Pretty Remedy

by S. E. Hall

  I simply can’t guess, so I give up and go back to pondering the one thing, above all, that’s got my stomach in a perpetual nervous cramp and my chest constricting tighter with each anxious breath. Does Rhett know I’m coming back? And if so, how does he feel about that? If anything at all… I haven’t asked Landry about him once, and she hasn’t freely shared. Then again, I haven’t had a chance to tell her any specifics about our whirlwind of non-specifics, and I highly doubt she picked up on anything herself, what with her failed engagement/hot new roommate extravaganza happening simultaneously.

  When the car stops, I throw on my ball cap, pulling my ponytail through the opening in back, pop on my sunglasses, and get out before I have time to talk some sense into myself.

  Ozzie takes in the additions to my attire, one brow rising. “Something concerning you about this trip?”

  Even though I think he’s the softest teddy bear in the world, with a smile and laugh that could bring about world peace—when he uses them—my Oz is one very large and in charge man. If he thinks for one second that harm’s even looking in my direction, I truly pity the person who tries to stand in his way.

  “Just my gut.” I shrug one shoulder. “Things are changing, on my terms and timeline. I’m not taking any chances of that being ruined.”

  “You need anything, you contact me,” he grumbles. My cryptic explanation isn’t to his liking.

  And here I was thinking all I had to do today was lay in bed and catch up on my Breaking Bad DVDs. I’m hoping I can get through the whole box set and caught up before someone realizes what a bad idea ending the show was and miraculously brings back a whole new season. Seriously folks—only fix shit that’s actually broken—leave brilliant alone.

  No such luck though. Jarrett’s text is a grueling reminder of his top not-at-all secret plans for me tonight.

  Jarrett: Picking you up at eight. Be ready. And act happy fucker.

  Granted, he’s by far a more pleasant person than I am, but he’s never such a party planner. Why is this so important to him? It’s not as though I have that many friends busting down the door to come to my birthday party. My bubbly personality isn’t exactly a magnet, so how elaborate could this scheme of his possibly be?

  Me: I’ll give you $200 to forget the whole thing.

  Jarrett: I’ll buy you $200 of liquid enthusiasm to get through it. Don’t ruin this.

  Party it is then.

  I guess it couldn’t hurt to hang with my brother for one night. Honestly, I could use a reprieve, anything other than my two option—alone or just finished fucking and ready to be alone again—monotony. I spent some time this last week going back to the regimen that silences the voices in my head, but it didn’t work for even a second. If possible, it made me feel worse. A new, unexplainable cloud of guilt attached to each girl.

  I drag myself out of bed and head to the shower, determined to find the right frame of mind for tonight. If it’s this important to my brother, it’s important to me. When I’m dressed, I call him.

  “Birthday boy!” Jarrett answers with over-exuberance, as though we didn’t just converse twenty minutes ago.

  “I’m ready.”

  “Well stop the fucking presses.” He laughs. “I said eight though. That’s when the little hand’s on the eight and the big hand’s on the twelve, bro.”

  “Who uses clocks with actual hands anymore, nut funk? I’m ready now.” I could just as easily crawl back in bed, and I might do that if we don’t get this shit started. “I’ll meet you there. Where we going?”

  Jarrett’s never quite mastered the concept of whispering, but everyone in the background apparently sucks at it too. One of those faint voices, I could pick out in the midst of the apocalypse.

  “Put her on the phone,” I bark. No, not that her. With the complete radio silence on that front, and not a word from Jarrett and Landry’s camps, I’m starting to think I imagined her.

  “Who?” He plays dumb, humor lacing his pathetic attempt.

  “Jarrett,” I warn, “let me talk to her.”

  Liz. Came for my birthday. No doubt with Cannon in tow—which is fine, he’s a great guy. With authority, Cannon Blackwell had busted in and swept away all the cobwebs and demons holding Liz hostage, and now… she’s happy. And I’m happy for her.

  The part I didn’t tell Reece, the perplexing little pixie I may or may not have imagined, is that Liz’ll always be mine in a way. She’ll always be the first girl who taught me that females worthy of admiration do exist, and when found, they’re to be protected and coveted with every ounce of strength you possess… but I wasn’t made to love her. I wasn’t created to be her change. Just her best friend.

