A Date With Fate

by Tracy Ellen

  According to her, this is what went down. Kenna sheepishly admitted she’d noticed Candy was flirting quite a lot with Mike, but he didn’t seem interested so she didn’t think anything, it was just Candy being Candy. She observed Mike spent his days boating on the lake and his nights hanging with a group of boys.

  Everyone spent Saturday night drinking around a bonfire after a long day boating on the lake. After her second beer, Kenna started feeling really wasted and tired, probably from all the exercise and sunshine. She went to the tent she was sharing with Candy and passed out.

  When Kenna woke up early the next morning at dawn to go pee, she looked over and was shocked speechless to see a nude Candy atop an obviously naked Mike. They were going at it. She realized then it was his moaning and groaning that woke her up. She said it was like he was being tortured.

  Not knowing what to do, she’d crept out of the tent. She ended up in their car. She slept in the backseat until Candy found her a few hours later. Candy assured my sister on their drive home that Mike had come on strong after Kenna took off for bed. He had informed Candy he was planning on breaking up with me and had always wanted her.

  After my initial burst of enraged disbelief, I never asked a question during this recital. Once I knew Mike had fucked Candy, none of the story registered past my numb misery. Except maybe the bizarrely odd detail of Mike’s tortuous moaning and groaning. I never knew him to be a moaner but if I was a dude; I’d find it tortuous to screw her, too. They’d have to draw and quarter me first.

  My unpleasant jaunt down memory lane was cut short when a light tap sounded on the back door window of the car. It was Tre J’s signal to cover the dome light. Jazy slipped into the back seat.

  I couldn’t see her shadowed face in the darkness, but her voice said it all. “It’s not platonic. You want details?”

  “No.” I turned and faced the front. “Let’s go.”

  I sensed Tre J’s concerned glance, but she put the car in reverse without commenting.

  “Wait!” I whispered, fiercely. Tre took her foot off the gas immediately. I swung around to Jazy. “One detail.”

  Jazy didn’t hesitate. “She was sitting bare-assed on his lap with his face buried in her tits.”

  Tre J whispered in abhorrence, “I’m scarred for life.”

  I didn’t say anything, but sat forward again and made a curt motion for Tre J to drive.

  We were carefully, slowly bouncing back down the rutted lane. The headlights were still off. Tre J wasn’t using the brake so no indicators of our presence would be visible out in the open as we were. Keeping my mind a blank, I flipped back on the radio to fill the silence until we pulled into Reggie’s a few minutes later.

  There were several cars and big trucks in his lot. He has an outdoor light mounted high on a pole overlooking the parking area, so the side closest to the house was well-lit. Tre J parked near the porch and turned off the engine. None of us made any immediate moves to open our doors.

  From their expectant air, it must be customary to say something in closing to your classic move, triad partners. After all, they couldn’t help but notice you were still in the car due to your target having his face buried in your almost dead cousin’s balloon breasts.

  I felt cold with rage. Not a very pleasant emotion I particularly wanted to share with anyone. Luckily, I’m an old expert at hiding these types of feelings.

  Reflected in the yellow light shining down from outdoor light, I smiled at their serious expressions. “I don’t think classic moves are such a good idea for me; they are stressful.”

  While Jazy and Tre J were laughing in relief at my quip, I reached for my purse and opened the car door. “Come on, ladies. Don’t we have something like nine men with incredible biceps waiting for us a few feet away?”

  They climbed out on their side. Jaz called over the Honda’s roof, “Nine? Are you including our brother in the total? Gross!”

  “I’m gross? Au contraire, Miss Lucrezia. You are the one with the incestuous thoughts tonight. First it was Jack, and now Reg. Where does your sick mind dwell?”

  Tre hooted, slapping Jaz on the back and sending her forward a few steps. “Her mind’s in the gutter, like always.”

  “We can’t all be Vested Virgins like some woman I could name.” Jaz sniped back. “Tell me again, how is it fun holding back from the buffet of life?”

  Meeting them at the front of the car, I teased my word challenged sister. “Try Vestal Virgin, not vested. Unless you meant Tre’s a western-style, cowgirl virgin?”

