In the Mix

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In the Mix Page 15

by Jacquelyn Ayres

“Have you known the Coopers long?”

  “Just a few months.”

  “Oh? How did you meet them?”

  “Lindsay volunteered at my grooming shop. She was so wonderful with the customers and the animals, that I asked her to work for me. We’ve become great friends since then.”

  “Joan!” I step into their bubble. “I see you’ve met my girlfriend, CiCi.” I put my hand around the small of CiCi’s back and squeeze her towards me a little. What? I couldn’t help it.

  Joan’s face lights up. “Oh, well, she definitely didn’t get that far in her revelations.” she giggles.

  I watch as CiCi gives a tight-lipped smile, her body tense. “I’m not surprised.” I nod. “See, we’re still in our trial period. We have about three more weeks before we can make the final decision to go through with it, right, Ceese?” I nudge her.

  “Trial period? Go through with what?” Joan asks in obvious confusion.

  I lean in towards her, “The wedding,” I say in a hushed voice. “She’s one of those mail order brides.”

  “Are you from Russia, dear?” Joan inquires, the sound of scandal in her voice.

  “No, no. I’m the new American version. We come as equals, having our own businesses and such. I’m just required to be submissive in the bedroom.” CiCi plays along. “It’s very upscale . . . so much that we get a trial period.”

  “I mean, what if she snores?” I pipe up.

  “What if he can’t keep it—” CiCi points her thumb up in the air.

  “I’ve already discovered she farts in her sleep.”

  “I do?” she asks, sounding appalled.

  “Yes, dear. It’s quite offensive.” I shake my head.

  “Um . . . well, I wish you both the best in your endeavors. I see Gertie is here and I’ve been meaning to talk to her about something. Would you mind excusing me?” Joan seems very flustered.

  “By all means.” I smile, move out of her way, and usher my hand out for her to go. Joan leaves us to our own devices.

  “Let me guess, nosy neighbor?” CiCi’s lips finally break into a smile.

  “I’ve always sworn she’s a double agent,” I say through my grin as I wave to Joan’s husband, Walter, across the room. I bring my attention back to CiCi. “Have I told you how gorgeous you look in this dress?” I give her a once-over. “It matches your eyes almost to a ‘T.’” I circle around her. I lean in near her ear, “I meant to thank you earlier for doing as you were told,” I say quietly, tugging on the material at her hip.

  Her breath catches. “I . . . I didn’t wear this because you told me to wear a dress.”

  “No?” I straighten up and raise an eyebrow at her.

  “No,” she states stubbornly.

  Just as I’m about to call her on her bluff, my mom calls out for everyone to gather in the living room. Lindsay, who is never patient when it comes to opening gifts, is ready to open them. I grab the tray from CiCi to put down, and then take her hand in mine. Lacing fingers with her, I guide her to the center of attention.

  “Where’s Mickey?” she asks quietly.

  “In the shed, crated till . . . now, I guess.”

  “What?!” She yanks her hand out of mine. “How long has he been out there for?”

  Before I can even answer her, she’s already making a beeline to the kitchen. “Where are you going?” I catch up with her and grab her arm to turn her to me.

  “Is it dark in there?” she practically yells and twists her arm out of my grasp.

  “No.” I sigh and roll my eyes as she storms off again. Shaking my head, I follow her outside and stop. She’s too busy cussing me out, under her breath, to listen to me. I’m just going to stand here and let her have this moment of wanting to put her foot in her mouth later. Christ!

  You know what she’s going to find when she opens that shed door? She’s going to find Christopher, my little 2nd cousin, in there with Mickey, keeping him company. She’s also going to find that the shed has electricity, allowing lights and music to keep Mickey calm.

  I lean up against the railing on the deck, watching as she opens the shed door. She stands there for a moment, then turns around and heads back. I cross my arms across my chest, as well as my legs.

  “Did you meet Christopher?” I ask as she heads up the few stairs to the massive deck.

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah? That’s it, just yeah?” I grill her. Do I sound like I’m looking for a fight? Yeah, I am.

  “What do you want me to say?” She crosses and rubs her arms up and down. Eye contact? No.

