Laken said she never wanted to have to drive drunk; this way, she could go downstairs, mix and mingle, bring someone home without ever stepping foot in her car. She even walked across the South Congress bridge to her downtown high-rise office most days; her car had very low mileage.
Ava repressed a shudder, sighing with relief as she reached the bottom of Laken’s stairwell and buzzed to be let in.
“Sugar mama, you lookin’ hot tonight, baby,” the whiskey-rough voice crooned over her shoulder.
“Open the goddamn door, Laken,” Ava muttered.
“Come on, pretty baby, we can have a good time.”
“No, thank you.” Ellie’s voice behind her shook, just a little.
Ava whirled around. She could handle this crowd, but Ellie had no business here. They had to convince Laken to move, or skip meeting at her place. Reaching back, she pulled Ellie up to her side, standing her ground and leaning toward the amorous drunk. “If you don’t want me to kick you in the groin right here and now, I suggest you leave my friend alone.”
The man pulled back, hands spread. “Hey, baby, no call to get riled. I was just bein’ friendly.”
“Be friendly somewhere else.” She hit the buzzer again, just as she heard the laughter over the intercom.
Damn it, Laken, hit the button.
The lock released. Pulling Ellie in front of her, Ava all but pushed her up the stairs. When they reached the top, she slapped one hand against the door held open by a laughing Laken, wineglass in hand.
“That’s it, Laken. You can live in a hellhole if you want to, but we are not meeting here anymore.”
“Good evening to you, too, Ava.” Laken saluted. “It was just Ralphie. He’s very friendly.”
“Ellie was terrified.”
Laken lifted an eyebrow. “Only Ellie?”
“I’m not terrified. I’m pissed,” Ava explained. “It’s an obstacle course, getting to this place. Not to mention it stinks.”
“Darling, all downtowns stink. It’s part of the ambiance,” Sylvie drawled.
“I wasn’t scared,” Ellie soothed. “Not much, anyway. Besides, Laken likes it here.”
“You’ve been buried in your tree-shaded neighborhood too long, girlfriend. It’s good for you to see how the other half lives. How about some wine?” Laken strolled over to the kitchen area of her converted loft. As she poured, she spoke over her shoulder. “Speaking of terror, how was the art lesson, Ellie?”
Ellie froze like a deer in headlights. Every eye was on her. Ava had been itching to call to get a report herself, but she and Tom had been gone for the weekend. Then yesterday her current book had driven her mad as she wrangled with a hero who wouldn’t behave. “Yes, tell all, Ellie. It’s nice to see you’re still in one piece.”
Ellie blushed. “Oh, stop it, you guys. Uh, Laken—?” Ellie turned toward the kitchen. “Maybe don’t water mine this time.”
Whistles and jeers filled the room, dissolving into laughter.
“That bad?” Luisa asked. “It’s been four days.”
“I—” Ellie shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Ava sat up. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”
“Down, Mom,” Laken urged. “Of course he wouldn’t.” She hesitated. “Would he?”
They all laughed again.
“You might as well tell us. We’re not budging until you do.” Ava was more curious than ever.
Ellie sipped her wine, then screwed up her nose in distaste. “Never mind. I’m getting water.”
Luisa laid a hand on her shoulder. “I’ll get it. You talk.” She headed into the kitchen, tea bag in hand.
Ellie leaned back against the sofa. “He’s incredibly talented.”
“We know that, darling,” Sylvie interjected. “That’s why I selected him, remember?”
Laken growled, hulking over. “I am Saxon. You are woman. You listen. I speak.”
Everyone laughed but Ellie. Ellie blushed. “He’s not that bad.”
Catcalls and clapping issued forth. “So he tied you to an easel and deigned to let you watch him paint.” Luisa came back and sat down.
Ellie’s face got redder, if that were possible. “Stop it, you all. He was—okay, he was terrible.”
“I knew it,” Ava intoned. “I knew it was a mistake, Sylvie. Get her someone who doesn’t play rough.”
“No.” Ellie’s voice was as firm as Ava had ever heard it. “I’m going back. He thinks I have talent.”
