Fancy placed a finger on her chin, considering Jess’s proposition. “I have an early meeting with my editor, but I suppose one drink wouldn’t hurt.”
Simone blotted her lips together and nodded. “Of course! We’ll have you home before the witching hour.” Her arm circled Fancy’s waist. “Right, Darren?”
“Of course. We’ll take the car.”
Fancy checked her shoes. After a moment of deliberation, she decided she couldn’t walk the distance to the garage comfortably. “Mind if we wait here?”
“Not at all. You ladies decide on Hard Water or Hi Dive for drinks.” He lifted Fancy’s chin with his finger and gazed into her eyes. “Be right back.”
Jess glanced back once and headed for the garage. Part of him wanted to keep walking. Leave Simone to do her thing, but the other part of him hoped killing Fancy would relieve his anxiety.
By the time he pulled the car in front of the theater, Fancy looked fatigued. She stifled a yawn and blinked back sleep.
“Are we keeping you out too late, Ms. Pickett?” Jess’s tone was playful. He flirted with his eyes.
“Not at all,” she said. A nightcap will be the perfect ending to a perfect evening. I vote for Hard Water. I heard their new whiskey bar is to die for.”
Jess and Simone exchanged glances. The ladies slipped into the back seat. Jess drove. Within minutes, the trio pulled onto a side street near Pier 3.
“Parking here will save time. Valet stops at 10 p.m., and the chance of finding a parking space is nil.”
“Is it safe?” Fancy looked around. The area was dark, ominous. Rolling fog danced along the street, allowing them mere glimpses of the waterfront. A short distance away, opalescent orbs glowed in the mist. Jess couldn’t have asked for a better scenario to commit a crime.
“Don’t worry. Darren knows karate.” Simone reached inside the car and offered her hand to Fancy. “C’mon. A little walk will make the whiskey taste all the better. “
“You must be chilled.” Jess put his arm around Fancy’s shoulders and drew her toward the sidewalk. A brick building decorated with sprawling graffiti separated them from their destination. Broken windows spoke of abandonment, most likely due to the economic crush many businesses incurred over the last few years. “For Lease” signs hung on empty buildings everywhere.
A stray cat appeared from the shadows, startling Fancy. She clung to Jess in fear. Simone savored the moment.
“Hang on. My shoe.” Simone leaned forward, holding onto Fancy for support. When she rose, the sharp blade she held in her hand penetrated Fancy’s gut. Jess placed his hand over Fancy’s mouth to silence her scream. Simone moved closer to inspect the life draining from Fancy’s face. When her eyes rolled to the back of her head, Simone began barking orders.
“Are the bags in the trunk?” Simone dug in Jess’s pocket for the car keys.
The dead weight of Fancy’s body pushed the words from Jess’s lips. “Yeah, hurry up. This bitch is heavy, and she’s bleeding on my new shoes!”
Simone popped the trunk, extracted a super-sized Hefty bag from the box and unfolded it. She placed Fancy’s feet inside the bag and pulled upward. The woman fit nicely inside the six-foot length, with inches to spare at the top.
“Help me lift.” Jess took the top half of the bag while Simone picked up the bottom. They hoisted the bag into the trunk and slammed the lid shut. “How about that drink?” Jess checked his watch. “I lied about the valet. We have an hour.”
“You bastard!” said Simone. “How am I to trust you when you lie like that?”
“Keeps you on your toes, doesn’t it?”
“That goes both ways.”
“Noted.” Jess started the engine and drove down the street. In the time it took to kill Fancy Pickett, Jess and Simone were settled into a booth and served two whiskeys.
“Now what?” Jess held up his glass.
Simone clinked hers to his. “My friend has a boat. Everything has been arranged.”
* * *
Jess and Simone arrived at the harbor. “Pull to the end of the dock. We can carry her on board without being seen.”
Jess followed her orders. Once they had Fancy’s body on board, Simone went into the cabin to retrieve a roll of plastic Visqueen.
