The Tempest

by Brit Constantine

  “Is that why you stopped drinking alcohol?”

  He nods and takes a moment before he continues. “Bethany saw us and she ran. I didn’t get the chance to stop her and explain.” His voice breaks with emotion. “I should have stopped her. I should have run faster. I shouldn’t have gone out the night before … She got into her car and drove off.” He looks at me. “That was the last time I saw her alive.”

  He takes a shuddering breath in. I lean into him, place my hand on his arm. “She was found the day after. Her car had skidded off a country road. The police ruled it out as an accident. Said it was a sharp bend. A hot spot for accidents and it’d been winter, the roads were covered in black ice…”

  “I’m so sorry,” I breathe out.

  “She wouldn’t have been driving upset — angry — if it wasn’t for me … Her parents didn’t blame me but Lenic didn’t believe it was an accident … that she—” Tears stream down his cheeks, his body visibly shaking.

  “What do you believe?”

  Searching his face, it seems clear he isn't entirely sure himself. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. Bethany … she was bipolar, but she’d been good for a long time and she was taking her medication.” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter what I think. Lenic’s right. No matter what happened, it is my fault she died. I killed her.”

  I have admired West for most of my life. He has always done the right thing. He was the boy who always did his homework on time, the man who always opens doors for women, the man who always volunteers his seat to the elderly on public transport. He can’t even bring himself to kill a wasp, even after it stings him.

  But no one is perfect.

  “We all make mistakes, West — all of us,” I tell him. “Our mistakes make us human.”

  God knows I’ve made plenty.

  “Some mistakes have big consequences.” His voice is bleak. Dead. Broken. “They can’t be forgotten.”

  I shake my head. “That means they’re harder to forgive.” You can never truly appreciate the beauty in love, if you’ve never felt the ugly in the darkness. I place my hand over his and squeeze it. “Not that they’re unforgiveable.”

  24

  “WE’RE TWO GIANT FINGER-LICKING SAUSAGES TO THESE GIRLS.”

  CROSS

  “SOMEONE TOLD ME it’s your birthday in two weeks,” Lenic whispers into my ear. I draw my body back against his, lying next to him in his bed, satiated from a long night of sex.

  Neither of us has dragged up the subject of his sister in the last month. We are both alike in that sense. Keeping quiet about the things that haunt us, that hurt us the most. Sweeping it under the carpet.

  I am still with Lenic. I always will be. I love him.

  Yes, he lied. Yes, I was angry and hurt. At first. But not once has he ever given me reason to believe he doesn’t love me, with all his beautiful ‘fucked-up’ heart. And losing Lenic would be at the cost of not forgiving him. And so I do. Things would be different, so very different, if Lenic didn’t feel remorseful for his sins — I see it in his dark eyes, the sadness — but he is. I don’t condone violence, but I understand forgiveness.

  Isn’t that what you do? Forgive the ones you love?

  I lay my head back against his chest, my hand stroking the inner side of his forearm. “Was this someone, sexy and French?”

  He twirls a finger around my hair. “French. I'm not about to say she was sexy. I like my banana where it is, just fine. Besides … once you go Felicity, there’s nothing sexier.” I hear the grin in his gravelly voice and my own expression mirrors the sentiment. He bites my shoulder to underline his point. “Are you the sort of girl that unwraps her present in a hurry?” he whispers in my ear, guiding my hand gently up his leg. “Or … squeezes it first, to see if you can guess what’s inside?” I giggle flirtatiously when my hand reaches his inner thigh.

  “I shake it hard and only open the big ones.”

  He laughs out loud in that sexy, beautiful way he does, reserved for my ears only. “So? What can I get you, beautiful?”

  I think for a moment, neatly rolling over so that I am facing him. I slide a leg over his and place a kiss in the centre of his chest, watching him thoughtfully. “I’ve got everything I need or want. But there is something you can do for me. Something I proposed to Mary Whitethorn for the Youths At Risk charity. She’s given me the go ahead. If I get the OK from you.”

  “For that charity — anything.” His sister’s battle with bipolar explains his involvement and sincerity with the charity, something I’ve wondered since his speech at the fundraiser.

