by Tracy Ellen
A couple minutes later, I stopped listening to their banter about wild parties. Pam had been accurate in her descriptions of the DDL group, especially Miss Texas.
If you were a woman that considered it a good time to be draped across two laughing men, as you squirmed on the lap of one and rubbed your boobs against the chest of the other, all while you incessantly giggled, then Pricilla Powers was having a riot with Luke and her boyfriend, Daniel Boynton.
Pam and Jazy had stopped to speak to the curly black beard, so I was able to stand unnoticed and observe the table of Luke and his friends from a few feet away.
I felt my mouth drop open at the sight of Luke laughing so hard his bronzed face looked purple. His hands were busy doing something, but he was fumbling, so I couldn’t decide if he was tickling the wiggling blonde or attempting to push her off him. Regardless, the results of his handiwork caused her to cry out, “Oh, stop it, stop it!” in a voice clearly stating the direct opposite.
The man I assumed was Daniel Boynton by Pam’s description had gripped the hips of the Not-So-Prissy Priscilla and was pounding her on his lap in a parody of the sex act while he laughed uproariously and grunted.
The woman getting publically dry humped while half lying on Luke was attractive and her escalating shrieks were girlishly feminine; circa straight from the playground in junior high. Laughing, she wrapped her arms tightly around Luke’s neck as she held on for the rough ride. Shiny blonde hair and bountiful breasts bounced and jiggled all over my grinning boyfriend.
Surprisingly, John-Joe Smith was not participating in the gala mini-orgy. He lounged in a chair across the table, arms crossed behind his head and golden-brown eyes veiled.
Not that I was impressed. John and Pam had professed their love only a week ago. I’d give the snake man another week before he joined in the fun. If he was anything like his best friend Luke, it took at least two weeks after you committed to love before you acted like a complete asswipe.
‘My, is that a boner I spy in Daniel’s pants?’ the sex kitten voice asked archly.
‘That’s all I spy at that table--boners and boneheads,’ the mean mommy voice replied scathingly.
I spied the couple who had to be Dan and Emma. Dan was watching Priscilla pretend to flail, but his tight expression was unreadable.
In his forties, Dan had the appearance of a career military officer that lived by the book. Buzzed hair, straight posture, he was zipped up and buttoned down. The hand he rested on his wife’s thin shoulder seemed protective, rather than affectionate, as if he was worried he might have to physically restrain Emma from jumping in and joining the thrashing threesome.
I couldn’t imagine why. Emma White was a slight, nondescript woman with short, brown hair streaked with silver. She sat calmly with hands folded in her lap and stared down into her drink. Off in her own world, I would say she was completely oblivious to the party occurring at their table.
Hearing a slight intake of breath, I glanced over to see Jazy looking where I was looking.
Our eyes met, and I wondered if mine were the color of cold blue steel like hers. Jazy arched her brows, but without comment, raised her beer bottle next. She chugged the rest of the beer and carefully placed the empty brown bottle on a small table next to our jackets. Judging by her gentle actions, I think Jazy would have preferred to slam the bottle’s neck against the edge of the table and start slashing. Or it could be I was projecting again.
Pam clapped her hands and called out excitedly, “Luke, Joe, look who I found.” She swept out her arm and imitated the old Johnny Carson show. “Here’s Anabel and Jazy!”
To my eyes, it appeared time stopped for a moment. Five people at the table stopped what they were doing in a frozen tableau for a heartbeat before their faces looked our way with varying degrees of curiosity.
The sixth person, my boyfriend, still had the abnormal laughter filling his voice when he greeted me like a passing acquaintance, “Hey, Anabel.”
“Luke,” I responded coolly, concealing my confusion at his casual attitude.
His eyes had swept over me but it was a generic move any man would make, and he moved causally on to nod at Jazy without any flirtatious gleam or comment on my new hair or tan.
To my sister he said with a grin, “Hi Jaz. You out looking for trouble tonight?”
Jazy smirked. “I never have to look for trouble any night.”