  “Rhett?” Her sweet voice rings in my ear.

  That’s what “found” sounds like.

  “Liz, how’s my girl?”

  “Very good. How’re you?”

  “It’s my birthday, so I’m even more chipper than usual, if that’s possible,” I joke. “Seriously though, I can’t believe you came.”

  “Of course I did, it’s been too long. Besides, when Dad, Laura, and Alma teamed up and offered to watch the girls and keep Conner away from open flames for a whole weekend, I was out the door before they had time to ask me twice.” She laughs, and every dark cloud in this hemisphere dissipates with the sound. “So are we coming to get you or what? I’m ready to get my Mommy’s Off Pamper Duty party on!”

  “Hell yes, come get me. Tell them to hurry up!” Now I’m excited. Honest to God excited.

  “On our way!”

  This is the good stuff. The times a man commits to memory and pulls out to revisit when everything else goes to shit.

  Liz shines with a new vibrancy, a light in her eyes that’s unmistakable, even in the dimly lit club. And her boobs? She’s definitely still breastfeeding or pumping or whatever keeps your tits triple their normal size. Honestly, I didn’t even have time to avoid looking and they were right there- front and center. Cannon looks dog tired, which brings me much needed amusement. An added surprise, Cannon’s sister Sommerlyn has accompanied them on the trip. And while she’s hot as fuck, body banging harder than Bonham, certain streets don’t need a “No Parking” sign for you to know—Keep. Fucking. Driving. The other way. If only she agreed with my sensible, and safe, reasoning. Which clearly, she doesn’t, draped all over me like very drunk, tacky curtains.

  Jarrett thinks it’s funny as hell, sloughing off my many “help me” glares. Landry and Liz are, um… I look around… dropping it like it’s lukewarm on the dance floor, Cannon standing vigil over them.

  That leaves me fending off Sommerlyn’s advances by myself, until the birthday Gods take pity upon me and JC finally arrives.

  “That’s one helluva present,” he says, raking grateful eyes all over Sommerlyn. “Who got ya that? Was there a bow on it?”

  “I’ve told you about my friend Liz, right? Married Cannon. My nieces.” I roll my hand, urging him to speed up the connecting of the dots.

  “Oh yeah.” His bewildered memory scan fully loads.

  “Uh huh, well, this is Sommerlyn, Cannon’s little sister.” I send him an S.O.S. in my tone. “Sommerlyn?” I turn her, up and off me, toward him. “This is my single, not almost your family, friend JC. You guys get to know each other. I’ve gotta hit the head. Don’t leave her alone, man.”

  I dart toward the men’s room. First things first, and then I’m drinking. Heavily.

  A few shots—not taken off any part of Sommerlyn’s body, despite her encouragement—later and the karaoke hath commenced.

  “Dude, you need to up your game. Her hand accidentally brushes my cock one more time, and I’m out,” I tell JC as the girls take the stage.

  “Do you not see me trying? Girl’s only got eyes for you.”

  “Shot!” I bang my hand on the bar, needing one severely as Sommerlyn takes the lead vocals on whatever this shit song they chose is.

  My brain weeps with her first caterwaul. Why not let Liz sing
it, please? I tip back my deafening elixir while JC rattles off excuses for his digressing prowess and Jarrett flips through the binder, deciding what “us men” should sing.

  “You guys go ahead,” I decline. “I’m good right here.”

  “Drink more, whatever you need to do,” Jarrett says, “but enjoy your goddamned party, and I mean it.”

  He and JC head up to the stage, Jarrett snagging Cannon’s arm to join them. The girls bound back, all hyped up from their “performance.” If that’s what we’re calling it. I quickly pull Landry onto my lap.

  “Wh—” she gasps.

  “Just go with it, I’m begging you. Sit still and remain strategically placed between my dick and Sommerlyn until the guys get back,” I request.

  She giggles. “Okay. Very wise decision, I’m impressed.”

  “As am I.” Liz stands beside us now. “What’s her name, and when do I get to meet her?”

  Landry turns her head to give me a twisted smile and widened, curious eyes, waiting to see if I’ll say…what I don’t. “Not Sommerlyn, your husband’s sister, for damn sure. He could keep a better eye on her, by the way.”

