by Lexi Aurora
He smiled, determinedly. “No offense meant. I mean, I live here.”
His dad patted his son on his collared-shirted chest proudly. “Ulric’s a lawyer.”
“A lawyer,” Mom said, with the appropriate reverence.
Annie glanced at her father, who was waggling his eyebrows, clearly bored.
“Anyway,” she started for the door, glad she’d had the foresight to loop her purse over her shoulder before leaving her room. “I should get going. Kyla’s waiting.”
“Oh, so soon?” her mom said, disappointed more than was really necessary.
Annie gave them all a wave, feeling relieved already. “It was nice meeting you all.”
At the door, it took her forever to tie up her stupid TOMS.
“There’s a party tomorrow night.”
At the sound of Ulric’s low voice, Annie jumped. She hadn’t even noticed him approach.
“You should come,” he continued, smiling down at her as she struggled with her other lace.
She let her eyes rest on him for a few moments. Say something.
In those few seconds, she let the situation play out in its entirety. Her, actually taking him up on his offer and going into a party of strangers. Him, spending the requisite two minutes with her before becoming bored out of his mind. Then her, alone on the couch for the next three hours until she’d finally rouse herself to get up and go home.
“Thanks,” she said. “But I’m good. See ya.”
On the way to Kyla’s, she tried imagining what Kyle, Kyla’s fiancé-to-be, would be like. She knew he was a teacher and had seen pictures of them together on Facebook, but right now her mind was drawing a blank. For her and Kyla’s Sweet Sixteens, they’d crafted wedding books, and Kyla’s had featured shirtless Nick Lachey and Aaron Carter. Something told Annie that would be a bit off the mark.
But Annie wasn’t overly worried. Kyla had always had sublime taste in men – the good boyfriend, loyal partner types. Unlike her.
At Kyla’s, Annie had barely pressed the ring-a-ling-dong doorbell before the oak door swept open.
“You’re here!” Kyla exclaimed.
Her friend’s thin arms closed around Annie as a dog barked over the still ringing doorbell.
Laughing, as they parted, Kyla hoisted the little Pomeranian up. “This is Lop.”
The grinning dog gave Annie’s face one lick before breaking free from Kyla’s hold and hopping to the ground to race away. Kyla was still smiling as she watched him go.
“His name was supposed to be Hop, but Kyle misheard it, misspoke it for too long, and the damage was done. Lop doesn’t respond to anything else.” She sighed, smoothing out a fold in her peach-emblazoned summer dress. “I still can’t believe you’re here!”
Her eyes fell on Annie’s lazy clothes. “You know, you could always borrow one of my...”
Annie waved a hand. “We both know they wouldn’t fit. Besides, these are comfier and at Shakespeare’s, the wait can get pretty intense.”
“Yeah, about that.” Kyla bit at her thumbnail. “Kyle’s friend apparently ixnayed it. Thought Hooters would be more fun.”
“Did I not get the memo that this was a bachelor’s party?”
“I don’t know. Apparently his friend has some kind of membership thing there.”
“Sounds like a winner.”
Kyla opened her mouth to argue, then smirked. “I know, right? Kyle’s never been, and, it’s cute, but Annie, he actually thinks Hooters is an owl-themed restaurant.”
The two girls burst out laughing. Kyla, still cracking up, nodded her head. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him. Today, he’s wearing his owl shirt, and he even bought me this little guy” she lifted a gold owl pendant on her necklace.
“Sounds like quite the guy,” Annie said, meaning it.
The whole Hooters thing had admittedly given her a pause, but it sounded like that was the doing of his dubious friend.
“And he’s been so... stubborn about this marriage thing. Our friends and parents keep urging us to wait, but...” Her gaze far off, she nodded. “He just knows.”
There was silence, as Annie tried and failed to come up with a convincing ‘I’m so happy for you’. Because she was and wasn’t. And the ‘wasn’t’ part was based more on her own ineptness and lack of experience with men. It was making her feel like the worst maid of honour in the world.
“Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” Kyla clapped a horrified hand over her mouth. “I am the least sensitive friend alive. How are you doing? I didn’t even ask! I mean, your flight, the folks. Tell me everything.”