The louder than normal laughter was the only overt sign I picked up on that indicated Luke might have drank more than his limit. He didn’t seem sloppy drunk like some of his friends or swaying like Pam, but something was drastically missing behind his eyes when he met mine. For the first time since I had met Luke in my bookstore last April, I did not feel that intense connection flowing between us. I felt incredibly awkward standing there when he didn’t say anything more or introduce me personally to his friends.
I couldn’t seem to dredge up the emotions to be pissed at Luke like I should be. I was aware I wasn’t acting like my usual confident self, but my brain had shut down and I was numb.
I had no idea of the best way to handle this indifferently rude Luke that resembled the man in my nightmares more than the man I’d loved and laughed with last weekend. It could be the depressed tiredness of the past week catching up with me again, but the moment felt too prophetic and that scared me.
I couldn’t look at him, so I watched Daniel let loose of Priscilla’s hips. Still laughing, she tried a few times to push off Luke’s lap before she could sit up on her own chair. She ran hands through her long, curling hair to toss it about while smiling in a friendly fashion over at Jazy and me.
She had large green eyes that currently were glazed and had a little eyeliner smeared underneath. Not dark green like Luke, but lighter and luminous. She also had an overbite. Those buck teeth pushed her over the border of merely attractive territory and into the fantasy land of interestingly sexy.
I read a book when I was a young teen that said a man got an extra dose of excitement when a mouth full of teeth like that sucked his meat popsicle. It had something to do with the added adrenaline spike of not knowing if, or when, those large teeth may graze too hard or take a nip.
I was bummed with my perfectly vertical teeth, but stuck with them. Our family dentist adamantly assured me there were no cosmetic braces on the market to give me buck teeth. Not that I told him why I wanted them but when he understood I was serious, we made a deal if I ever needed dentures, then I could have my overbite. I had toyed with the idea of getting my front teeth knocked out, but decided there were a few years before I’d actually need them, so it wasn’t worth the pain at thirteen. I was still deciding. The good news was a woman could never be too old to have a dangerous mouth, so I had time.
“Oh Daniel, honey, look what all our playing around has done. These two girls are going to have the worst first impression of me!” Priscilla exclaimed, slapping Daniel playfully on the shoulder while the big man grinned and shrugged at Jazy and me.
I couldn’t drag my eyes off Priscilla’s mouth as she spoke. I was envious to see her overbite came complete with that spitting way of talking due to extra saliva. It wasn’t that she sprayed people with spittle, but a person was definitely aware she had to exercise firm control of that wet mouth to avoid doing so.
“Hi there!” She stuck out a slender hand across the table. “My name is Priscilla.” She motioned to Luke and Daniel and whispered sotto voice, “Now, don’t you be judging them bad. It was my fault because I accidentally fell all over those poor fellas.” She wiggled her retroussé nose and shivered. “Then men being men, they took advantage of helpless me and pounced like animals.” She smiled at everyone and her voice conveyed teasing approval, “Men are such pigs, aren’t they?”
I felt a little satisfaction to see Priscilla’s eyes narrow and loose some of that down home sunshine when one of those man pigs was caught by his helpless girlfriend introducing himself to my breasts?
“Welcome to Northfield. I�
�m Jasmyn Axelrod.” My sister took Priscilla’s extended hand first, the MacKenzie dimples flashing. “If I remember my Three Little Pig’s history correctly, Priscilla, you’d best be careful where you fall.” Jazy shook Priscilla’s hand energetically while her glance raked Luke and the dimples disappeared. “Wasn’t that how stupid, little drunk girls got pregnant by little boy pigs?”
Was it wrong of me to be extremely satisfied my little sister was at my side to say what I could never say without sounding like a jealous little cat--even if what she said made no sense?
I definitely agree it wasn’t. After all, if Bucky hadn’t been rubbing her perky bounciness all over my boyfriend, Jazy would have her on the dance floor by now, instead of squeezing the crap out of her hand.
It wasn’t satisfying, but extremely odd when the silent Emma White suddenly came to life and burst into noisy tears, covering her face with her hands. Through her fingers, she railed at Jazy in slurred drunkenness, “Don’t ever make fun of pregnant girls or you’ll regret it!”
