Squeeze Play

by Pierce, Nicolette

  He chuckled and wrapped his arm around my shoulder.

  I wandered around the waiting area at the police station. Caleb was talking to a detective and I didn’t want to get in the way. Plus, my nerves were so frazzled I’d electrocute someone on contact. You’d think it was my money that was stolen the way I was pacing.

  I passed the “wanted” billboard for the twentieth time. Muffin’s wanted poster was still hanging there, making me wonder when her little piñata was going to make a break for it. I hope she follows him back to California. If not, I’ll have to come up with a plan to remove her. The reward looks mighty good right now, especially if Caleb needs a little to tide him over.

  “Trouble follows you,” a voice said. I turned to find a gypsy woman; the same gypsy woman who had told me I was going to get married that same day. She had the same intensity now as when she had made her past prediction. It was unnerving. However, her outfit was so outrageously colorful it made me relax. It had to be a costume. “I was hoping you would’ve shaken them by now,” she said, stepping closer.

  “Excuse me?” I asked, wondering if I’d heard her correctly. Why is she here again? Is she a stalker? Is she a fraud? I scanned her. She didn’t look like a stalker. Not that I know what a stalker looks like. Hard to say if she’s a fraud. Her colorful garment clashed with her pale, drawn face.

  “It’s not your fault, you know. It’s the spirits surrounding you.” She made a sweeping gesture to indicate they were, indeed, surrounding me. “They’re quite dark and mischievous.”

  “You told me I was going to get married.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry it didn’t last, but it’s for the best. The spirits aren’t quite done with you.”

  I truly don’t believe in spirits and fortune tellers, but I have to admit I’ve had a lot of bad juju lately. I glanced over at Caleb, wondering if I had spread my bad luck to him. Hopefully not. His cheery, carefree days would be over. I’d never want him to lose his infectious smile—although I wouldn’t have nearly as many women to compete against. Funny, I never felt in competition.

  The woman followed my gaze. “Don’t worry about him. He’s practically glowing with positive energy.”

  “Then why was his money stolen? That doesn’t seem positive.”

  An odd twinkle sparkled in her dull eyes. “Sometimes misfortune creates the best fortune. There is wisdom to gain from hardships. It creates openings for possibilities. The same goes for the other man you hold in your heart.”

  How did she know? Oh, she’s good. She must have read my body language.

  I couldn’t help but smile at her. She reminded me of a bright, jingling Yoda. Even if what she says is nonsense, it still made me feel better. I didn’t want to be the cause of anyone’s misfortune. I’ll accept whatever lie I’m fed. It’s easier that way.

  “Why are you here again?” I asked. “Do you have mischievous spirits too?”

  “I come in once a week and tell the officers things I see. They don’t take me too seriously, but they listen enough to stumble upon leads,” she explained with a knowing smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell them who you’re hiding.”

  “I’m not hiding her. She’s taken over. Wait . . .” I eyed her. “How did you know?”

  “It’s quite obvious,” she said with a wave as though tired of always having to explain. “I’d keep her around for a little while longer.”

  “I don’t want to. She’s such a nuisance,” I said. “Caleb could really use the reward money.”

  “He’ll be fine. And so will you . . . eventually. You’ll see.”

  Eventually? If eventually was tomorrow, I’d be thrilled. But the look in her eye told me I’d be six feet under if I held my breath for “eventually.”

  Chapter 5

  I treaded upstairs to my apartment, praying the two lovebirds were gone. But my dark, mischievous spirits were determined to thwart my every move.

  “We’re having chicken tonight!” Muffin growled.

  “We had chicken last night. I want ribs!” Piñata growled back.

  Dear Lord, they can’t even agree on dinner.

  I brought my hand up to knock on the door and stopped. Why should I knock? This is my apartment!

  Preparing myself for the worst, I opened the door.

  “What are you doing here?” Muffin asked, snatching a raw chicken from Piñata who was attempting to stuff it in the garbage.