  Tre shouted with laughter and Jazy grinned, taking my correction in stride after years of such abuse.

  I went on speaking to Jaz. “Do you really think Tre holds back at the buffet of life? I’m thinking she may not partake in a full plate of happiness, but she sure gobbles up the appetizers and desserts!”

  We hung on each other in our laughter as our guilty, blushing friend Tre demanded, “Stop! It’s no fair being Axelrod tag teamed!”

  Ignoring Tre’s cry for fairness, Jazy said to me, “I know, right? If I hadn’t known Tre J since we wore pull-ups, I’d believe she was one of those females that’s raised very strictly to be a virgin until they are safely pawned off and married. You know, the girls who pretend to be goodie two-shoes, but are actually rabid sluts? They perform every sex act known to man, except vag penetration.” Jazy posed angelically, her hands together in prayer. “Then they get married a shy, innocent virgin.”

  “What! You bitch!” Tre J shouted in outraged laughter.

  “Do you remember Lydia Lee in my class?” Jazy asked us. She was wiping her eyes and barely able to speak over her laughter.

  I nodded vigorously up and down. “Who could forget Lydia Chlamydia? Good god, she was having anal sex with any boy who had a car in our high school. Whew, that wild chick was something else.”

  “Ahhh, but was she still a shy, pure virgin, my sister?” Jazy asked archly.

  “How dare you girls talk about anal sex while on your brother’s property!” Reggie’s deep voice calling from his front porch interrupted our huddled laughter. “Now, who is this Lydia Lee and where can I reach her?”

  Tre J was groaning and shaking her head as she strode up the front steps. “Not another Axelrod to gang up on me. Besides, you probably ‘reached her’ back in middle school and have long forgotten, Reggie.”

  “Well, I know I’ve never reached you before, honey. When are you going to admit you want me bad?”

  I watched Reg get knocked off kilter a couple of steps by Tre’s playful punch. As we joined them on the porch, Jaz cheered her on to take our brother down.

  I was getting chilly without my jacket on. Under the laughing and joking front, I was feeling a heavy sense of miserable loss. Then I was livid with anger every time my mind touched on knowing Luke was across the road with my cousin.

  I tried to shake off the depression, reaching instead for the anger. At least that kept me stronger. I hated knowing I was wrong about my understanding of Luke’s character. I gave him credit for having more depth than the typical player using any woman that came his way.

  Upon first meeting him, I knew he was driven and highly-sexed; the testosterone came off him in waves. My mistake was underestimating his level of control of his appetites if he didn’t get what he wanted, when he wanted it. I gave him credit for a level of maturity and discrimination he didn’t possess. Even in my disgust, it wasn’t like I thought he wanted a “relationship” with Candy, unless it was with her humungous mammaries.

  ‘My God, this sucked!’ I shuddered at the thought of him being with me and then going to be with Candy a few hours later. I took solace in the thought that since this was the kind of man Luke was, better I had to face it now and move on. It justified my inner voices telling me to stick to my rules and walk away intact like always.

  Jazy squeezed my arm, and I glanced over to see her watching me. I smiled and said, “Let’s go raid Reggie’s kitchen.”

  Reggie s
tepped over and enveloped us in a group hug. “I thought you were scared little chickens after tonight? Instead, you three are out here laughing without a care in the world. Don’t I finally get to be the tough, protective brother?”

  Jazy snorted. “Did hell freeze over tonight when I wasn’t looking?”

  Tre J and Jaz were giggling at Reggie’s offended expression as they entered the house.

  “She’s so fresh. I try hard, but you can’t be nice to that girl.” Reggie sighed sadly, and then peered closely at me. “So, Shooter, how are you?”

  I made a face. “Please distract me and tell me how much money you’ve won with your cheating ways. Let’s do it in the house, though. I’m freezing my butt off out here.”

  “Cheating?” Reg scoffed. “You’re just bitter still I took your money last month. Come on Anabel, I want to hear what happened tonight. Hell, it’s not every Saturday night a dude nearly loses all his nemeses, I mean his sisters.” He grinned and opened the storm door for me. “It wasn’t like I paid the idiot to miss.”

