by Webster, K
Luca steps to the side and my eyes light up as I climb into the glass case and retrieve the costume. Chandler jumps in too and wrestles out the Toto stuffed animal and runs away with it.
“I’ll just be a moment,” I say and follow the lit sign for the restroom. Once inside, I hug the blue and white dress to my chest. Knocking from the other side of the door startles me and I jump. “Yes?”
“I’m leaving something by the door.”
“Okay. I’ll be right out.” Undressing as quickly as possible, I slide into the costume. Surprisingly it fits quiet well. Smells a bit musty. I giggle at myself when I swiftly braid my hair to match the part and when I open the door, my breath catches. The ruby red slippers. I bend down and slip them on my feet. A little snug but nothing that I won’t endure for a short time.
I find Luca sitting in front of Dorothy’s house, a Wizard of Oz blanket from the gift shop now on the floor, Dorothy’s picnic basket next to him, along with Chandler and a half torn up stuffed Toto. Hopefully they have more of those in the gift shop.
“Wow,” he starts and pats the open spot next to him.
“I know. Silly, right?” I say, taking my seat.
“Not at all. You actually look just like her.” My smile widens from ear to ear. Every girl dreamed of being Dorothy, wearing the ruby red slippers, skipping down the yellow brick road, and making a billion little munchkin friends. I’m no different.
“Thank you.” I blush, smoothing out my dress. Taking in the basket, I say, “I’m not sure Chandler will travel well in the basket. As you can see, he doesn’t care for Toto too much.” Chandler rips off Toto’s nose.
“Going to change up the storyline a bit.” He opens the picnic basket and pulls out sandwiches, chips, and some cookies from the convenience store. Not realizing how hungry I truly am, I accept the food and start chowing down.
“Tell me about your childhood.”
“’Scuse me?” Luca says, taking a hefty bite of his own sandwich.
“Where did you grow up? Did you have any pets? Were you happy?” I want to know everything about him. His favorite color, food, game growing up.
“My childhood was shit. Lindsay and I had a shit mother who was nasty in her words and liked to hit. Chose booze over her children. I had to step up and raise Lindsay when Mom would forget to buy groceries and shit, so I started taking odd and end jobs. We couldn’t afford pets. Lindsay did win a fish once at a state fair. Never seen anyone so ecstatic to win a stupid goldfish. Had the damn thing not two days, though, before our mother did what she always did and ruined it for her. Barfed in the fucking bowl.”
“How awful!” I couldn’t even imagine having a mother who was unloving and cruel. Momma made sure not a single moment went by that I didn’t feel special and important.
“Mom OD’d on heroin not two days later,” he says with a tired sigh. “My sister was fifteen and because I didn’t want the state to take her, I grabbed Lindsay and got the fuck out of there. Learned to survive on our own.”
What a sad story.
“Is that when you became a con?” I regret asking. It makes him sound like a criminal. He is, silly. He’s a nice, handsome one at least.
“It was probably the day of the fair.”
“What do you mean?”
“The goldfish. Lindsay had blown all the tickets I hijacked off some kid, not even close to getting the ping-pong ball into the little bowl. So, when the attendee turned to grab a fish, I threw her ball into the bowl. Won the fish, stole the food. I’ve been conning my way through life ever since.” He waggles his eyebrows, his deviant smile causing me to blush. “Enough about me. Tell me something about you.”
I don’t know where to start with that question. It feels wrong to talk about my perfect childhood when his was so horrible.
“Tell me one of your best childhood memories,” he urges.
I try and pinpoint one, because I had so many with Momma. “Momma used to always take us to the farmers’ market. Large orders would come through the antique shop and we’d have extra money to get these blueberry muffins. They’d still be warm, and Momma always bought three. One for me, one for herself, and always one for Daddy. She said it was his favorite. It was our time we spent remembering him. Even though she spent most of her days with her thoughts on Daddy.”
Luca’s hand brushes up my thigh. “What happened to him?”
