If you walk out that door, don’t plan on coming back, her mother had said, and Amy had wondered if she’d told her husband the same thing, or even Cole when he’d decided to join the Army.
She had stood on the threshold for one long minute, waiting for Candace to take it back. But she hadn’t. She’d said, Pride comes before the fall, and slammed the door in Amy’s face.
Amy shook the memory from her head, but it weighed heavy on her soul. She cleared her throat.
“Paisley, say goodbye to grandma.”
Paisley didn’t come. Amy wouldn’t have either.
“Don’t push me away,” said Candace.
“You push yourself away,” said Amy. “That’s why you’re alone.”
Candace’s jaw trembled, but she didn’t crumble. She walked out of the kitchen, tall, but somehow withered at the same time. Like she’d aged ten years.
Amy felt as awful as she had when she was eighteen.
“Goodbye, Paisley,” said Candace.
Paisley stayed on the couch watching her cartoon.
Chapter Twenty-Three
After Candace’s rental car had pulled away, Amy searched the parking lot, but she knew Mike was already gone. She called him twice, but he didn’t answer. She texted him. I’m sorry. And Call me when you get a chance. And Are you there?
If he was, he didn’t respond.
She loaded Paisley back into the car and they drove to the apartments where he worked. He’d left for the day, they’d said. She drove back to Mike’s house, but no one was home. They were probably out shopping for Chloe’s dress.
Amy felt sick.
She wanted a do-over. To greet Mike with a kiss and introduce him as her boyfriend. No, back further. To tell him that her mother was a real piece of work, and prepare him for the shitstorm she would bring. No, to days before, when she and Mike were laughing, and kissing, stealing moments and long glances and not even thinking about Candace Morrow.
The rewind game was trouble, though, because Amy couldn’t really pinpoint the moment she’d become a screw-up in someone’s eyes. When she’d left home? When she’d started dating Danny? When her brother had died? She was sure her mother could identify at least a half dozen more.
She’d never rewind that far. That was before Mike, and whatever road she’d traveled, it had led her to him and she would not regret it.
She couldn’t stay in Mike’s house without them there. Even though he’d made it clear she could come and go as she pleased, it didn’t feel right. Instead, she quickly made sandwiches and she and Paisley took them to the park.
“Mom, why don’t you like Grandma?” asked Paisley when they were sitting on a swell of grass beneath a metal shelter. The shouts of kids on the merry-go-round filled the air.
Amy chewed on her words for a long time before answering, “We just don’t understand each other.”
“Why?” asked Paisley.
“I don’t know,” said Amy, sensing a long train of why’s was about to begin.
“You talk the same way.”
“That’s true.”
“Then why?”
“Pais, we just believe different things. We’re different.” Amy didn’t know how else to explain it. All she knew was that whatever trouble Paisley got into, Amy’s door would never be closed.
“Chloe has brown skin and I don’t. We’re different. But I like her and she likes me.”
Amy laid back on the grass, staring at the rusting metal underbelly of the shade. She chuckled. “How’d you get so smart?”
“Sesame Street,” said Paisley, taking another bite of her peanut butter sandwich.
***
After a while, she and Paisley returned to Amy’s now air-conditioned apartment. Amy had grabbed the things at Mike’s that she’d needed for the night, and got ready in her own, tiny bathroom, which now seemed so small she could barely lift her elbows to straighten her hair. She’d brought the crown she’d made Anna, along with a Bride-to-Be sash she’d decorated with sequins, and laid them on the bed so she could search through her closet for some of her old belongings. It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for. Near the top of one of the dusty cardboard boxes was a glow in the dark star. One of the hundreds she and Anna had used to decorate their bedrooms when they’d been in high school. She put it along with her things for the night, and was just about to close the cardboard lid when she saw the red and white stitching of a skirt and top. It was her cheerleading uniform from her days on the Anderson Knights Spirit Squad. Below the folded clothing were the crinkly strands of plastic—her poms. Things she’d saved for Halloween. Now they just reminded her of Mike.
She called him again, but he didn’t answer.