  “How about, gee, Kyle, I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions and thought you were some kind of asshole who would lock a dog up in a dark shed without food or water, for hours? You got something like that for me, Ceese?” I bite.

  “Don’t chastise me.” Her eyes shoot up to mine. “I made a mistake, I’m sorry. Get over it.”

  “I’m sorry, get over it? What the fuck kind of apology is that?”

  Just then, the back door opens and my dad pokes his head out of it. “Lindsay’s opening her gifts, guys, and she keeps asking for you. I think you two have had enough alone time. This is her day.” Before we can even reply, he’s back in and shuts the door.

  “Shit, he’s right.” She brings her attention back to me. She steps into my personal space more and looks up at me. “Listen, I am sorry. About the assumption and my shitty apology.” She toes up and lays a soft kiss on my lips. “We need to get inside,” she adds. I nod and take her hand to lead her in. “I told Christopher to bring Mickey in in a few minutes, is that ok?”

  “Yes.”

  “Kyle?” She pulls on my hand.

  “What?” I look over my shoulder at her.

  “Are we ok?”

  I give her a slight, indifferent shrug. I don’t know how to answer that. I look forward and continue to guide us through the kitchen, swinging door, and into the living room.

  “There you two are!” Lindsay beams. Damn, I do feel like a big jerk for spending the better half of this day indisposed.

  “Sorry, Linz,” I offer. CiCi squeezes my hand as Christopher walks through the front door, holding Mickey’s crate with a cover over it. “I hope this makes up for my getting sidetracked.”

  “What is this?” she asks excitedly. God, I love that about my sister, the childlike excitement. It’s so pure and infectious. I hate to admit this, but it makes me sad at the same time. I feel like I’m missing something that she has a huge hold on. I think most people are missing it, though. Everyone looks at her with pity, a lot of the time.

  Fools—all of them.

  “Are you ok?” CiCi leans up and whispers in my ear.

  “Yeah,” I sigh before letting go of her hand to put my arm around her shoulder. She smiles up at me.

  “Ahhh!” Linz screams. “He’s so cute! Is it a he?” she asks as she unlocks his crate and brings him out. I’m not going to lie, I’m a little nervous.

  “I knew it!” CiCi says excitedly in a whisper. We both stand here, watching as Mickey kisses Linz like a sweet little pup. Not the terror I picked up several days ago. A wave of emotion comes over me and I can feel myself tear up. What? It’s my sister, for Christ’s sake . . . she gets to me. CiCi has her arm around my waist and she squeezes me to her. I glance down at her and she’s beaming at me, same glossed over eyes as me. We both let out a giggle. Well, she giggled . . . I chuckled. Men don’t giggle.

  Fuck it. I giggle. I’ll just own that shit flat out.

  “Christ, I thought the Livingston’s were never going to leave,” Dad grumbles as he reaches to the middle of the table for the pork fried rice. The party’s been over for an hour. I should say Joan and Walter left an hour ago. The party actually finished two hours ago. Mom and Dad both insisted that Ceese and I stay for dinner. Since Chinese was on the menu, there was no way I could refuse.

  “What was this business about you two having an arranged marriage or something?” Mom waves her chopstick back and forth, pointing
at me then CiCi. I bark out in laughter. I think CiCi was about to but she had food in her mouth and she is now coughing up a storm. My guess is it went down the wrong pipe.

  “You ok, baby?” I pat her back.

  “Don’t,” cough, “call . . . me . . . baby,” she continues to cough out.

  “You ok, beautiful?” I correct myself. She nods. Ok. It has nothing to do with me calling her baby—it’s ‘baby’ in general. Hmm . . .

  “That would be a product of CiCi and me, having a little fun with our dear, nosy neighbor.” I turn my attention back to my mom. I then fill her in on what it is we said, exactly.

  “You two are so bad!” Mom laughs. “However, you are no match for me!” She points her chopstick in the air like “checkmate.”

  “Ah, what did my dear, sweet, wouldn’t harm a fly, mother do?”

  “Well,” she begins, “Joan was very interested in my apron. Yes, she said, ‘Well, now, Winnie, that’s a very interesting apron you have on,’ trying not to state the obvious.”