  “I have to change for my date tonight,” I said.

  “Oh, I didn’t think you were coming back. I gave your clothes to the homeless man down the road.”

  My hands clenched in a tight, biting fist. I only had a few pieces of clothing at Sergio’s. Everything else was here. “You gave away my clothes? I just bought them after you destroyed my clothes the last time! And this is my apartment!”

  Piñata eyed me curiously. “Are you two related? She yells just like you.”

  “We’re not related!” we both barked.

  “You and your husband have to leave right now!” I bellowed. “I’m tired of you trashing my apartment and everything in it! Gus and I are homeless because of you. Get out!”

  “I’m making a chicken right now, so you’ll have to wait,” Muffin said, shrugging me off.

  “No. I want you out right now!”

  She plopped the chicken down on the counter. “Make me!”

  “Fine!” I stomped over, snatched the raw bird, and hurled it through the open window. A car alarm blared.

  “You tossed my chicken!” Muffin seethed.

  “Now you can make ribs,” Piñata said with a wide smile.

  I barreled past Muffin and hauled an armful of groceries from the fridge.

  “What are you doing?” she growled, closing in on me.

  I dodged her muscular arms, tossing the groceries out the window. “There! The homeless man can have your groceries too! And I’ll keep tossing until you leave!”

  “Then I’ll toss you!” Muffin launched at me, gaining ground before I even knew what happened.

  “Put me down!” I hollered, struggling in her iron grip.

  “Oh, I’ll put you down!” she snarled, nearing the window.

  Holy crap!

  “Who did it?” Frankie screeched as he stormed into the apartment. “Who dared to throw a chicken at my beloved Lucille!”

  “She did it!” Muffin yelled, tightening her grip. “She threw my tasty chicken out the window!”

  “You hurt my Lucille?” Frankie questioned me with murderous eyes.

  “If you don’t stop Muffin, I’ll be flung onto your precious Lucille!”

  “Not that you deserve my help for what you did to poor Lucille, but I couldn’t stand the sight of blood on her either.” Frankie huffed and crossed his arms. “Put Nadia down,” he ordered.

  “She threw out my groceries.”

  “And you took over her apartment.”

  “It’s not the same. We’re talking about a grade A fresh and juicy chicken. I have the bacon wrap ready!”

  “You were going to wrap it in bacon?” Piñata perked. “I would’ve agreed to that. Everything tastes better with bacon. But you should probably put her down before the cops are called. You’re being rather loud . . . not that you’re not normally loud.” He shrugged. “It’d be nice if women came with a volume control.”

  Muffin scowled as she dropped me. I fell with a thud onto the hardwood floor.

  “I still have the ribs,” Piñata held up the treasured meat. “Why don’t we wrap the ribs in bacon?”

  “I guess,” Muffin continued to scowl. “But I had my heart set on chicken.”

  “I’ll make it,” he offered. “You sit and relax in front of the TV. I’ll even give you a foot rub later.”

  Muffin’s mouth twitched up into a very toothy grin, and she plopped down on the couch.

  Piñata crouched down near me and whispered, “You better leave while you can. She’s quite volatile.”

  “This is my apartment,” I argued, wincing as
I hauled myself up from the floor.

  “I’ll do my best to get her out of here, but you’ll have to give me a few days.”

  I studied him. He was a small man, but he didn’t seem frightened by Muffin’s large stature or brutish ways. “Why haven’t you escaped?”

  He eyed Muffin with a dark brow. “I have my reasons. Just steer clear of this place for a few days. I promise I’ll get her out.”

  * * *

  “Thank you for helping,” I said as I watched Mya flutter around her bedroom-converted-into-a-closet.

  “I’m happy to help! We’ll have you ravishing in no time.”

  “I don’t need ravishing. Pretty would be nice, though.”

  “Tell me again how you’re going to date both Caleb and Greyson,” Mya said, rummaging through her accessories. “Won’t they get mad?”