“He died when I was a baby. Momma never really told me how. I tried to ask, but she’d always get so upset. Before she died, she said one day there would come a time when I would be hurt by someone, and when that time comes, I need to forgive in order to move on and find peace. I think she had a hard time forgiving him for dying. But when she made her way into heaven, I believe her heart felt solace knowing she was going to be with him again.”
His other hand reaches up and wipes away a tear. “And they both left you here in this scary world, alone, having to fend off scary bad guys and handsome con artists?”
Crimson paints my cheeks. “Oh boy, you heard that?”
“Not to mention the intriguing information your angry friend gave me. While also threatening me.”
Oh my Lord, what did she tell him?
He leans in and to my surprise, places his lips to mine. He presses ever so gently, not making a move to take it any further before he pulls away. “Lots of very revealing things…”
Oh, someone just put me down. Now, why in Sam hell would she embarrass me like that? I mean, he technically already knows about my level of inexperience because of our drinking game, but it still stinks for him to have it confirmed by my dumb best friends.
“Hey, little squirrel. Don’t worry. I promised her I’d take good care of you.” He kisses me quick. “Be a gentleman.” Another kiss. “Treat you the way you deserved to be treated.” Another kiss. “And to make sure it was extra special if you allowed me to unlock your chastity belt of virginity.” His lips curl into a smile as he takes mine and kisses me hard, refusing me the opportunity to get up and run into oncoming traffic.
“Old people. They’re all senile,” I say with a huff. “Must be off her meds again.”
His laughter against my lips feels glorious. He kisses me senseless until I’m on the verge of passing out if I don’t take a time-out for air. I totally get it now, in the romance books how kissing can steal your breath. He pulls away, his eyes finding mine.
“Some other woman got on the phone and made me promise to take you on a proper date before deflowering you too.”
Those two women are dead to me.
“Hey, look at me. You know I’d never do anything you didn’t want as well, right?”
I nod, scared to admit what I truly do want.
“I can’t deny there’s something starting to happen between us. Fucked up, I know. Because you shouldn’t like me, you should hate me. But I can’t help but want more than just your first kiss, your first touch. I can’t offer you a future, because hell, I have no idea where my own lies. For the time spent together, I sure as fuck want to offer you the world.”
My hand is up and wrapping around his neck, pressing our lips together in the “best speech” kiss of a lifetime. He doesn’t hold back, his arms scooping me up and placing me into his lap. His hands roam freely up my dress, his thumb teasing at the lining of my panties.
“For what it’s worth, this is the best date ever,” I mumble between our kiss.
“Agreed,” he says, taking my lower lip between his teeth.
A thought has me pulling away. “But what about you? What about your adventure? This shouldn’t just only be about me. It’s important you cross some things off your bucket list too.”
His smile. Ferocious. “I am. Always had a thing for Dorothy. But in mine, she’s wearing nothing but those ruby red slippers.” Then, he captures my mouth just as he officially does my heart.
Luca
There’s No Place Like Home
I want to tear her Dorothy costume from her body with my teeth. And
I’m seconds from doing it when we get a text from Death.
Mr. Death: Call me now.
Frannie’s eyes widen. “We still have a couple of hours, though. Why does he want us to call him now?”
My heart gallops in my chest. If anything happened to Lindsay or Cala, I don’t know what I’ll do. I notice a slight tremble in my hand as I dial him. Frannie gives my thigh a comforting squeeze.
“Let me speak to her,” he practically growls.
“Are the girls okay?”
“You’ll know the second I speak to Francis.” His tone is icy and furious.
I flip it to speaker phone. “She’s here.”
“Hi,” she squeaks out, terror shining in her eyes.
He lets out a relieved sigh. Relieved? Why the hell does he want Francis?
“Has he hurt you?” Mr. Death asks. As if he fucking cares.
“No,” she snips. “Have you hurt them?”
I clutch her hand over my thigh, silently thanking her.
“The girls are fine,” he assures her.