  I smiled a little, and obligingly filled him in. Sticking to the bare facts, it took only a minute. The house was not overly warm, but definitely better than standing outside in a thin, flouncy shirt and no coat.

  Absently listening to Reg rant and rave on the ways he was going to specifically inflict damage on The Hammer’s person if he found him first, I gazed distractedly around my brother’s place. The entire first floor, except for the tiled bathroom, was now installed with gleaming, oak hardwood flooring. The living room was furnished with two leather sofas, a big recliner, and two end tables with lamps. He had a super-sized flat screen TV where, lo and behold, a cable sports channel was on with the volume turned low.

  Winding down, Reggie headed to the kitchen for a beer. I stood back in the shadows of the doorway between the living and dining rooms, unnoticed by the boisterous group in the next room. Leaning a shoulder against the wall, I smiled faintly at the scene I observed.

  A pedestal dining table and chairs had replaced the temporary card table and chairs. The table was extended open tonight to a large oval. I knew most of the men talking and laughing, as they sprawled comfortably in their chairs. Pleasantly fragrant cigar smoke curled lazily up through the air to be disbursed in the slowly rotating ceiling fan. Full ashtrays, beer bottles and fat, short glasses of hooch were scattered around the table. Bowls of chips and pretzels were at their elbows. Cards were laying face down in front of each man, and piles of chips in staggered heights and colors were stacked near their drinks.

  It was the quintessential setting of a group of men having a good time together with no fussy woman interference. The traditional male normalcy of it all made me glad I’d come over here after the last few hours of craziness. I wouldn’t dream of emptying their smelly ashtrays.

  I idly noticed the patio door was ajar to let in some fresh air, which accounted for the cool temperatures. Two chairs at the table were currently unoccupied. One had to be Reggie’s since it had the TV remote planted front and center, and the chair faced the living room. As I skimmed the room with a quick glance, I saw a few of the guys looking my way and I waved my hellos.

  Jazy and Tre J were in the thick of things in the dining room, entertaining the men with our Death Race 2012 adventure. From the looks on their faces, nobody seemed to mind the break in the poker action.

  Jazy seemed unusually animated. Her arms were gesturing in emphasis with her words. It reminded me of Stella a zillion years ago this morning talking to Eric George Jasnik in Bel’s. From my post of leaning against the doorway, I soon figured out the reason why she was so energized. Jaz was chatting primarily with a man I’d never seen before, a very attractive American Indian. The man wore his hair pulled back in a long, thick braid. On him, the braid did not seem one little bit feminine. Instead, it only emphasized his chiseled profile and high, broad cheekbones.

  Reggie came out from the kitchen carrying three bottles of beer, handing two off to the girls. He toggled the third in my direction, but I shook my head no. Beer’s not a favorite of mine. I motioned I’d get something in a minute.

  Reg slid into his chair. My eyes went to the empty chair where a larger pile of chips was stacked. I pantomimed a sad face at Reg, pointing out how he wasn’t in the lead. He rubbed his cheek with his middle finger in a brotherly gesture.

  It reminded me of the last time I had given him the finger that way, and I sighed in disgust with myself. I wasn’t doing such a bang-up job of coldly putting Luke out of my mind. The problem was life had been really fun these last couple of months. Luke gave brightness to my days that I hadn’t known I’d been missing for a long time. I felt depressed knowing Luke was an asshole and not going to be part of my inner circle. I was starting to get ticked again thinking about Luke turning out to be a dickhead.

  ‘What a jerkface, buttwad, tailchasing…’

  Sam Sheedy, a friend of Reg’s from school, stood to unfold a card chair from the pile leaning against the wall. Sam faltered when he got a glimpse of my dark scowl, but then he recovered.

  He spoke with bluff heartiness. “Why, it’s the beautiful Anabel. Don’t be shy and hide back there. Here, sit down next to me. Heard you girls got yourselves into a spot of trouble tonight?”