Annie smiled as Kyla threw her arms around her in another spontaneous hug. That was Kyla for you. Basically, the Mother Teresa of friends.
“You’re the bride,” Annie reminded her. “These next few weeks are totally yours. Though I appreciate the concern, don’t we have a dinner to get to?”
“Alright, alright, mystery woman,” Kyla said. She leaned over to give Lop one goodbye pat before throwing a leather tote over her arm and shutting the door behind her. “Though, you know I’m not going to let the matter rest just on that.”
Annie smiled thinly. Yep, Kyla was a bulldozer when it came to extracting life details out of her, although her friend had never gotten the incident out of her.
As they went into their separate cars, Annie was thankful that she was alone for a bit longer. If they’d been in the same one, Kyla would’ve, doubtless, spent time grilling her.
Maybe Annie was just being finicky about the whole restaurant thing, but the fact that they were going to Hooters gave her an ominous feeling in the pit of her stomach.
Chapter 2: Grayson
Coming off the airport’s moving sidewalk, Grayson knew the bastard immediately.
“GRAYBEARD – FOR HIS BFF” Kyle’s sign read. Grayson gave his best friend a back-beating, one-sided hug on account of the humongous duffel bag he had on one shoulder. Then, he thumbed the sign. “How many weird old dudes did you have approaching you?”
Kyle shrugged. “You know, three or four.”
As they made their way to the exit, Grayson shook his head at his friend. “You are one loony son-of-a-bitch, you know what?”
Trust Kyle to remember the nickname he’d dubbed Grayson that one time that Grayson had – for three weeks in uni – grown a beard that had been dark, like his hair. Thus, the joke.
Kyle cracked a lopsided smile. “How’d you figure?”
“First this sign,” Grayson gave the Bristol board a good whack, “Then this whole five-minute engagement of yours.”
“We’ve been together a year,” Kyle reminded him.
“A year,” Grayson scoffed. “Last time I saw you, you were single and happy to remain so.”
Kyle nodded, as if he understood. Although his answer clearly indicated that he didn’t. “Things change.”
“Things change,” Grayson repeated again and then sighed. “Ah, if only Kyle of yesteryear could hear you now...”
“Kyle of yesteryear hadn’t met Kyla yet,” Kyle asserted, stubbornly.
“Exactly.”
Grayson let it drop for a few minutes, indulging in talk of his duties as best man as well as general chitchat and updates. Turning off airplane mode also made his phone chirp with incoming texts; one from Kyle (“At the airport, waiting for my beloved graybeard xo”), another from a co-worker (“You bastard, you won’t believe what Keller’s going on about this time”), and one from Jenny (“Hi! Let me know if you want to grab a drink <3). The third text had probably heard he was back from mutual friends. He stared at her text for several seconds before tucking his phone in his pocket. Was he going to go back down that road again this visit?
Then, once they were in Kyle’s Lexus and heading for dinner, Grayson couldn’t resist.
“So what, is this fiancée of yours some Victoria’s Secret model? Like, 100 pounds, D-cups and hair to her ass?”
“You’ve seen her on Facebook.”
Grayson shrugg
ed. “I don’t know; this whole engagement thing happened so fast, maybe that was your old girlfriend.”
Kyle did his fluttery blond eyelash-wiggling thing, the same one that, back in the day, when done at the right time, used to send the two of them into hysterics.
Right now, though, it just made Grayson want to take his friend out clubbing, just like in the good old days.
“Can you save the bro judgement until you’ve met her at least?” Kyle asked him.
“That would be reasonable,” Grayson agreed. “But impractical, considering I can’t express just how horrifically bad of an idea this is when the perpetrator herself is in the same restaurant booth.”
“‘The perpetrator’? You sound like a conspiracy theorist,” Kyle commented.
“Frankly, I am right now. Wondering what kind of roofie the woman slipped you.”
Kyle gave him a loopy smile. “The great sex, kind heart, killer-sense-of-humor kind.”
Grayson raked some fingers through his styled hair. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll see.”
