The Pecker Briefs

by Sawyer Bennett

  Now, I can be a dirty, kinky son of a bitch when I want, but there is something about it that skeeves me out given the massive age difference between them. On the other hand, Tilde doesn’t look her age and some dudes are into older women.

  Turns out Jim… or Carmine… or whatever, is a nice guy. I’m sure he doesn’t have any deep feelings for Tilde and he’s using her as much as she’s using him, but otherwise, he seems like a decent dude.

  From what I can tell anyway as I catch snippets of his conversation with Viveka. That’s because for most of the evening, Tilde tries to dominate the conversation, and by that, I mean she tries to talk only to me.

  She leans toward me, talking intimately low to try to cut Viveka and Carmine out. I try a few times to include the others, but at one point, Viveka gives me a little shake of her head like “don’t bother.” The way she smiles at me tells me she’s not bothered by this either, and I swear I saw relief on her face when Carmine engaged her in conversation about the modeling business. She’d rather actually talk to him than her mother, and as Viveka predicted, she’s using me as a buffer.

  This is fine by me.

  After the main course is cleared away, the waiter passes out dessert menus, starting with Tilde.

  “No dessert for us,” Tilde says with a wave of her hand. The waiter pulls the menu back.

  “Actually, I’d like to see that,” Viveka says, and the waiter appears overjoyed that someone wants to partake.

  “Me too,” I add. I’m not actually a big sweets kind of guy, but I just instinctively know I need to see that menu. That Viv needs me to order dessert along with her.

  The waiter moves to Viveka and hands her one, then gives one to me. He looks to Carmine, who stares longingly but after a quick glance to Tilde, shakes his head. She totally has him by the short hairs.

  “I’ll be back shortly to take your orders,” the waiter says before walking away.

  Tilde stares across the table toward her daughter in disapproval, her lips pressed tight. I can see it on her face… the warring within herself on whether to say something.

  When her lips part, I brace for her onslaught.

  “Viveka,” Tilde says in a falsetto voice in an attempt for this to come off as merely a pleasant piece of advice. “You know carbs and sugar go right to your hips. You and I both have that body type unfortunately, so perhaps you should pass.”

  My inclination is to jump to Viveka’s defense, but I also know my girl waged a war once upon a time to sever her mother’s parental ties, at least in the eyes of the law when she was just seventeen. I suspect that in order to keep the boundaries clear, Viveka needs to defend herself and doesn’t need her guy to rush in to save her right now.

  Viv takes a breath and shuts her eyes—probably asking for grace from above—and when she opens them again, they are lasered onto her mother with a ferocity that makes me actually feel a little bad for Tilde.

  “Mor,” she says softly, but it’s not meant to make her feel safe and protected. It’s with warning. “You lost your right to direct what I put in my mouth a long time ago.”

  Tilde actually appears surprised to hear this news. Her chin pulls inward, and her tone is affronted. “I’m only looking out for your best interests.”

  “No, you’re not,” Viveka says firmly. “You’re trying to assert power and control over me because you can’t stand you lost it long ago. You also delight in trying to put me down in little ways like making comments about my weight. But you need to know it doesn’t hurt me. Doesn’t piss me off. Doesn’t make me feel bad about myself at all. It only makes you look foolish for trying to make me feel bad so you can feel good about yourself.”

  “Viveka,” Tilde says sharply and with warning in her own voice. She’s trying to come off as a parent reminding their child of their manners, but sadly, it’s sort of whiny. “I did not raise you to speak to me that way.”

  Viv gives her mom a smile, and there’s nothing but empathy there. She understands her mom and feels bad she can’t be more than what she is. What’s amazing to me is that Viv doesn’t feel bad for herself. She feels bad for this woman who is probably missing out on a lot of really amazing things with her daughter if she just opened herself up to true motherhood.

  I think perhaps Viveka may continue schooling her mother in the reality of their relationship and the fact it resembles nothing of a mother-daughter dynamic whereby Tilde might have the right to offer advice.