In the stunned silence before anybody reacted to the bizarre outburst, Pam’s nervous giggle rang out and she whispered not so quietly, “See, Bel, was I right or what?”
My first instinct was to glance at Luke to share the moment, but I shut that down. I pursed my lips and counted the acoustic tiles in Brisbane’s ceiling, not trusting myself to look over at Jazy’s face or respond to Pam’s question other than with a slight nod.
Pam sniffed near my neck. “Damn, you smell so good.” Ignoring Emma’s crying as her husband attempted to soothe her, Pam walked past the couple to where John Smith sat. “You should get a whiff of Bel. No more of those Anal Sexes, I want a mudslide next, Joe.”
Not a pretty crier, Emma’s loud cries and wasted mumblings on the subject of pregnant women were unnerving, but I still had a hard time not laughing when Priscilla started weeping softly, too.
From the sounds of it, Emma was not going to get away with upstaging the talented Ms. Bucky. It was possible Jazy had broken several fingers of her fingers when they shook hands, or perhaps she couldn’t take being called a stupid little drunk pig, but whatever the reason, Priscilla had thrown herself into Daniel’s arms.
Tears streaming prettily down her cheeks. She said piteously, “Emma’s right, pregnant women are so…so beautiful.”
I barely managed to hold back my own tears of hysteria when Jazy rolled her eyes and snapped, “I am so out of here. If I wanted more of this crazy women-baby shit, I’d have hung out with Anna and Stella tonight.”
Jazy dipped her chin to John Smith. He hadn’t moved from his sprawling, observant position, but now he grinned and saluted in return. Eyes enormous, Pam had plopped down in an empty chair by her love. She waved goodbye uncertainly, as she glanced anxiously around the table at the bawling women and the men trying to soothe them.
Pam shrugged and mouthed, “See you at the party?”
Jazy nodded curtly and picked up our jackets from the nearby table. “Bel?”
I was raised to have manners. Since I hadn’t been formally introduced, I didn’t have much to say. As for Luke, I may not have looked at him since seeing firsthand how well he played with others, but this wasn’t the time or place to confront him.
Directing my words somewhere in the vicinity above their heads, I gave the Chicago people my best alligator smile. “I’m Anabel Axelrod. I hope you all have a good visit and drive careful on those slippery roads tonight.”
I turned and left with my sister.
Chapter VIII
“Foolish Games” by Jewel
Saturday, 12/15
10:45PM
My alligator smile should not be confused with my crocodile smile. The latter smile showed lots of teeth and signified an ass-kicking in the immediate offing. The alligator smile cruised below the surface, bided its time, and waited for the precise moment to clasp its victim in an embrace and start the drowning death roll.
I expected to hear Luke call my name, sweep me up, and somehow explain tonight was all a bad joke, but it didn’t happen. I was coming back to life the further we got away from that table, confused and furious, which was never a tolerable emotional mix for me.
“Jesus Christ,” Jazy cursed, as we leaned against her car in the parking lot. She hadn’t gone back to the dance floor, but led me outside to wait for Mia. “What the fuck was all that crying about?” Her voice rose, “Was Drake drunk? He was laughing like a lunatic, Bel, laughing.” She shook her curls. “I didn’t think that badass could laugh like a regular dude.”
“I didn’t look at him much.” I said stiffly, “I was not happy to see that woman all over him.”
“Damn straight,” she huffed in sympathy, “but did you see that silly grin I was talking about on Luke?”
“Yes, yes, Luke was laughing, Jaz. Contrary to what you may believe, the man is human and he does laugh all the time with me.” I thought of his unrestrained hilarity in the bar. “Sort of.”
“What was going on in there between you guys?”
Wanting another perspective, I repeated all of what Pam had told me.
“Huh. If he saw you dancing first, then the thing with him allowing Priss-face to rub her tits on him was payback.”
I started to explain that Luke and I didn’t operate that way, but stopped. I wasn’t sure how Luke would behave if he was drunk and got jealous.
