Talk Dirty To Me

by Ali Parker

  That was the saving grace in all this. Yes, I’d lost a shit ton of money at the distillery. And yes, I’d lost precious resources, time, and product. But it wasn’t going to slow me down. I was going to work it in my favor. Luckily, the hardest of the trials were behind me and I finally had some free time on my hands to spend with Vanny. Her reunion was just days away and neither of us felt prepared.

  “And this girl you’re crazy about? Are you seeing her tonight?”

  I glanced at the clock on the stove. “Yes. I’m picking her up in half an hour.”

  “And what are you two up to?”

  “I’m taking her out shopping.”

  Gigi pursed her lips thoughtfully. “Shopping? Whatever for?”

  “I’m taking her to her high-school reunion this weekend. She’s nervous, so I want her to pick out some clothes she feels great in. And we’ll grab something to eat after.”

  “How thoughtful.” Gigi sipped her tea. I could see right through her. Something else was on her mind.

  “Spit it out. What’s bugging you?”

  “Have you talked to Chris?” she asked.

  I shook my head. Chris hadn’t spoken a word to me since our argument at his and Vanny’s parents’ house. I’d called him close to a dozen times and had been sent straight to voicemail. “I took the hint. He doesn’t want to talk to me right now.”

  Gigi made an uneasy sound in the back of her throat. “Be careful, Rhys. Good friends like Chris are hard to come by. Especially with a reputation and bank account as big as yours. He’s one of the genuine ones who really cares about you.”

  “He’s being an ass.”

  “He’s scared for his sister.”

  “I’m not going to hurt her.”

  “He doesn’t know that.” Gigi shuffled over to the pantry in the hall. Her pink slippers whispered across the marble floors and I listened to her crack open a box of cookies in the walk-in pantry. When she returned, she had her favorite box of shortbread. She offered it to me but I shook my head. She took a bite and put the box down. “All Chris knows is your history with women. You know I love you more than anything else on this earth, Rhys, but you have a track record of being a little… what’s the right word?”

  “Chivalrous?”

  “No.”

  “Gentlemanly?”

  She smiled. “No. Restless.”

  “Restless?”

  “You get bored quickly. It’s a miracle Trish lasted as long as she did. The girl’s head was full of sawdust and all she had going for her was a killer pair of legs and nice breasts.”

  “Gigi,” I scolded.

  “It’s true. Don’t deny it. And now you’ve set your sights on your best friend’s little sister. It’s only natural for him to be wary. Not to mention concerned about how it might all end. Did it occur to you that he worries what might happen to your friendship if you date his sister? What if things end badly? What if he loses a friend over this?”

  I frowned. I hadn’t really thought it all through like that. Leave it to Gigi to point out all the markers I was blind to. I sighed and leaned on the counter. “You’re right. I’ll get through the reunion this weekend. Then I’ll sort things out with Chris.”

  “Good boy.”

  I draped an arm over her shoulders and pulled her into my side. “I’m grateful for you. You know that, right?”

  Gigi smiled up at me. She opened her mouth to speak, but just as the words started coming out, my mother wandered into the kitchen, wrapped up in a floral-patterned floor-length robe. Her hair was a wild untamed mess sticking out every which way and her eyes were puffy and swollen, as were her lips. She gave me and Gigi a tight-lipped smile that held no mirth before going to the fridge, tugging it open, and fetching herself a bottle of vodka from the door panel.

  I watched her leave without saying a word. Then I pushed away from Gigi to follow my mother and try to talk to her about her drinking.

  Gigi caught my hand. “Let her go, Rhys. The adults in this house are not your responsibility to take care of. You have a life of your own. And by the sounds of it, something good has just walked into it. Don’t misplace your energy. Your mother does not wish to be saved. And we both know your father is beyond saving.”

  “I hate seeing her spiral like this,” I said softly.

