Winner Takes All: Checkmate, #7

by Finn, Emilia

  “I never said I was nice, Miss Priss. I said you can’t lie for shit, no matter how much your man wants you to.”

  “Miss Priss?” She throws her head back like I smacked her. “How dare you?”

  “Spencer!” Jess knocks something to the ground and whimpers. “Oh my god, Spence, the baby is coming!”

  “Oh fuck.”

  Forgetting Abby, I bound over the rows of flowers and practically sweep Jess up into my arms. Water puddles on the floor where she stood a moment ago, and all I can focus on is the fact I really, really don’t want to deliver these babies today. Or ever.

  “Okay, it’s gonna be okay. Legs closed, Jessie. Hold your breath or some shit. We’re going to the hospital.” I look to a horrified Abby, who stands in shock and watches us. “Call an ambulance. That’ll get Luc. Then call Checkmate. That’ll get her man.”

  Jess giggles in my arms as Abby sprints back to her counter and fumbles with the phone. Red hair flies while she juggles, her Nikes slap the smooth concrete, and a mumbled ‘Coconuts!’ brings my brow up high when she tries to dial and has to restart.

  “Stop.” Jess’ little giggles turn to belly-rolling laughs as she crawls back out of my arms and places a watering can back on the shelf. “I was kidding. That ain’t mine.”

  “What ain’t yours?”

  My heart rarely races. I’ve seen too much in my life, run from shit men shouldn’t have to know, or run at things that most wouldn’t. I’ve seen and done shit that visits me in my dreams, so not a lot gets my blood pumping these days. But it runs now. My brain races from thought to thought. Kane is in the city today and won’t be back until dinner, which is how I got stuck on flower duty. And evidently, baby duty.

  “Jessie,” I press. “What ain’t yours?”

  “The water. I knocked the can over, since you and Abby seemed to have hit it off so well and had no plans to stop chatting anytime soon. I said the magic words, now you’re here, she’s there, and you’ve both shut up.”

  “Hello!” Abby’s panicked voice brings our eyes up. “Yeah, someone needs to call Kane Bishop. Jess is having her babies.”

  “Abby, no!” Jess pushes around me with a laugh, and while I know she’d rather run and bound the way I did, all she manages is a grunting waddle until she grabs the phone and brings it to her ear. “Hel– hell–” She pulls the phone from her ear and frowns. “Riley, calm your shit, man. Nobody is having any babies.” She pauses to listen. Nods. “I swear. It was a false alarm. Abby got spooked, but everything is fine. Pinky promise.”

  “You were lying?” I see red and explode. “You were fuckin’ lying? Are you insane, Jessica?”

  “Calm down, crazy.” Jess hangs up the phone and hands it back to a pale and shaking Abby. Turning to me with a roll of her eyes, she snickers and walks away from the stunned woman. “Now can we look at my flowers? I have to pee, and standing is uncomfortable.”

  “Jessica! What the fuck is wrong with you? You don’t joke about that shit!”

  “What is wrong with you?” Abby snaps. She steps around the counter and shields Jessie from me. “Stop shouting at her. And stop swearing, period. It’s disgusting.”

  My head snaps back in shock. “The fuck, she said what?”

  Jess holds her stomach and laughs. “Abigail, meet Spencer Serrano. Spencer, shut your trap unless it’s to say something nice. And don’t swear…” Her lips twitch with trouble. “It’s a disgusting habit.”

  * * *

  I have to follow these chicks for an hour. A whole fucking hour of being their bitch boy, holding bouquets and fighting off the odd posy tucked behind my ear.

  Jess does the tucking, not Miss Priss.

  She wouldn’t dare.

  I walk behind the women and compare asses. Jess is massively pregnant and ready to drop, and her ass is still better than the shapeless, shit-filled, diaper rounded ass Abigail owns. Jess’ long, platinum blonde hair swings and sways as she talks, as though she talks with her whole body. Abigail’s hair has been scared into submission, combed out and threatened with an eternity with the devil if a single strand moves out of place.

  I bet no man has ever pulled her hair.

  Abby turns to me with a glare despite the fact Jess is mid-sentence. “What the heck did you just say?”

  I stop with my arms filled with boxed flowers, and rock back onto my heels. “Hm?”

