by Kenzie Reed
Why is everyone so invested in our sex life?
“No, no, everything’s fine. We’ve reconciled,” I say to him. “I’m just here because the Witlocke family is sitting down and talking about stuff they should have dealt with decades ago. But we’re back together, for good.”
“Ah! So true love won out in the end!” Constantine nods to himself in satisfaction. “Agapi.”
“What gapi?” Pamela looks at me, puzzled.
“Why would I know?” I wave at the waitress. “Howdy! Jemma, right?”
“Be right there, hon!” She bustles over and sets glasses of water in front of Pamela and me.
The sound of yelling distracts us. We all look around for the source of the noise.
Carrie is standing on the street, right outside the coffee shop’s seating area, screeching into Heather’s face. Heather is rapidly backing up, clutching a shopping bag to her chest.
Constantine’s gaze swivels over to them. “That redhead.”
“Oh, don’t pay her any mind,” I say.
At the exact same time, Constantine breathes, “Who is that magnificent creature?”
“Uhhh… You mean Carrie?”
Constantine is riveted. “So full of fire and passion.”
Pamela and I exchange looks.
I leap to my feet. “Carrie!” I bellow at the top of my lungs, making everyone at the table jump.
Pamela coughs on her water. “Jeez, warn a woman.”
Carrie looks over at me. I wave at her, and she winces, realizing she’s been busted in an act of less than excellent behavior. She trots towards us, a guilty look on her face.
Constanine leaps to his feet and quickly runs his fingers through his thick salt-and-pepper hair. “Wait!” he says in a low, frantic voice. “I’m not ready! Do I have anything in my teeth?”
“No. You look very handsome,” I assure him.
He’s adjusting his tie as Carrie walks up.
“I know, I know,” Carrie says miserably, glancing back over at Heather, who’s stomping down the street shooting looks of pure hate in our direction. “I just–”
I interrupt her. “This is a friend of mine and Donovan’s, Constantine Galatos. I’m just going to be horribly blunt. Constantine thinks you’re enchanting.”
Constantine’s face goes brick-red.
“Constantine, this is Carrie, one of the most talented, stubborn, brilliant, pain-in-the-ass journalists you’ll ever meet. You’re widowed, Carrie is divorced, which means you’re both single. You can take it from there.”
“A writer!” His eyes are saucer-wide. “I love creative women. My late wife was a poet.”
“Creative? I mean… Well, I dabble.” She’s blushing too. “I mean, hello. Nice to meet you.”
Carrie holds out her hand, and instead of shaking it, he takes it and kisses it, European style. Carrie looks as if she might faint. She stares down at the spot he just kissed, and I’m willing to bet she won’t be washing that paw for a week.
“And now Pamela and Graham and I need to go get some cupcakes at the bakery. Sorry, hate to not eat and run,” I say, as the waitress approaches us with menus.
“We do?” Graham looks bewildered. “Who said anything about cupcakes? Why?”
Pamela and I grab his arms and all but drag him from the table.
“They’re about to totally fall for each other. This is going to be epic. They need privacy,” I inform him.
“Can we stand on the sidewalk and watch?” Pamela asks hopefully. “This is amazing. This is better than Netflix.”
“Yeah, can we?” Graham’s eyes light up. “I mean, look at them. It’s like a nature documentary.”
“No, I don’t want to risk jinxing it.” I shake my head vigorously. “Maybe he’ll take her on a cruise on one of his mega-yachts. Think how restful this town would be while she was gone.”
“Fine,” Graham says sulkily. “Then I want those cupcakes. And they’d better have chocolate.”
As we’re walking towards the bakery, Donovan calls me. I make a mental note: I need to change his ringtone from Billie Holliday’s “No Good Man”.
“Hello, husbeast. I’ll be home in an hour or two. Did you get my text?”
“I did. I already forwarded it to one of my attorneys, and we have an investigator who’ll look into it.”
“Is everything okay with the family?’
