Wicked Sunshine

by Justine Winter

  Can’t blame the woman for being sceptical of men after a surprising divorce landed in her lap.

  Oh, we men can be cruel bastards when we want to be. That doesn’t mean you women aren’t equally to blame, you know. Cause and effect, people. Cause and effect. Newton’s third law makes sense for a reason. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

  Kylie looks at her empty plate, her shoulders sag. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Grayson, I apologise for my rudeness. Though I hope you understand my reservations.”

  I nod, taking a decent gulp of my beer. Not much of a wine guy myself, not unless it comes fizzy. Also, doesn’t it sound like Kylie’s apologising in one hand and then taking it back with the other? Fuck me, that’s one of the most frustrating things in life. That and backhanded compliments.

  “I understand, but please don’t let my past cloud my future. What the media portrays of my life isn’t always the truth either.”

  “Then how about a clean slate? I think it’s in everyone’s best interests if we just start over.”

  Maya nods eagerly, summoning the waiter with her finger.

  “Great idea,” I smile warmly. My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I pay it no attention, checking out the menu instead.

  “Mr. Rush, there’s a phone call waiting for you at the bar.”

  I stare at the green suited waiter. “A phone call?”

  “Yes, Sir. Would you like to take it?”

  I glance at Maya and her mother, making my excuses as I leave them at the table. Just what is going on? “Rush,” I say, taking the corded receiver from the barman’s hand.

  “Baby, are you having fun entertaining your whore?”

  I’m tensing. How the fuck does she know I’m here? I scan the room as I listen further.

  “You can’t escape me, Grayson. I’m everywhere; your past, your mind, your heart.”

  I’m clamping my jaw, coming up empty in my search for the stalking ex. “What do you want, Sabrina?”

  “To prove you can’t block me, despite your security team’s best efforts. I’ll always find you, baby. We belong together.”

  I grip the phone tighter, huffing wildly. “You’ve made your point. Are you done?”

  “Not at all. I want to meet up with you.”

  “No chance. Try again.” I’m keeping my voice as calm as I can despite wanting to tear her a new one. I can’t afford the public to overhear.

  “Would you rather I find Maya and tell her instead? I’m sure she’d love to hear what it is I have to say. Your relationship will be over in no time, you can count on that.”

  Is she really trying to threaten me with empty words? I don’t think so. “Time’s up, Sabrina. Enjoy your evening.” I hand the phone back to the barman, knowing I’m done with her boring conversation. She has nothing on me. “Ignore any more calls,” I say to the barman.

  “You think they’ll call back?” he asks.

  I smirk. “I can guarantee.” Just as I finish my conversation the ringing tone sounds, and out of curiosity I watch the barman answer the phone.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” he says, hanging up when he recognises the voice. I hand him a handsome tip as I take out my own phone.

  “Logan, anything come up in your search yet?” I ask as he answers my call.

  “Nothing exceptional. She’s divorced, in serious amounts of debt, and hasn’t had a permanent address in two years.”

  Christ, that’s gotta be tough on the kid, moving around a lot. “Okay, if there’s anything else let me know. She’s being inventive in her communication outlets,” I hang up just as Maya comes towards me.

  “Is everything okay?” Her eyes are filled with worry.

  “It will be once you kiss me,” I tease, pulling her in for a lip smacker.

  “Come on, stud. My mother thinks you’ve left me.”

  I wrap my arm around her shoulders, kissing her ear. “Never.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ~ £ ~

  “Happy Birthday, dude!”

  “The Flash? Really?” I stare at Cameron’s red lycra costume with its yellow lightning bolt, raising an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, ‘cause I’m quick with the ladies.” He spins on one foot like he’s on form.

  “I see you put a lot of effort into thinking that up. How often do you think you’ll use that chat-up line tonight?” I smirk, glancing at the nightclub filling up with my guests, sipping on my beer.

  “Don’t mock it, Grayson. Just because you’re all set for sex tonight. This used to be our thing for Halloween, and now I’m without a wingman. I’m Maverick without Goose.”