“I want to speak to them.”
“Cala just went down for a nap.”
“Why do you want me?” Frannie’s voice cracks. “Why me?”
He’s silent for a moment. “We can talk later.”
“I want to talk now,” Frannie says bravely. “Please.”
“You’re important,” he says with a sigh.
“To whom?”
Rather than answering, I hear him say something to someone. Then, Lindsay mutters, “Luca.”
“Lindsay,” I rush out. “Fuck, are you okay? I’m coming for you.”
“I’m fine,” she says, fire in her words. “Perfectly fine. Just…just get here in one piece, will you? Don’t let Rossi’s men get to you.”
“He told you about that?”
“That they’re trying to kill you at every turn? Yes,” she seethes. “I’m pissed about it too.”
“That’s enough,” Mr. Death tells her.
“No,” she barks out. “You’re going to let me talk to my brother.”
I wait for him to fight her on it, but he doesn’t. Who is this fucker?
“Listen to me,” Lindsay says. “Focus on you. Cala and I are okay. If anything, we could use the vacation.” Her voice is tight, but I hear the truth in her words. Anything—even being Mr. Death’s captive—is better than taking her clothes off every night for dirty, handsy bastards.
“When I get you back, I swear to God you won’t have to work at that club any longer. We can take a family vacation. Go somewhere fun. Take Cala on a boat or some shit. It’ll be great, I promise.” My voice wobbles with emotion. “I’m going to take care of you, sis. I always have.”
“I’m a big girl,” Lindsay says. “You don’t have to always be there for me.”
I hate that we’re airing our laundry in front of Death and Frannie, but I don’t care in this moment. “I’ll always be there for the two of you. I got you away from that mean ass bitch who shit us out, I can get you away from the one who holds you hostage too.”
“I can handle Mr. Death,” Lindsay sneers. “Don’t worry about me.”
“You’re done here,” Mr. Death barks out, taking back the phone. “I want a call when you reach Denver. You have twenty-four hours to make that call.”
He hangs up and I stare at the phone.
“She’s a survivor like you,” Frannie says. “There was conviction in her words.”
I bring her hand to my lips and kiss it. “Lindsay always acts tough when she’s scared.”
“That’s it,” Frannie argues, “she didn’t seem scared. She sounded furious. Maybe she’ll take him out.”
Chandler yaps, wagging his tail.
“Maybe,” I offer, not at all believing her words. “Regardless, we’re going to get her away from him any way we can.”
Frannie smooths out a wrinkle on her dress and bites on her bottom lip. I’d love to suck that lip into my mouth, but she seems troubled.
“What?”
“I’ve just been thinking.”
“Yeah, squirrel girl, did it hurt?”
She snorts and swats at me. “I’m quite the thinker, I’ll have you know. Momma and I used to be Wheel watchers. You know what that is? Wheel of Fortune? I once submitted Momma’s name for an audition to be on the show. She’d been thrilled when we got the phone call…” She drifts off. Oddly enough, I think there’s a point to her random tangent this time, so I hold still. “When she found out it was in California, she made her serious, angry face and hung up.”
“Momma wasn’t a Cali girl?”
“She never let me out of Teterboro. Not the Big Apple, which was literally a hop, skip, and a jump away. Not Washington DC when I begged to go there for a school trip.” She sighs. “I was the only kid who didn’t get to go. And not even to Hershey, Pennsylvania, which was super close too. Momma was a huge chocolate lover, yet she still wouldn’t go.”
I give her an imploring look because she’s losing me.
“Each time, she’d say, ‘Sugar, you’re meant to stay right here with your momma where it’s safe.’” Her lips purse and she lifts both brows as though that’s the punchline of her joke or whatever the fuck this is.
“So your mom kept you in the bubble. Nice. You ready to find someplace to sleep for the night?”
