His Sassy Wife

by Brogan Riley

  Maesen nudges my chest with her elbow and thrusts her chin out toward our men. “They’re doing great. We should sneak out and have some girly fun.” She lowers her voice to a whisper and winks at me.

  “I actually need a walk.”

  She covers my hand with hers. “Sure, the area is beautiful. I’ll show you around after the meal.”

  I nod and fill my plate with a decent portion of tomato salad.

  Noelle’s face flashes through my mind.

  I’m so happy I’m alive.

  I’m so lucky to have my kids and Tyce.

  I’m going to be brave and curious. I’m going to live my life out the best I can. I’ll fucking smash anyone who dares thinking of taking Bryah from me. Tyce must know my thought because he nods at me.

  When I’m finished, Maesen takes me out for a walk. We exit the house and saunter along a path, the humid mystery of the woods surrounding us. I inhale the smell of resins and moss and absorb the peace exuded by this pristine land.

  “Are you nervous about that tour?” I ask to break the silence between us.

  “No.”

  “There’ll be groupies and other women around them.”

  “Their make-up artist is a married gay. The girl who takes care of their clothes is a married lesbian. The boys have learned to do a lot of stuff by themselves.” She loops her arm through mine. “And most of all your man loves you like mad.”

  A veil of warmth wraps around my heart. “Thanks, sweetie. You’re very nice.”

  She is.

  It feels like we’ve been best friends since forever.

  “You should visit me more often, Rhue.”

  “I will, I promise.” I take a deep breath as tears prick my eyes. “Noelle…” my voice breaks.

  “So unfair.”

  “Bryah…”

  “We’ll all love her like she’s our relative by blood. She’ll be happy you’ll see.” She picks up the pace, clinging to me. The path descends toward a gate fitted in a high stone wall. “Did Tyce tell you anything about Florence? I mean…” Her voice halts.

  “He doesn’t want to talk about her. She’s happy, that’s all I know.”

  Maesen freezes as her fingers dig into my arm, causing me pain. “She… she is alive?” Her face has a white coffee tinge as her lower lip trembles.

  My breath stops in my throat. “Oh fuck.”

  Chapter 14

  Tyce

  Her grey eyes fill with a bright storm as two creases appear above her nose. “Don’t lie to me.”

  “I won’t, Mae. I’m just not going to tell you anything.”

  “Well, you don’t have to. I already know everything I wanted to know.” She rests her hand on her pregnant belly. “I understand why she did that.” She takes a deep breath. “And I don’t.”

  “Just live your life and let her live hers.”

  Mae nods. “She needs time. That’s okay. Can you just tell her that I love her?”

  “I will, I promise.”

  A sacred silence layers the kitchen. She moves toward the window and looks out. I lean against the cupboard and wait until the sound of her deep breathing wafts through the air and her eyes lock onto mine. A warm smile plays on her lips.

  “She’s your soul mate,” Mae says as joy fills her gaze. “She’s been yours from the beginning of time. I’m so happy for you both.”

  That’s how she is, a good person, a good friend.

  We don’t talk about our past together, because it was just an instant.

  We put it into the deepest chasms of our hearts, so our crush can turn into something different. In fact, it did a while ago. That thing between us is strong. It doesn’t see gender. It will last.

  It’s something similar to my friendship with Cole.

  “Thank you for saying that, Mae.”

  She shrugs. “I sometimes think I’m an oracle.” She rolls her eyes for fun.

  I erupt into laughter as the sound of female footsteps diverts my attention. Rhue walks into the kitchen and Cole follows her. He wraps his arms around Mae from behind and hides her in his embrace.

  “You okay, princess?” Cole asks as concern fills his glance. His voice has s softness that I’ve never heard before.

  Yep, the dick has turned into a gentle bear.

  “Well,” Mae says. “Our family seems to be famous for miraculous resurrections.”

  “I’m sure Florence is fine where she is, so don’t think about it, princess,” Cole says.