  “You’re mumbling!” she snaps. “And whatever you just said is absolutely not welcome in here.”

  Jess’ eyes narrow as she looks between us. “What did he say?” She turns to me. “What did you say?”

  “I was talking to myself.” I set the stack of flowers on a low shelf to my left and drop my hands into my pockets. I constantly feel the need to have free hands around this chick; for fighting off, or fighting for. I haven’t quite decided. “None of anyone else’s business.”

  “Maybe you’d like to go finish your discussion outside.” Priss glares. “In the street. It’s garbage collection day.”

  “Oh shit!” Jess laughs. “That was a solid threat. Abby! You threatened him. I’m so proud of you!”

  The stuck-up chick wants to step up just like her brother. I guess bad attitudes run in the family.

  “Sorry, ladies, I’m under orders. I’m where Jess is, so how about you buy the fuckin’ flowers so we can move on with our lives? I have work to do.”

  “Why are you being so grumpy?” Jess grumbles. “Have fun. It’s flower day!”

  “Why’d you pick a nun for a florist? If I’m gonna be dragged around a flower shop, the least you could do is find a chick that doesn’t burn my retinas with her fuckin’ blouse and goodie-goodie ‘don’t swear around me’ behavior.” I meet Abby’s eyes. “Are you twelve? Do the big swears offend you?”

  “Are you a caveman whose vocabulary only consists of five words?” she shoots back. “I’m not here to look good for you, Mr. Serrano. It is not my job to impress you.”

  “Well, obviously! Even Jessie looks good enough to eat, but you…” I wave my hand along her body like a total douche. “You look like you missed church this morning.”

  “What the hell do you mean ‘even Jessie’?” Jess snaps. “I look good every day, jerk!”

  “And Miss Priss probably looks good only in the shower. Are you an amorphous blob when naked, too? Do you even have tits?” When her eyes widen like saucers, I take satisfaction in my victory. “I have six words in my vocabulary. Amorphous is kinda big too, huh? Bigger than your tits, anyway.”

  “Spencer!”

  “Get out of my store!” Priss storms forward and tries to turn me the way she did with her brother. Her eyes aren’t glittering with regular anger anymore, but feral rage that says I hit my mark. “Get out of my store! How dare you speak about me that way? How dare you talk about my… my…”

  “Tits?” I volunteer.

  “My body!”

  “I wish I knew what kind of body you had, but all I see is Gumby with red hair. Do you ever go into the sun? Do you still live in Ireland, but commute here for work?”

  “Do you have any manners at all?” she snaps. “Who the heck are you to speak to me this way? We don’t know each other! You have no clue about my life.”

  “Maybe not, but hey, my name is Spencer Serrano, and I’m the only guy that’ll tell you the damn truth. You look like a fuckin’ nun, but not the hot kind where I might be tempted to lift your dress. You look like you’re twelve, so I feel like I’m gonna be arrested for looking at your ass. You say heck and dang too fuckin’ much, so I feel like I’m talking to a toddler. You have eyebrows, but they’re so light, I can’t even tell they’re there. And your eyes are freakish!”

  “My eyes?” She stops pushing and jerks back to cup her cheeks. “You’re picking on my eyes too?”

  “Spencer!”

  “Is that a birth defect, Abigail? One blue, one green. Did your dad jack off twice and create twins, then you ate the other while in the womb?”

  She drags a b
reath in on a gasp. “That’s not how twins are made you… you…”

  “What?” I duck my head lower. “Swear, Abigail. Call me a prick.”

  “I will not! You’re stupid! And that’s a really mean thing to say, but you made me say it. Are you a birth defect? Did you fall into a barrel of tattoo artists and come out looking like a bunch of kindergarteners used you for a dot to dot canvas? You have drawings behind your ears, for heaven’s sake. Your ears! Are you not afraid of getting that stuff into your brain? You have drawings on your throat and fingers. I mean, how stupid are you? Tattoos are like cussing, a sign of inferior education and perhaps too much time spent in prison. Did you kill someone and get sent away?”

  I lean in closer, and inhale her flowery scent just to piss her off. Unfortunately, it pisses me off more that my lungs enjoy her air. “I’ve killed loads of people, Priss. But I was never sent away.”

  Her cheeks drain from a fiery red to pale white while she works to decide if I’m speaking in literals.

