“Hope said that?” Frank put his chopsticks down.
“Hope’s consulting on the playgrounds?” Maryellen asked.
“Never hurts to have another set of eyes on the plans before they’re finalized.”
“But I thought she was against—?”
“She was.” Frank swirled the contents of his glass, and took a pull of chardonnay. “Until I gave her the opportunity to admire her own handiwork by looking out her front door.”
“Brilliant idea, by the way.” Laney clanked his glass with her own.
Why hadn’t Frank mentioned to her that Hope was consulting on the playground?
“Sounds like Pierce-Cohn doesn’t necessarily think so.” Frank could barely contain his self-satisfied smirk. “But her involvement’s already paid off. She moved a flower bed set too close to the basketball court and changed up some plantings that would have attracted bees.”
“She certainly seemed jazzed up about the project when she finally got to the party,” Laney said.
“Good to hear.” Frank made a show of constructing a Mu Shu with the rolling skills he learned as a teen working at Taco Bell. “When did you say your party was again?”
“Thursday morning,” Laney said.
He looked up. “And Hope said she’d just met with me?”
“Almost missed the whole shebang because of it,” Laney said.
“That’s odd,” he said.
“Why’s that?” Laney asked.
“We did have a meeting that day, but not until that afternoon.”
“That is odd.” Maryellen set down the teacup she was using to warm her hands. “Because I saw her pull out of the Trautmans’ driveway just before she showed up at Laney’s.”
“As in, Tim Trautman’s?”
“Exactly.” Maryellen allowed herself the briefest of smiles.
***
Holding the black satchel of offerings containing everything from an opal ring to an off-campus lunch pass to a chunk of Lauren’s hair, Eva turned to Tyler. “As bidden by the sacred Book of Coven, it is time for the Head Warlock to make his ritual sacrifice.”
Pretending not to notice the no worries glances the two of them exchanged, she handed Lauren a shift sign-up sheet for Memorial Weekend and grabbed Tyler by the wrist. “While we’re gone, tell Lauren when you can work the ribbon cutting and party and she’ll try to give you the times you want.”
Her father’s favorite cliché, keep your friends close and your enemies closer, had never felt so apropos as she led Tyler to the laundry room, slid open the pocket door, and sent him through. Before following him to the open area beside the washer and dryer, she turned back and slid the door closed behind them.
Almost.
It was all she could do not to check and see if Lauren was still fingering the thinned spot in her hair and trying not to look perturbed watching them disappear into the laundry room.
Tyler reached past her and slid the door closed.
She untied her cape and tossed it over the washing machine.
“I need to tell you something,” he said.
“What’s that?” She could feel him squirm.
“It’s about Lauren.”
“What about her?”
“And me.”
She kept her back to him, so her face wouldn’t betray the casual in her voice. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
“That’s why you cut so much of her hair?” he finally asked.
“You can hardly tell she’s missing any.”
“There’s a chunk gone by her left ear.”
“Lauren’s the most powerful Dedicant. Her sacrifice is almost as important as yours.” Eva turned and waved her scissors, which happened to be at about crotch level.
A look of panic crossed his face.
“Don’t flatter yourself.” She snipped off a lock by his left ear, and then did the same to herself, but from the underside of the back of her head. “It’s not like I care all that much.”
He ran his fingers along the side of his head. “So you’re cool about Lauren and me?”
She pulled out two empty Baggies from the satchel, put Tyler’s hair in one, hers in the other, and zipped them closed. “As long as you continue in your role as Head Warlock without getting distracted when your gf—she’s around.”
The most annoying look of relief crossed his face.
She dropped the Baggies into the satchel. “You also need to make your sacrifices tonight.”
“Thought I just did.”
She let the strap of her tank top slide down her left shoulder. “There’s one more.”
His eyes fell to the cup edge of her new Victoria’s Secret strapless bra, exactly as she expected. “I don’t think I should…”
She traced the outer rim of his ear with her tongue. “We have to praise the Goddess.”
“I know, but—“
“But what?”
He stared at the door. “Lauren.”
“You just got together with her.”
“I know, but—”
She began to tug at his shirt. “You’re not exclusive yet, right?”
“Not yet.”
“Then no worries.” She reached for the top button of his jeans and began to unbutton his fly. “It’s for the Goddess.”
He confirmed his agreement with a low moan.
***
Maryellen locked the bathroom door behind her, entered the stall, and took a deep breath. She wasn’t sure what was worse, keeping Laney off the subject of Mother’s Helpers while she flirted with Frank, smiling while the woman took over everything about Memorial Weekend, or listening to Frank obsess over Hope? Finding out he’d hired Hope as a playground consultant from Laney was bad enough, but to know poor Will Pierce-Cohn’s sweating, burping, dizziness, and rash might have been not only an allergic reaction, but his reaction to Hope’s involvement in the playground project, was practically unbearable.
What was Will going to do when the church land was finalized?
At least she didn’t have to worry about Frank asking anything more about the party now that the conversation had moved away from Will and onto a rundown on Tim Trautman, and what exactly Laney thought Hope was doing over at his house.