He let the silence hang for another couple minutes before he couldn’t take it anymore.
“Hate to do this, man, but I’m gonna have to play the Lily card. You do remember what happened, right?”
Kyle’s face slackened, and immediately Grayson felt like slamming his head onto the dashboard in front of him. A ridiculous, stupid reaction – he hadn’t done it since he was twelve. But, it was still his go-to instinct whenever he fucked up as royally as he just had.
“Forget it,” he said quickly, although it was already too late.
Kyle’s whole face was a testament to the teenage pain-fest that had lasted almost a whole year after that Super Bitch had dumped him.
Grayson should’ve known better than to bring it up. Hell, he’d been there.
He’d been there the night Kyle had walked in on Lily and their former friend, Trey, all curled up together, naked in Kyle’s own dorm bed, no less.
He’d been there in the months after, when Kyle failed out of every class he was taking, smoked weed until he passed out, and basically pushed away every caring person in his life.
All except Grayson.
Maybe it was because they’d been best friends for so long. Ever since kindergarten, when Grayson had stolen Kyle’s dinosaur toy at recess, just how he did with everyone, Kyle had calmly told him he was a menace to society, but that, nonetheless, they could play with the dinosaur together if he so wished it. It was something nobody else did.
Or, maybe it was because Grayson’s older brother had been a dick, the kind who microwaved his pet hamster Hammy. So, he’d been in need of a brother and taken Kyle on.
Whatever the reason, for that year, Grayson had basically been Kyle’s walking, talking, annoying psychiatrist/stalker.
He could still remember it; that odor when he’d first walked into Kyle’s room, all smoky and pungent and foul, like Kyle had hosted a pot-smoking party with a few cats and some of them had died during it. He remembered that singular waft of fresh air when Grayson picked his way across the wasteland of chip bags, beer cans, and dirty clothes to crank open the window.
While almost everyone abandoned Kyle and termed him as a lost cause, Grayson had stuck it out, barrelling in with blockbuster movies, Playboys, and three full-size Doritos bags. He’d knock –sometimes for several minutes – until, dozy and grumbling Kyle would finally stumble over and open the door. The odd time, he’d even succeeded in annoying his friend out of his room for a trip to the on-campus McDonalds. The few times Kyle did talk was to bitch about Lily, and how her admittedly hot, dark-haired, thin but evil whore ass had been his ‘one,’ and how she wouldn’t even answer his calls anymore.
“So, I’m assuming this means no Two Musketeers, now that I’m here?” Grayson said.
Kyle didn’t even look at him. “What do you think?”
Grayson let out a lugubrious sigh. “My, how times have changed in only a few short years.”
“Sure have,” Kyle said amiably, as he pulled into a parking spot.
“You know,” Grayson said, glaring at the exuberant sun outside. “This time, two years ago, during my annual visit, we were watching ‘Don't Be a Menace to South Central While Drinking Your Juice in the Hood’, and then going out to Absinthe and getting laid.”
“You coming, or you going to stage a car protest?” Kyle had Grayson’s car door open and was eyeing him with an expectant smirk.
“Don’t tempt me,” Grayson said, dryly, as he came out.
He took in his friend’s cheery moon face like the rosy-cheeked, squiggle-eyed emoticon that was way too happy for its own good. He was like a cute bunny about to hop into the patient jaws of an alley cat.
“Seriously, though, how much do you know about this girl?”
“Hmm, let’s see.” Kyle tapped the side of his head, screwing up his face like he was deep in thought. “I do know that her favorite color is purple.”
“Hilarious. But really, what’s the big rush anyway? Pretty sure you have a 50/50 chance of making it, and even then, most married people secretly hate their spouse anyway.”
“Don’t use your parents to stereotype for the greater population,” Kyle said, flatly.
Grayson frowned. Although his parents were notorious for their sporadic World War Three bouts (his mom had once smashed all the plates in their house during one such fight), it still didn’t mean he was wrong.
“Just remember me when you’re in your room, pissing in an old Ben and Jerry’s Cookies and Cream container because you can’t even bring yourself, in your sorrow, to drag yourself to the bathroom.”