“He said that?” Laken’s amazement showed.
Ellie dipped her head. “Sort of.” She jumped up, heading for the kitchen. “Come on, guys. Let me off the rack. Interrogate somebody else.”
Ava watched her jerky movements. “Are you okay, Ellie?”
“I’m not a coward, as you all seem to think. He says I am, too, but he’s wrong.”
Sylvie frowned, tiny lines marring the perfection of her face. “Perhaps I’ll speak to him…”
Luisa’s voice shook. “You don’t have to take that from him, Ellie.”
“Don’t worry about me, Luisa. He won’t hurt me. He’s rough and he growls and he scares me half to death, but his talent—if you could see the painting he’s doing now—it’s absolutely—” Her eyes glistened, her skin glowing.
Ava felt a prickle of unease. Ellie looked like nothing so much as a religious convert. “Perhaps someone else would be better for you,” she suggested.
Ellie turned, her face fierce. “I am not quitting. He thinks I will, you all think I will. But you’re wrong.” She looked over at Sylvie. “Maybe I’ll never be any good, but I’m not a quitter. Don’t you say a word to him. I can handle this myself.”
“Whoo-ee,” Laken called out. “Our little kitten has fangs.”
Ellie flushed and sat down. “Everyone thinks I’m this little girl, but I’m not. I’ll be fine.”
Ava and Sylvie traded a long look. Sylvie’s head shook slightly and she mouthed Later. Ava nodded.
Luisa came to the rescue. “So, Laken, read any good personals ads lately?”
Laken made a moue of distaste. “I’m giving up men, I’ve decided. Anyone interested in becoming a lesbian?”
“Can you just do that?” Ellie’s eyes went wide.
Laughter filled the room. Dear God, Ava thought, he’ll chew her up into little bitty pieces. I’m keeping an eye on this situation.
“Can’t be harder than finding a good man,” Laken drawled. She settled back in the huge overstuffed black chair, its fabric splashed with brilliant red poppies. Laken’s place was filled with as many incongruities as her life. Industrial metal was draped with bold patterns and Laura Ashley prints.
Into the silence, Sylvie spoke. “I think I’m going to move my mother in with me.”
Ava watched the nervous movements of her graceful hands, noting her thinner cheeks, the shadows beneath her eyes. “She can’t stay at Hope House?”
Sylvie nodded. “She can. She just—” Her voice broke. “I just keep thinking that maybe familiar things—” Sniffing softly, Sylvie touched her fingers to the corners of her eyes, wiping them, ever careful of her makeup.
“When my mother was dying,” Ellie’s soft voice trailed behind her as she crossed the room to sit beside Sylvie. “I wanted to bring her home.”
“But you had little children and no room. I have room for her.” Sylvie’s hands fluttered. Then she straightened, every inch the queen again. “I could get help to come in.”
“You and Gabe need that room…” Ellie’s voice trailed off.
“Gabe is over. Period. I have room for her. It’s the least I can do. My brother’s dead, and she—” Sylvie’s voice cracked. “This is something I can do for her, something to make up for—”
Ava sat up straight. “What in heaven’s name do you have to make up for, Sylvie? You’ve been her sole support for years. You visit her regularly, you see to her every comfort.”
Sylvie’s pale blue eyes shimmered. “I never gave her gr
andchildren. I’ll be the end of the line.”
Ellie’s arm wrapped around her. For a moment, Sylvie leaned against her.
“Good god, Sylvie,” Ava blurted. “That’s archaic.”
Abruptly, Sylvie straightened. The Ice Queen resumed her throne. “That’s easy for you to say. You have children.”
“You can have Carlito,” Luisa offered.
But Sylvie didn’t smile at the joke. “You don’t know. You can’t know. It’s so easy for you—” Leaping up, she left the room. Ellie jumped up to follow her.
Strained silence filled the room. Typically, it was Laken who broke it.
“I don’t want him, either, Luisa.”
Startled, Ava and Luisa laughed.
Casting a glance in the direction of the two who’d left, Ava decided to let Ellie handle it. She was the only one who could chip through Sylvie’s shell, and there was no one better to comfort.