  When I reveal exactly what is required from him, his response is instantaneous. “Hell no.” He is looking at me with sincere disbelief on his face.

  “Lenic. You need to know your talent and how to project that talent.”

  “No.”

  Looking up at him through my eyelashes, my mouth turns down in a frown. “Oh … OK then … Never mind…”

  He scoffs lightly. “Stop looking at me like that,” he grins.

  “I'm not looking at you like anything,” I laugh shortly.

  His hands fist themselves into my hair as he kisses me, and keeps on kissing me until I am moaning into his mouth, and my body makes urgent little movements against his. “You’re too goddamn cute for your own good, Hazelnut. For my own goddamn good.” His shoulders shake from chuckling.

  I find myself grinning, and as soon as he grudgingly nods his assent, conceding with a hefty grunting “Fine,” I squeal, launch myself at him, and throw my arms around his neck.

  “You’ll love it.”

  Two weeks later…

  “I HATE IT,” Lenic grits out. “I feel like a piece of meat.”

  “We’re two giant finger-licking sausages to these girls,” Cross comments proudly. He slaps Lenic on the back. “C’mon, mate. Can’t be as bad as the video of you washing your balls to the world, can it?”

  “Shit worse. At least parts of me were blurred out.”

  “No one’s forcing you, princess. You need to be less precious.”

  Lenic scowls. “I was pushed into this, man. No way in Hell would I do this by choice.”

  Cross barks out a laugh. “Did the Mrs threaten to cut you off from her sweet sauce?”

  “Don’t be thinking about my girlfriend’s sweet — and why in the hell are you holding a hammer? We’re washing cars not fixing them.”

  “Because I want to hammer you, Big Man.” Cross shoots Lenic a quick pout and chuckles. “No, calm yourself. I’m putting up the new bag in the gym later. No rest for the wicked, mate.”

  I turn to Delphine. “This is going to be a very memorable birthday,” I say to her. “I would have gotten myself a boyfriend a long time ago if I knew how much fun they could be.”

  Today, I am hosting a charity car wash in the car park behind Lenic’s gym. All money raised will be donated to the Youths At Risk charity. Lenic and Cross managed to sweet-talk a few of their Royal Marine friends and a couple of guys at the gym to partake alongside them.

  Delphine and I insisted we were to pick and choose who made the cut. We spent a whole night drinking wine, sat in front of the computer, cruising the pictures Cross sent me, selecting the best looking faces and the buffest bodies. Delphine put a few to the side for personal business.

  I spot the guy she slotted at the top of her Favourite List, a Royal Marine, and nudge her with my elbow, angling my head in his direction. A smile spreads across her mouth as she gives him a slow perusal. She smoothes down her hair, and asks me to check her make-up.

  I hear Cross clear his throat and I glance over at him. “Blake’s got chlamydia,” he states.

  Delphine places a hand on her hip, narrowing her eyes. “How can you possibly know that?” Cross shrugs a confident shoulder.

  “I know how Cross knows,” I say to Delphine. “He was intimate with Blake once, and Blake had to call and inform all his sexual partners.” Delphine and I laugh.

  “If it t
urns my sex kitten on — believe it.” My friend rolls her eyes, but can’t hide the deep blush rising on her cheeks.

  If that box hasn’t been opened already, it will be by tonight.

  “Seriously. Tell me again — why the hell do we have to be topless?” Lenic barks.

  Standing up from behind the proceeds table, I walk around to the foot of the table and smile over at him. “Because, it is hot,” I say, wiping the sweat from my forehead, the sun beating down hard today. “In more ways than one.”

  I bite down on my lip seductively and hear him groan. On tiptoes, I smoothe my hand along the side of his head, while I glance at him with that look in my eyes, a look reserved for the bedroom. He tries to kiss me, but I thwart him by shoving a sponge between us. It doesn’t stop him. His eyes hood and he leans in. Thinking he is going to kiss me, my mouth parts a little, but then the corner of his lips curl. He is teasing me, his lips hovering so close to mine, waiting for me to make the first desperate move.