“Dude,” Kyle was actually starting to look pissed now. “That was...”
“One time, I know. But still, mark my words, you’re making a mistake.”
Just then, a woman shoved by him.
Grayson glared at her ugly, grey sweatpants back. He wanted them to go to Hooters not only to give Kyle one last final reminder of all that he was, very soon, going to miss out on, but to avoid her type – the lazy, conservative bitches.
As they neared the place, Kyle squinted. “So, do they have them inside?”
Grayson grinned. Maybe they were getting somewhere. “Oh, you bet they do.”
Excitement shone in Kyle’s eyes. “It’s really all owl-themed? Damn, Kyla’s gonna love this. I bought her a pendant and everything.”
Grayson stopped in his tracks. He rotated on his heels to gape at his friend incredulously. “You’re shitting me, right?”
Keep reading Wrong Man – it is available online as part of Wrong Series Box Set.
PREVIEW: Bought Out by The Billionaire by Lexi Aurora
Chapter 1: Sloane
I woke up early, before the sun was up, stretching as I blinked the sleep out of my eyes. I glanced over to see that my daughter, Rosie, was asleep in bed, her long eyelashes fanned out over her delicate cheeks. Her hair was messy and curled around her face, and her mouth was hanging open as she slept. I smiled, my heart feeling as warm as it always did when I looked at my girl. I slipped out of bed quietly and grabbed the clothes I had laid out for myself the night before, tiptoeing out of the bedroom we shared and into the bathroom down the hall. I undressed and got into the shower, finally washing off the flour that still coated my skin in a layer from yesterday. By the time the bakery had closed last night, I’d been too exhausted to do anything but drop into bed after giving Rosie a kiss good night.
After I got dressed and ready for the day, I crept down the hallway to my mother’s room and knocked softly on the door. I pushed it open gently, careful not to let it squeak the way it sometimes did if it swung on its hinges too fast.
“Mama,” I said quietly, peeking into the room. My mother was sleeping. She blinked her eyes at me and sat up.
“Hey, honey,” she said in a drowsy voice, sounding like she was still half-asleep. “You going downstairs?”
“Yeah,” I whispered. “Rose is still asleep. Have her come down when she
wakes up.”
“Okay,” she responded. I shut the door quietly and walked away, down the stairs and into the back room of our family bakery. I flipped on the lights as I went through the room, illuminating the kitchen, which was small but could perform miracles in the right hands. Those hands used to be my father’s, and his father’s before that. This bakery and this house had been in my family for generations, and I had grown up thinking of it as home.
I turned on the ovens to prepare for the day, standing close to them as they heated up. It was always cold in the bakery in the mornings, especially during the fall and winter, but when the ovens got going the place felt warm and inviting. I pulled out the ingredients I needed to start the morning with our usual selection—fresh-baked muffins and warm, fluffy biscuits, as well as cinnamon rolls that melted on the tongue. The cinnamon rolls were my favorite, and Rosie had a taste for them as well. They usually sold out fast, so every once in a while I would set one aside for her for when she woke up. I made a note to do so this morning; I had missed her last night. We’d had a special event at the bakery that had kept me up late cleaning up the place, and I hadn’t made it upstairs until after she had gone to bed.
As I started to mix the ingredients for the rolls, I thought back to last night and the conversation I’d had with our neighbor. I had wanted to tell my mother about it right away but didn’t want to wake her when I got upstairs. The conversation gnawed at me and had kept me up all night. Our neighbor, Mr. Eustacio, who owned the laundromat next door, had told me that some big development company was proposing to the city to buy the buildings on our block and wanted to develop it into condos. I thought about losing this place, the only home I’d ever known, the place I loved and worked and lived, and it made me sad.
When my father got sick and began his rapid decline from his diagnosis to his final days, he confessed to me that he wanted to see me take over the business and then pass it on to the next generation. I told him I would do whatever it took to make the dream a reality, that it was my wish too. An offer from a development company would probably be for so much money it would feel like I was playing Monopoly, but some things don’t have a price tag. I would never sell, no matter how tempting the offer was. I loved this place like it was a part of my family.