And why Laney thought Hope felt the need to lie.
Brassy, shameless Laney, who seemed to be able to say whatever she thought and do whatever she pleased.
Amazingly, her theories, at least where Hope was concerned, were logical—Hope was helping Tim plant flowers, but said she was with Frank so no one would overhear and give up the surprise. Laney knew the flowers were a surprise because she’d dropped off Theresa’s party goodies on Friday only to be treated to a tour of the blooms overfilling the beds that Tim, who knew nothing about flowers, had planted for her. Other than fulfilling Frank’s need to know everything about Will’s reaction, Tim Trautman in general, and Laney’s insatiable need to gossip, there really couldn’t be all that much more to the story.
Maryellen got up and started for the restroom while the two of them busily, and pointlessly, continued to conjecture as to whether Hope had seen Tim putting in flowers and, because of her love of gardening, had offered to help, or that given their common backyard fence, Tim couldn’t help but notice her gardening abilities.
And her.
Maryellen bowed her head, said a small forgiveness blessing for feeling angry and taking part in gossip, bent over, grasped her hair with her left hand, and, although she hated to have allowed herself to eat so much that she had to, stuck her right index finger down her throat.
With a quick flush, the Happy Family was reunited where they belonged.
After a thorough hand washing and a swish from her travel mouthwash, she reapplied her lipstick and ran a brush through her hair. Reaching for a paper towel, she twisted open the door, threw the paper in the wastebasket, and started back.
Frank, busy gesturing with his hands, didn’t notice her until she’d almost reached the table. He waved his
fortune cookie. “We were waiting on you, Maryellen.”
“Sorry,” she said, reaching her seat, where only her plate remained amid to-go boxes. “You two go ahead. I’ll save mine for later tonight.”
“No, Maryellen.” Frank picked up the remaining fortune cookie from the tray and tossed it to her. “We‘re going to do this together.”
At least she’d managed to avoid the prospect of green tea ice cream.
Setting aside her plate for the waiter to wrap for the next day’s lunch, Maryellen clutched her cookie. She wasn’t even hungry for something sweet.
Frank and Laney shattered theirs and grabbed their fortunes from the mess of shards and crumbs before stuffing them into their mouths.
She carefully separated hers into two even pieces.
“Mine says, a person’s character is his destiny,” Laney said.
“What you desire is always possible,” Frank read.
Maryellen pulled at the strip of paper hanging from one of her cookie pieces.
“Maryellen, what does your fortune say?”
She forced a smile. “You live a charmed life.”
***
Before her parents came home, Eva removed half the hair from Tyler’s Baggie and tied it together with her own using a pink ribbon.
She reread the directions for spell number two once more:
Take a lock of hair from your lover and tie a pink ribbon around it. Light three pink candles and then place the hair in a hollowed out apple along with a pinch of ground cinnamon, seven rose petals, and a lock of your own hair tied with a white ribbon. Pass the apple through the flame of each candle while visualizing yourself and your lover.
A little tongue in the ear and a reminder she wasn’t into a bf/gf thing anyway and Tyler was where she wanted him, totally into the spell to disrupt Benchmark Testing week. Not that the Tyler/Lauren thing would last much longer, anyway, but boyfriend or friend-with-benefits, she wasn’t about to let some innocent-acting freshman whisk Tyler from under her.
Or worse, shift the coven balance in some way.
She pulled a long curly hair from an envelope. Substituting black ribbon and candles instead of pink and white, she entwined Lauren’s hair instead of her own.
Following the remaining instructions exactly, she wrapped the apples in white cloth, walked downstairs, and headed out the back door. The pink ribbon apple was to be buried under the window where she slept.
She set aside a pile of pea gravel from the designated spot and searched for an appropriate site for the other apple.
With no burial instructions for the black-ribboned apple, she settled on an easy to dig spot in the center of the garden below her parents’ bedroom.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Melody Mountain Ranch Miscellaneous Use Restriction 7.8. Failure to Maintain: In the event that the owner fails to maintain his Lot in a manner consistent with the requirements of this declaration, the Association shall have the right, to repair, maintain, and restore said Lot.
When they were newlyweds, Will couldn’t wait to climb into their apartment-issue plastic stall shower to make love. So much so, that when the Henderson Homes interior accent associate offered the granite-tile, double-showerhead upgrade, he had to readjust himself beneath the table in anticipation of a lifetime of water-based sports.
Meg turned on the spigots.
Needles of water stabbed Will under the crosscurrent of water.
Could he even get it up?
Meg wrapped her arms around his waist.
Will reached for a sliver of Dial perched precariously on the edge of the built-in soap dish.
She rubbed her nipples across his chest. “Since when do you turn away shower sex?”
Maybe since Thursday’s humiliating transformation from devoted-to-the-kids-and-his-wife’s-exploding-career-stay-at-home-parent into the infamous househusband-who-collapsed-probably-from-a-reaction-to-arousal-cream at a sex toy party?
In front of Hope.
Traitorous Hope Jordan.