  The dick is scared that his ex bitch could come and mess with his marriage, but I know Florence would never do this. She cares for Mae in her own unique way.

  Rhue chuckles. Her hand searches for mine and we walk out into the garden.

  “Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t know she didn’t know. We just talked and I somehow spilled the beans.”

  I tuck a lavender tendril of hair behind her ear. “I’ll have to punish that talkative mouth of yours.”

  I love that sultry gasp of hers. It leaves her mouth each time I talk dirty to her. I love that reddish brown tinge of her cheeks in such moments.

  I lean toward my woman with the intention of crushing her lips with mine but someone’s arms yank me backward. It’s Hunter. He clings to me like a pussy, growling and at the same time weeping into my ear.

  “So happy, kid,” Hunter rumbles.

  I shake him off. “Fucking hell, I’m not ten years old anymore.”

  Hunter nods at Rhue. “I raised him.”

  Rhue’s eyes twinkle. “That’s why he’s so well-behaved.” A pinch of sarcasm sprinkles her voice.

  “I taught him about being a man,” Hunter continues.

  Rhue raises one of her eyebrows. “Practically or theoretically?”

  Hunter sweeps his hair down his back, a wide grin crossing his face. “Mouthy. I like her.” He pats my shoulder. “You’re gonna stay for longer, right Tyce?”

  Rhue

  I check his bag once again. “There’re seven t-shirts in this bag and four more in the other one.” I zip it up and put it on top of the other one.

  Tyce grips my arm and pulls me to him. “It’ll only be three weeks.”

  My hands shake. We’ve never been apart for so long. “It’s not a long time, I guess.”

  “I’ll call you every evening.”

  I nod, flashing him a warm smile.

  I know he needs to be part of the band. I didn’t realize it until I saw him with Cole and Hunter. It’s just that everything is so hard when the whole world think you’re dead and in fact, you aren’t.

  My eyes roam over the state-of-the-art bus that will take the band to the airport. We’re standing in the chilly middle of nowhere, a hill covered with the density of tree crowns rising like a majestic wall behind the parking lot. The sky is grey and a few salmon hues stretch on the horizon. It’s 5:15 am.

  Cole has chosen this location to avoid fans and paparazzi. Yeah, I feel like we’re on the run. Goosebumps pop up all over my skin and my teeth chatter together.

  My eyes flick over Cole. He grins at me. What a beast.

  The beast is very feral but as gentle as a sheep when he’s around his wife and kids. He missed Tyce as hell and that makes me think about the future of my family.

  The bus driver lights up a cigarette and two men start throwing the band’s bags into the bus. Tyce grabs my hand and drags me behind the building that once was a small café but now is a sad memory of it with a crumbling façade and red-bricked walls instead of the windows.

  “Tyce,” I gasp as he slams me on the wall. “What are you doing?”

  His mouth latches onto mine as he lifts my thigh up and wraps it around his waist. The lower edge of my jean skirt digs into my ass.

  Tyce pulls my panties aside. I gasp as he exposes his hard cock and drives it into my pussy, balls deep. My body arches at the arousing intrusion as my channel struggles to accommodate his size.

  “Mine,” Tyce rasps into my mouth.

  His hand slides under
my top and his fingers search for my nipple. He twists it, giving me a sting of pain. I mewl into his mouth.

  “Mine,” he says in a gravelly voice.

  He keeps reminding me about who I belong to every night. He keeps reminding me so hard I can barely walk.

  No man will even look at a tired mom as me, but Tyce makes me feel like I’m the most beautiful woman on the face of the earth.

  His body moves against mine as his cock goes deeper. Oh so deep. I feel impaled. My breath halts. My nerve endings are on fire.

  He thrusts into me fast and hard, my arms wrapping around his neck. I bury my face into his neck.

  “Yours,” I moan as my pussy spasms around his cock.

  He comes with a growl and pulls out. We correct our clothes, kissing like teens. I ignore the fact that his come is trickling down my inner thigh. We walk over to the bus, holding hands. Something flashes to my left like a snap of lightning. I look over my shoulder, but I can see only a wall of bushes.