She turned to Luisa. “Tom says he’s getting tickets to the Spurs exhibition game for himself and Carlito.”
Luisa smiled. “Tom’s wonderful.”
“What’s going on with Carlito?” Laken asked.
“He’s fifteen. He’s male.” Nothing more need be said.
Luisa smiled at Ava’s observation, then shook her head sadly. “Mama says if I were at home, this wouldn’t be happening.”
“Your mother is a jerk,” Laken intoned. “Don’t let her yank your chain.”
“But maybe she’s right. Maybe if I—”
“What, went on welfare? Who’s going to support you—and her, I might add—if you quit working? Your mother lives in a different world. Not every woman marries. Not every woman has kids. We have options.”
“Too many, sometimes,” Ava murmured.
“What does that mean?” Ellie asked, re-entering the room. Sylvie walked behind her, expression daring them to comment.
Ava leaned back and stared at the ceiling, swirling her wine in the green Mexican glass. “Just that sometimes I wonder whether we’re really better off. Instead of no options, we have too many. Every woman I know is exhausted from trying to utilize them all.”
“Amen to that,” Luisa saluted with her teacup.
“You wouldn’t go back,” Laken challenged.
Ava sipped. “Of course I wouldn’t. But I reserve my right to question—and bitch.”
In the laughter that ensued, Ellie’s voice piped up. “Anyone want to talk about the book?”
“Hell, no,” Laken shot back. “Let’s bitch about men, instead. I’ll open some more wine.”
As Ava watched her friend’s faces, bright with laughter, she thanked her lucky stars. She and Ellie were safe. They could enjoy the laughter, bitch half-heartedly.
But they would go home to men who loved them.
* * *
Tom was still up when she got there. Stretching and yawning loudly, he reached out for her, pulling her onto his lap as she passed, nuzzling her neck.
Ava relaxed against him, breathing in his scent.
“So how did everyone like the book?”
“What book?”
He chuckled. “One of these days, you’re going to have to give up this disguise and find a new name. The group is not very dutiful about its reading.”
She turned in his arms, burrowing into his shoulder. “We read,” she yawned. “We just forget to discuss.”
Tom shook his head. “Fakers, all of you. Pseudo-intellectuals. You should be ashamed.”
“Maybe Sylvie wants a baby.”
Tom jerked his head in surprise. “Sylvie? Ruin her makeup? No way.”
“Something’s really wrong, Tom. She won’t talk about Gabe anymore, but Laken told me last week she saw him in the gym and he looked terrible. Sylvie looks worse.”
“Sylvie’s nursing a dying mother.”
“That’s part of it. She thinks she’s a failure. I think her clock has finally ticked so loud she can’t ignore it anymore.”
“Good Lord. She’d have a teenager in her sixties.” He shuddered.
“Tell me about it. Too grim for words.”
“She’ll get over this. Sylvie knows herself better than that. She’s just under a lot of stress.”
“I don’t know…but I’m really worried about Gabe. He’s wanted to marry her for years. Do you suppose he said no to children and that’s what happened?”
“He’s got grown children.”
“I know. But he loves her, has for years. I think—”
“I think this is one Mother Ava can’t fix. Write a story and exorcise your demons.”
She sighed. “I already have a demonic hero who’s driving me nuts.”
Tom waggled his eyebrows. “But I’m great in the sack.”
She laughed and kissed him full on the mouth. He quickly turned it into more. When he pulled back slowly, she sighed with pleasure.
The grin she loved flashed again. “Wanna make out? I like taking advantage of tipsy babes.”
Ava started unbuttoning his jeans. “Don’t you want to hear the part about Saxon?” she teased.
“Let Saxon get his own girl.”
Chapter Five
‡
October
Laken wandered her apartment, picking up a book and putting it down, turning on the television, scanning too many stations, then clicking it off and throwing the remote on her sofa with disgust. She was going to crawl right out of her skin. She wanted…
The thumping bass from the club downstairs cranked up, and she smiled with satisfaction. She ducked into her small bathroom to check her hair and makeup.