  His attitude set my teeth on edge. I always expected Sam to be wearing a bow tie and suspenders to match his projected air of pompous superiority. He was three years younger than me, but by his jocular tone you’d think he was my grandpa. He was the last asswipe I wanted to be around tonight.

  “Well, Sam Sheedy, we girls didn’t “get” ourselves into anything. If you’re referring to the attempt at vehicular homicide by a murdering serial rapist attacking us for insane reasons we may never understand, then the answer is yes—that did happen tonight.” I smiled grimly and politely excused myself. “I’m going to make something to drink in the kitchen.”

  I turned around and decided to go use the facilities first. My pony tail could probably use a redo, as well. I was back to fiercely calling Luke names. I timed them to my footsteps down the short hallway off the living room leading to the first floor bathroom.

  ‘Idiothole, assclown, bitchtard, fuckblossom…’

  The bathroom door abruptly swung inward at the same time I was knocking to see if it was occupied. I stumbled into the room and threw my hands out to keep from falling. They landed against a hard chest. I looked up. The apologetic smile died on my lips as I stared into amused, bottle green eyes.

  Chapter XV

  “Brighter Than the Sun” by Colbie Caillat

  Saturday, 11/17/12

  11:07 PM

  I know the least I can about quantum physics and theories, but even I can’t help knowing a body can’t be in two places at one time in the Northfield area. To be absolutely sure Luke could not accomplish this feat, I’d verify with Crookie tomorrow what the advances were in this field. In the meantime, my heart was singing and I was doing back flips down the hallway--in my head, of course.

  My life was again blazing in Technicolor brightness. I needed sunglasses to keep staring at Luke and not be blinded by my reflected exuberance he wasn’t The Betrayer 2.0.

  Luke had stepped back into the bathroom. He was leaning against the vanity with his arms crossed on his chest and his legs crossed at the ankles. He no longer looked tired or rumpled, or amused. He lounged back with a glint in his eye. He reminded me of a sleek panther ready to pounce, but in his own good time after he played with his prey. I could easily imagine his tail snapping lazily back and forth as he contemplated me. He had changed clothes from earlier today and was wearing a long-sleeved, black shirt and jeans. The T shirt was pushed up his forearms and fit close on his chest. With his arms and legs crossed over pulling his clothes taut, I was admiring his ripped body. Maybe he wouldn’t wait too long to attack.

  He was giving me the dark once-over I was becoming used to that signaled he was not happy with me. The one where his black eyebrows meet, and there is a crease in h
is forehead, and his eyes glitter, and his sensuous mouth gets that slightly cruel twist. The fingers on his right hand were drumming where they rested on his upper arm, a sure sign he was in think mode. I love it when he goes into think mode.

  In an idly musing tone, Luke spoke first. “I didn’t think it possible, but I do believe I’m even unhappier with you now then I was this afternoon.”

  His comment broke the spell of my lustful meanderings. I nodded in fervent agreement. “Ha! You’re telling me! Why, I positively hated you until one second ago, you disgusting son of a bitch. Now, come with me.”

  I took hold of Luke’s hand. I forcibly pulled him with me and ignored his startled, “What the hell?”

  I threw back my head in demented laughter at his frowning expression of confusion. He wasn’t done reaming me for not calling him about The Hammer. Well, he would just have to wait before he got to exact his pound of flesh, and I got the fun job of soothing his savage beast.

  “Quit bellyaching and come with me. There are a couple of people you absolutely have to meet.” I skipped down the hallway with him in tow, urging him to hurry.

  “Bellyaching?” Luke repeated ominously. He reluctantly followed after me while I pulled him along, but squeezed my hand in warning that I was pushing it.

  Squeezing his hand right back, I grinned at him over my shoulder. Then I couldn’t resist stopping and kissing his scowling mouth. Smiling happily, I stroked his lean, bearded cheek.

  “You, my big, pissed-off, black panther of a sweet little kitty cat are so unbelievably cute!”

  Taking advantage of Luke’s stunned silence as he processed my saccharine endearments; I peeked around the corner into the dining area.

  I called an urgent “come here” to Jaz and Tre J.