  “I’ll be your wingman.” Layla interrupts our conversation, joining us at the bar.

  “And how the hell is that supposed to work? You can’t pick up women when one is hanging at your side, it sends the wrong message.”

  Inside I’m laughing at the realisation that this was me last year. Spending my birthday the same way I always do. Costume themed parties are a must when your special day lands on Halloween. I need the mask to hide the monster in me.

  “Quit your whining, Cam. I said I’ve got this.”

  “What’s going on?”

  I turn, forgetting the conversation as that beautiful, song-like voice hits my ears, and I’m stunned, definitely speechless. Maya’s dressed as Elektra.

  Elektra.

  I’ll just wait here while that sinks in. For those of you that don’t know, Elektra’s outfits in the comic world aren’t known for their covering ability. Her character literally wraps a bit of red cloth around her skin. It’s super-hot for men, kind of sexist for women, but I’m really not complaining. Not right now. Not when Maya is standing in front of me dressed as the best wrapped present ever.

  She’s got a red bandana on her head, plus this one shoulder crop top type thing that completely exposes her detailed stomach. She’s tied off pieces of red fabric on her arms, and the absolute icing on the cake is that she’s wearing red leather trousers. And we all know how much I enjoy the vision of her perky arse confined within the restrictive material.

  And the first birthday boner of the night has made itself known.

  “Cam reckons I won’t be a good wingman. I’m here to prove him wrong. Come on,” Layla drags him away, steering towards a group of women. He’s in for a long night.

  “The Black Canary, huh?”

  I nod at Maya as she checks out my sister’s outfit. “Layla reckons that since she’s a black belt in karate she has what it takes to be an assassin. And she’s obsessed with that new Arrow programme right now.”

  “I’m sure it has nothing to do with the man candy in the show.”

  I stare at her questioningly. “Oh, really? You’re gonna shoot me down on my birthday?” I give her my perfected puppy dog eyes.

  “How can I when you’re parading around here without a shirt on? You know, Wolverine wears a vest, even a check shirt. Don’t tell me you couldn’t afford one.” She smirks, crossing her arms over her chest.

  I shrug. “Wolverine doesn’t need a shirt. It gets in the way of his anger,” I joke. Plus, minimal costume effort. A decent pair of jeans, boots, a set of dog tags and some fake claws is all I needed. Sorry, you won’t be seeing this guy trying to squeeze his junk inside a pair of tights.

  Ahem, Cameron.

  “And are you angry about something?”

  “Well, my girl has come in all sexy as hell, and hasn’t even given me a birthday kiss yet. My night could be better.” I fold my arms over my chest, flexing my muscles in the process.

  She moves in closer, trailing a red polished finger up my arm. Fuck me, that tingles deliciously.

  She leans in, her luscious lips are centimetres from mine. “Happy Birthday, Grayson.” I close the distance, unable to hold out anymore. I unfold my arms, pulling her closer, grabbing her sweet, sweet arse. My senses are conquered by basic, animalistic need. To kiss, to touch, to have her. Our surroundings disappear as our tongues fuse, bright blue light
is all I see as her hands trace my naked torso, sparking with electricity.

  I’m consumed by her taste coursing through my system, every motor function is a reaction to her love for me. It’s addictive. I’ve become wanton to her.

  Grayson Rush, the ever-growing romantic, and champion of the rising stiffy.

  “I should’ve cancelled this year’s party.” I breathe heavily, resting my forehead against hers. A party for two in my penthouse sounds too perfect an opportunity to miss. Fuck!

  “And lose out on the chance to get you to dance with me? No way!” She takes my hand and guides me to the dancefloor, and I’m distracted with the thoughts of our time here before. The first night we fucked, the moment everything changed for me. I became a one-woman kind of guy.

  You might think it’s lame that I’m celebrating here, at one of my own establishments, but really it’s clever marketing. While I’m offering an invitation to one of the greatest parties on Halloween night, they’re pouring their money into my bar. Happy birthday to me indeed.