  “Didn’t ask who it wasn’t,” Liz counters. “Very nice try though.”

  Landry says, “Her name is—”

  “They’re starting,” I interrupt and jostle her with a move of my leg.

  Sommer’s shooting me the stink eye. I feel it boring into the side of my face like a heat-seeking missile, but I stare at the stage and will the guys to hurry up and cover Liz’s inquisition with some noise.

  “Black” by Pearl Jam starts, and I jerk my brother a “good choice” chin-up. Jarrett can nail the vocals on this song and Cannon’s a great blend… if JC wasn’t backing them up. Poor guy can’t catch a break tonight. I have to laugh at the looks they both throw JC every few words, destroying their musical mojo, and Landry knocks me upside the head.

  Just when I was beginning to less than detest her. “I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but you can’t be hittin’ men that aren’t yours.”

  “I just did. Now be quiet, Jarrett’s singing.” She sighs wistfully as she watches him, enraptured.

  Huh.

  When they finish, Landry springs from my lap to wrap her entire being around my brother, falling into his mouth before he’s cleared the stairs. Guess who wastes no time sliding herself over my way?

  “Are you gonna sing one?” Sommerlyn attempts a flirty purr. Gotta appreciate her tenacity.

  “Nah, I—”

  “The hell you say,” Jarrett interjects. “Someone else is up, then it’s all you, birthday boy!”

  “Shot!” I shout, waving to get the bartender’s attention.

  An inexplicable surge of heat works its way from the base of my feet to the tips of every hair on my head. What the… I do a quick scan in all directions as the eerie sense of being watched builds in intensity. Seeing nothing or no one overtly out of the ordinary, I turn back to the stage.

  Well happy motherfucking birthday to me… I steel my jaw from dropping as I watch. Hard-wired to the very center of my desolate, cantankerous core is Reece Kelly, climbing the steps to the stage on shaky but mesmerizing legs. She takes the microphone off the stand with a trembling hand.

  “Happy birthday, bro.” Jarrett chuckles and slaps my shoulder. “Didn’t even have to blow out a candle. You’re welcome.”

  Nosy, sneaky motherfucker…love the hell out of him. I’d tell him that, but I can’t look away. Even more fascinating than, well, her is her song choice. From the first word that leaves her miniature mouth, I’m entranced. Again with the deceitful packaging—the girl’s got a huge, beautiful set of lungs on her. Where she fits them I haven’t the first guess.

  And she sees me.

  Her green eyes never once stray from mine as she sings “I’ve Got This Friend” by The Civil Wars, one of my favorites. She lends her own beauty to the song in this solo rendition, but I’d damn sure love the chance at a duo with her. Before she’s even finished, I’m up and making my way to her, blocking her path at the side of the stage.

  She fidgets, head dipped, as she speaks softly to the floor. “Happy Birthday, Rhett. Nice to see you again.”

  I take liberties with my finger under her chin and lift her face, smiling when her gaze belongs to me. “Thank you, Teaspoon. What’re you doing back in town?”

  “Long story.” She rolls those emerald eyes as her shoulders slump. “Landry sort of tricked me. Not that I’m upset. I, uh—” Her eyes flicker to everywhere but me, then she snickers softly. “Never mind. Happy birthday.”

  “Never thought I’d say this, but I’m pretty pleased with Landry. She’s on a roll tonight.” I dip my head to once again snare that attention she keeps refusing me. “Pretty intrigued by your song choice too, which you sang beautifully.”

  Her teeth slowly torture first her bottom lip then the top, ending her innocent seduction with a gentle swipe of her tongue that has me feeling anything but innocent.

  “So which do you feel like explaining first, why that song or why I didn’t get a good-bye?”

  “You did get a good-bye. I left a note. And the breakfast I promised,” she mumbles, shifting from one foot to the other.

  “Hmmm.” I lean in, my mouth stopping short of the taste of her earlobe it craves. “Not sure a note qualifies. You slept in my sheets, so I’m thinkin’ I deserved at least a wave on your way out. And I was too pissed to eat the breakfast.” I blow a hot breath along her skin and savor her shiver. “So I’m still waiting for a taste.”

