by Jordan Marie
“I’ve entered some kind of alternate universe, haven’t I? That’s the only explanation. Oh, and I think I hate you in this universe, too.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because the beauty of our relationship is: we both bitch and quarrel about men and go long periods without sex and can whine about how lacking our vibrators are.”
“What can I get you girls?” the waitress asks, interrupting us. Miranda orders a chicken salad and an iced tea. Usually I would order the same, but today I really am hungry.
“I’ll have the turkey club, no mayo, and an order of fries, and a tea to drink too, please?”
The waitress leaves, and I catch Miranda staring at me with her mouth open. My best friend since sixth grade, Miranda Kerr is everything I’m not. She’s tiny, small-breasted, and so pretty it hurts. She’s got dark black hair and shining blue eyes that look almost lavender in color. She wears glasses in the newest, trendiest frames and has plump to-die-for lips smothered in dark red lipstick. We don’t match at all—the grease monkey tomboy and the book nerd, girly-girl—but somehow we click on every front. I trust her with my life. She’s as loyal as they come.
“I think I could hate you,” she huffs.
“You can’t. You love me. Besides, you have Kurt, right?”
“Wrong. I kicked him to the curb.”
“What? Why? I thought you two were getting along great?”
“I thought we were, too, and then I discovered he was getting along just as well with a girl in Harvest Corners,” she says, naming a small town two counties over.
“That asshole.”
“Amen to that.”
“Why didn’t you call me?”
“You were gone to Lexington for the weekend. I didn’t want to bother you, and I’ve been so busy with training that I hadn’t been able to check in with you until now. Though, it sounds like I should have. So tell me all about your new boy toy! And leave nothing out.”
“There’s not a lot to tell. I met him in Lexington, and we—”
“You’re kidding me? You are on friendship probation! You should have told me that you met someone!”
“Well, at the time I didn’t think it’d be anything past the weekend…”
“The weekend?”
I feel the blush hit my face before I can stop it, and I shrug. “Yeah, well…”
“How have we lost touch this much?”
“You’ve been busy, Mer. I have, too. It happens.”
“Yeah, well, we need to put the kibosh on that right now.”
“Hey, it’s not completely my fault. Kurt didn’t exactly give you spare time to—”
“You’re right. Let’s not talk about that douchebag anymore. That’s over and done. D. O. N. E.”
“Douche canoe is more like it.”
“Girl, you ain’t lying.”
“So tell me more about Mr. Curl-My-Toes-For-The-Weekend and how it’s still going on! Was it that good?”
“Umm, it was better than good.”
“Better? You’re saying on a scale of one to ten, he’s a…?”
“Off the charts.”
“Holy fluck,” she whispers the fake curse word in awe.
“I know,” I agree, and in my whole life, it’s probably as close as I’ve come to sounding like a giddy teen discussing prom.
“You told him where you lived?” she asks, and again I feel the telltale heat spread on my face. What is up with that? I’m not a blusher! Then again, I’m not the kind of woman who discusses boys at a crowded diner either.
“Well, no. That was by accident?”
“Accident? He’s not a stalker, is he? Did he follow you and find you? Oh my God, C! You have to be careful. This is the kind of shit they make TV movies about!”
“He didn’t follow me home. At least, not on purpose. His car broke down while he was in town for business. He had no idea that I was here.”
“I don’t know, C. That sounds kind of fishy to me.”
“Well, it’s not. He had no idea it was me. In fact, he was kind of a jerk until he figured it out.”
“A jerk?”
“He’s kind of…” I sigh. I don’t really want to talk about this part even though I know that I need to, at least with Mer. Besides, if there’s one thing that worries me the most about Gray—other than the fact that he’s not going to be around for a very long time—it’s that he has money. He has lots of money. He deals with people who have money. He deals with people I can’t stand. He deals with people who would rather see me dead than draw another breath.
Okay. So there’s lots of things that worry me about Gray. They all stem around his money, though.
“Earth to C! Hello, can you hear me?” Mer asks, waving her hand in my face like an idiot.
“Stop that.” I knock her hand out of the way. “He has money, Mer.”
“So? That’s good, honey. Geez, you had me thinking that he had herpes or something.”
“You don’t get it. He’s here on business.”
“C, I hate to break it to you, but not everyone in the world holds down a job that keeps them in one place. This is good. That means he can come visit you when he’s on the road, and…”
“He’s here on business to meet with David Riverton.”
“Flucking hell.”
“Yeah.”
“Does he know what a butt-munch the man is?”
“Probably not, but then again, Gray has money. I imagine good old Dave is much nicer to him than he has ever been to me.”
“That wouldn’t be hard to do. I’m sorry, C.”
“It can’t be helped.”
“I’m proud of you.”
“For what?”
“Well, this guy works with Riverton, and yet you’re not kicking him to the curb. You get major props, lady. He’s either special to you or he’s got one hell of a…”
Even before she finishes the sentence, I know what she’s going to say. I squirm in my chair because I might have sounded giddy, but I don’t do this female sharing thing easily—even with Mer.