  “So do I. But I’d hate to see her bring you down with her. You have too much goodness in you to be soiled by this family. Too much grace. Now go see this girl of yours. Enjoy your evening. Don’t spare a second thought about these clowns pulling you down. They are not your burdens to bear.”

  I rapped my knuckles on the fitting-room door. “How’s it going in there?”

  Vanny muttered a string of profanities under her breath. “This dress is too complicated, Rhys. It has a hundred straps. Who needs that many fucking straps?”

  “Do you need help?”

  “No,” she said sharply.

  I paused and listened to her struggle. Unable to help myself, I chuckled. “Are you sure?”

  She wrenched the door open and stood in the fitting room with her fists on her hips and her cheeks rosy from the effort of trying to detangle the mess of straps dangling from the collar of her dress and over her shoulders.

  I covered my mouth and tried not to bust out laughing.

  “Nice, Rhys. Real nice. I didn’t realize your help came with laughing at my misfortune.”

  “What the hell did you do to this thing?”

  “I don’t know! Look at it. Who makes a dress this complicated? Just help me get it off. I don’t want to wear something like this to the reunion anyway. It’s too much.”

  Knowing this was a battle I wasn’t going to win, I stepped into the fitting room and began helping her detangle herself from all the crisscrossing straps. By the end of it, she was out of breath and flustered, and I thought she was going to put her normal clothes back on and give up altogether. But she did not. She put her hands in the middle of my back and pushed me out of the fitting room to try on the last dress.

  “I don’t think I need to get so dressed up, Rhys.”

  “Your reunion is at a hotel ballroom. Call me crazy, but I’m pretty sure people will show up in dresses and suits.”

  “It’s idiotic.”

  “It’s a chance for people to pretend they’re more successful than they are.”

  The door opened a crack and she peered out at me. “Is that what I’m doing? Pretending to be more successful than I am?”

  “I don’t know. Are you?”

  She stuck her tongue out at me and retreated back into the fitting room. She was only in there for another couple of minutes or so before she finally emerged in a dress. It was navy blue with a wide-open collar that showed off her collarbones and cleavage in a classy yet sexy way. It fit her tightly on top, showing off her shape, and then fell loosely to the floor. It was all elegance and grace and sophistication.

  “You look incredible,” I told her. And I meant it.

  “It’s not too much?”

  I put my hands on her hips and turned her to face the mirror on the back of the fitting-room door. “Look at yourself, Vanny. You’re beautiful. Classy. Sexy as hell. You’re not trying too hard. You’re just owning who you are.”

  She giggled. “Are you in the pep talk business now?”

  “I don’t know. Am I any good at it?”

  “Surprisingly not bad.”

  “Surprisingly?” I teased.

  She ran her hands over the fabric and stared at her own reflection. Her hair was down and loosely curled, and I pulled it off her back and neck and drew it to one side, where I gathered it messily behind her ear. “All that’s missing are some nice earrings.”

  Vanny smiled at herself. I’d never seen that look on her face. She looked at home with herself. And was it ever a refreshing thing to see.

  Then her gaze flicked down to her stomach. “I still think it shows too much.”

  I sighed heavily and let her hair tumble from my hand. �
�Come on, Vanny. Give it a rest. You’re way too hard on yourself. You look stunning.”

  She frowned at herself, clearly not believing me. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, I do. And I’m buying you this dress and you’re going to wear it on Saturday.”

  She turned to me with an arched eyebrow. “Oh? Is that how this is going to work now? You’re going to boss me around?”

  “When you’re being silly? Yes.”

  “I am not being—”

  “Rhys Daniels?”

  Vanny shut her mouth and peered around me. I turned too, and we found ourselves face to face with a big-haired blonde in a pair of sky-high white pumps, skin-tight blue jeans, and a white top that showed a good three or so inches of lean midriff.

  Sienna Birch AKA Stormy Birch. Her nickname had been derived from her unpredictable and stormy temperament back in high school. She marched forward, her heels clicking obnoxiously on the tile floors, and threw her arms around my shoulders for a hug.