  Tyce slaps my ass, steals another kiss, and steps into the bus.

  Tyce

  I settle myself into a seat and adrenaline fills my veins. It mingles with excitement. I fucking missed it—the bus, the boys, the feverish anticipation.

  Cole sits down beside me.

  “There’re twenty other seats,” I bark.

  He pats my shoulder, saying nothing, as Hunter settles himself into the seat across the aisle.

  “Are you gonna guard me like two dogs?” I growl.

  Hunter nods as one corner of his unshaven mouth quirks up.

  I wave my hand at Rhue and the bus pulls forward with a loud purr. We’ll pick up our make-up artist, wardrobe supervisor, and one of the backup singers on our way to the airport. A very small team this time and that’s all because of me.

  I grab my head in both my hands. “I’m not going to die again.”

  “It’s better to be vigilant,” Hunter says. “You’ve always had interesting ideas.”

  “Like what?” I tear my bandana off my head.

  “Like eating the sand from your sandpit,” Hunter says with mortal seriousness.

  Cole chuckles. “He loved to write his poems on the walls in his bedroom.”

  “And loved to steal my cigarettes,” Hunter adds. He laughs quietly. “And my condoms.”

  “Fuck off, you two.” I look out the window.

  A thought wafts through my head. There’s no booze, no weed, no pussy. I still remember the drunken Hunter fucking two women in the back of the bus. I still remember Cole under the tangle of naked female bodies and the fumes of weed billowing out around him. It’s gone now. We’re like three monks and I fucking love it.

  Cole sinks deeper into his seat, his ankles crossed, as Hunter calls Lena. Fuck me. We’re devoted old men.

  Four hours later, we step into a plane that will take us to Germany.

  We spend the night in a small hotel and get up as the day is about to dawn. Another bus takes us to our destination.

  I love the atmosphere during our concerts—small venues, small audiences, a good sleep after the job is done. I’m only Ethan, a replacement for the famous Lena. I’m performing with my bandana and sunglasses on.

  The boys and I talk a lot. About life. About kids. About our women.

  We talk like old family men.

  ***

  The concert ended half an hour ago but the audience chants ‘one more song’. I huff out as sweat trickles down my temples. My shirt is so drenched it clings to my chest like a piece of foil.

  Cole nods at Hunter and Hunter nods at me. Our backup singer erupts into laughter. Her name is Monique if I remember correctly. She’s good but not as good as Florence was.

  Florence was a born star, but she never wanted to try to be one.

  My fingers touch the strings and I’m in a trance. The audience sings with us.

  It’s an atmospheric ballad.

  I still wonder who writes those ballads for us. She calls herself Poppy. Nobody has ever seen her—she takes the orders online. The song lyrics come from Malaysia, but Cole and I think it’s a fake location. The woman, or the man, is a genius and is quite expensive but well worth the money.

  Her or his words have the power to take one to another universe.

  Now, we’re in a park, autumnal leaves all around us, a gust of harsh wind smacking us. I almost feel the female character’s broken heart and the audience definitely feels her sadness.

  We finish the song, wave our hands at the audience, and I walk off the stage. I remove my shirt and put it under my arm. My eyes dart over to the table with bottles of spring water. I walk over to it and grab one. My sunglasses fall off and clink against the floor.

  Somebody stands behind me and lowers to pick up my sunglasses. The smell of perfume and light sweat circles me. A tall, soft form clings to my back as a female hand holds my sunglasses in front of my eyes.

  “You’re welcome,” Monique whispers into my ear.

  She sinks her fingers into my hair and then runs her hand up and down my spine. I grab the sunglasses and turn around. My abrupt movement causes a startled sigh to leave her mouth. My eyes flick over her face. She looks my age and is really pretty—big blue eyes and blonde curls.

  “I’m poor as a church mouse,” I say.

  Because that’s what it’s all about, right? Cole and Hunter are mean to her so I’m her last hope.