“Better than okay. I’m sorry to shoo you away like that, but we had a really good talk,” he says. “Everybody cried. My parents apologized for not naming me after Dad. Dad agreed to let Jamie learn how to operate the machinery, and we’ll officially move Toni into the position of hospitality manager. Dad and Mom asked me if I wanted to legally change my name to Montgomery Witlocke the Third, I said no a little too quickly, and they looked a little insulted. But, uh, yeah, looks like Jamie is leaving your employ. Sorry about that. What’s up with you?”
“Wait until I get home,” I say happily. “You would not believe what just happened.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
DONOVAN
It’s agreed by everyone that Sienna and I will stay at the Witlocke family guesthouse until we can come up with a better solution, and Sara will move into the barn-house to help care for Aunt Fernanda. Cleocatra, Aceto and Ducktape are forming their own weird little flock already, so they’ll stay there for now. Of course, I have visitation rights, and Fernanda has agreed not to try to murder me when I come over.
I have sternly ordered my mother and Aunt April to clear all their passive-aggressive “Witlocke Winning” décor from the guesthouse. Since the Greenvale Fall-fest starts tomorrow, and they’re all crazy-busy getting ready, they’re having their maids do it.
While the guest house is being de-Witlocked, I am taking my wife out to dinner. It’s a warm September evening, and we’re sitting at an outdoor table at Le Gourmand, perusing menus and watching the stream of people flowing past us. This year’s festival promises to be very successful. Every hotel for miles is booked, and tour buses from Portland are filling up all the parking lots.
“I can’t believe I only got here this morning,” I say to Sienna. “It feels like a lifetime ago.”
“I can’t believe we’ve only had sex three times since you got back.”
“Patience, woman,” I growl. “I need to refuel, and then we can continue making up for all that time we lost when you refused to speak to me.” She kicks me under the table. “Because of my bad, never to be repeated, behavior,” I add hastily.
Sienna tips her head back and sniffs the air. “Hold on to that thought. Do you smell pure evil?”
“What would pure evil smell like?” I wonder.
Brooke and Fraser slither through a crowd of tourists and pause by our table.
“Like that,” Sienna says. “Like a bottle of overpriced cologne had sex with a custom-made tracksuit.”
“Well, look who decided to come slum it in Greenvale again. Let’s see, was it two months of no training for Sienna? Too bad about the relay race,” Brooke gloats. “I guess losers gotta lose.”
Sienna smiles, baring her teeth in a half-snarl. “Yes, you do, but don’t feel too bad. We’ll leave second place wide open for you.”
“Yeah, good luck with that.” Brooke tosses her hair, then shoots Sienna a look of contempt. “If Fraser drives through some dog crap before you clean his car, that’s just too bad. And by the way, just so you know, you settled,” she sneers at me.
“Still miss me, then?” I favor her with a pitying smile. “It’s okay, Fraser’s not the worst consolation prize.”
Fraser lets out a strangled yelp of outrage.
“Oh, cool, I didn’t know we’d be enjoying dinner theater.” Sienna takes a sip of Witlocke chardonnay and smiles.
“Are you going to let him get away with that?” Brooke demands of her husband.
“Yeah, are you?” I ask him. I twist to face him, spread my arms open wide. “I’m right here.”
“I wouldn’t lower my
self to his level,” Fraser says to his wife, and starts walking away fast.
“Fraser! Fraser! Get back here!” Brooke screeches, and scampers after him. “He insulted me! And you! Are you going to just stand there and take it?”
As they hurry off, the sound of her haranguing carries through the air. “You’d better win that race tomorrow, or no sex for a month!”
“Uhh…” I tap Sienna on the arm. “That was fun, but let’s be realistic. There’s no way in hell we’ll win.”
“Oh ye of little faith.” Sienna grins at me. “I never stopped jogging. I just did it in secret. After Aunt Fernanda came home, I left the treadmill in the living room and I trained when she was out of the house. I’ve gotten pretty fast, if I say so myself.”
“You… But why? I’m so happy you did, but why?”
“I honestly don’t know.” She chews her lip in contemplation. “Maybe on some level I always hoped we’d reconcile.”
I flash a big, gloating grin at her. “Or maybe I was right about how amazing it is to jog, and you learned to love it almost as much as you love me.”
