Lunchtime Chronicles: Sweet Georgia Peach

by POSEY PARKS

  Deacon turned to Oak. “Stop staring at my sister, bro.”

  Oak ignored him.

  “It’s rude to stare, Oak,” I dragged his nickname across my tongue. I’d pay for that later.

  He chuckled, leaned his head back and closed his eyes.

  I felt my brother’s heated gaze. Instead of looking up, I returned my attention to the biochemistry notes on my iPad.

  A light tap on the wooden door drew me back to reality.

  “Yes?”

  “Lakelyn, it’s me?”

  I exhaled.

  Poking my head out the door, I flashed a fake grin. “Sylvie, what’s up?”

  Her smile withered, and I followed her line of sight.

  Wyatt sat on the bed, knee bouncing.

  Shit, he’s pissed.

  “Oak wants to talk to you. I’ll be on the phone with Tyler if you need me.”

  She was covering for me. Like she and Rayne had done so many times in the past.

  I nodded.

  Wyatt jumped off the bed and stalked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. His heated, gray-eyed gaze tore through me.

  “What the fuck was that today?” He towered over my small frame.

  I didn’t cower. Standing on my tippy toes, I shoved my finger into his chest. “You were with two women last night. Deacon rambled on about how much fun you two had over the last two months,” I scowled.

  “They were groupies. I didn’t leave with them. Instead of going home.” His fingers slid through his hair. “I drove to your place and fell asleep in the parking lot.”

  My hand landed on his massive chest as our eyes locked. I didn’t know what to believe anymore. Chest heaving, Wyatt ripped the towel off of me like a seething wildebeest. Wyatt grabbed my neck and his lips smashed mine. He pulled back long enough to shed his clothes.

  “At dinner tonight, I’m telling your brother about us, regardless if you’re with me or not.”

  Not saying a word, I jumped up into his big strong arms. He walked us into the shower and pressed my back against the cold gray slate tile walls that matched his eyes.

  Wyatt slid his cock deep inside me.

  “Shit, I missed you,” I moaned.

  The water pelted our bodies as he fucked me senseless.

  Wyatt tugged my perfect black ponytail and his teeth gripped my earlobe. “Don’t ever fucking taunt me like that again. I swear, you gave me a case of blue balls today.”

  My laughter echoed around us. “I do what I want, Mr. Oakley.”

  “If you meet this-this guy friend while we’re here, I’ll break his fucking arms and legs,” Wyatt growled through gritted teeth.

  Angry sex was so good. Gripping his neck, I gave into the pleasure that filled my core.

  “Fuck me harder, Wyatt.”

  His ass moved at lightning speed as he plowed into me.

  My eyes rolled into the back of my head as electric waves shot through my body. God, this man made my fucking toes curl.

  “Shit, Lakelyn,” he groaned, as he came after me.

  Chests heaving, we stood there not ready to break apart.

  “I’m with you. Tell him tonight at the public dinner.”

  Maybe there wouldn’t be a brawl at the Hollywood award dinner.

  **P**

  It felt good hanging with Rayne and Sylvie. I peeked around the table at Maxon, Wyatt, and my brother. We were all together again. It was like old times until it wasn’t. Rayne was obsessing over the Messy Mandy gossip blog again. Her bulging eyes shot over to Oak.

  He immediately read the post. His shocked gaze met mine.

  “No one’s having my baby.”

  Wyatt’s words broke my heart into a million tiny pieces.

  I glanced at Sylvie’s phone. Four baby mamas. What the hell?

  My friends whisked me away from the table. They knew I’d jump across it and choke the shit out of him.

  Twirling on the floor, holding a bottle of champagne above my head, I danced and sang along with Miranda Lambert to It All Comes Out in The Wash.

  My situation went from glitter to shit in a day.

  I lied to my friends. I told them I was headed to the bathroom. Making a pit stop at the table, I grabbed my purse. Oak wasn’t there. Didn’t matter if he left. I needed fresh air. Marching toward a set of gold doors in the theater's atrium, I halted.

  Wyatt held his phone to his ear. He was deep in a conversation with someone. Wyatt gripped his hair, pacing.