Jazz wasn’t done. “Now she’s a phony-baloney from the word go. I’ve always hated cheerleaders. Those damn squeals never change, and you know they can all cry fake tears at the drop of hat.” Jazy scornfully added as the coup de grace. “They’re worse than frickin’ scary clowns.”
“Harsh, but I thought she was a phony-baloney, too,” I agreed, and sighed. “I don’t know about Luke, though, Jaz. Something’s not right.”
I expected Jazy to jump all over Luke’s case, but she waved an impatient hand. “Hey, so the man got drunk and talked about your private stuff. Not cool, but he wasn’t really doing anything wrong. We’re doing the same thing right now,” Jazy reminded, and grinned slyly while she nudged me with a shoulder.
I laughed, but protested, “I’m not telling you personal stuff Luke confided in me. Besides, you’re my sister, so it’s not the same. Those women, especially Bucky, are not his sisters.”
“Bucky?” She hooted and slapped her car hood. “Awesome, I love it!” She motioned her head back towards the bar. “Both of those women are head-cases back there, but the guys are all Drake’s good friends, right?”
“Yes, they served together and now they’re business partners.”
“There you go.” Jazy spread her hands. “Luke’s not the kind of man that would want his Army buds to think he was pussywhipped. I don’t know what Luke’s deal is with having kids, maybe it’s a Greek thing, but from the way those nutty women acted; Pam was reading it right. His friends probably gave him crap that you don’t want children. His children,” she stressed and then shuddered. “I don’t even like thinking about babies lately. Does Pam want kids, too?”
“Yeah, eventually,” I answered absent-mindedly, still unconvinced Luke’s drinking and behavior were no big deal.
Other men may act that way, but Luke was not a normal man. I never would have believed he would treat me bad to impress other men. I wanted to go drag Luke out of the bar to get to the bottom of everything, but talking to anybody about anything serious when they’d been drinking was worthless. Also, Jazy’s assessment of my war-god was accurate. He’d hate for his friends to think he jumped through my hoops, and I was in no mood to play submissive girlfriend to salve his ego. There was still the matter of no contact or calls for the last couple of days and then being in town with no plans to see me. Striving for patience, I accepted I wasn’t going to get any answers that minute.
‘Screw it! I’m going to this party and having fun for a few hours if it kills me.’
That’s when I came out of my own dark cloud to notice Jazy’s was staring off into the night and scowling
again. I thought over what we had last said and her questions about kids.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seriously asked you this question, but do you want to have children?” I asked, and marched up and down in place to keep my feet warm. My boots didn’t keep out the cold for too long.
She didn’t stop scowling when she murmured, “My animals are my kids.”
I teased, “Some would say kids are animals.”
Jazy laughed, but she sighed heavily soon after.
“Okay, that’s it. Talk to your favorite number three sister. What’s going on with you?”
I expected Jazy to deny any problems and need more cajoling, or say something about her bad dreams and children, but she floored me by saying, “I think I’m in like with a dude that is the man version of me.” She looked over at me and warned, “Don’t laugh.”
“I’m not laughing,”
“I see that smile.”
“This? It’s not a smile; it’s a big, fat grin.” I laughed and clapped my hands. “Jazy, that’s so awesome. I don’t think I’ve ever known you to like a man before. Screw their brains out, beat them up, smear their egos over the floor, curse them and put them in their place...”
“Yeah, yeah,” she laughed, “all the fun stuff, I get it.”
“But actually like a man?” I asked, and shook my head unable to stop grinning. “And you say he’s the male version of you?”
“Yeah, where women are concerned,” Jazy’s smile slipped and she added ruefully, “maybe worse.”
I nodded in sisterly understanding, only a small snort of laughter escaping. “Ah, I see. So has he screwed your brains out, beat you up, smeared your ego, and put you in your place yet?”
“Of course not,” she sniffed haughtily. “From the beginning, I’ve kept my distance. I haven’t laid a hand on him yet. It’s been driving me crazy until I thought it over and realized it was because I liked him too much to fuck his brains out.”
“Does he know?”
“Hell, no. He’s clueless I like him, as he should be.”