  “Make me proud, Mama, what did you say?” CiCi is already laughing. I’m digesting the fact that she just referred to my mother as ‘Mama.’

  I fucking hate how much I love it.

  Mom giggles (Dad doesn’t . . . ahem). “I think I may have, CiCi.” She waves her hand at her in the way that girls do, ya know, the ‘just listen’ wave. “I said to her, ‘isn’t it lovely? CiCi knows how much I love to cook chicken. Always trying a new recipe. She said, ‘Well, are you sure that was her intention behind the apron, dear?’ She was behaving so skeptically. I said, ‘of course, Joan . . . wait for it . . .” she trails off in a laugh. Mom goes from laughing to practically crying. It takes her a good minute before she seems as if she can finish. “I said, ‘of course, Joan . . . what else would I do with a cock, besides put it in my oven?’” We all burst into laughter. “CiCi, I kept a straight face, too!” Mom boasts at her accomplishment.

  “I can’t even begin to tell you how hard I love you right now.” She gets up and heads over to my mom, still laughing, and gives her a hug.

  I’m not going to lie . . .

  Pitter pat. Pitter pat. Pitter pat.

  “CiCi!” Linz almost screeches as CiCi sits back down.

  “What?” she asks, seemingly alarmed.

  “I just thought of something!” Linz giggles.

  “What’s that?” CiCi encourages her.

  “If you marry my brother, we can call you CCC!”

  CiCi looks a bit panicked, people.

  “I got one better,” I pipe up.

  “What?” Everyone says in unison. Well, except for CiCi . . . she still has headlights on her.

  “Whenever CiCi gets pissed off at me, after we’re married, we can call her . . .” I trail off.

  Wait for it . . .

  Wait for it . . .

  “C-3PO!” I bellow out. Everyone laughs. Everyone except “Bambi.” Suddenly, a smile breaks through her lips.

  “And I’ll be able to cuss you out in over six million forms of communication,” she sasses.

  “You know how many forms of communication he can speak?” I ask in awe.

  “Duh . . .” she trails off and rolls her eyes.

  “You just shot up on the “Hot Meter” by about ten thousand points, just so you know.” I bite on my lower lip and think about the form of communication that I’d like to have with her at this moment.

  If my parents weren’t here, she’d be spread out on this table like dessert.

  “I may or may not have a gold bikini.”

  I’d like to take this moment and pray for my erection.

  It. Hurts.

  “Kyle! Son!” Dad bellows out, snapping me back from my thoughts.

  “Huh?”

  “Where the hell did you go in that mind of yours?”

  “Tatooine.” I shake it off. “Sorry.” I offer. Dad chuckles at me. CiCi is doing the little giggle she does through her nose sometimes. I’m sitting here, slightly mortified.

  “I asked when you were leaving for Spain.” Dad questions before shoving another huge bite of food in.

  “Wednesday,” I answer and avoid CiCi’s eyes that, I’m sure, are now on me.

  “How long are you going to be gone for?” CiCi asks quietly. She sounds sort of vulnerable.

  “I’m not sure.” I glance her way. “I’m training two of the guys so they can learn the ins and outs of the negotiations that we do overseas.”

  She doesn’t reply. As a matter of fact, everyone seems to get real quiet. I don’t know what CiCi’s thinking, but I’m pretty sure it’s not good.

  I grab her hand as we stroll down the walkway from my parents. We have just said our goodbyes to them and now I’ve got to figure out a way to convince her to stay with me the next few days.

  “So, can I stay with you tonight? I’d like to hit that shit again.” She sways my hand and gives me a crooked smile.

  “Sure. But I should warn you, my finger may slip in and play with your ass again.”

  “Look, it’s a lot of pressure, but, nobody wants to be a party of one. Your finger should bring a friend.”

  My cock just twitched.

  “Are you sure? I mean, we don’t want to crowd your tight space. It could feel like a rude intrusion.”

  “True, but I think it’s time I loosen up—get ready for bigger things.”

  I think it’s weeping.

  “If that’s the case, you should just stay with me so I can better help you prepare for that.” I spin her around, once we approach her car, so that her back is up against the door.

  “I think that’s a fantastic idea.” Her rapid breaths match mine.