  He is always in control.

  I fight the urge to give in, and manage to lean back and say, “Earn it.”

  He smiles, licks his lower lip, his gaze on my mouth. “How?”

  “Live up to your looks. What else are you going to use that face for?”

  “I use it for you to sit on.”

  “Mmmmm,” I moan. “But first, spray your big hose over Cross and rack in the money.”

  He bites his lip, flicks his gaze to my eyes. “You my pimp now?” His voice is gravelly, and I wonder briefly if we have time for a quickie inside the gym locker room.

  I stifle a groan of pleasure. “A bit of roleplaying is good for a relationship,” I manage to say, clearing my throat. Now it is my turn to smile. It draws one from his lips. His whole face brightens with it.

  He knows the effect his smile has on me, and his gaze lazily drops to my lips again. “For someone who’s never been in a relationship…” I let out a soft moan when he gently grinds his body against mine, his touch causing a heat to rush down into my underwear. “…you’ve got a whole lot of knowledge.”

  “I read it in your copy of Bloke magazine.” I nip at his bottom lip, unable to resist it, while I give his buttocks a smack. There is no give to his beautiful arse, and my hand actually hurts. “Get to work, Marine. I want to see those women dropping more cash in the tip buckets—”

  He groans against my lips as he slides his tongue into my mouth. I flick my tongue across those beautiful white teeth and suck his bottom lip with both of mine. He always tastes delicious, whether he is fresh out from the shower or coming home after a hard days work. There is nothing as wonderful as tasting Lenic Reevus. He is the epitome of a man's man, and right now, and always, he is all mine to taste.

  His minty fresh breath explodes on my tongue, and with just a small taste of me, I know it will take more than a kiss to satisfy him.

  I know him.

  “OK … see you,” he mumbles against my lips, pulling away for a second.

  “See you...” I am smiling so wide, my cheeks begin to hurt.

  His hands tangle into the back of my hair, holding me in place so I can’t escape. He slants his mouth over mine again. I sigh as a shudder goes through my whole body and I fall slack against him, my mouth moving against his. My arms move to wrap around his neck as he deepens the kiss, almost lifting me off the ground.

  “He's only gonna be a few metres away from you to wash the cars, Felicity,” I hear Cross call out from somewhere. “Stop sucking his face.”

  “Leave them alone,” Delphine protests. “I think it is romantic.” I hear her swoon with a sigh. “Wish I had what they have.”

  “Well, I’m right here, baby. What are your other two wishes?”

  “A global ban on bad pick-up lines, for a start.”

  Their voices fade away as Lenic groans against my mouth and pulls me tighter to him, his tongue demanding more. Always more. “You’re brilliant, and gorgeous and sexy,” he says through his kisses.

  “You should go,” I murmur breathlessly, kissing his neck.

  “Mmmmm,” he groans huskily. “You're not making this easy.”

  “What?” I smile innocently, rolling my hips gently against his body.

  “You know what.” He rubs his nose with mine, shooting me a stop-acting-so-innocent look.

  “It's just a goodbye kiss.”

  He leans in, his lips curving, and with a voice that hits my G-spot, he says, “Feels more like hello.”

  He kisses me again, but this time it is harder and rougher. He needs to stop now or he will end up taking me in front of everyone against the proceeds table. He slowly winds the kiss down until he is only sipping at my lips. He raises his head, taking in my passion-glazed eyes, my red swollen lips and flushed cheeks.

  I swallow the moisture in my mouth. “Go…”

  “OK ... Bye...” His voice is just above a sexy whisper. He kisses me once, twice, three times before he pulls away, growling softly in protest.

  “Bye…” I nip at my bottom lip, tasting him on me.

  Lenic smiles at me and kisses me quickly on the lips, before unwinding himself from our little love space. He turns and straight-arms Cross out of his way, getting back to work. I continue taking the proceeds with Delphine, and hand out free drinks and food that Marge’s café kindly offered to everyone participating.