  “They might if they find out. I’m hoping they won’t. I don’t want to hurt their feelings, but I really need time with both of them to put my own feelings in order. I told them I wanted to start at the beginning and just date. Nothing else. Maybe I should’ve told them the truth,” I said, second-guessing my judgment. “However, they’ve both been a little tense lately. With Greyson’s life change and Caleb’s stolen money, I’d rather not stir the pot.”

  “I understand. I guess if I was in your shoes, I’d do the same. I’m lucky to have found David. He can be trying at times, but I’d never give him up. I can’t believe Caleb’s money was stolen. Do you think it was Jessica?”

  “She’s the only one who disappeared after the money was stolen, and she had access to Caleb’s accounts. She’s definitely the thief.”

  “Poor Caleb. Now he has to start at the bottom at the low-stakes tables again.”

  If it was anyone else who’d said it, I’d consider it a jab since I’m still stuck at the low-stakes tables. Always stuck. But since it was Mya, I let it slide.

  “Who are you going out with tonight?” she asked.

  “Greyson tonight. Caleb tomorrow.”

  “So you need two outfits. What message are you trying to send?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “What message are you trying to send?” she repeated.

  “I’m not trying to send any message.”

  She shook her head with a tisk. “It’s a good thing you came over. You could have accidentally given off the wrong signal.”

  “Clothing is just for covering yourself. There are no messages.”

  She sucked in a shocked breath. “There are tons of messages in clothes!” She fluttered to the other side of the room where her extensive collection of dresses hung and pulled one out. “If I wore this on a date, what would you think?”

  “I’d say it’s rather revealing, and you might want to bring a scarf along in case you get cold.”

  “This dress tells my date that he’s getting lucky tonight.” She reached in for another dress. “What does this one say?”

  “That you’re heading to a PTA conference.”

  “And this one?”

  “I’d say you’re going to a funeral.”

  “See? The way you dress sends tons of messages.”

  “Okay, okay,” I agreed. “I understand. I guess I’m trying to say, ‘I want to look nice for you, but I’m not ready to take a tumble into bed . . . at least not tonight.’” At least my clothes could say that—even if my body argued with it.

  “I have the perfect dress!”

  * * *

  She tricked me!

  It was the only conclusion I could think of when I glanced in the mirror. The tight-fitting red dress had my girls pushed up to my neck. It was a get-lucky dress, but I didn’t have time to do anything about it.

  “How long does it take to toss on a scrap of cloth?” Frankie scolded from beyond the bathroom door. “Even I would’ve been ready by now.”

  “And that’s with taping and plucking,” Mark added.

  I sighed and opened the door. “I’ve been dressed for a while. I’m just working up courage.”

  “Look at that dress!” Mark gushed and turned to Frankie. “Do you remember that duet we used to sing? Could you imagine how much better we would’ve been wrapped in a dress like this?”

  “And if we added sequins to the hem,” Frankie added in thought as he circled.

  “Oh! And add some feathers to the neckline,” Mark said.

  “What neckline?” I asked, wondering if it could plunge any lower.

  “What I wouldn’t give to pull off such a daring neckline,” Mark gushed.

  I looked at him thoughtfully. “You’ve really shed the Prince Charming layer, haven’t you?”

  “Don’t remind me. I’ve happily forgotten him.”

  “Don’t you have to return to Fairytale Chapel after the two weeks of servitude?”

  He sulked. “I’m a little burnt out. I’ve been thinking of changing the theme, especially now that I’m one turret down.”

  “Do you have anything in mind?”

  “No, but I’ll figure something out. I really don’t want women fawning over me anymore. It’s so tedious,” he said with distaste.

  “He’s here!” Frankie called from the window. “He’s not wearing a suit. Why isn’t he wearing a suit?”

  “Oh! Am I too dressed up?” I panicked.

  Frankie flicked his eyes to the dress. “Maybe. But you can get away with it. Just drape on his arm. Hot men with a dressed up woman make heads turn. It won’t matter what he’s wearing.”