An hour later she’d dropped Paisley off with Iris and pulled into a parking spot at Anna’s apartment. Taking a quick deep breath, she painted her best smile on her face. This night was about Anna. Not about what was happening with Mike, and certainly not about her mother. They were going to have a blast.
Anna opened the door on the first knock, and Amy was slammed with a wall of techno music that came from the living room. Her best friend was wearing an emerald dress, short enough to show off half her thighs and so low cut there was no way she could have been wearing a bra. Her hair was in a wild mess down her back, and looked like she’d just rolled out of bed with a very sexy man.
Which probably wasn’t far from the truth.
“Damn,” said Amy loudly over the music. “You look hot.”
“We both look hot.” Anna smiled, and danced her way back into the living room to turn down the music. “Sorry, just getting warmed up.” She rolled her hips side to side in a way that made Amy laugh, but soon she was dancing right along with her.
Amy’s black dress was only a little longer than Anna’s, with neon green flowers that Amy had made from one of Paisley’s old T-shirts pinned to the side of her waist. The halter top tied high around her neck and left her shoulders bare. She’d wanted Mike to see her in it before she’d left; she’d picked it specifically because his mouth always seemed to roam that direction.
“You sure you don’t want to see if any of the other girls from the salon want to meet us?”
“Yup.”
It wasn’t that Anna didn’t get along with them; she did. But Amy knew her best friend was only really comfortable around a small circle of friends.
“So what are the boys doing tonight?” Amy asked, patting her intricate, twisty updo that showed off her slender neck. “Or do we even want to know?”
“What, don’t you trust your man?” Anna was kidding, and saw straight through Amy’s thousand-kilowatt smile.
“They’re gambling, don’t worry. Some private poker game at Mac’s restaurant.” Anna took Amy’s hands and led her to the black leather couch Alec had brought from his place. “Alec knows this store closes for business if he goes shopping anywhere else.”
Amy smirked. She’d never known her friend to have such blind trust in anyone outside of her adopted family. It was encouraging for both of them.
“I’m not worried,” said Amy.
“But?”
The doorbell rang, and Anna jumped up to answer. Amy shook off the doubts that had resurfaced, refocusing on her best friend.
Marcos followed Anna back into the living room. In a fitted black T-shirt and dark-washed jeans, he looked a lot less like a cop than he had when he’d met Amy and Val Connolly at the coffee shop that afternoon two weeks ago. That said, he didn’t exactly look relaxed. His thick brows were pulled inward, and he wore a scowl that looked so set it might have been permanent.
“Someone looks ready to party,” said Amy.
Marcos snorted. “I’m not dancing.”
“We’ll see.” Anna sat beside Amy again. “Finish what you were saying.”
“Oh,” Amy glanced up at Marcos, who’d shoved his hands in his pockets. “I wasn’t saying anything.”
“Then finish what you weren’t saying,” said Anna. “
Marcos will be glad to talk about someone else’s boyfriend for a bit.”
“Yes, please,” grumbled Marcos, collapsing into the recliner.
Amy already knew that things weren’t better with him and Derrick. Yesterday her boss had stormed around the salon barking orders at his employees, and then stared forlornly at the wall every time he was alone.
Did something happen with Mike?” prompted Anna. For one more second, Amy considered being a good person and making the night all about Anna, but that second passed, and she sagged back on the couch, half-smashing her awesome hair.
“My mother happened.”
Anna cringed. Marcos looked confused.
Amy launched into her story about the morning’s events, the words tumbling out while her hand gestures grew bigger and bigger. She hadn’t known she’d needed so badly to talk about it, but soon she was describing the previous night’s fight as well, and how he was now avoiding her calls, and she couldn’t help but feel like he was slipping away.
“Fuck him,” said Marcos.
“That’s not very nice,” retorted Amy.
“No, I mean literally have sex with him,” said Marcos. “This’ll all clear up.”
“They don’t have penis sex,” said Anna.
Amy’s face turned fire-engine red.
“Then blow him,” said Marcos, as if she and Mike’s slow, smoldering pace wasn’t abnormal at all. “Unless that’s too much penis.”