  “I haven’t seen you in a hot minute, handsome.” She stood back and looked me up and down. “Damn. Look at you. Ten years have served you well.”

  “You too.” What else was there for me to say? Of course, ten years had served her well. She’d had at least four Botox treatments in the last six months and it showed. Her tits were fake and so was at least forty percent of the rest of her body, ass included.

  Stormy let out a soft giggle and ran her hand down the sleeve of my jacket. “You and I should really catch up for drinks sometime. When are you free?”

  “I’m not.”

  “Oh?” Stormy’s micro-bladed brows drew together as she frowned. “And why is that?”

  I stood aside, reached back, and caught hold of Vanny’s wrist before she slipped back into the safety of the fitting room. I drew her up beside me and grinned at Stormy. “Because I’m engaged.”

  Stormy’s eyes flicked to Vanny, who she looked over from the top of her head down to her toes. Then Stormy laughed. “Vanny Hampton?”

  Vanny tried to move behind me.

  Stormy slapped her thigh as she laughed. “Oh my goodness. Well, I certainly didn’t expect that. Look at you, Rhys. Never figured you for the type to fall for someone’s heart. I always thought you were a tits and ass kind of man. Call me if you get bored of the good girl charade, won’t you? I could show you a night you wouldn’t forget.”

  Vanny muttered behind my back so quietly, there was no way Stormy could hear her. “Because she’d give you an STD and you’d think of her every time it hurt to pee.”

  I snorted.

  Vanny giggled.

  Stormy did not. She glared at both of us before turning on her heel, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulder, and marching off.

  “That was mean,” Vanny said. “I kind of feel bad.”

  “Don’t. She was asking for it. Now get your ass back in that fitting room and take that dress off so I can buy it for you. I won’t hear another word about it.”

  Vanny tried to protest but I was past arguing. The dress was hers. It fit her like a glove, like it had been specifically created with all her glorious curves in mind. She passed it over the door to me and I brought it to the cashier, where I purchased it and a pair of sparkly teardrop earrings to match. Vanny met me near the front doors and we pushed out onto the street where my car was parked at the curb. We slid into the car and Vanny buckled up before I pulled out into traffic.

  Then her phone started ringing. She lifted it to her ear. “Hey, Kim. What’s up?”

  I couldn’t hear what was happening on the other end, but it sounded like Kim was making an SOS call.

  “I can’t right now, Kim. I’m with Rhys. No. No we’re not— Kim! We went shopping. That’s all.” Vanny hid her blushing cheeks from me and glared out the passenger window as Kim continued speaking. “Look. Maybe you should stop going on all these shitty dates Jackson keeps setting you up on. Each one is worse than the last. When will you learn?” Vanny listened. Kim got more heated on the other end. “He what? No. Stay where you are. We’ll be there in ten.”

  She hung up the phone. I glanced at her. “Everything okay?”

  “No. We need to make a pit stop. Kim is on a date with an asshole.”

  “What did he do?”

  “He got angry when she said she didn’t want to go to his place with him after dinner and made a scene in the restaurant. She’s embarrassed and waiting outside for a ride after he drove off.”

  “Where is she now?”

  Chapter 31

  Rhys

  Kim glared at me in the rearview mirror as she tried to get comfortable in the back seat. “You know,” she grumbled, “I always liked Porsches. But the back seat is absolute fucking garbage.”

  “I won’t argue with you there,” I said. “Sorry. I know it’s a tight fit.”

  She sighed. “It’s fine. And much better than being in a comfortable restaurant with a jackass who suggests you order the salad and stick to sparkling water to avoid the calories in alcohol.”

  Vanny gasped as she twisted around in her seatbelt. “He did not.”

  “Oh. He did. And lucky me, he was a personal trainer, so he spent the first half-hour telling me about all the places on my body I should focus my attention on to build muscle to get a better silhouette. Fucking Jackson. I swear. This time, I’m going to murder him.”

  “Jackson?” I asked.