  “I’m earning enough,” she says.

  “You fancy married men?”

  I’m sure as fuck she’s noticed the silver chain with my wedding ring around my neck.

  “I thought you might fancy something tighter than your wife,” she says.

  She pisses me off.

  No, she makes an outraged troll out of me.

  “I fancy clean stuff in life. I’m not a fan of STIs.”

  Yep, it’s awkward enough. She blinks a few times and grabs a bottle of water.

  “Get lost, Monique,” Cole rumbles behind us. “I’m fucking warning you for the last time.”

  Right. He’s mean on behalf of me, him, and Hunter. And he’s very effective. Monique purses her lips and storms off.

  “Thanks, brother, but I can deal with them,” I say.

  “I just wanted to be an older brother.”

  “You don’t want to move in with me?”

  “You could move in with me, you and your whole family.”

  I grunt. “No way in hell.”

  “Think about it, Tyce, okay? It would be crazy but funny.”

  “No.”

  “So visit me regularly at least.”

  “I will, I promise.”

  He squeezes my shoulder and Hunter joins us. He throws his arms over our backs and we stand like three pussies.

  A week later, I step out of the plane. I buy a bottle of perfume for Rhue and a bag of sweets for my kids. I walk out of the shop and two men approach me. They’re wearing suits and white shirts but there’s something rough about their appearance.

  “Put your hands behind your head,” one of them says as the other one shows me his badge.

  Oh fuck.

  Chapter 15

  Tyce

  Six hours later.

  I sit down in the chair and put my elbows onto the desk. The detective’s face doesn’t betray any emotions.

  “Your full name?” he asks.

  Three of his colleagues have asked me the same question a number of times even though everyone in this police station knows who I am. A smart paparazzo took a shot of me when I was getting on the bus taking me on the tour. He was smart enough to investigate the owner of the face on his photo and then delivered it to the police. Or that’s what the cops say.

  “Tyce Holmwood.”

  He nods and writes it down. “So you’re not dead?”

  “No. I’m quite alive as you can see.” There’s no point in lying. I’m fucked. Nothing and nobody can change that.

  His grey eyes radiate mortal coldness. “Did you, by any chance, pay two hundred tho
usand into Detective Grace Dracenna’s bank account?”

  The dick knows I did. I paid in four hundred thousand though.

  Adrenaline rushes through my veins, bringing sharpness to my mind. I take a deep breath. He suspects I did, that’s all. My bank account in Switzerland was closed down as soon as the transfer was done. The bank society would never disclose the clients’ details, that’s why I had that account. In case shit happened.

  I shake my head. “Nope. Never heard of Detective Dracenna.”

  “She helped you fake your death.”

  “Really? I was in a coma for while, you know. I had amnesia, anxiety, and a mental breakdown.”

  “So you deny faking your own death?”

  “I deny it.”

  “Do you know Natroya Jacobs?”

  “Who the fuck is Natroya Jacobs?”

  The detective’s eyes flicker with amusement at my genuine surprise.

  He nods. “Can you write down your statement and deliver it no later than Friday morning?”

  A thought hits me hard. I’m not cuffed. I’m not sitting in an interrogation room. They have nothing. They want something from me, but that isn’t about Dracenna or about the explosion.

  The detective opens a folder and slaps a photo on the desk. I look down. It’s a shot of a man’s face.

  My heart starts hammering. I know him. He’s Florence’s husband.

  “Kieran Lannon,” the detective says. “Do you know him?”

  “Who is he?”

  “A killer. He’s responsible for the death of thirteen people.”

  I feel like I’m speeding down. There’s a cold bottomless chasm all around me.

  I’ve drunk whiskey with the guy twice. He’s cooked dinner for me three times. Florence loves him.

  “Do you know that man?” the detective repeats.

  My heart thumps in my ears, but my world slows down. My mind is blank for a split second until it fills with clarity. “No, I don’t.”

  “If your amnesia improves, please come back to look at this photo again.”

  “Sure.”