  She gasps and falters back, but I’m already moving in to eat up the space, pressing against her. I don’t know why I’m so drawn to her, which is almost as annoying as it is exhilarating. She isn’t anything like the only other female to ever garner my attention for more than…an hour tops. She’s not a bottle blond—the flaxen hue of her locks is God-given—her eyes aren’t brown, and she’s as far from brassy and brazen as one gets without literally being a mute. Well, except for that one sexually frustrated, uncharacteristic outburst in the hallway… which apparently, I still find adorable enough for just the memory to get me hard. Her allure hit me sharp, fast, and seemingly out of nowhere, like being struck by lightning with not a storm cloud in sight. What the hell is it? I’ve truly listened to every word she’s said, anticipating the next; only having wondered what color her little panties are once this entire time.

  “Rhett, you’re up!”

  I somehow comprehend the DJ’s intrusion.

  “It’s your turn for karaoke,” she whispers.

  “Not happening,” I whisper back.

  “That works too.”

  “Why are you here, Reece?” I involuntarily growl, dragging her tighter against me.

  Tense and eyes on the run from me again, her words slip quietly past her lips. “We need to talk. But it can wait. I don’t want to spoil your party.”

  “You couldn’t spoil anything if you tried.” I shake my head and laugh, at her yes, but more at the realization that I’m hedging closer to unrecognizable with each Reece encounter. “You’re not big enough.” I tap her nose then take her hand as she giggles. “Come on, meet a few of my friends, then we’ll find somewhere to talk. Yes?”

  “Yes.” She grins… but not fully.

  I’m not real sure what a “we need to talk” talk could possible entail when we haven’t fucked, but I’m sure it can’t be good. I tighten my grip on her hand and lead us at half the speed of my impatience, knowing her little legs wouldn’t be able to keep up. After helping her into a seat at the bar, I ask for a water, needing a clear head as soon as possible. I finish the whole glass in large gulps and spin Reece’s chair around to face our audience.

  “Everyone, this is Reece Kelly. She’s Landry’s best friend.” I look at Liz while I speak.

  “Hi, I’m Liz Blackwell.” She steps forward with a smile, pulling Cannon with her. “And this is my husband, Cannon. I grew up with Rhett and Jarrett.”

  “
Very nice to meet you both. I’ve heard wonderful things.”

  Liz’s smile brightens at Reece’s reply. “Wish I could say the same.” Liz nudges me with her shoulder. “Really though, it’s nice to meet you, Reece. So you know Rhett through your friend Landry? I don’t think I got the story how she knows him either.”

  “That’s because nobody told you yet.” Cannon laughs and wraps an arm around her shoulders, squashing her interrogation. “Dance with me.”

  “To karaoke?”

  Yeah, even I laugh at that. Thanks for trying, Cannon.

  “Fine, siren, we’re really just going to find anything else to do before you scare Reece. Catching on now?” He winks at Reece. “She’s harmless. Nice to meet you.”

  Liz’s chewing him out as they walk away, her flapping arms and scowl unmistakable as I chuckle at them.

  “So, the Lizzie, huh?” Reece murmurs.

  “That’d be her,” I grumble. I’m not sure why, but I’m uneasy about those two worlds colliding.

  JC props one elbow on the bar, giving her a smile. “Hey, Reece, glad to see you back. Staying a while this time?”

  “Hello to you.” She beams, too big, and replies, too friendly. “Not sure yet, but probably not very long.” She glances at me from the corner of her eye.

  “I give up!” Sommerlyn, apparently still lurking nearby, huffs. “Can we go home already?”

  “Excellent idea.” JC inches up to her side. “I’ll take you.”

  No way Cannon’s letting that happen—if he finally cues in on the fact his sister’s even here tonight. All of them getting caught up in that debate on the other side of the damn building is more than fine by me. I love my family, but Reece is two inches away and driving me insane with her “need to talk” and sweet scent of honeysuckle.

  This party needs to wrap the hell up.

  However fucking long later, Liz and Cannon offer their departure excuse, calling it an early night because “they’re exhausted”—code for “we never get to fuck without one part of our brains focused on the baby monitor right beside us.” I stand to give Cannon a handshake good-bye and Liz a long overdue hug.