  Vanny sighed. “Our old friend. He’s a matchmaker. And he has a pretty good track record except for when it comes to poor Kim. I’m starting to wonder if he’s sabotaging you.”

  Kim gazed out the window at the passing traffic lights. “I’ve been wondering the same thing.”

  “Is he into you?” I asked.

  Kim laughed and shook her head. “No. God no. He’s been in love with the same person for ages.”

  “And who might that be?” I asked.

  “Hailey,” both women said at once, like I was supposed to know who Hailey was. Vanny shifted in her seat. “You’ll meet them both at the reunion. They’re both in mine and Kim’s grad class. He’s loved her for as long as any of us can remember. I mean, it makes sense. She’s gorgeous and sweet and a little naive. She comes from a wealthy family and has a lot going for her.”

  I hadn’t even known Kim was coming to the reunion. So it looked like Vanny had friends to call her own after all. She wasn’t as alone as she seemed to think she was. Or as unlovable.

  “We were about to head out for sushi, Kim,” I said. “Would you like to join us?”

  Kim shook her head. “No. Thank you. I just want to go home, get out of this dress, have a bath, and read my damn book. At least Parker knows how to write a good man. I can fantasize about ending up with a fictional hunk until the cows come home.”

  The women proceeded to gush about Parker’s newest romance novel while I drove Kim home. They were still going on about it when I pulled up to her apartment building and killed the ignition. I sat quietly in the driver’s seat and let them bicker about which novel was the best and why. Then it circled back to the age-old debate: was Parker a man or a woman?

  “I stand by the fact that it’s a woman,” Kim said as I got out of the Porsche to pull my seat forward and let her out of the back. She came out like a spider, all long limbs and awkward angles. She straightened her dress once she was out. “No man could ever write romance like that.”

  “Why not?” Vanny challenged, leaning forward to peer out the driver’s side door, which was still open. “Men are just as capable of feeling the same love as women.”

  Kim shook her head and scoffed. “I’m sorry. But no man can write sex like that. You wait, Vanny. One day, we’ll know the truth. And I’ll be there to say I told you so.”

  Vanny rolled her eyes. “You’re welcome for the rescue.”

  Kim grinned and gave me a hug. “You guys are the best. I can take a hint. You go back to your date night. I’ll go wallow in the self-pity of how eternally single I am and compose the hate
mail I’m going to send Jackson every day until the day I die.” She gave a sweet smile and waved when I got back in the car. “Bye bye now.”

  We waited to make sure Kim got into her building before I pulled away.

  “Sorry about her.” Vanny shook her head. “She can be a bit much.”

  “I like her.”

  Vanny smiled and made herself comfortable in her seat. “Where are we going now?”

  “Sushi. You do like sushi, right? Otherwise, this thing is over.”

  “This thing?” she asked coyly.

  “Yeah. You. Me. The sex. The dress shopping. The reunion. All of it. Done.”

  “Well, lucky for us, I do like sushi.”

  “Praise the Lord.”

  I took Vanny to my favorite sushi spot in Nashville, where she let me teach her how to use chopsticks. She was embarrassingly bad. But it was endearing. The way she giggled and rocked back in her seat every time she dropped a gyoza or a roll was a delight each and every time—and there were several times. She tried things she’d never tasted before and scrunched up her nose when she didn’t like something. She mistook the wasabi for guacamole and coughed and sputtered and guzzled water like she’d just run a marathon. By the time we were done, she joked that she needed to get better at trying more varieties of foods.

  That was something I could help her with if she’d let me.

  “I have something else for you,” I said as we walked back to the Porsche around nine o’clock in the evening.

  “Oh?”

  I opened the passenger door for her. She slid in and I walked around the hood to meet her in the car. Then I fished a little box from my jacket pocket and held it out to her. “We have to make this thing official. Like I said. You need a ring.” I popped the box open. Wedged between the folds of blue-velvet fabric was what appeared to be a very convincing, very large, very sparkly engagement ring.