  Have I mentioned that I suck at dancing? When you’re over six foot with long bulging limbs there’s little you can do than look like a tree. Ever watch a tree sway in the wind? Sure it might look poetic, but you’d be fucking screaming if it toppled over.

  Enter Grayson. I might look suave in a suit, but ask me to move my feet quickly whilst seemingly standing still and you’re asking for death. Being pinned beneath my weight in this situation isn’t sexy. It would be like having the weight of a fully developed Great Dane sprawled across your body. I’m sure injury lawyers would love a stab at that claim.

  What I’m saying is, don’t expect me to move like Channing Tatum when you drag me to the floor. I’ll just let my excellent six pack do all the seducing for me.

  It’s alright for you women though. All you’ve got to do is write your name out with your butt to the music, and you’re golden. Watch a guy do that and the only person he’ll be attracting is the other bloke giving it a go. Because you’ll both be looking like a pair tits.

  I bet you’re dying to try that one out now, aren’t you?

  The DJ blesses me with a slow song, and I know even I can manage a little hip movement from side to side. Let’s not get too crazy here.

  I pull her in, teasing her arms around my neck, and I swear the temperature rises another twenty degrees. Our bodies are moving, skin on skin, and I’m sensitive to every bump and grind.

  You ever see those weird statue ornaments where the man and woman are joined from the waist down? Well, that’s what this is like, except my cock is prodding her right in the pussy. You don’t see that illustrated on monuments, do you?

  The music cuts off abruptly, and speakers scream as a mic is furiously tapped. Shit, what’s Cameron doing now? I look around the sweaty bodies, and what I see isn’t good.

  Remember when I talked about those HD film cameras? Well, here we go again with the slow-mo ones instead. I’m looking at Maya beside me, snuggled up to my side, and I’m looking ahead at the disaster that’s about to occur. Logan is running like he’s trying out for a spot on Baywatch, Cam is holding Layla back while Anderson and the team take a second or two to catch on. Excellent security, don’t you think?

  “Grayson, baby. You left me no choice, you wouldn’t hear me out so I’m going to make you listen.”

  I’m tensing, my face is sweating. I turn to Maya, and in this slow-mo montage I have going on, I watch her smile turn to confusion before anger buries itself into her frown. Her face has become a rainbow of perplexity.

  Fuck me.

  You know that moment when you need to move, but your legs aren’t quite willing to co-operate because you’re paralysed by a second of shock? I know what I’m seeing, I know what’s going to follow won’t be good, but I can’t seem to move my fucking feet to do anything about it.

  “I didn’t want to make this public, but this is for your own good. I need you.”

  I’m rolling my eyes. Oh, fucking excellent. My body will let me do that but it won’t let me tackle the bitch off of the stage.

  Sabrina’s pausing, staring me right in the eye. Is that a hint of a smirk I see? “My son needs you. Sorry, our son needs you.”

  Maya’s sucking up all the air in the room, her hand is covering her mouth. She doesn’t believe this shit, does she? I made myself clear last time, right?

  “You’re a father, Grayson. You’ve always been his father. Come home to your family.” If you knew Sabrina, you’d understand that her glistening eyes are full of malicious intent, but to the outsider it looks like she’s crying. She’s not. This bitch doesn’t understand what real feelings are, not unless it comes attached to an excellent cheque. Fucking gold digger. She just wants me to fix her fucking debts.

  I’m too busy shrugging off the lie that I don’t see what happens next until it’s too late. Logan ambushes Sabrina off of the stage, ending this epic catastrophe. I’m sighing with relief, but when I look at Maya she’s pissed. Oh, fuck me, she’s raging like a goddamn bull.

  She slaps me across the face, and really I’d be quite impressed if my fucking cheek weren’t stinging like I’d just been stung by ten wasps.

  And now she’s running, shoving people out of the way as she heads for the exit. I can’t let that happen.

  I follow after her, ignoring all the questions and sudden media presence interested in my birthday. Fuckers, they always find a way to get in.