  Doubling back, I darted out the side door and hopped into my Uber. The time had come to make a trip to the pharmacy and buy a pregnancy test.

  Thirty minutes later, I strolled through the doors of an upscale restaurant. I disappeared into a stall and peed on the stick. My phone vibrated nonstop while I awaited the test results. I knew it was Rayne and Sylvie.

  Eyes wide, I stared at the positive pregnancy test.

  My entire body shook uncontrollably. I just became Oak’s fifth baby mama. I didn’t know who Oak was anymore.

  If my brother disowned me fine, I couldn’t see him turning his back on his niece or nephew.

  Not sure when I’d tell Wyatt I was pregnant. Now wasn’t the time. I wanted to get as far away from him as possible.

  How could I tell my friends I was also pregnant with Oak’s baby? Right now, I couldn’t bring myself to share the secret with anyone.

  The day of Rayne’s birthday party, I awoke at noon.

  Sylvie sat at my side, foaming at the mouth. I eased up against the headboard. “What’s wrong?”

  “Lakelyn, are you serious?”

  “You disappeared last night.”

  Clutching my wild hair, I shoved my face between my knees. “I know. I’m sorry. You have to understand. I couldn’t be around him last night.”

  She rubbed my back. “I get it. You still scared the shit out of us,” she exhaled. Her thick, southern accent shined through.

  “Today, you’re stuck with me. If Oak tries to get close, I’ll give him a piece of my mind.”

  I wrapped my arms around her neck. “Thank you.”

  “Oh, and no drinking till tonight. I heard you puking your guts out early this morning.”

  Pulling back, I tugged at my oversized white T-shirt before I hopped out of bed. “Yeah, that’s what happens when you drink an entire bottle of champagne,” I lied.

  Later that night, I put myself in charge of ordering drinks at Rayne’s birthday party. Sylvie thought I drank vodka and sprite. Nope, club soda was my drink of choice. I gave the bartender a nice tip to keep them coming. Any time Deacon and Wyatt walked in our direction, I disappeared.

  Wyatt didn’t fly back to Atlanta with Deacon and me Sunday morning. Thank goodness. If he had, I would’ve slept in the bedroom.

  My brother insisted on sitting next to me. Deacon rambled on about Wyatt’s baby mama drama.

  “Can’t believe my best friend fucked those chicks without protection. Next, Messy Mandy will report he has a new type of sexually transmitted disease,” he chuckled.

  My stomach churned.

  He found amusement in his best friend’s problems.

  Deacon’s diarrhea of the mouth only stopped, because I pretended to be asleep.

  Curling into myself, I closed my eyes. Early this morning, I scheduled an emergency appointment to see an OBGYN in a few days. I’d have the doctor test me for STDs. Like I said, my life was a real shit show right now.

  CHAPTER SIX

  WYATT

  Messy Mandy turned my life upside down with one post. I lost everything that mattered to me in a few seconds.

  Deacon’s angry scowl told me he suspected I was crushing on his sister—hard.

  Maxon played the mediator.

  “Hey, we’re here to have a good time for Rayne,” he warned.

  Maxon wouldn’t let anyone fuck over her birthday.

  Which meant, I had to wait to talk to Deacon once we returned home.

  Standing near the front entrance of the fancy ci
nema hall, I dialed my publicist.

  “Hello, Nancy─”

  “Wyatt, what the hell happened? Messy Mandy’s reported that you’ve impregnated four women.”

  I combed my fingers through my perfectly styled hair.

  “Yes─”

  The woman wouldn’t let me get a word in edgewise.

  “During an orgy.”

  “Nancy, don’t interrupt me again, please.”

  I paced the red carpet along a wall. My gaze led to my best friend’s face plastered on an action movie poster.

  “One of my friends and I were at the party, it then turned into an orgy. I didn’t have sex with the women. But...”

  My eyes widened, and I gruffly rubbed my chin.

  “But what, Wyatt?”

  “I had a conversation with the San Francisco Forty-Niners general manager.” The more I thought about it, he’d popped up at several of my sets recently.