“Oh. My. God,” she says. I’m looking down at my shoes, and even though I know I’m in trouble, I’m still surprised when she continues. “Claudia Cooper! You got a hold of the holy grail.”
I look up, side-eyeing everyone around us to see if they are paying attention to Mer. Thankfully, they don’t seem to be. “Mer!” I grumble.
“You did, didn’t you? You hooker!”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, almost afraid of what she’ll say next.
“The three-peater.”
“The what?” I ask, having no idea what she’s talking about. Though he usually does give me three orgasms before he’s done—that I’m not going to discuss with her at the diner.
“Here ya go, ladies,” the waitress says, thankfully interrupting our conversation. We spend the next few minutes arranging our food, and just when I think we’ve finished this whole conversation, Mer starts back up.
“A three-peater. That means he has brains,” she says, holding a finger up. I nod because Gray is extremely smart and witty, it’s one of the things I really like about him. “He has money, or at least a steady job so you don’t have to keep his ass up,” she continues, holding a second finger up. I don’t respond because I figure she knows that. “And finally, he has at least seven inches when you take a ride on the man train.”
“You did not just say that,” I gasp, knowing I’m blushing from head to toe now. I look all around us, just knowing everyone has heard what she said.
“I did, and from your reaction, I can tell the answer is affirmative. So how much are we talking here?”
“Will you stop? Honestly, Mer, I am not answering that at all. No way.”
“So more than seven?”
“Oh my God! Who are you and what have you done with my quiet, kindergarten school teaching friend?”
“Answer the question and I’ll let it drop.”
“I will not.”
/> “Fine, I’ll just ask him when I see you two out together.”
“You would not!”
“Try me. Now are you going to give the deets or what?”
“I have no idea!”
“Bullshit!”
“It’s true! I haven’t exactly taken the time to measure it.”
“Measure what?”
I look up at the question to see Mer’s sister Valerie standing at our table. Christ! That’s all I need. Crosstown has three methods of communication: telephone, telegraph, and tell Valerie. Seriously, when you need something spread around town, all you have to do is let Valerie know and it’s all over this town and two counties over by nightfall.
“C here has got hold of the mythical bigfoot.”
“Jesus,” I mutter.
“Mythical bigfoot?”
“Her new boy toy is big.”
“Ohhhh… Do tell! Give me all the juicy details, and I do mean juicy,” Valerie says, pushing Mer over and sitting down with us.
“There are no details! I keep telling Mer! I haven’t measured it! I have no idea.”
It’s a bold faced lie. I mean, I haven’t measured his dick. I did read the tabloids though and the general consensus from all the women in his harem is that Grayson Lucas, golf’s new young stud, is packing a very thick nine iron between his legs. I think they might be doing him a disservice. After experiencing him inside of me, I’d say he’s closer to ten--not that I’ve had that many, and certainly none to compare his size with.
“You flucking hooker! You’re holding back from us,” Mer says. Jesus! I hate that she knows me so well.
“Shit. If I tell you, will this conversation please drop?”
“Totally,” Mer says. “Absolutely,” Valerie joins in, and for some strange reason, I don’t trust either of them.
“I mean it, and Val, if this gets out, I will tell Elmer at Pro-Hardware you have a thing for him,” I warn her. Elmer is a fifty-year-old, never-been-married-before bachelor who goes cruising parking lots looking for women. Not just any women, however. No, Elmer wants women that are at least twenty years younger than him. Never mind that he’s got a beer belly, thinning hair that he combs over, and none of his own teeth. No, the real problem is that the man is as stingy as they come. He probably has more money in his checking account than even Grayson. But the reason it’s there is because he is a skin-flint. According to a very good source (Valerie), the man has only used one pack of light bulbs in two years. The reason for that is, he gets out one light bulb and uses it in whatever room he’s in. When he leaves that room, he unscrews it from the lamp and moves it into the next room with him. Rumor has it—again from Valerie—he also takes the time to separate every roll of two-ply toilet paper so he gets twice the use out of it.
“That’s just mean, C.”
“Promise.”
“Fine, I promise. I don’t see what the problem is. If I had a man with a big dick, I’d be shouting that shit near and far. Hell, I’d be so loud in the bedroom that the whole county would know it anyway,” Valerie says, and I flip her off.
“Spill,” they say together, and I take a breath. Did I mention this oversharing and girl-time isn’t easy for me? Yet another reason why other than Mer and, obviously sometimes by default, Valerie, I don’t have girlfriends. You wouldn’t catch Jackson asking me about the size of Gray’s dick.
“I honestly haven’t measured it. Though the tabloids say he is nine inches.”
“Sweet mother of… Wait. Hold the flucking presses and call Maury to find the baby daddy. Did you say tabloids?”
“Yeah.”
“C, you said he had money, but you didn’t say he was famous. Just who the hell are you dating?”
“Damn it! If you’re dating my man, I’m going to hate you for life!”
“Trust me when I tell you, Valerie, that I’m not dating the lead singer from that band.”
“His name is Adam and he’s mine. His wife is the only thing in my way, but that won’t last much longer. She doesn’t understand him like I do.”