Her brows furrow. “You’re not listening. With California, she was angry. Scared. Upset. The other times, she was sad. Whatever was out west, she didn’t want any part of. Wheel of Fortune was one of her favorite shows, but even the chance to be on it wasn’t enough to entice her out of Teterboro.”
“You think your momma was hiding from someone?”
She nods. “What if Mr. Death wanted to hurt her? What if she was hiding us from him all along and he somehow found out where we lived?”
“If Mr. Death is Vinnie like you think,” I say, “then that means he’s a mobster. According to Wikipedia. You’re saying your mom was running from the mob? Why?”
“Oh my God,” she says with a gasp. “Mr. Death killed Daddy.”
I gape at her. “Why do you think that?”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense. Daddy died when I was a baby, Momma has been on the run all these years, and now I’m being kidnapped—no offense—to be brought to Mr. Death. Why? Am I a consolation prize? Does he want to kill me too?”
Fat crocodile tears form in her pretty eyes and rage burns hot throughout me. The very thought of someone wanting to kill her makes me want to kill everyone to protect her.
“I won’t let him hurt one hair on your head.”
“Promise?”
“It’s a guarantee. Come on. Let’s find somewhere a little more comfortable so I can hold you,” I murmur, pulling her to me. I stand with her in my arms and walk through the small museum, looking for a place that will work. In the front lobby area is a sofa. I place her down and then admire her pretty face that’s stained with tears. Kneeling in front of her, I take both hands, kissing her inside wrist on each hand.
“I know you kidnapped me, Luca,” she murmurs, her tears drying, “but I have always felt safe with you. Momma would have called it a hunch. I just knew you weren’t going to hurt me.”
I wonder if her momma knew I was going to fall for her instead…
“I’ll never hurt you,” I vow. “The moment I walked into your living room—”
“Actually, you hacked your way in with an ax—”
“I knew you were special in your ’80s blue bathing suit—”
“It’s a leotard!”
Chandler yaps, joining us in the lobby.
“I knew you were something special—something that needed to be protected and looked after. I just didn’t know I would want to be that person.” I gently push her dress up her thighs. “And now I know it. I know I’ll be that person because you’ve gotten inside me, squirrel girl, like no one in my entire life ever has. It’s exhilarating and scary as fuck.”
“Why sc
ary?” she breathes, her eyes dilated as she watches me with parted lips.
I kiss her bare thigh. “Because I’m afraid that at any moment, I’ll blink and you’ll be a cruel dream. Something I could only look at but never have.” I run my tongue up her flesh, pushing her back against the cushions as I tease her near her panty line. “I’m looking at you, though, and you’re still here.”
“Still here,” she murmurs.
With my eyes on hers, I pull on her panties and drag them down her thighs. They have cherries on them and are cute as hell. If I had more time—one day we will—I’d love to spend all day marveling over something as simple as her sweet cherry panties that smell like her. Carefully, I tug them off her glittery red shoes and throw them aside.
“Now what?” she squeaks.
“You know what.”
And she does because her eyes flutter closed as she allows me to part her thighs. I waste no time and dive in to lick her. She tastes like hope and passion and mine. I devour every inch of her perfect pussy, loving the way she jolts each time I suck on her clit. She whines when I slide a finger inside her tight heat. Frannie is wet and primed, ready to take me. I’m not leaving this museum until I’ve made her officially mine. Curling my finger up, I seek out her G-spot as I tease circles around her clit. She whimpers and jolts, eagerly chasing her orgasm. I pleasure her right off the proverbial cliff and revel in the way she explodes.
“I need you, Luca, please,” she begs.
Her begging is my undoing. I’m a fucking teenager again as I rip off my shirt and jeans, eager to pounce on her. She manages to remove her dress and toss it away. Her bra is red like the cherry panties and my dick literally fucking jumps for joy because it’s sexy as hell.
“Take your bra off,” I order, “but leave the shoes on, Dorothy.”
She laughs and it’s adorable. “Are you the Tin Man?”
“I’m Iron Man.”
“Iron Man isn’t in the movie!”