“Seriously, Donovan.” She chokes on a laugh. “Tell those voices in your head that I say hi, will you?”
“I think what I just heard was, ‘You’re right as usual, light of my life.’” I grab her hand and squeeze it. “But just so you know, I am so freaking glad you kept running.”
To save our energy for the race, we only have sex one more time after dinner, and we go to bed early.
We arrive at the race track bright and early the next day, wearing our Team Rilocke T-shirts in a completely unironic fashion.
Our cheering section gathers together near the starting line. Graham is standing with my family, chatting animatedly to Jamie. She doesn’t have that look on her face that most women get when they talk to Graham – the look of confusion and alarm. Of course, we’re talking about a woman who wore tiny dancing penises on her head, in public, this entire summer. Maybe her weird is a match for Graham’s weird.
My gaze drifts over the rest of the crowd. Families eating cotton candy, couples wearing wreaths of grapes…and Carrie and Constantine standing side by side, wearing big goofy grins.
“Carrie’s buttoned her shirt up wrong,” Sienna says to me. “Should I tell her? Also, Constantine’s shirt tail is poking out of his fly.”
“Why are you looking at Constantine’s fly?” I demand.
She rolls her eyes. “Because I’ve been secretly in love with him all along? And I set him up with Carrie because I plan to swoop in and steal him from her, even though he’s obviously got a thing for redheads? Doofus.”
I snort indignantly. “It was a reasonable question.”
“It was an insane question.” Sienna smiles up at me fondly. “But that’s okay. You may be looney as a toon, but you’re my toon.”
Constantine and Carrie make their way through the crowd to get to us.
“It is a beautiful day, my friend.”
“Agapi?” I suggest.
He flips his hand dismissively. “You’re saying it wrong, but I am too happy to care.”
“You two are going to crush it.” Carrie smiles. Her normally sleekly styled hair is frazzled, and she’s got the deeply satisfied grin of a woman who’s had good sex for the first time in ages.
“I hope so!” A loud horn blares. I glance at my watch. “We’re starting in ten minutes.”
I see Murray making his way through the crowd, with Heather by his side. He’s limping, and I glance down to see a thick bandage wrapped around his ankle.
“What happened to him?” I ask.
Carrie casts an indifferent glance in his direction. “So predictable. He wants to be right in the middle of things, but he hates to lose and he has no chance of winning the relay race. So he’s faked an injury.”
Murray and Heather elbow their way through the crowd of spectators until they reach us.
“I need to talk to you about the phone calls you’ve been making,” Murray says to Sienna.
She shrugs. “As soon as I get some answers, I’ll stop calling.”
“Watch your tone when you speak to my wife.” I straighten up and shoot Murray a look that’s made lesser men pee their pants. He takes several quick steps backwards.
“You forgot to limp,” Carrie informs him. She looks like a Cheshire cat that forgot to vanish. Her face is one huge grin.
“What are you smirking about?” Heather sneers.
“Because I had the most amazing sex of my entire life last night. For the first time ever, I didn’t need battery-operated assistance to finish the job.”
Murray’s face flushes at the implication. Constantine beams from ear to ear.
“You know exactly what I mean,” Carrie adds with a sweetly self-satisfied smile at Heather. “Murray at least used to be funny, cute and charming, which almost made up for his utter lack of skills, but now he’s not any of those things. You’re trading the hopes of a big payday for a lifetime of faking your orgasms. And sorry, sweetie, you can try to argue all you want, but we’ve both seen what he’s got to work with, so I know you know the truth.” Then she glances at Constantine, stretches her hands apart, about a foot wide – holy hell, seriously? – and winks at Heather.
Heather’s sneer freezes in place and curdles as Carrie walks off, arm in arm, with Constantine. She and Murray sidle away, wearing identical scowls.
“That was so utterly, beautifully epic.” Sienna beams at me. “That was a burn so beautiful, the sun is jealous. I don’t think I’ve ever been happier.”
“Ever? Hey! Your long-lost husband came home yesterday and sexed you all night long,” I protest.
“I said what I said!”