  But instead, she turns to her left and says, “Carmine… it was fabulous meeting you. Good luck with your career.”

  Her head then swings in the opposite direction, bypassing a glance at her mother until her summer-blue eyes land on me. “Let’s get dessert on the way home, okay?”

  “Okay,” I tell her with a smile, and I stand up from my chair. When I hold my hand out to Viv, she places her fingers against my palm. I let mine curl around to grip her lightly as she stands from her chair.

  I turn to Carmine, give him a nod. Then to Tilde with a smile. “Lovely meeting you.”

  Tilde looks absolutely befuddled as her gaze snaps back and forth between her daughter and me.

  I see the waiter coming back to take our dessert order, and I pull Viveka around the table to meet him. “No dessert tonight. But if you’ll give the bill to that woman right there,” I point at Tilde, who still seems a bit shell-shocked, “she’ll be glad to pay.”

  Viveka snickers and then squeezes my hand. She heads for the exit with long strides, pulling me along behind her. I give one last look at Tilde, who is staring after us with an expression on her face like she just smelled a pile of shit.

  When we step out onto the sidewalk, Viveka turns and launches herself into my arms. Her hands come to my face, and she grins like a lunatic on a drug high. “Damn… that was fun. I kind of want to go back in and do that again.”

  “Never got much of a chance before to put your mom in her place, have you?” I ask with a chuckle.

  “I always felt icky about doing it,” she admits as she drops her hands. “For a very long time, I felt guilty for leaving my career and her behind. There were years where I tried to overcompensate, and by that, I mean I let her run all over me because it made her feel better and that alleviated my guilt. But tonight… it just seemed the right way to handle her.”

  “It was absolutely the right way,” I assure her as I reach into my pocket for my valet ticket. I hand it to the attendant and then take Viveka’s hand in mine. “And please don’t feel guilty for putting her in her place. Perhaps she’ll think twice before she does that again.”

  “Well, that will be probably in about a year. We don’t see each other often.”

  “I’m sorry,” I say as we step to the side as other people exit the restaurant.

  Viveka’s head turns my way, her eyes round. “Why are you sorry?”

  “That you even have to worry about this shit with your mom,” I say as I pull her into my side and wrap my arm around her shoulder. “It’s absolutely dysfunctional and a stress you shouldn’t have to deal with. You’re too good a person to have that crap in your life.”

  “I know,” she murmurs as her arm comes around my waist. “And thank you for validating that.”

  “Anytime,” I promise. I’ll validate her anytime she wants. “Now… what kind of dessert will we pick up on the way home?”

  She cranes her neck to stare up to me. “A few cans of whip cream.”

  “Just whip cream?”

  Her smile is mischievous and erotic, and it punches me in the gut. “We can do a lot of creative things with whip cream, Ford.”

  CHAPTER 18

  Viveka

  “Will the defendant rise and face the court?” the judge says.

  I twist my neck to the left to watch as the man stands up from his chair and glares defiantly at Judge Barefoot. Melanie Case, the assistant district attorney who I’m sharing the counsel table with, leans toward me and mutters, “The defendant is such a dick.”

 
; I look past her to the man I helped Melanie prosecute. Totally a dick.

  “Mr. Kramer,” Judge Barefoot says in a gruff voice. “I hereby find you guilty of animal cruelty and neglect, and sentence you to four months in county jail with credit for time served, one hundred hours of community service, and restitution for the veterinarian bills.”

  “That’s bullshit,” Curtis Kramer says, and his attorney puts a restraining hand on his shoulder. “That dog was my property, and I can treat it as I see fit.”

  Judge Barefoot isn’t impressed by this outburst. “The law says differently, Mr. Kramer. And I’m going to tack on an additional thirty days in jail for contempt of court because you have seemingly forgotten your manners. If you open your mouth and say one more word, I’ll add on sixty days.”

  The judge bangs his gavel and stands up. The bailiff says, “Court is adjourned.”

