Play Boy

by Cassie-Ann L. Miller

  He yells after me. “Give my love to Cousin Sophia.”

  My heart twinges at the thought of her sullen, little face. “I will,” I call out.

  I slam my hip into the wide bar of the service exit and the door pops open. I stumble out, dragging two big bags of this morning's garbage in one hand and a plastic bag with my food and wine in the other hand.

  I glance around surreptitiously, making sure there are no witnesses before I toss the garbage bags on top of the dumpster and hightail it to my car. I hit the gas just as the restaurant’s back door bursts open and my boss, Gianni Gallo, practically lunges outside.

  "You have to put the garbage bags inside the dumpster!" he howls, shaking a meaty fist in the air. "Inside the dumpster. And did you pay for that food?!" I wince hard as his short, stout frame fades in the rear view mirror.

  He's going to give me an earful tomorrow. But for now, it’s Sunday afternoon and I’m off the clock.

  Chapter 4

  Nova

  By the time I pull up in Reese’s driveway, I’m famished after being tortured by the scent of the food for the whole drive. But when I slide open the back door to her house, the scene I meet is demoralizing.

  Sophia sits at the table, crying neatly into a folded up linen square. Reese is next to her, whispering comforting words and drawing small circles over Sophia’s cashmere-covered back.

  Seeing this makes me so mad.

  Just a few weeks ago, Sophia was a blushing bride-to-be, hustling about, making last minute wedding preparations. But her jerkwad ex-fiancé apparently bumped his head when he fell off the preppy social elitist clichéd douchebag production line because the asshole stood her up at the alter on their wedding day. He never showed up at the church and he hasn’t been seen since. Now Sophia is falling apart in the most graceful way ever.

  My heart breaks for her.

  Prior to being jilted at the alter, Sophia lived a charmed life. My nickname for her was ‘The Princess’ because that’s what she was. And nobody could rock a designer purse, overpriced jeans and a pair of rose-colored glasses quite the way she could. She was sheltered, pampered and blatantly out of touch with the day-to-day struggles of regular folks. But that was never really her fault. Gianni Gallo worked hard to provide his kids with a good life, never wanting for anything.

  Regardless, Sophia has an unquestionably good heart and I hate that some jerk had the nerve to stomp all over it. That’s why I only date ‘safe’ guys. Guys who lack the oomph! to make a girl like me fall head-over-heels. I like knowing that I’m standing on solid ground and no one can knock me down.

  I kick off my boots by the door. “Fucking Joshua Davies,” I grumble under my breath as I set the food onto the table and join in the back-rubbing. “If I ever run into that coward in the street, he's going to find himself in the hospital with a caved-in nutsack!”

  My heartbroken friend looks up at me with wet eyes and a red nose and she bares her teeth. I think it’s meant to be a smile. Poor thing looks like a feral cat trying to make friends.

  Bless her heart. She's trying.

  Reese flashes me a hopeful look.

  Sophia has faded into a near-permanent state of despondency as of late. So that forced, little smile on her face is a tiny ray of sunshine. I grab a tissue and dab at the tears streaking down her cheeks. Even after weeks of crying, she’s so damn pretty. Such small pores…

  “Happy Cupcake Sunday,” I say and point my chin in the direction of the leftovers I just hauled in. “I come bearing carbonara. Courtesy of your a Cousin Franco.”

  Cupcake Sunday is this weekly tradition that we started back when Reese opened up her cupcake shop. Even though the shop recently burned to the ground, we’re keeping the tradition alive. Every Sunday afternoon, the three of us gather in her kitchen and she whips up mouth-watering cupcakes. I contribute leftover Italian food from work. Sophia used to chip in with an expensive bottle of red from Douchey Ex-Fiancé’s family winery. But since she and Josh split, she lost her hook-up. Today, we have to settle for the cheap, crappy stuff I kidnapped from work.

  I grab a glass and pour out a healthy portion of wine then slide it across the table to Sophia. But she stops me with a hand on my wrist. "Ugh. I'll pass," she whispers with quivering lips.

  I freeze.

  My gaze goes to her pale, dejected face. She stares at the alcohol like there might be a tadpole at the bottom of the glass. I know that what I’m offering isn’t top-shelf stuff, but Sophia isn’t one to turn down red wine. I suddenly realize that her anguish runs much deeper than I realized.

  Damn you, Josh!

  I open my mouth to reason with her, to remind her that sobriety is overrated, especially when you’re mending a broken heart. I stop myself when Reese gives me the ‘don’t push it’ look. I sigh roughly, hating that I can’t make my friend feel better.

  I've been through a great deal of utter bullshit in this lifetime and I'm still standing. My friends seem to think that means I'm some fearless, bullshit-resistant badass. What they don't seem to realize is that I would be a complete mess if it weren't for them. They make me strong. That's why it’s killing me that all I can do for Sophia is rub circles into her back and dab her face with Kleenex.