  I am. I’ve killed plenty of men, and I’ve helped my friends kill plenty more. Some were ordered, some were sanctioned by the law. Some were incidental, and some were accident. I’m not sorry for a single one of them, but Priss would still look at me the way she is now if I admitted to hitting a bird with my car. Admitting to ending a human’s life is a whole other level of crazy she has no clue how to process.

  I poke her delicate shoulder and pretend it has nothing to do with the fact I want to touch her. “I choose to look like this, just like you choose to look like a fuckin’ virgin. Has a man even touched you before?”

  “You are despicable!” She shoves me right back. “You’re horrible, and I’m sorry I met you.”

  “Alrighty.” Jess pushes between us so her expanded belly touches my hip. “Looks like we’re going to find a new florist. Thanks a lot, Spencer. This is why we can’t have nice things.” She turns to Abby. “I’m so sorry for him. He’s always this horrible, but I hoped he’d lock it up in front of polite company.” Then she turns to me with firm lips and a low growl. “I’m telling Kane that you need a damn leash.”

  Now I feel bad for losing the virginal priestess business.

  I turn away from Abby’s glittering eyes with a shake of my head. I rarely feel bad for my actions, and I’m not entirely sorry now. But Jess’ excitement for today, and the rage I saw in Abby’s eyes coalesce and make me feel…something.

  Guilt is such a foreign feeling to me.

  “You don’t need a new florist. But you do need to wrap this shit up. Pick a flower, make your order, pay the nun, and let’s get out of here. I have places to be.”

  4

  Abigail

  I push through Nixon’s front door at seven on the dot with more attitude than I should, then slam it closed again with no guilt for the way the door rattles in the frame. “Nixon Rosa, you come out here right now! You have a bunch of explaining to do, and you’d better do it right now before I lose my mind.”

  Only Wanna Be With You plays through speakers set up throughout his two-story ranch style home. Nix is all about quality; television, music, food. Why eat a sandwich when you could bake fresh fish with homemade spices and sauces? Why watch a regular TV when you could have surround sound and experience the movie? Why do anything unless you’re going to do it with precision and style?

  His music almost – almost – tempts me to slow my attitude and smile, since Hootie and the Blowfish were Mom and Daddy’s favorite, but I’m just so mad from today, I’m not ready to let it go.

  “Nixon! Show yourself.”

  My brother steps out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. He’s freshly showered, so his inch-long black hair spikes up, and his forearms flex where he’s pushed up the sleeves of his shirt.

  “Uh… Is there a fire? Or are you just being a psycho for fun?”

  “No! To both. But I’m gonna light a fire in your butt if you don’t explain to me what the heck today was all about! Why were you having a stand-off in my shop? Why the weird stares and smell of gunpowder?” I throw my hand up. “Who is Spencer Serrano?”

  Chuckling like nothing about earlier was a big deal, he turns away and makes me follow him back to the kitchen. “I have absolutely no idea who that dude was, but he seemed to think he knew me, huh? You blame me for something I didn’t do.”

  “You don’t know him? Not even through work?”

  “Nope. I’ve never seen him in my life.” Nix stops in front of his industrial-sized stove and mixes Momma’s taco beef recipe in a cast iron pan. He picks up a half empty beer and takes a sip. “What did he want? And who was that chick? She looked kinda familiar.”

  “Jess Lenaghan is getting married next week. She came in to see the arrangement I did for her bouquet.”

  He turns to me with a curled lip. “Lenaghan? She’s related to Luc, right? The EMT?”

  “I have no clue!” I’m holding a gallon of rocky road ice cream in a plastic bag, and the corner of the tub smacks my thigh when I lift my hand in exasperation, then drop it just as fast. “I don’t ask about her private life, Nix. I never ask, because it’s none of my dang business.”

  “She looks like Luc.” He turns back with a shrug and continues cooking. “She’s seriously marrying that mountain? He’s got a bad attitude, Ab. She could do better.”

  “She’s not marrying him! He’s her friend. And how do you know she could do better if you don’t know who she is?”

  “Because Mitch is friendly with Luc, and you know how weird Mitch is with friends. That means Luc must be cool. His sister shouldn’t be marrying a thug like that.”