My eyes go over to Mer, who’s pointing a finger at her head and spinning it in a circle to indicate that her sister’s whack-a-do. That’s a sentiment I wholeheartedly agree with.
“It’s Grayson Lucas,” I tell them, and they look at each other in question. It’s good to know I’m not the only one who doesn’t follow golf. “He plays golf,” I add.
Valerie is the first one to look him up on her phone. “Oh. My. God,” she whispers to her screen.
“Sweet Jesus,” Mer adds, yanking her phone over to look at it.
“Does he have a brother?” they both say together and I laugh—a real laugh, because just like that, I’m good. I feel really good. They aren’t saying Gray is out of my league. They aren’t telling me I’m crazy for seeing him. Just the opposite, and so I laugh and then proceed to tell them about his colorful (pun intended) family.
This might just work out after all.
“What do you mean we’re taking the boat out?” I grumble, trying to keep my game face on, but really just wanting to get the hell out of here. I feel like I’m in level three of hell. Three levels, because there are three major things fucking with my plans for the day. One, I’m on Riverton’s sea cruiser, which is most definitely not a sailboat. Secondly, Cammie has been flirting and pawing at me for the last hour, and finally, Riverton is M.I.A. “Your father’s not even here yet.”
“I told you, daddy said he may be held up at the office and for us not to wait for him,” Cammie says almost giddily. Hell, I’m a man, and I’m the first to admit men are usually clueless, but even I can see the calculating in her eyes.
“Honestly, Cammie, I have plans for this evening. We can just reschedule this and do it some other time.”
“What? Why? I’m here and, Gray, I am the CEO for daddy’s marketing. It’s really me you should talk to about this anyway.”
“You are? Then why has your father been…”
“Daddy was just being generous with his time, Gray. He likes you. But honestly, I’m the one who usually makes all the decisions about corporate sponsoring. I had the cook prepare us a nice lunch, and with daddy not here, that means there will be more than enough food. How about we take the boat out? There’s a nice island in the middle of the lake. We can drop anchor close to it and enjoy lunch and talk business?”
Warning bells are going off in my head. Cammie’s got me in her sights and that really is reason for me to turn her down. On the other hand, it appears I’m never going to get to talk to Riverton one-on-one about this. If Cammie is really the one in charge here, it would be smart to deal with her, get it over with, and put this entire trip behind me.
“I have dinner plans tonight I can’t be late for,” I warn her. I promised CC I’d take her out to eat to make up for the other night and I have every intention to keep that promise.
“I can always call the club and…”
“It’s not the club. I have dinner plans with CC tonight.”
“CC?” she asks, sounding confused. “Are you dating Claudia?”
The tone of her voice gets on my nerves as well as the scandalized look on her face.
“We’ve gone out a few times, yes. Is there a problem?”
“Well, no. I mean, who you see is your business, I guess. I just thought that you and I had a connection.”
“Listen, Cammie. You’re a very nice person and all and I have the upmost respect for you, but I’m afraid I don’t really date people I work with in any way.”
“But…”
“I just find it bad practice to mix business and pleasure,” I tell her, cutting her off. “I’m sure you understand.”
“Well, not really. I mean, we’re both adults and we have similar interests and…”
“It’s just a personal rule,” I tell her again, cutting her off before she can keep going. I need to shut this down and get it back under control. She studies me for a minute, then something passes over her face and
I feel another warning bell go off, but in a second the look is gone and I have to wonder if I imagined it.
“Fine, then. We’ll be business partners,” she says, holding out her hand. I take it and I can’t help but feel that this seems just way too easy.
“Business partners,” I agree.
“And friends. We can be friends, right? One can’t have too many of those.”
“I completely agree,” I tell her with a smile, starting to feel very relieved that all of this is out in the open. It’s the best thing really, to be upfront with each other.
“Great. Now that we have that out of the way, why don’t we skip taking the boat out and instead have a business luncheon at the club and discuss what our sponsorship exactly means?”
“Means? You would sponsor me for the golf tournaments I make. Your name would go on my gear…”
“It’s much more involved than that, surely you understand,” Cammie says, then links her arm into mine as we begin walking towards the docks.
“I mean, I know there’s more business to be decided and, of course, a contract, but…”
“It’s not just that, Gray. If Riverton Metals is going to sponsor you, then you are in essence going to be the face of our company.”
“Of course.”
“That means social engagements…”
“What type of social engagements? I mean, I do have the tour, and…”
“Dinners, parties, autograph sessions while out on tour. And there will be…”
“I’m a golfer, Cammie. Not a rock star.”
“In some circles, I’m sure you can agree that is the same thing,” she says, and before I know what’s happening, she’s led us to her father’s limo. Who has a limo just waiting in the parking lot for whenever you need them? Cammie and David Riverton, I suppose. The driver comes around and opens the door and Cammie slides in. “Are you coming, Grayson?” she asks, waiting.
I stare at her for a minute. I have this horrible feeling I’m selling my soul to the devil. I hear Seth’s voice in my head demanding I go through with this meeting. I take a deep breath and agree before I can talk myself out of it.
As I’m closed in the car with Cammie, I just know I’m going to live to regret this.