  Keys rattle and the front door knob jiggles before the door swings open. "Hello ladies," Leo calls out as he and cute-as-pie Brenton thunder into the room.

  "Hello gentlemen." I give the little boy’s sticky hand a high-five as Leo and Reese do that whole I-love-you-missed-you-so-much-I-almost-couldn’t-breathe-I-was-gonna-die-if-I-had-to-be-away-from-you-for-one-more-second thing that they always do. I’m ecstatic that Reese has finally found a man who loves her and treats her like a treasure but their PDA is a bit much to watch.

  “Would the two of you stop that?” I razz, blocking my eyes with my palm. “You’re offending my sensibilities.”

  Reese rolls her eyes at me and goes back to nuzzling her lover. Meanwhile, Brent lunges for the cupcakes like a puppy picking up on a scent. As he scarfs down the cake, he launches in a series of disjointed stories about his teachers and friends from preschool. I’m so thoroughly entertained by his tales that I don’t even notice when Charlie steps into the room.

  But the instant I look up and my gaze bumps into his, my skin does that tingling, overheating thing it does every time I see him.

  Despite how long I've known him, whenever Charlie saunters into a room, this strange thing happens in my body. The cabin pressure drops and for a few breathless seconds, I'm left scrambling for my oxygen mask.

  It’s pretty pathetic. Charlie has been in my life ever since Reese and I latched onto each other like Velcro flaps back in the seventh grade. The fact that I’m not yet immune to his roguish stare and his devilish smirk annoys me to no end.

  I’m such a cliché, I know. Pining away after my best friend’s older brother.

  "What's up, big head?" He ruffles Reese's hair and she punches him in the shoulder as he leans over and gives Sophia a kiss on the cheek. "You good, Soph?” he asks affectionately.

  She does that teeth-baring thing again in response. Visibly startled, he recoils quickly. I don’t blame him. The girl looks savage.

  He turns to me. "Hey, Nova. Fancy running into you here." He tries to pinch my cheek with his rough, massive hand. I duck out of his grasp and he walks past me. His eyes search the kitchen until they fall on the leftover cupcakes sitting on the stovetop. “And would you look at that? Seems to be Cupcake Sunday!”

  My nostrils flare despite the smile fighting for control of my lips. He’s such a bullshitter. He knows very well that it’s Cupcake Sunday.

  "Hi, Charlie.” I say snidely. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have anything better to do tonight?”

  “What better than hanging out with my wonderful sister and her gorgeous friends?” He uses a charming tone that would make my knees weak if I weren’t sitting right now.

  “I don’t know—don’t you usually spend your evenings distributing org
asms across the tristate area like candies on Halloween?" My words are meant to be light and playful, but they sound much more bitter than intended.

  Brenton looks up from the frosting he’s licking off of his plate. “What’s a ogasma?”

  Ooops!

  Reese hisses at me before turning to the child. “Hey, how about we go get you ready for bed, huh?” She and Leo protectively steer him out of the room. “The two of you should be ashamed of yourselves,” she tosses over her shoulder as the little family goes through the doorway.

  Charlie laughs through his nose and I shoot him a glare.

  Sophia, however, seems to have missed the entire exchange. She sits at the table like a statute, completely zoned out. A second later, she staggers out of her chair, mumbling under her breath. “I think I’m gonna go take a little lie down…” she says to no one in particular as she hobbles toward the living room.

  That leaves Charlie and me alone.

  “What’s up with the rancid tone tonight, Butterfly?” he asks, all easygoing and nonchalant. I try not to stare at the bunching and releasing of his shoulder muscles as he leans over the stove and sets a few cupcakes on a paper plate.

  I fold my arms across my chest defensively. “I don’t have a rancid tone.”

  He glances at me over his wide back but doesn’t say a word. He just lets a long silence spread over us. I know he’s doing it deliberately. He thinks that if he stays silent for long enough, eventually I’m going to crack and tell him exactly what he wants to know.

  After a few seconds tick by, I play right into his hands. “So, this girl at work was bragging about her night with you…”

  “What girl?” He devours an entire full-sized cupcake in two big bites.

  I snort a laugh. “If you can’t figure it out on your own, then you’ve obviously fucked too many of my coworkers.”

  “Very funny,” he mutters turning his eyes away. “It was damned Giselle, wasn’t it? The girl talks too much.” He wipes his hands on a towel.

  “Did you realize that before or after you gave her a throat examination with your penis?”

  He sort of grunts. “She said that? What else did she say?” He turns to me, curiosity flashing in his eyes.

  I shrug indifferently. “She said that she was exceedingly disappointed with your performance. For a guy with such big hands, apparently your package was somewhat of a letdown…Her words, not mine.”