“Get the ropes.” Simone started the motor. Jess untied the ropes. She navigated the boat out of the slip. She crawled across the canal, careful not to create a wake. Once they reached open water, she opened up the throttle.
“Where are we going?”
“Fishing.”
“Let me guess. You brought bait.”
“You’re smarter than you look, Sheppard.”
“Ouch.”
“Please don’t tell me you have feelings.”
“Not a one.”
“Good. Be a love then and spread out the Visqueen. I want to have a little fun before we provide a fancy feast for our friends.”
Simone’s laugh was throaty and sexy. Jess wanted to feel the vibration of her vocal cords against his love shaft. He couldn’t wait to see what she had in mind for Fancy. Memories of his mother performing fellatio on one of her boyfriends while he stuffed the Thanksgiving turkey came to mind. The man fisted the cavity of the bird with one hand and her with the other. He remembered being seven years old, tied to a kitchen chair, and mesmerized.
Lost in his reverie, Jess hadn’t noticed the boat’s engine slowed to a rumble.
“Sheppard!” Jess’s head jerked up. He didn’t speak as he unrolled the plastic sheeting. When he finished, he rose and stood inches from her face. He smelled her excitement. Her breath said whiskey. Her perfume mingled with pheromones. Sex. He had begun to pick up on the musky scent Simone’s body emitted when she was aroused.
“Someone’s got sticky panties.” His lips lingered near hers without touching. “Help me tape down the ends or this plastic is going to be hazardous to a lot of poor fishies,” Jess said. “We want to be eco-friendly now, don’t we?”
Simone took a step back and obliged. Once they had the Visqueen secured, they placed Fancy’s body on top and sliced open the bag. Simone poured the blood that pooled in the bottom of the bag overboard. “Here fishy, fishy.”
The fog had thinned enough to see the inky mass below. A splash, then another. Nothing surfaced.
Despite the cold temperature, Simone stripped out of her clothes and then stripped Fancy Pickett out of hers. “Here, put these aside.” Jess did as he was told. His eyes remained glued to Simone.
Simone lay next to the corpse and began stroking Fancy’s breasts, buttocks, and sweet spot. Jess could hardly contain himself. He undid his pants and joined in the fun.
“Bite her.” Simone ordered. She sat back on her haunches to watch. Her nipples, knotted from the cold, thrust toward the heavens. She touched herself with Fancy’s stiff fingers.
Jess’s stomach began to pitch. He knew what came next. That thing. The tickle thing his mother’s boyfriend used to touch his privates—the thing that felt so good until it ruptured his insides, and he began to—
“Sheppard!”
Jess caught himself in the middle of a scream.
“You’re ruining this for me, Goddammit!”
Jess grabbed his pants and went below. He lay across the padded bench and closed his eyes. Images flooded his blindsight. Demons. They were coming back to haunt him. Why torture yourself? His past held no significance unless he allowed it to. He catapulted from the bench, storming to the deck. “Let’s feed her to the fucking fish and get out of here. I hate boats!”
* * *
Grace, Paul, Sal, John, Fran, and the kids piled into the limo. Paul lowered the window separating the group from their driver.
“Thomas, find a drive-through, please. We need hot chocolate to warm our bones.”
“Yes, sir,” Thomas agreed. He turned on his left blinker.
Colored lights became a blur once they hit the freeway. Within minutes, the stretch limo wound its way through the narrow path
leading to a speaker box. Paul heard the muffled squawk.
“May I take your order?”
In minutes, the party of eleven was sipping hot cocoa.
When they arrived back at the house, the kids were ready to call it a night. Sal promised John a walk on the beach before bed. Paul and Grace opted for a luxurious bubble bath.
* * *
“You’re spoiling me.” Grace ran her foot along Paul’s thigh, her lips forming a wicked grin.
“My pleasure.”
She closed her eyes and relaxed. He grabbed her foot and massaged her arch, working his way from her instep to her toes. His mouth surprised her—warm and gentle as he suckled each toe. His kisses, planted strategically along her arch gave her shivers. A moan escaped her lips. She opened her eyes, connecting with his, now burning with desire.