  “What’s he wearing?”

  “Jeans and a button-down dress shirt.”

  “What color is the shirt?” Mark asked.

  “Wine.”

  “Top button undone?” Mark asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Oversized?”

  “Tailored to perfection.”

  “Tucked or untucked?” Mark drilled.

  “Untucked. Even Greyson has enough sense not to tuck a shirt like that into jeans. Even though I know he’s wearing a sexy belt. I bet it’s black leather with a silver buckle.”

  “He sounds delicious!”

  A moment later Greyson knocked on Frankie’s door.

  “Quick! Flip your hair,” Mark demanded.

  Both Frankie and I flipped our hair.

  Mark hurried over to the door and swung it open, raking his eyes over Greyson. “Didn’t I tell you?” Mark hummed. “Delicious!”

  * * *

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to dress up. I didn’t think about my lack of wardrobe until I had to change. By then it was too late,” Greyson said as we were being seated in a fine-dining restaurant.

  Judging from the romantic lighting and white linens, I’m sure a side salad would cost at least twenty dollars here. I was happy I was dressed up at the very least.

  Before we were seated, I caught Greyson slipping the maitre d’ some cash. I realized why when we were lead to a tucked-away table in a corner with a few potted palms that deterred—but didn’t block—onlookers. It was a cozy nook with dimmed lights, candles, and polished silver.

  “It’s okay,” I said, wondering how it was too late to change into a suit. Although, he really didn’t need a suit. Greyson’s perfect no matter what he wears. He must have been out digging again. “I wasn’t really sure what to expect. Since Muffin gave away my clothes, I was forced to ask Mya for help. She picked out this dress.”

  “I’ll have to thank her later,” he said with a devilish smile that made me shiver. “She’s my favorite sister-in-law.”

  “She’s your only sister-in-law.”

  “Thank God. I nearly had you for a sister-in-law,” he said with a frown. “That would have been . . . uncomfortable.”

  It wasn’t something I wanted to relive. I’m just thankful Ian signed the papers and they’re filed.

  “You know I didn’t marry him on purpose, right?”

  He gave a nod. “I know. I blame him entirely.”

  “Entirely?”

  He smiled good-naturedly. “
Of course. He’s my brother and quite skilled at finding new ways to, for the lack of a better word, irritate me.”

  “He told me about the girlfriends he used to steal from you.”

  “It was a hobby of his. Unfortunately, it wasn’t hard for him to turn their heads. He’s always been a charmer and I’m not. They were starved for his attention.”

  “You’re charming too.”

  “Am I?” he asked with a twinkling grin.

  “When you want to be.”

  “I think it helps when I have a beautiful woman in front of me.”

  “They’re not hard to find when you’re around,” I said, glancing out at the dining room. “Do you see that woman in the green three tables away?”

  Greyson’s eyes traveled the room. “You mean the woman staring at me?”

  “Yes. She’s pretty and quite willing to be in front of you. She hasn’t taken her eyes off of you.”

  “Perhaps I should reword. It helps when I have you in front of me. Did I tell you how beautiful you are?”

  I hoped the dim lighting hid my blush. “Yes, you’ve mentioned it a couple of times.”

  “It’s the truth, and it has nothing to do with the amazing dress . . . even though I’m very fond of it too.”

  “Thank you. So, what did you do after I left this morning?” I asked, switching the subject. This morning seems like forever ago.

  He sheepishly said, “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

  “Please,” I scoffed. “Do you know who is living in my apartment? And have you met Frankie? I know crazy, and you’re not it.”

  He chuckled softly. The low timbre of his voice sent a wave of shivers through me. “I guess when I’m up against such tough competition I don’t look so crazy after all. But, if you must know, I was digging in the pond again.”

  “I take it back. You may be in the running,” I teased. “Why were you in the pond again?”

  “I have this problem with finishing something I start. Whether or not the pond is ridiculous, I have to finish it. I was thinking of hiring an excavator, but I’m enjoying the physical labor.”