  “You do? You’ll stay with me?” I jerk my head back.

  “Yeah, is that ok?” She seems a little uncertain now.

  “That. Is. More. Than. Ok.” I kiss her between my words.

  Wow, that was easy, huh?

  “Alright, I guess I’ll follow you, then?” she asks, pulling away from our kisses.

  “No. Just grab your stuff. We’ll take my car. Why the hell did you park so far away from our house, anyways?” I add the last bit in quick.

  “I wasn’t sure how many people were coming, or if there was going to be old people, so I parked farther away. I’m only a few houses down; it’s not a big deal.” She points out the obvious. Me? I’m staring at her in awe. See, here’s something that I’m not sure CiCi realizes yet but every time she drops a brick from her wall, I not only take notice but I soak in that moment. Why? Because it’s not just that she was thinking of the possibility of an elderly guest, it was because she told me she thought of them. Look, I know CiCi is a good person with a heart of gold. The thing is that CiCi doesn’t really like people to know. Did she say this to me? No. Did she have to? No. But with that all said, when she shows me this side of her, without any hesitation, that, right there, is the winning ticket. I haven’t mentioned it once to her when she’s done it. I think that’s the way to go, otherwise, she’d be sure to pull that ticket straight out of my hand in the future. So, instead, I take in the moment, secretly celebrating, knowing I’m that much closer to her heart.

  “Did you hear anything I just said?” She toes up so she’s eye to eye with me.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I got lost in my thoughts. What did you say?” I glide my hands on to her hips.

  “I said I have to work in the morning. I’m going to need my car.”

  “I’ll drive you to work.” I grab her keys from her to unlock her door. “Excuse me.” I grab the handle to her back door and wait for her to move out of the way.

  “Don’t you get up super early to get down to Boston? Where do you live, anyhow?” She tilts her head like she’s pondering.

  “Here, in Windham, a few blocks away.” I stop myself from further explaining why I live in the same town as my parents. That’s probably because CiCi just gave me a knowing smile.

  She’s the only one who’s ever understood.

  Pitter pat
. Pitter pat. Pitter pat.

  She moves out of the way, allowing me access into her car. I grab her stuff, shut the door, lock it, and reach for her hand to lead the way to my car.

  “You’re car still has that ‘brand new’ smell.” She sucks in another whiff once we’re settled in.

  “That’s because I’m never home to drive it,” I admit, inwardly cringing at my inability to omit certain truths. I don’t understand it; I can do it in the boardroom or in the middle of negotiations but I can never do it with family.

  “Oh,” she sighs.

  “Ceese . . .” I glance over at her as we head down the street. “This upcoming trip is so that I can change all of that. Mitch and I made the decision that it was time to hand over the reins for most of the overseas trips. We’re both ready to settle down and have a life.” I try to explain.

  “It’s good to see you two taking the plunge; you’re a cute couple.”

  “Haha, very funny,” I retort. She snickers.

  “You know . . . when . . .” she starts and stops, hesitating.

  “What?” I try to push her along as I reach up and turn my defrost on. There’s a chill in the air tonight, causing my windows to fog up. I notice CiCi fidgeting with her fingers. I gently grab her hand and lace fingers with her before pulling it up to my lips. I plant several light kisses on the back of her hand. “Go on,” I encourage.

  “When Mitch went away . . . in the beginning, he and Charley almost didn’t survive it,” she finally spits out.

  “First, those were different circumstances. You know the demon Mitch was battling. Christ, Ceese, I worked ten years with the man and never knew that part of his past till Charley came along.” I shake my head; I still find that unbelievable. “Second, that won’t happen to us. Please don’t try to burden us with other people’s obstacles.” I say sternly but with a softness in my voice, trying to avoid an argument.

  “Well, what do you mean by that?”

  “I mean, we are us. We are not Mitch and Charlotte. We do not have the same situations as they do; we’re not coming into this relationship with their baggage. Don’t make us about them.”

  “I’m not so sure there should be an ‘us,’” she says cautiously. It seems to me that she’s trying to get a few things off of her chest without leading into an argument, as well. Considering that possibility, I try to take in some calming breaths before I react.

 

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