  He rolls his eyes. “Bullshit…”

  “I may be paraphrasing a little bit but it was pretty much along those lines.” Now, he’s opening cupboards, one after the other, clearly searching for something. I drop the teasing and go serious. “Do you really have to fuck everything on two legs, Charlie? Can’t you turn down an offer every now and then?” The hurt in my voice is totally out of place but I can’t manage to keep it from spilling out.

  “What’s it to you?” he says on a rough sigh.

  "You have all kinds of women obsessed with you. I'm sure there's a Charlie Addicts Anonymous meeting going on somewhere in the state of Illinois as we speak. Don’t you think it’s a bit much?”

  Of course, he turns it into a joke. “What can I say? I just love seeing a happy, orgasmic woman. Nothing fills my heart like being the purveyor of bliss in its most feminine state.” He holds his fist over his chest and tries to look solemn. “It's humbling."

  I guffaw. “How magnanimous of you. You should start a non-profit."

  "I'll have my accountant look into it. The tax breaks alone will make it worthwhile."

  I roll my eyes. “Be serious.”

  "Y'know what—I'm gonna be honest." He deadpans. "I think you're just jealous.”

  My brow darts up at the accusation. "What? I’m not jealous.”

  “You’re totally jealous of my sex life,” he laughs. “What? Is yours that bad?”

  Roy’s rhythmless humping and slovenly oral technique from last night plays before my mind.

  At that I break eye contact.

  That’s what I get for being intrusive and judgy. I really have no right to be all up in his business. Charlie sleeps with lots of women. It’s a fact. But my hurt feelings are my problem. Not his.

  He and I have a strange kind of relationship. He teases me, does everything in his power to get under my skin. I’ll admit that he often does. But I know that he’s got my back. When I was in high school, getting bullied every day, Charlie stood up for me. He wouldn't let anybody mess with his little sister’s pitiful best friend. Today, I have a spine made of steel but Charlie Hartley was my backbone when I didn’t have one.

  I think that’s why his philandering bothers me so much. He’s not a bad guy—he's fiercely protective of his family, he's loyal to his friends. Under all that slutty charisma, he’s actually a decent person. It just sucks so bad that he’s such a manwhore.

  His expression is sober now. “Any idea where the foil is?”

  “Drawer under the stove,” I tell him matching his tone.

  He pulls out the foil and covers the plate of cupcakes.

  "Grabbing some for the road?" I ask quietly.

  He shakes his head. "Nah, these are for Gabe outside."

  I blink a few times. ”Gabe? Gabe, the mechanic?"

  “Yup.”

  I feel a suffocating panic in my chest. “What’s he doing outside?”

  "He's taking a look at your shit wagon," Charlie says casually.

  "What?" I jump out of my chair, nearly knocking it over. "I don't have the money to pay Gabe. That's why I asked you to take a look at my car. If I had money, I would have gone straight to the repair shop. Oh my god!"

  He makes an appeasing motion with his hand. “Don’t worry about it…”

  “Don’t worry about it?" With the current state of my finances, I’d have to auction off my hymen to pay for these car repairs. Problem is—I don’t have a hymen. So do you see why I’m stressed out at the moment?

  Squeezing my shoulder, he bends to eye level, bringing his heat and his spicy scent along with him. “Do. Not. Worry about it.” When he steps back, I can finally breathe again. “Gabe owed me a favor. I did a quick patch up on his mom’s roof a few weeks ago. So, I called in my favor.”

  “You did that?” There’s a quiver to my voice. Relief and reverence flood my body. My heart rate begins to slow. “For me?”

  He smiles. “Yes, I did that for you…Can you accept that maybe I’m not an absolute jackass?” The cockiness falls out of his expression. For a second, he actually has me thinking that he’s somehow invested in my answer.

  His eyes grow kind as they focus on me, causing a prickling sensation to rise along my arms.

  “I can accept that…” I say breathily as I fall into his dark eyes. "Thank you..."

  He gives me a sudden slap on the shoulder and the trance is broken. “I’m gonna get out of here. Got some things to do.” The way he says it, I know there’s a naked woman involved somehow. "Good night."

  My eyes hook on his taut ass as he strolls toward the door. "Good night."

  I push down the maddening flutter in my belly, reminding myself that no matter how nice he is to me, Charlie is still Charlie. And a friend is all he’ll ever be to me.

  Chapter 5

  Charlie

  I’m the first one in line at the permit office on Monday morning. I grab a number from the ticket machine and plop down into an uncomfortable plastic chair in the waiting room.

  Somehow, the four people who show up after me all get served before I do. I know what’s going on. Helena is up to her string-pulling and manipulation again.

  My suspicions are confirmed when the clerk behind the service counter finally calls my number. Instead of just handing over the permit, she tells me that there’s been a problem in processing my application and directs me to Helena’s office at the end of the hall.

  Fuck!

  Pushing a smile to my lips as I step into the office is almost painful but I do it anyway.