“Is there ever too much penis?” wondered Anna.
“You’re asking the wrong person,” said Marcos.
Amy snorted. “I refuse to believe all men are that easy.” She wanted to tell them that her bedroom status had changed, but what had happened between she and Mike seemed too personal to share, especially now that it felt so fragile.
For the first time, Marcos’s scowl broke. He laughed heartily, one hand flattening on his chest. She could see why Derrick thought he was so hot then. There was something about his smile that made it hard to look away. It made you want to earn another one.
“Sorry to burst your bubble,” he said. “Talk it out as much as you want, in the end, every guy still wants your clothes on the floor.”
“How’s that working out for you?” Anna asked him sweetly.
Return of the scowl. “Derrick still wants my clothes on the floor.”
Amy chewed on the inside of her cheek. Marcos made a convincing point. Maybe some time alone was all she did need to set things right with Mike. But there was more to it; they all knew that.
“Enough penis talk,” said Amy. “I have your accessories.”
Anna touched her silver beaded bracelet. “Do I not meet your standards?”
“Not quite yet.” Amy reached for her oversized bag and carefully removed a shoebox. She handed it to Anna, who clapped her hands before pulling back the lid.
“Oh shit,” said Anna.
“Oh shit is right!” cheered Amy. Marcos shook his head as Anna withdrew a gaudy princess tiara, covered with beads and shells and rhinestones. It was fabulous in its own special, humiliating way, and Anna proudly placed it on her head while Amy sang the Miss America theme song.
“Oh perfect, there’s a sash.” Anna removed the second piece and carefully placed it over her shoulder. When it was right, she stood, and did a turn for her friends.
“Is there a sweater in there, too?” asked Marcos, clearly hoping Anna would cover up a little. He worried about her, especially after everything she’d been through in the last year.
“Who needs a sweater when you have the death stare?” Anna asked.
“And this!” added Amy, pulling a sheer white babydoll nightie from beneath the tissue paper.
“Jesus,” said Marcos.
Anna squealed, and held it against her body while she danced around the room. Not that she didn’t have enough lingerie, but she probably didn’t have enough lingerie.
“There’s one more thing,” Amy told her.
Anna reached into the box for the final item. “What’s this?”
But as she lifted the small, plastic, glow-in-the-dark star, the curiosity melted from her face. She knew just what it was, and from the looks of it, was feeling just as nostalgic as Amy.
Amy stood beside her friend. “It’s just a little reminder that some things won’t ever change,” she said. “The stars, for one. You and me, for another.”
Anna threw her arms around Amy, squeezing her so tightly Amy could barely breathe.
“I love you,” said Amy. She felt her shoulder grow damp, and realized Anna was crying.
“Stop that, you’ll smear your makeup.” Amy pulled back. “Let’s go show the men of this town what they’ll be missing come next Saturday.”
“Do I need a gun?” asked Marcos.
Anna just rolled her eyes.
***
They planned to eat first, because Anna insisted they needed the calories before they hit the clubs. On the way over, she called Alec in the backseat of Marcos’s SUV, and made it very clear she planned on being bad tonight so he better be prepared to punish her later.
“How’s our mutual friend?” Marcos asked, when it was clear they’d lost Anna for a few minutes.
They hadn’t spoken of Val Connolly since he had taken the statement regarding her husband’s assault.
“Better,” she said, remembering the way Val had hugged her when they’d run into each other at the Hope House Donation Center. “Thanks again for meeting with her.”
He nodded, staring straight out the windshield. “You really want to thank me, get her to flip on her husband.”
“The gas station man.”
Marcos chuckled dryly. “Right.”
Amy leaned closer to him, stretching the seat belt.
“That’s just a front,” Amy inferred. “What’s he into?”
“What’s he not into?” Marcos responded, pulling to a stop at a red light. “Fraud. Gambling circles. Illegal booking. Mortgage ‘assistance.’ And that’s just the shit those we’ve caught admit to. His family belongs to the Irish crime syndicate. We’ve been trying to break into that circle for years.”