  I remembered that night vividly.

  Deacon leaned back and rested his foot on the wall, nursing a foreign beer. Lakelyn and Rayne said Deacon reminded them of the character, Ralph Angel, from Queen Sugar. I agreed. He waved at a chick walking by. This was the perfect atmosphere for my best friend. Women flocked to him like he was their favorite candy. The scene was almost the same as all the other parties. The DJ stood behind a booth across the room. His back-drop floor to ceiling windows and an Olympic pool. A guy cannonballed into the blue water, splashing ladies, while another guy received a blow job pool side. Her friend laid on the lounger beside her and waved one of my teammates over. She flashed a shiny green foiled condom package in his view. In the blink of an eye, he was balls deep in the chick’s pussy.

  I slapped Deacon’s chest. “Dude, is this shit really happening?”

  “Oak, you said this was a chill party. Not an orgy.”

  “Deac, I know. That’s what I was told.”

  The boisterous music vibrated the mansion cream wall against my back. Half-naked women pranced around the room, inviting players into the large room to the left.

  I didn’t attend the parties for myself anymore.

  I did it to keep my best friend off my trail. Shit, I didn’t bargain for an orgy.

  “That scene is all you, Deacon.”

  He shook his head. “Not tonight, bro. Think I’ll chill right here.”

  “I’m good, too.”

  Deacon loved having an abundance of women at his disposal. Not tonight, though. He appeared preoccupied. He peeked at his phone and chuckled.

  “Who’s that?”

  I glanced over his shoulder. Deacon shoved his phone back into his pocket. “A chick I’ve kicked it with for months.”

  “Only dating one chick?”

  His face scrounged up. “Not really. I don’t know,” he sighed. “Listen, she has my attention.”

  I chugged my beer. “She’s got you by the balls. Noted.”

  “Never that, man.”

  My gaze fell over the living room again. My friends and I grew up rich, so exclusive parties weren’t anything new to us. The only difference was Wyatt Oakley, Atlanta Falcons wide receiver. And my other best friend was Maxon Russell, a Hollywood movie star. Those two things had women whispering shit like, you can stick it in any hole you want. I learned how to keep the women at a distance. I’d say hi and throw my hand up, offering a wave. That meant, keep walking.

  My phone vibrated against my leg.

  Snatching the phone from my jeans pocket, I peeked at the screen.

  Addicted to: What’s up?

  Me: At a party. I’m coming over.

  Deacon leaned over my shoulder. “That’s the right name for that chick because you talk to her all the time. Now she has you by the balls.”

  I laughed.

  “Are you settling down?”

  The truth fell from my lips. “I hope so.”

  He ignored my statement.

  “What’s with the pink monster pic? Lakelyn uses those ugly avatars on her phone.”

  My heart slammed against my ribcage. Shit, please don’t let this dude put two and two together.

  “Last time I was over to her place, her phone lit up on the coffee table. Get this.” The back of his hand hit my chest with a thud. “She named this guy ‘The Monster.’”

  He burst into laughter. “The avatar is a purple ghoulish looking thing.” He shook his head.

  A couple of years ago, I convinced Lakelyn to spend the night. Her naked body draped across mine in my king-sized bed as she created those monster avatars. I changed her name in my phone to ‘Addicted To’ and she typed ‘The Monster’ in her phone contact info. We placed our phones side by side. It read Addicted to the Monster. Fucking perfect. I was addicted to her, and she was addicted to the monster. Me.

  It was our own quirky little...us.

  Addicted to: I don’t know about that.

  Me: I’ll see you soon.

  I stuffed my phone back in my pocket.

  The chance that I’d tell Lakelyn about how Deacon had a feeling we were seeing each other was zero.

  Gulping my beer, I glanced to the right. Four model type women hung off Johnny Farland as he approached.

  Fuck me. You can’t escape him this time.

  “Wyatt, how are you doing, buddy?” Johnny shouted over the music. He stretched his hand out toward me. We stood about the same height.

  My eyes often gravitated to his thinning blond hair in the front of his head. First thing I noticed when I met him at one of my high school games.