Clouds of bubbles floated to the edge of the tub as Grace repositioned her body on top of Paul’s. He gathered her into his arms. Her breasts pressed against his chest. She wanted to remain in his embrace forever. She felt safe, loved, a part of something bigger than both of them. Her lips found his for a tender kiss.
“I love you,” she said, emotion building in her throat.
“Not half as much as I love you.” His mouth reclaimed hers with urgency. Water sloshed over the edge of the tub as their bodies clung to one another, enjoying the dance of love.
* * *
“How are you feeling?” John clasped Sal’s hand as they shared the moonlight.
“I’m freezing,” she said, “but I don’t want this moment to end. What a perfect evening.”
“Can’t agree with you more.” He pulled her close, kissing her temple. “Please don’t ever leave me.”
“I can’t make that promise, John. You know that.”
“I’m sorry. That’s not fair, I know. I just—”
Sal cupped his face in her hands and pulled him towards her. Her eyes, flaming, spoke with conviction. “All I have are moments. I want every one of those moments to count for something. I will not make promises I can’t keep. I will not waste any of those moments lying to myself or anyone else. If God calls me home, I have to go. Remember this moment. Remember everything we’ve experienced together and be happy. I will…I will love you into eternity. If we’re lucky, we will get to relive these moments in another time and place.”
“Good, then you’ll forgive me for what I’m about to do.” John pulled her to the ground and kissed her with the same conviction. His hands worked to free them both from any clothing restrictions. As her hips rose to meet every thrust, waves crashed against the shore, drowning their cries of ecstasy.
* * *
Simone’s approach to deeper waters intrigued Jess. The woman possessed skills that rivaled his. He wondered where she acquired her expertise. It was unlike him to be aware of another, simply out of curiosity.
“Sheppard, do you think you could stop lollygagging and give me a hand?”
The wind kicked up a notch, plastering his clothing against his body. He wondered if the weather or the holiday gave them the privacy they needed to get the job done. “We could die out here, you know.”
“Quit being a twit and take the other end.” Simone grunted as she lifted Fancy’s body to the rail. Jess picked up the feet and rolled Fancy over the edge. The splash was minimal. The couple watched as her body began to sink, then jerk. First a nibble, then a bite, Fancy became a hearty meal for those below.
Simone watched with delight. “Merry Christmas, fishies!”
* * *
Sal shuffled into the kitchen for a cup of tea. Grace entered wearing a similar robe and fluffy slippers.
“I can’t get used to the cold.” Sal dipped a triangular bag into hot water. “Want a cup?”
“I can build a fire.” Grace opened the cupboard and removed a mug. Sal plunk a tea bag into the cup and poured hot water.
“No thanks, John’s waiting for me. He’s got enough fire to heat Alaska, if you know what I mean.” She winked.
“Looks like we’re both lucky in that respect.” Grace winked back. Both women glowed as they drank tea. When the clock chimed midnight, Grace raised her cup to Sal. “Merry Christmas, my friend.”
* * *
Simone donned a dark wig and Fancy’s coat. She called a cab from Fancy’s cell phone and tossed it into her purse for further use.
When she arrived at Fancy’s apartment, she began coughing when the doorman greeted her. The doorman wished her well and Merry Christmas. Simone waved back at him as she hurried to the elevator.
Inside Fancy’s apartment, Simone dialed several names from Fancy’s contact list. She let the phone ring. Then she either hung up or put the phone in her purse and walked around the apartment, coughing. One person finally gave up saying hello and hung up. After 3 a.m., she pulled her own phone from her purse and dialed Jess.
“Sheppard. Miss me? I’m inside Fancy’s apartment. You thought I was kinky? This woman sure loved her toys. See you in the morning.”
Simone dug a flask from her bag and took several swigs. She crawled into the bathtub and waited for Santa. One of us is sure to come.
* * *
Christmas morning the smell of bacon wafted through the house. Grace sang God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen as she flipped French toast on a griddle. Paul hummed along while breaking eggs into a large bowl.