  I catch her arm, tugging gently to get her to stop, to listen to me. I won’t let some lie ruin the best thing that’s ever happened for me.

  “Maya, stop. Let me explain.”

  “NO!” She turns around fast, her face is red, her eyes have watered. Christ, she’s crying over something that isn’t true and she won’t let me make it better. You see, this is the problem with blatant honesty. There’s a difference between hurting someone with the truth, and confusing them with a sugar-coated lie that sounds like the truth. I told her what happened between Sabrina and I despite knowing it would hurt both of us, but I did it because it was important she knew in case shit like this ever happened in our future. And still she chooses to believe the fucking lie. Why? Because people always prefer to hear what should be wrong than what’s right. In any context. Whether you’re anticipating something bad because that guy really can’t be as perfect as he seems, or your grade can’t be that high because you’re really not great in that subject. Know what it comes down to? Confidence. If everyone had a little more of that magic potion, their vision would clear and they’d see things for what they really are.

  And Maya would believe me because she wouldn’t be afraid of the consequence.

  Fucking psychology.

  “Shame on you for using your sister to make me believe your story about Sabrina. After all, it’s what she’s good at, right? Tonight she’s Cam’s wingman, what’s to say she wasn’t yours that night?”

  “Maya. . .”

  “NO! I’m done. You need to go be a father, and I need to listen to my mother. Don’t follow me, Grayson. We’re through.”

  She leaves, and I’m frozen. She’s pulled out my heart, stomped on it, and splashed my blood across the walls. I’m panicking, she can’t be serious? She isn’t really dumping me over this lie, is she? It’s all for show for Sabrina, right?

  RIGHT?

  I’m entering a state of catatonia. I can’t believe what’s going on around me. I can’t concentrate, can’t focus beyond her words.

  She’s done.

  She can’t be done.

  She can’t be done.

  She can’t be done.

  “Grayson? Grayson!”

  I’m shaking.

  “Grayson!”

  Still shaking.

  “SNAP OUT OF IT!”

  I look up to see Layla’s hand on my arm. “What am I supposed to do?” I whisper. Look at me, I’m a shell. A broken man already.

  What’s becoming of me? Where’s my confidence gone?

  “Call your l
awyers. They have what you need.”

  I stare at Layla blankly. Is it me, or is it getting quiet in here?

  “She’s gone, Layla. She left me.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  ~ £ ~

  “MAYA!” I’m pounding on the door to her apartment, uncaring that everyone else can hear. I need to work this out, she needs to believe me.

  “Sabrina’s lying, Maya. Didn’t you see her smirking when she spoke? She’s doing this to break us up, don’t let her win, sunshine.”

  I’m usually a man of few tears, but right now I can’t seem to stop. The floodgates have opened, and I’m at her mercy.

  She still hasn’t opened the door, but I’m determined not to leave. I sink to the floor, my back’s against the wooden frame. It’s pathetic, isn’t it? This image of me on my hands and knees begging for forgiveness to something I haven’t done wrong. I didn’t ask for Sabrina to come back into my life, and I certainly haven’t encouraged her. Yet, here I am with my loyalty being questioned.

  Fucking sucks, right?

  “Maya, I never lied to you. Layla didn’t either. I told you the truth, sunshine. Please believe me.”

  To be honest, I’m quite impressed with myself. I didn’t know I have this in me. Can you imagine me grovelling for anyone else? Nope, me neither.

  And look, I’m still being ignored. Ever felt more worthless than the bugs you squish under your feet?

  Well, before now I hadn’t. I feel more rotten than a stinking cockroach.

  “Maya, answer the door. I won’t leave until you do.”

  Okay, maybe bossiness isn’t the right tactic to take, but I’m beginning to get angry. I’m being punished for something I didn’t do. Are you getting that, yet?

  You believe me, don’t you?

  I stand, turning to face the door as I pound my fist on it once more. “Maya!”

  See? Who said a little bossiness and persistence wouldn’t pay off? The door’s opening.