I know too much. If he goes down, I go down, that’s what he always says. Val’s words whispered from her memory.
“That’s very Godfather,” Amy said, glad Val had gotten away in time, but fearing for her safety more than ever. She’d seen the movies. If they wanted you, there was nowhere you could run.
For the first time she wondered if it had been a coincidence that Danny, who was in financial trouble, had said he was “visiting friends” at the same place where people who gave illegal loans frequented, at least during their wives’ hair appointments.
If that was true, he really was getting desperate.
“It’s close,” Marcos agreed. “Less horse heads. More meatheads.”
“She was afraid she’d get in trouble too,” said Amy. “I don’t know for what.”
Not so patiently, she waited for Marcos to fill in the blanks. But he didn’t.
The light turned green, and the SUV accelerated down the street between an old shop that boasted hand-rolled, authentic Cuban cigars, and an edgy tattoo parlor. Class and sass, that was Ybor City.
“Will you see her again?” he asked.
“Probably not.”
“Probably better that way,” said Marcos, looking grim. “For your sake.”
“I’m ready for drinks,” announced Anna from the back seat, effectively ending the discussion about Val. “Nothing that makes me too sleepy though. I’ve been told I may be spanked when I get home and if I pass out that will be a lot less exciting.”
Marcos groaned, and pulled into a spot on the street in front of the old Spanish restaurant Anna had chosen.
***
Over tacos and sangria Anna made Marcos test three times for roofies on account of her past run-in with Maxim Stein’s people, they told stories. Over daiquiris—also tested for drugs—they laughed, and after a while, all of the angst Amy had be
en feeling was replaced by a light, airy buzz, and a nearly electric charge that took over every time she thought about Mike.
She wanted him in the worst way. His lips on her neck. His fingertips grazing over her skin as they unfastened the halter neck of her dress. The way he’d slowly pull her panties down her thighs. The feel of him inside her, swollen and hard. She couldn’t get it out of her head. Her whole body was tingling.
They left the restaurant and took a cab toward Ybor City’s lineup of clubs, but before they went in, Amy stepped aside to check her phone for any messages and call Mike.
“Hi,” she said boldly when it went to his voicemail. “This is your Hummingbird calling.” Her mouth seemed to get stuck on the ‘m’ sound in ‘hummingbird.’ “There are about ten different things I want you to do to me right now but I can’t say them because big brother is probably listening.” She whispered the last part, and giggled at how funny she was. “I’ll give you a hint. One thing involves my mouth and rhymes with snow mob.” She hung up after that, feeling like she was possibly the most alluring woman in the world, and swung her hips as she walked back to her friends.
“I think I might be a little drunk,” she told Anna.
Anna only giggled.
The bouncer let them in without paying a cover—Anna’s crown and sash had earned them a free pass—and soon they were in the center of a large, dark room, smashed between damp bodies that danced to the hard, fast beat of the bass.
Marcos said something they couldn’t hear, and then made a straight line for the bar. Amy was already moving, arms lifted, hips shaking. It had been a long while since they’d done this, and Amy had forgotten how much she loved it. The heat. The steady rhythm. The music, so loud you couldn’t think about anything else. She may have blushed easily in the light, but here in the dark she was transformed into something primal, animalistic, and unashamed. Something she otherwise had only felt in Mike’s arms.
Anna joined her. Holding hands, they carved their place on the dance floor like they were the only ones in the room. Amy closed her eyes, feeling the vibrations of the bass slam through her. Already her skin blossomed with sweat. Bodies bumped up against her. A hand slid over her hip, and then down the front of her thigh. She pretended it was Mike, and imagined how she would grind back into him, and feel his hard cock against her ass. His hands would be big and possessive, heavy on her stomach, teasing, and then covering her breasts. He would pull her skirt up, and something would change in him. He wouldn’t be so gentle when he felt how wet she was. It would make him crazy, and when he pushed inside of her she’d finally feel what she needed. That deep, hard penetration.
More: A Body Work Novel (The Body Work Trilogy Book 4) Page 22