  Halfway through the day, the charity car wash is a huge success. The car park is teeming with cars being washed by good-looking topless buff men, and there is a long queue of cars waiting in line. At least ninety-five per cent of customers have been, and are, women, with gay men and the fans of The Tempest filling up the rest. The last customer had driven thirty miles just to get an autograph and his car washed by The Tempest. Vanessa Marsden and her gossip club arrived first thing in the morning, asking specifically for Lenic Reevus.

  Taking a short refreshment break with me, Lenic polishes off his homemade lemonade just as Cross struts over with a shit-eating grin on his face. “You’re never gonna believe this, Big Man.” He points over his shoulder towards a group of elegant women, standing by a red Jaguar. “Those three older women said they’ll pay triple if we wash their Jag together.”

  “What’d you mean?” Lenic grunts, itching the side of his head, confused and irritated.

  “They mean — they want to watch you hold my hose while I bring on the water show.”

  “The hell I will. Why’d they want us to wash it together?”

  “I think it’s more they wanna see us wash each other. Not the car.”

  “The only goddamn bloke I want to wash is me.”

  I shake my head, remembering my boyfriend chooses fishing over porn. “Lenic,” I cut in. “Triple. They are going to pay triple. So I want you wet. Dripping. Bending over. And scrubbing that Jaguar.”

  “Yeah, girl,” Cross grins.

  Lenic closes his eyes, heaves out an exasperated sigh, crosses his arms over his chest, and squares his jaw to calm himself down.

  Classic Tempest.

  I really do love him this way, sometimes.

  My body starts bubbling with laughter, Cross and Delphine joining in. Cross slaps his hand twice on Lenic’s shoulder and tells him, “Smile for the camera, mate. You and I are gonna go global.”

  “What’d you mean?” Lenic hisses.

  “Dude, your girlfriend is England’s next top vlogger. What’d you think I mean?”

  I reach into my tote bag and unveil my camera with a devilish smirk. “I can’t let my viewers miss out on all the fun, can I? And all the earnings from the views will go to the cause.”

  I snap a photo of a grinning Cross, with his arm around Lenic’s shoulders, pointing a thumb up. Lenic, on the other hand, is scowling at the camera. I upload it straight to all of my social media sites.

  “Lenic, grab Cross’ hose and put a smile on his face,” I say. Everyone but The Tempest finds it funny.

  A rumble grows in my boyfriend’s throat. “I am going to make you all pay for
this one day,” Lenic sneers, turning, and heads towards the group of women standing eagerly by their Jaguar. He smiles at them, makes polite conversation, keeping his discomfort hidden from the customers. Despite his hard exterior, he has a soft centre.

  The Tempest is out of his comfort zone, but he is making the best of it. Perhaps, deep down, I hope he is enjoying it secretly.

  “He gives good customer service,” I notify Delphine. “I am a very satisfied regular customer. Five stars for delivery. Five for quality. Five for the size of his packaging, and five for quantity — if you know what I mean.” She rolls her eyes but laughs, shaking her head.

  Watching the group of women by the Jaguar talking with Lenic and Cross, Delphine comments, “I’d be so jealous if that was my boyfriend.”

  “Lenic is possessive enough for the both of us.”

  “I wish I could be more like you, Flick. Calm and collective. It would drive me crazy watching other girls ogling my boyfriend, trying to flirt with him.”

  “I think of it like this: One — I don’t blame them, they’re only human after all. Two — he’s not flirting back. And three — he is my boyfriend. I’m the one who’ll be sleeping with him tonight. Not them. I get to squeeze his big—”

  “OK, OK — I get it. TMI, Flick.” She shakes her head vigorously.

  “I was going to say big arms, FYI.”

  “Yes, sure you were,” she laughs.

  A short moment passes. “I’m not as calm and collective as you think,” I admit. “Why do you think I’m dressed like this?” I’m wearing a skin-tight strapless white crop top, paired with teeny tiny Daisy Dukes and white stiletto heels. I sweep a hand across my outfit. “This is to remind Lenic where it’s at.”

  She shakes her head. “You are so vain, Flick.”

  “Nuh-uh. Remember our JUICED motto? I am body positive. There’s a difference.”