How could she have signed his petition and then turned around and agreed to do landscape consultation on the playground? Was it possible that, in his allergic stupor, he’d imagined, or somehow misinterpreted what she’d said? “It’s just been a long day and I haven’t felt myself and I have to get up early and…”
“And I have brunch with the president of the Colorado Animal Rights Association.” Meg’s tongue entered his left ear. “No time like the present.”
Meg might never paw him like this again if she intercepted one of the concern calls and someone filled her in on the details of his fainting spell. How could he ever show up at another party, much less a homeowner’s board meeting, and not relive the look of concealed laughter on the faces of the women huddled around him? Hope was the only one who didn’t crack a smile. The only one to rush off for the glass of water he needed so badly.
Out of guilt, no doubt.
“Earth to Will?” Water droplets slid down his wife’s shoulders and breasts.
He didn’t have the energy to tell her what Hope had done, then argue the finer points about why it was or wasn’t irrelevant.
He sighed and ran his hands down her back toward her lightly dimpled rear. Not eager to add humiliation-induced impotence to his woes, he closed his eyes and tried desperately to place himself Grotto-side ready to service a bevy of horny Playboy Playmates.
He slid a hand between her legs.
She let out a low moan.
He remained Play-Doh soft.
The-sexy-traveling-saleswoman-flashing-a-peek-up-her-skirt-at-the-hotel-bar scenario only reminded him he didn’t have a real job. The-female-boss-with-a-penchant-for-sexual-harassment-and-a-little-light-bondage was out of the question.
Meg’s hand drifted downward.
He conjured up a flight attendant, blouse unbuttoned one button too low, beckoning him toward the galley, where two blond fellow flight attendants awaited him and his big hard…
Before he could fail in his bid to join the mile-high club, the fruit of a prior, much more successful, labor bellowed from down the hall.
“Daddddddyyyy!”
“Damn it.” Will dunked his head under the spray to drown out the bullshit in his voice.
Meg leaned her head out of the shower door. “Daddy’s busy.”
“We can’t sleep,” Madison said.
“Read for a little while.”
“We already did,” Nicole said.
“Then go watch TV for a few minutes until you get tired.”
There was a pause.
“Really?”
“Downstairs—on the big screen.”
Another pause.
“But Daddy doesn’t let us watch TV downstairs after bedtime.”
“Dad says it’s okay this time,” she added, not looking to see if Daddy concurred. “We’ve definitely got to get a big condo in Orlando if we want any privacy this vacation.”
“I’ll work on that tomorrow,” he said. Along with looking at the want ads.
In the silence that followed, Meg rubbed her breasts across his chest and down his belly. “Where were we?”
Deep in househusband Hell. “Maybe I’d better go and make sure they aren’t scared to go downstairs without me or…”
“They’ll be fine.” Meg knelt down and rubbed the soap down the length of his not-completely flaccid, but hardly impressive, cock.
There was only one fantasy that could possibly work.
He closed his eyes.
The spaghetti strap of Hope’s black negligee slipped from her smooth, soft shoulder and fell down her arm, exposing the top of her breast and a sliver of pale nipple.
He opened his eyes.
Meg tightened her hand around him.
He closed his eyes again.
Bitch needed to make it up to him for being a bad girl.
The spaghetti strap of her black negligee slipped from her smooth, soft shoulder and fell down her arm, exposing the top of her breast and a s
liver of pale nipple. With no sign of the concern or pity he’d last seen on her face while she hovered over him with a fan and a glass of water, she smiled seductively.
He leered in disdain. “Do you still find the playground project really exciting?”
“I was only saying that.” She dropped to her knees. “We both know there’s something wrong with that playground land, but I couldn’t prove it without accepting his offer to consult so I could look it over.”
“You didn’t ask me first.”
“But I did it for you.”
“What else are you going to do for me?”
“Anything.” She lowered the remaining strap and her black silk nightie dropped to the floor. “I’ll do whatever you want.”
He bent her over.
“Yes,” she said, lifting that amazing ass into the air. “I want you so badly.”
“And you’re going to have me,” he said, his dick harder than he’d ever felt it.
“Yes!” she screamed as he entered her from behind. “Yes!”
***
As the evening news went to a post-sports commercial break, Tim glanced out the window at his garden handiwork.
“Every time I look outside, I feel so happy.” Theresa kissed him gently. “And excited.”
“Excited’s good,” he said.
She kissed him again, but a lot less gently. Then, without a complaint about how exhausted she was, suggesting they go upstairs and lock the door, or saying anything at all, she probed her tongue deep into his mouth and gave him the most appreciative kiss he’d had since she came home to the pink flower beds.
“I wish there were more planting I could do.” For the moment, all he could do was wait for his proverbial seeds to sprout. With a practiced flourish, he unzipped his fly with one hand. Ignoring the too-familiar powdery bouquet of her perfume, and the weight of her girth against his legs, he gently pressed her face toward his lap with the other. “But I have an idea.”
She reached behind the couch, produced a sealed brown bag, and handed it to him. “I have a better one.”
“A present?”
“From Laney’s party.”
He looked down at the bulge in his boxers. “Any chance I can open this in a few minutes?”
The Big Bang Page 13