  Melanie and I stand up from the table, and she turns to me to give me a hug. She usually associates with me on all of her animal cruelty and neglect cases. We’ve also become good friends over the years. “Thank you so much for your help, Viv.”

  When I pull back, I smile at her. “My pleasure. You did a great job.”

  I guarantee that the pit bull that we rescued from Mr. Kramer’s property thinks she did a fabulous job, too. He’s currently being fostered and hopefully will be adopted out very soon. Any man who stakes his animal on a two-foot chain by the neck outside without adequate food and water deserves to be in jail as far as I’m concerned.

  Snagging my briefcase off the table, I turn to walk out of the gallery area. I come up short when I see Leary sitting in the front row with her palms resting on top of her rounded belly. She’s wearing a dark blue dress that hugs her tummy with a matching jacket.

  When she sees me coming, she leans to one side, places a palm to the wooden bench, and uses that to help haul herself up. When I reach her, she gives me a sheepish grin. “This belly is getting a little cumbersome. Can’t wait until I can see my feet again.”

  “How much longer do you have?” I ask as she slides out of the row to meet me.

  “Just about four weeks,” she mutters. “Or sooner if I can talk my doctor into inducing early so we can get this over with.”

  “They can do that?” I ask in awe.

  She shakes her head and grimaces. “Only in my dreams.”

  We both laugh for a moment, but then I ask her. “What are you doing here?”

  “I was over in the next courtroom arguing a motion. As I was leaving, I glanced in and saw you sitting there. Just thought I would say hello.”

  “Well, that’s nice,” I say with a smile, and we both turn to start walking out of the courtroom. “I don’t get over here to criminal court very often. But I have to say, I do enjoy watching the bad guys get locked up for mistreating animals.”

  Leary laughs. To my surprise, she hooks her arm through mine as we walk down the aisle as if we are the best of buds. “Hey… want to go grab some lunch?”

  “You realize it’s just past ten thirty,” I tease.

  “Shut up. I’m pregnant and I’m allowed to eat early lunch. Then I’m allowed to eat regular lunch.”

  “Feel like a hot dog? I always hit up Snoopy’s when I’m downtown.”

  “That sounds delicious.”

  We leave the courthouse chatting about the case I had just helped to prosecute. While my dealings with Leary over the last few weeks have been extremely limited, I feel like I’ve known her forever and that’s because Ford talks about her a great deal.

  Admittedly, when he first did it, I thought it was a little odd. I also felt jealous. But the more he talked about Leary and the more I really listened to what he was saying, I realized it was no different than how I talk about Frannie. I realized I had to move past the oddity of a man having a woman as a best friend. Once I did that, I tremendously enjoyed learning more about Leary. Believe it or not, it helped me learn more about Ford himself. Because there is nothing like a womanizer—hopefully reformed—having a female best friend to put him in his place when necessary. And by the stories Ford had told me, Leary did that quite a bit.

  It’s a gorgeous late April day and despite Leary’s rotund belly, she insists we walk the three blocks to Snoopy’s.

  Apparently, Leary’s idea to have lunch at ten thirty isn’t so strange, because there’s already a line of people waiting to get some dogs. After we get ours—both of us choosing chili and cheese—we walk across the street and find an empty bench to sit down on.

  “How are things going with you and Ford?” Leary asks as we unwrap our hot dogs.

  This question neither surprises nor offends me. Her tone of voice is light, easygoing, and filled with curiosity. I also detect a slight hint of happiness that she can actually ask a woman this question about her best friend.

  Staring at the gooey mess I’m holding in a bun, I contemplate how I’m going to be able to eat it without getting chili and cheese all over me. But before I take that first bite, I answer Leary’s question. “The past two weeks have been… well, amazing, I guess.”

  Leary looks triumphant as if she had suspected this all along. “I have to tell you, I have never ever seen Ford so taken with a woman before.”

  “How so?” I ask, my chili dog completely forgotten because I would much rather get inside intel on what Ford is thinking. Even though for the past two weeks we have spent every night together but one, I still feel like at any moment he’s going to walk away from me.