The dripping faucet drew a frown. Drop…drop…
She would speak to her landlord. Again. Maybe file a freaking lawsuit, since nothing else was getting his attention.
If she had claws, she’d be brandishing them out right now, the way Wolverine shot out his knife blade claws with a decided Zing!
Take a deep breath, Laken. She scanned her reflection and grinned at the Batman shower curtain behind her. No white-bread Captain America for this girl. Dark Knight all the way, bay-bee.
She flicked her short, spiky black hair, shook her head to disorder it more. She glanced down at the yoga pants she’d donned when she got home and sighed a little at the thought of coming out of her comfy Goofy slippers to climb back into stilettos. For an instant she considered curling up with a carton of mocha almond fudge instead…
But no. The itch inside her was clawing to get out, and the lioness had to be appeased. She could not stay inside one more second.
To the closet, then, and zipped herself into a tight short red leather skirt. On with the dominatrix boots and their four-inch heels, but just for fun, she left on her Catwoman t-shirt rubbed soft and fine with age. A slick of scarlet on her lips, a little shimmy to let the girls enjoy the feel of the soft knit against bare nipples, and she was ready.
Downstairs she winked at Roy the bouncer who scanned her with a smile as always. “Lookin’ good, Laken.”
“Thanks.” She rose to her toes and kissed his cheek. “How is Candy?”
He beamed and stuck his hands out in front of his hard belly several inches. “Looks like she swallowed a basketball. It’s a boy.”
Laken clucked her tongue. “I thought you wanted to be surprised.”
A sheepish lift of eyebrow. “We caved.”
“Well, congratulations, Daddy.”
“Thanks,” said the mountain of muscle turned sheer marshmallow by the obvious love for the waitress he’d met here at Down South. Their courtship had been fun to watch.
With a pat to his cheek, she strolled inside. Bartender Mike nodded in her direction. She winked back. Efficiently he poured a shot of her favorite tequila and laid out the pickle juice she’d become addicted to. Its combination of tart and salty made the perfect tequila chaser, however weird that sounded. “Busy night?”
“Yep. Kids returning to town for the fall semester. Knuckleheads everywhere.”
Laken grinned and tur
ned to survey the pulsing crowd. She tossed back her tequila and chased it with the pickle juice, then winked at Mike and plowed into the mass of bodies to dance. Within seconds she had her pick of options. Blond, brown eyes, blue, short, tall, young…
She wasn’t in the mood for any of them, so she closed her eyes and danced solely for herself.
Music was her boyfriend, the only one she’d ever trusted. People thought she was crazy to live above a club, especially this seedy one, but she could block out most of the music if she wanted to listen to her own tunes…and in the meantime, in the stir-crazy times, having a constant change, an ever-evolving assortment of musical styles rising up from beneath her soles, she was never lonely. She could have all the boyfriends she wanted—some hot and slick, some slow and bluesy, some raging and balls-to-the-wall.
A set of hands grabbed her waist and dragged her close.
Her eyes popped open, and she glared. “If you don’t want your balls up in your throat, you’d better get your hands off me in the next ten seconds.”
He was young, so young. Flying on testosterone overload and maybe something else, confident of his allure. He wasn’t in the habit of being told no, clearly. “Oh, baby, you know you want it. Let me rock your world. I can do it. I’ll show you.” His gaze fell to her breasts, and his hands rose—
She didn’t use the full power of her toned legs, but one quick strike from her knee had him doubling over. She leaned into him. “It’s not polite not to ask permission, sonny.”
He was too busy gasping and gagging to respond, but his eyes shot sparks.
Another voice beside her. “I’m not fool enough to touch, but how about I take you out of here?”
She whipped her attention toward the speaker. His hair was a dark bronze. Tall and built like a lumberjack, nonetheless, his eyes were warm and brown and…kind.
“I can take care of myself.”
“I’m sure you can, sugar.” He scanned her body and smiled. “But his friends don’t seem happy that their boy is suffering.”
She looked over her shoulder to see three more kids helping the idiot to his feet, all of them glaring and two with clenched fists stepping in her direction.
The Book Babes Boxed Set (Texas Ties/Texas Troubles/Texas Together) Page 6