The boys and the girlfriend sauntered into the kitchen one by one. Buns poured orange juice for everyone. The girlfriend pitched in, setting plates and napkins on the table. Sam followed with silverware. When the table was ready, Grace put Fran in charge of French toast and went to wake Sal and John.
She tapped on the door. “Sal, John? Breakfast.”
John poked his head out of the door. “Sal’s still sleeping. You go ahead.”
“Is everything all right?” Grace asked, noticing John’s face appeared ashen.
“She’s just tired; that’s all. Long day yesterday.”
“I understand.” Grace smiled reassuringly. She wanted to hug John. Tears teetering on the rims of his eyes broke her heart. “Can I bring you a cup of coffee?”
“No thanks, I’ll wait for my girl.”
“Okay. Let us know if you need anything.” John nodded and closed the door.
Grace felt a knot in her stomach. She worried for her friend. She worried for John, for herself. The kids.
* * *
Simone walked past the surveillance camera in the lobby of Fancy Pickett’s apartment building. She handed the doorman an envelope with a Christmas card forged with Fancy Pickett’s handwriting and a fifty-dollar bill. She expected the man would want to talk; instead he tipped his hat and thanked her. She pushed through the door and hailed a cab. The cab driver greeted the women dressed in Fancy Pickett’s clothes. The dark wig and glasses proved convincing, she thought. “Mark Hotel, please.”
When she arrived at the hotel, she paid the cabby and walked down the street to an alley near the corner. She took off Fancy’s coat, stuffed the wig and glasses inside the sleeve, and placed the coat in a dumpster. She smoothed her hair, pulled another pair of sunglasses from her purse and walked back to the hotel.
* * *
Grace put on her game face on in front of the boys. “Your mom and dad said to go ahead and eat. They’re pretending they’re on vacation and want to sleep in a bit longer.”
The boys’ grumbles were cut short when Fran placed the heaping pile of golden French toast before them. The girlfriend brought butter and hot syrup. Paul set the bacon and scrambled eggs in the middle of the table and ordered everyone to dig in.
“You’re amazing.” Grace nestled into Paul’s arms.
“And I hope you’re starving.” He kissed her cheek and patted her backside. “Let’s eat.”
Grace glanced down the hallway, hoping John and Sal would join them. Her wish came true half-way through breakfast.
“I smell coffee.” Sal’s sleepy eyes surveyed the kitchen and assessed the mess. “Looks like home.
”
“Last one at the table does dishes,” John announced. He encouraged Sal to sit down before fate turned her into a scullery maid on Christmas day.
Once breakfast was over, the majority gathered around the tree. The girlfriend stayed behind for clean-up with John and Paul.
“Leave the dishes,’ Paul said. We can load them later. It’s Christmas. Go.” He ushered John and Shannon out of the kitchen. He donned a Santa hat and joined them.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor between Buns and Grace, Paul was eager to pass out gifts. “Santa sure seems generous this year,” he said, handing the boys gifts from their parents. John and Sal waited for each boy’s reaction to their gift. Shannon snapped photos and took video. When it came time for her to open a gift, Bun’s took over.
“Oh, my God! An iPad? But I’m just Sam’s—”
“Nonsense!” Sal gave the girlfriend’s arm a little squeeze. “You peeled onions. You’re part of the family now.”
Sam moved closer to Shannon. “Just say thank you. They live for these moments.”
Shannon blushed. “I love it. Thank you.”
The sound of rustling paper and laughter filled the room. Grace hugged herself. She had never experienced a better Christmas.
Fran slipped a small gift into Grace’s hand. “From your father.”
Grace explored the face she thought she knew. Her mother barely acknowledged Christmas, let alone made it sentimental. She practiced being a practical woman, hardly a gift giver. But here she was, waiting with expectations for a favorable response. Grace studied the gift, wrapped to perfection from crisp, sharp corners to symmetrical bow.
“What is it?”
“Open it.”
The others in the room watched Grace slowly untie the bow. She couldn’t imagine the contents. She held the small box in her hand. It felt light. Something moved inside.
“Your father had it made before he got sick.”
The Black Dress Page 15