The preliminary starting horn honks. “Oh, the race is about to start. We will resume this discussion later. Let’s go give them a run for their money.”
“Ugh,” she groans.
“Hope we don’t end up running behind any cars.” I wink at her. “We’ll get exhausted.”
“Dear? Don’t make me regret taking you back.” She’s trying not to laugh. I’ve still got it.
“You know you missed my dad jokes.” She grins at me and stands on her tiptoes to kiss me.
“Team Rilocke!” she cries out, and we do a fist bump.
The rules of the game say that the men start first. I head over to the starting line, and Sienna trots off to take her place at the location where I’ll hand off her flag.
At first there’s a crowd, of course. And there’s some serious competition. It’s only a 5k, and I’m only running half of it, so I don’t have to pace myself too much. Fraser’s been training hard, I’ll give him that. Rumor has it he hired a running coach. He gives me a run for my money, but I pull ahead of him at the end, legs pumping. Sienna’s screaming and cheering, and Brooke is screeching with fury at Fraser.
After Sienna snatches the flag from me, I leap off the track and hurry for the finish line, where our family and friends have relocated.
It’s neck and neck as they get closer to us. Brooke is by Sienna’s side, her face red, legs pumping furiously. She remains slightly behind her as they approach the finish line.
All of a sudden, Brooke puts on a burst of speed. She reaches Sienna, deliberately crashes into her, and sends her stumbling off the track, where she falls. Sienna leaps to her feet and limps after her. The crowd starts booing.
Our families explode in outrage. “What the hell!” I bellow. I lunge forward. Cesare and my father physically hold me back.
“Let the judges take care of it!” my father says. “Sienna’s fine. Look, she’s up, she’s jogging.” She’s fine.”
Brooke bolts to the finish line, greeted by loud jeers from the crowd. Two other women are right behind her. Cesare and my father release me, and the whole mob of us run over to surround Sienna, who looks near tears.
“I tried, honey!” she sniffles.
“You won, for God’s sake!” I hug her. She’s drenched in sweat. “You were i
n first place. I don’t care what the judges say, or what anyone says.”
Of course, everyone else saw what we saw. The judges quickly convene at the finish line stage, then announce that Brooke is permanently disqualified from the race. The winner is a nurse from Greenvale Hospital. Sienna is offered a consolation trophy, which she politely declines. Pamela’s bouncing on her heels, so mad that her husband has to keep a firm grip on her arm and her police chief brother keeps shooting her warning looks.
Fraser is nowhere in sight, the weasel.
“She cheated too! She trained in secret!” Brooke fumes at the judges. “And I know she’s taking steroids! She’s got the thighs of a gorilla.”
“Watch your mouth!” My mother storms forward. “How dare you speak of my daughter-in-law in that fashion!”
“Do you know what slander is, Trailer Park Barbie?” Pamela says to Brooke, ice dripping from every word. “Slander is saying that someone’s taking steroids when they aren’t. Slander is also expensive.”
“I know what your face is going to look like after I work it over with my fist.” Brooke starts towards Pamela.
“That’s it.” Chief Shaughnessy slaps cuffs on her and marches her away.
Has Brooke forgotten elementary school? Pamela mopped up the playground with Brooke’s face more than once, when she caught Brooke bullying first graders. The chief’s acting more for Brooke’s protection than he is Pamela’s.
Sienna scowls after her. “I actually am going to petition to remove the lifetime disqualification.”
“What? Why would you do that?” I ask, scowling as Brooke’s hustled into the back of a squad car.
“Because next year you and I are going to beat her ass in the couples’ relay. And I want to see the look on her face when she loses.” Sienna’s eyes gleam as she stares after the car.
A glow of pride and happiness warms me from within. “You are the best thing that ever happened to the world,” I whisper in her ear. “I am taking you home right now.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
SIENNA
This past weekend, I’ve taken a break from trying to dig up the dirt on Ferguson, because it’s been all hands on deck with the festival. I’m helping Aunt Fernanda run the Ribaldi Family Winery booth, the rest of the family is manning the Ribaldi Family Organic Cheese booth, the Witlockes have their booth, and we all try to be happy about the fact that sales are amazing.