine to get under her shirt as he flattened her to his chest.
She groaned when his nipple rings dug into her bra. Her nipples hardened in reaction as his sweet tongue slid lightly along hers. He sipped from her. A little racy for their surroundings, but he kept the kiss mostly tame.
She opened her eyes slightly to see his wild blue eyes watching her as he tasted her with gentle brushes of his lips. She cupped his face and pulled back, licking her lips. “What have you been eating?”
He nodded over to the food stand.
A huge sign with blue and pink fluffy illustrations of cotton candy made her smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever had cotton candy.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Well, a little secondhand taste now obviously.”
He hooked his arm around her neck and tugged her over to a bench. He dragged his bag in front of him and pulled out a little white marker board.
You don’t do rollercoasters, how about bumper cars?
She laughed. “Not since I was six.”
He swiped the side of his fist over the board.
Now seems like a good time.
The pure pleasure glowing from his silver-blue eyes was too much to resist. She nodded. “All right. I’m going to kick your ass though.”
He gave her a skeptical look and stuffed his board away and flicked his bag around his back. He tightened his fingers around hers and dragged her through the crush of people.
She laughed and tripped her way after him. “Simon, wait up.”
He flashed her a devilish grin over his shoulder and walked faster. She was out of breath by the time they passed the line of passengers for the Sea Dragon and the A-line metal contraption with a swing on it that she was absolutely not getting on. It looked like a freaking sling shot.
They scooted around a chain of special needs adults who were walking hand-in-hand and followed a group of teens into one of the two sheds of electric cars. The line managers seemed to be cherry picking troublemakers for one area and family for another.
She rolled her eyes when they got chosen for the former. Of course they looked like they were going to be a headache, especially with the maniacal smile on Simon’s face.
He pressed tickets into the woman’s hand and left Margo in the dust. He raced for a red car in the corner. By the time he got his long legs into the car, his knees were resting on either side of the steering wheel. Considering she was nearly as tall as he was, she had the same problem.
Only her legs weren’t thin. She wiggled into the seat and definitely didn’t need a lap belt. She wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. A whistle blew and little sparks went off in the web of chicken wire above them. She stepped on the gas and jerked forward.
A moment later she was careening into a 360 spin and Simon waved at her on his way by. She growled and maneuvered her way around a teen boy with far too much destruction in his eyes. Margo was bumped and cornered twice before she managed to get to Simon. Her bumper was a foot away from his when the whistle blew and her car puttered to a stop.
“Bullshit!”
“Ma’am, no swearing,” came a voice from behind her.
Simon pointed at her and threw his head back in a Charlie Chaplin laugh.
“Ass,” she whispered.
He climbed out of his car and ran over to her, waving her to get back in line. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to get any more whiplash, but she couldn’t say no to his earnest blue eyes.
She tried to get out and groaned. No way.
He held onto the front of her car and she shimmied her way out. Embarrassment heating her cheeks. Awesome. She couldn’t get her fat ass out of the damn car. Sure, it was created for children, but no one else had that problem. When she was finally free, she flung back the buckle and huffed.
Simon took her hands and dragged her back in front of him. He slid his hands into her pockets and squeezed. He mouthed, “I love this ass.”
She tried to push him away. Embarrassment warred with the need to stay right where she was. He walked her backwards into the exit, not taking his hands off of her even when the teenager with a whistle blew it twice, shouting for them to clear the area.
Could it get any worse?
When a group of girls laughed behind their hands, Simon slid his glasses down the tip of his nose and gave them a chilly glare. He slid his arm around Margo’s back and walked side by side with her into the park and away from the bumper cars.
All her life she’d worked to keep herself in shape as much as she could but her lush curves could only be controlled so much. The rest was camouflage with forgiving clothes.
Simon drew her over to the park bench and sat down, then he pulled her in front of him. His fingers coasted over her hips and tangled in her belt loops. He smiled up at her before dragging her on top of him.
“Simon.” She glanced around the area and the people walking, ch
ildren laughing and a surprising number of young adults walking around. She gently eased herself down onto his lap, her knees tucked against the slats of the bench. “I’m too heavy.”
“Perfect,” he mouthed. He curled her braid around his finger, drawing her down closer to his face. He swiped the tip of his tongue along the seam of her lips and mouthed, “Perfect,” again until she sighed into his kiss. Her forehead bumped his hat and it fell behind them. She curled her arms around his neck, slipping her fingers into the soft, slightly damp layers of inky hair.
The light buzz of a moan in his chest made her groan in response. This so wasn’t the place for it, but she couldn’t help but feel like the most desirable woman in the park. His fingers tightened against her hips, digging along the roundest parts of her ass. And there was no denying his reaction.
The hard ridge of his shaft filled the gap between them, pressing against the seam of her cotton pants. He breathed against her mouth as he broke from the kiss. She drew in his sweet breath and finally opened her eyes. His eyes were heated and playful as he sucked on her lower lip.
“We’re going to get kicked out.”
He lifted an eyebrow in that way that made her stomach flip. Like he had a dirty secret that he was keeping to himself.
“Oh my God, is that Simon Kagan?”
She tightened her hold on his hair. He winced and slowly set her down on the bench. Margo moved away and bent to snatch his hat off the ground, then slapped it on his head.
The murmur of the crowd got louder as three, then four girls came forward.
“Shit.”
He grabbed his bag and looked around at the mob that was growing. He whistled at a little girl that was walking by, begging her mother for another ticket for the rides. The little girl with red pigtails turned around. He tossed the extra tickets at her, grabbed Margo’s hand and they took off.
He dragged her through the crowd, weaving around food stands and into the arcade then out the back. The squeal of his name from a pair of young women in super short, super tight white shorts and bikini tops made Margo cringe.