  It is what he’s known for doing, and that’s by his self-admission.

  Leary has no hesitation in digging into her meal. She opens her mouth wide, shoves the hot dog in, and chomps down. Chili and cheese gather at the corners of her mouth and a big dollop starts to fall, but she expertly catches it with a napkin in her hand. She chews and grins at the same time, and when she swallows, she actually groans in ecstasy. “For some reason, this kid likes spicy food. It’s like my belly just had an orgasm.”

  I wrinkle my nose. “That’s disgusting.”

  Leary laughs and shakes her head. “Just wait until you get pregnant.”

  Leary can somehow make eating a messy hot dog look both easy and classy at the same time, and I have to remind myself I used to walk the catwalk in Milan, Paris, and Rome. I can do this, too.

  I open my mouth wide and take a big bite, trying to suppress a moan of pleasure as the spicy chili hits my tongue.

  Leary takes another bite as well. For a few moments, we do nothing but chow down on our dogs.

  After we manage to mop up our sticky fingers and mouths thanks to the bottled water we also bought, we finally to turn our attention back to Ford.

  Leary throws an arm across the back of the bench and leans toward me. “You know I’m the one who made the donation to Justice for All Animals?”

  “I figured,” I reply dryly. “But Ford gave you the money to do it.”

  She neither confirms nor denies, but I don’t need her to do either. He cashed the check and that was all I cared about.

  “I want you to know that is absolutely uncharacteristic of Ford to do something like that. He would never put his law license on the line like that for anyone. Even me.”

  My body jerks, and tingles break out all over. She’s saying… well, I’m not sure what exactly she’s saying except the myriad of emotions coursing through me right now are unlike anything I’ve ever felt.

  “I’m not sure why,” I manage to say past the lump in my throat. “We barely know each other.”

  “It’s been my very personal experience that it’s quality and not quantity of time you spend together,” Leary says with a chuckle. “But really, I think that sometimes the universe just works in very mystical ways to bring soul mates together.”

  “You think Ford and I are soul mates?” I whisper in disbelief. This conversation just got very deep and slightly weird.

  Leary shrugs. “Look… I love Reeve. Fell for him hard and fast, and he did the same for me. Are we s
oul mates? Maybe, but who knows what that really means. All I can tell you is that he felt “right” from very early on. Sure, we continued to get to know each other as time went on, but the connection was instantaneous and deep. I can’t explain it. And I really don’t care about the reasons or the why’s. I accept it and I’m telling you, I think it’s happening with Ford.”

  “Why exactly are you telling me this?” I ask hesitantly.

  She studies me a moment, her eyes hardening slightly. She pulls no punches with me. “Because I can tell he’s really falling for you. I’ve never seen that from him, and I want to know how you feel because I don’t want him to get hurt. Ford won’t ask you this question. He’s the type of guy who is going to trust his gut and roll with it, but I’m not quite so carefree about the thought of my best friend getting hurt.”

  I look away from Leary, staring across the green expanse of lawn with pockets of shade casting down from the large oak trees. There’s no denying our connection was instant, and we gave into it quickly. I also can’t ignore the fact there is something between us that’s just… natural. And effortless. And… right. It just seems so very right, and that is not something I’ve ever felt before.

  I had suspected Ford giving money to Justice for All Animals was a really big deal. Not just a rogue maneuver he did because he likes playing dangerous games. He acted out of a natural instinct to help and protect me. He put his very livelihood on the line for me, and while I didn’t want to acknowledge what that really meant, I have to address it now for Leary.

  “I’m falling for him, too,” I tell her quietly as my eyes come back to her. “I mean in a way that is really scary and yet, I wouldn’t change a thing about what’s happening to us.”

  “I’m glad,” she says as her face relaxes with relief. She smiles and moves her hand over to touch my shoulder. “He’s a good man. He deserves to have a good woman.”

  I’m relieved she thinks I’m a good woman. Let’s face it, outside of meeting his parents, Leary’s approval is probably required if Ford and I are going to go the distance.