  He was a great wide receiver back in the day. A few of my college football team mates said they felt he was desperate to bring the Forty-Niners the next great player. He’d found a few, but they weren’t enough to make a massive impact. They needed a championship.

  “I’m well.” I shook his hand. “You remember my best friend Deacon?”

  He smiled. “I do. You’re the guy who chose to run your family’s law firm rather than go pro.”

  Deacon winked. “That’s me. I left the game to my buddy Oak.” His heavy hand landed on my shoulder.

  “Johnny, it doesn’t matter how much money you offer Oak. He won’t leave Atlanta. His father retired from the Falcons. But you know this.”

  A devilish grin crossed Johnny’s lips. “What are they paying you over there? Something like one hundred and fifty million.”

  “Yup.” I dug my hands deeper in my pockets, wishing I had a toothpick right about now. It helped calm me when I was nervous, pissed, or agitated. Strangling this guy who wouldn’t take the hint after all these years fueled my rage.

  “How does two hundred and twenty million sound?” Johnny rubbed his hairless jaw. He reminded me of a sleazy car salesman.

  Deacon burst into laughter against the mouth of his beer. “You don’t get it.”

  “It’s not about the money, Johnny.”

  He released the women. They gathered around me, snapping selfies. I didn’t think shit of it. Women loved taking pictures with me.

  “That’s enough of the photos.” I sat the empty beer bottle on the table beside me and stepped forward.

  “Johnny, I wouldn’t ever play for the Forty-Niners. Not even if my career fell apart,” I growled, shouldering past him.

  He stumbled. “You high and mighty piece of shit,” Johnny spewed at my back.

  Stopping in my tracks, I balled my fists. Chest heaving, I spun and yanked him off the ground by the front of his pink shirt. His green eyes bulged as he gripped my big arms.

  “Don’t ever approach me again. If you do─”

  Deacon gripped my shoulder. “As your attorney, I advise against finishing that statement.”

  I scanned the shocked faces in the room. Everyone held their phones up, snapping pics. I placed Johnny back on his feet. “Don’t contact me again. Pretend we don’t know each other.”

  I popped back from the memory. “Johnny tried to persuade me to sign with the Forty-Niners for years.”

  After reading Messy Mandy’s wor
ds on her Facebook page, I didn’t bother looking at the photos. The number four stuck out in my mind.

  “Were their pictures of the women?”

  “Yes, I’ll send them over.”

  My phone vibrated. I stared at the various pictures of the women. Their names were Amy, Shannon, Tori, and Elizabeth. All tall, blue eyed, blonde with porcelain skin. I’d make it a point to not ever say their names again. They deserved to remain nameless in my mind. The last picture was the one they snapped, crowding around me.

  He wanted to watch my career implode.

  Fucking bastard. How long did Johnny plan to watch me suffer?

  “Nancy, I’ll contact my attorneys in the morning.”

  “That’s fine, Wyatt, but you need to get out in front of this now. Is there anyone who can vouch for your whereabouts?”

  I palmed my head. “Yes, and no. My best friend and I were together, then I planned to go somewhere else, but after the excessive drinking I went home.”

  “You’re sure you never slept with them?”

  I sighed. “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Ok. I’ll draw up the statements and send them over so you can give the go ahead. We’ll get a handle on the situation, Wyatt.”

  “Thanks, Nancy.”

  **P**

  Monday afternoon, I unbuttoned my heather gray blazer and sat in the plush, green satin chair at a long table along the back wall. Silence surrounded me at the Aria.

  My eyes were glued to my phone. Messy Mandy’s recent post had over five hundred comments.

  Fuck.

  I felt like I was standing in the middle of a typhoon.

  “Nephew, you look good. All things considering.”

  I stood, embracing uncle Bo under a large oval decorative light fixture hanging overhead.

  “Thanks for opening the restaurant for me.”

  He stepped back. “If it were anyone else, they’d have to wait until dinner.”

  He wore a pair of dark slacks and a green button-down dress shirt rolled up below his elbows.

  “How could I say no to my nephew? The greatest wide receiver to ever play the game of football.”