  And there goes my bad mood as silly giggles find their way up my throat. I’ve met Jess’ actual fiancé, and though she might not be marrying Spencer, the guy she is marrying doesn’t look a heck of a lot less thuggish than his friend. He looks dangerous, just like Spencer, but he watches Jess in that way that I appreciate. He looks at her the way Bobby Kincaid looks when he collects his weekly supply of flowers. He looks at her the way Daddy looks at Momma.

  “Her fiancé is so kind, Nix. And you sound awfully judgmental. Just like I was judgmental about Spencer. Mom would smack our ears if she heard.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Lucky she’s not here then, huh? And I’m not being judgmental, I’m being smart. No normal guy steps in my way and does the Clint Eastwood staredown for no good reason. He was packing heat, Ab. Does he think he’s being sneaky about it? Because he ain’t.”

  “You mean like how you carry a gun every day?”

  I walk the rest of the way into the kitchen and help myself to his fridge and freezer. I tug the doors open and toss dessert in, then grab a half empty bottle of white wine from the fridge and a glass from the rack under the island counter.

  “Do you think I don’t see that knife on the counter right now? It’s not a steak knife, Nix, and you’re not hunting with Daddy right now, so…”

  “Since when do you have sass?” He turns and threatens to swat me with the spatula. “Sit down, drink, and talk to me about that chick.”

  “Who, Jess?” When he nods, I scoff and pour. “Absolutely not. I mean, I’m not a shrink or a doctor or anything, so it’s not like I signed privacy agreements, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to sit here and gossip with you just because you’re threatened by the fact someone other than Troy is taller than you.”

  He turns to me with pursed lips and a lifted brow. “Really, Ab? Sass and back talk all in one day? What the hell has happened to you since you moved out? Are you partying with delinquents? Smoking a doobie with Nadia in the back cooler? Snorting banned substances while you eat naughty brownies?”

  I sip my wine and laugh. “I’m not smoking, snorting, or partying. You can relax.”

  He narrows his eyes and points the spatula at me. “You didn’t deny the brownies, Abigail.”

  I say nothing, but our eyes meet, and his fatherly scolding turns to a grin.

  “Watch yourself, kiddo. I won’t tolerate th
is new attitude just because you’re out on your own now. Mom will make you move back home if you keep that shit up.”

  “Don’t say sh– Ugh!” I grunt with frustration. “Don’t swear! It’s completely unnecessary. You sound dumb, and all of Momma and Daddy’s tuition money will be for nothing.”

  “Really?” He shakes his head and takes another sip of his beer. “I had no clue cussing killed brain cells. You’ve enlightened me.”

  “You annoy me so much,” I grumble. I pull out a stool from beneath the counter and study my wine. There’s already condensation on the outside of the glass. “You really don’t know that guy?”

  “I really don’t. But if a dude is giving me the staredown in my own sister’s shop, I’m not gonna just whistle and skip away. He wanted to start something with me, so I obliged and gave him the chance to take the first swing.”

  “Boys are so stupid. And for the record, you were staring too. You were both stupid egomaniacs, wanting to compare your height, and pee a circle around Jess because she’s cute.”

  He shrugs and empties his beer in one last swallow. “She’s super pregnant and a week away from getting married. She’s not cute to me, but I think maybe you’re cute to the mountain.”

  I choke on my wine and swipe the dribble from my cheek. “I assure you, he doesn’t think I’m cute.” He thinks I’m ugly and boring. He also thinks I’m stupid and not worth his time. But I don’t say any of that out loud, because then we’ll circle back around to my brother wanting to claim ownership and defend my honor.

  “Just stay away from him, okay?” He turns away from the stove and rests his elbows on the countertop. “Maybe you should talk to Nadia about her security system, see if she can recommend something for the shop.”

  “You’re so dumb sometimes, Nix.” I drop my head into my hands and study the marble countertop my brother installed last summer with his own hands. I was here for the delivery of the material, watched the guys bring it in, and prayed they wouldn’t drop it. But I wasn’t allowed to help because I’m the baby sister everyone loves to baby. And God forbid I do anything that might bring my heart rate a little higher than normal. “Nadia’s security system came from that guy’s workplace. He’s with Checkmate, and Jess’ fiancé owns Checkmate. Do you really want me to ask?”