by Sam JD Hunt
“So maybe the conception struggles were on her end?” I asked. I couldn’t quell my yearning to have his baby.
“I don’t know. I shouldn’t care—but I guess there’s this empty place left from the whole thing. I was an only child, as you know the sperm donor and his twisted wife were low-lifes, long since dead. As far as I know, I’ll end that Renton line, and maybe it’s for the best. I have a dark feeling that my own children just aren’t in the cards for me, Princess. When Nate’s ready, maybe that’s our answer? His genes are probably more worth reproducing than my fucked up ones.” It broke my heart to see Rex want something so badly, something I feared I’d never be able to give him.
Chapter Five
The next evening it was drizzling, so we ate inside in the sprawling dining room. The heavy mahogany dining table felt far too formal for the meal I’d prepared—it had been my night to cook. Over a year ago, Rex had to fire Maria, his cook and housekeeper, and since then he’d hired a few cooks, but none seemed to work out for long. He found a housekeeper that he trusted, the aunt of one of the gate guards, but a decent cook that Rex trusted in our home was elusive.
For the past month, we’d been taking turns preparing dinner on nights we were home. Even Rex tried his hand at cooking, and he did try. Several times I’d crept into the kitchen while he was watching some celebrity chef on his iPad, trying to mimic their preparations. The trouble with that was Rex’s cooking skills were far beneath Gordon Ramsay and the like, so nearly all of his attempts at cooking ended up with a frustrated Rex pouring his creation into the garbage while we made sandwiches for dinner. I loved living in the remote jungle compound, but there were a few nights when I’d have paid any amount of money to be able to just order a pizza.
That night, however, was my night. Unlike Rex, who aspired too high, or Nate, who simply stuck to simple things he could prepare well, I put off all planning until the hour before dinner. I’d stand in the gourmet kitchen and look around the walk-in pantry for convenience foods that I could disguise as something I’d planned and cooked. My dinner offering would get weirder the more pre-meal wine I sipped in the kitchen.
The sprawling dining table sat twelve, but we never had that many guests. On the rare occasion we sat in there instead of outside by the pool or at the marble breakfast bar in the kitchen, the three of us sat bunched up together at the end of the table. That night, I’d sipped half a bottle of an Italian red wine as I whipped up my meal. To disguise the lack of effort I’d put in, I lit tall beeswax candles and put music on. From the wine cellar, I’d pulled out the best bottle of cabernet I could find. Despite my smokescreen, both men simply stared at their meals, pushing the mess around their china plates with their forks.
“Penny, uh, what did you say this was?” Rex asked, raising a layer of cheese to reveal my two-minute microwaved version of franks and beans. I gulped at the wine, Nate’s disapproving glare burning through me like a laser.
“Oh this,” I said, “I saw that perky cooking chick on the Food Network make it, it’s um, it’s legumes baked in a, um, a savory sauce.”
Neither of my men were buying it. Rex poked at the hot dog I’d cut up lazily and tossed into the mixing bowl before I’d nuked the whole mess and covered it with bagged mozzarella cheese.
“And the meat, Penny? What fine animal is gracing these ‘legumes’ you’ve slaved over?” Rex asked, pushing his plate from him.
“Sausages, I found them at…” I couldn’t continue the ruse. I pushed my own plate away, took another gulp, and said, “Sorry, I couldn’t think of anything, and then I got distracted, and then…why can’t we get a cook?”
“So this is a can of baked beans with hot dogs thrown in, covered with cheese, zapped in the microwave?” Nate asked, leaning back in his heavy armchair.
“Yes,” I admitted. Rex stared at me, channeling his inner disapproving Colonel. “Gordon would be so disappointed in you right now.”
“We do need a cook, Rex,” Nate admitted.
Rex nodded with a sigh, “Okay, okay. I’ll find someone, I promise. Let’s leave this concoction behind. At least the wine was palatable.”
Later that evening, I wrapped my legs around Rex’s waist as the frothy bubbles from the spa by the pool relaxed my sore muscles. After our sandwich dinner, Nate and I played tennis while Rex escaped to the sprawling gym he’d set up. The heavily muscled Rex was a gym-rat, addicted to cross-fit, but he preferred to work out alone. Nate, however, preferred to play while he worked out—he did mixed-martial arts type fighting and he was an avid tennis player. He beat me soundly that evening, and my muscles were screaming from the full-body impact of trying to keep up with him.
“I love these,” Rex mumbled, his lips buried in my cleavage as I straddled him. “They should be free.”
His nimble fingers unhooked the back of the bikini top I was wearing, my full breasts spilling out as he tossed the top aside. I pressed into his erection, desperate for him. Rex’s lips wrapped around a nipple, pulling, needy. I moaned as I felt another body behind me, another stiff, swollen cock pressing into my flesh.
“She’s so beautiful,” Nate said reverently, his lusty eyes focused on Rex’s lips around my pebble-hard nipple.
I leaned into Rex, his perfect lips leaving my breasts to take over my mouth. I was close to coming from just grinding against him, the fabric of two swimsuits the only thing separating us. Nate clawed at my skimpy bikini bottoms, freeing me of them as his thick cock sank into me. My tongue stroked at Rex’s until a burst of orgasm flung me into his chest like a ragdoll. Nate leaned in, taking my place at Rex’s mouth, their lips melding into one as Nate fucked me from behind.
Rex’s hands reached for my hipbones, steadying me as his own cock thrust upward, long since freed from the confines of his swim trunks, and into me alongside Nate. I’d taken them both before, we did it all the time, the two of them connected through me, but never once like this. In the water of the hot tub, without any lubricant other than my own, Nate had slid himself into my pussy from behind. Now, Rex slid in on top of him, his throbbing cock stretching me mercilessly, the two men moving against one another as the three of us exploded in ecstasy. When they’d both finished, unable to take any more, they slid from me, whispering I love you, their lips on my neck. Rex carried my sleepy body to our bed where the three of us cuddled together under the downy covers—in love and free to express that emotion as we wished, without boundaries.
“What’s wrong?” I asked into the darkness later that night. Nate’s phone rang minutes before, but I’d dozed back to sleep as he chatted anxiously with the caller. Now, as he put the phone back on the nightstand, I sensed something was wrong and fought to wake up. He was upset, and it took him a minute to answer.
“My sister, she’s in bad shape. That new husband of hers—he beat the shit out of her last night. And, even worse, Dad said it’s happened before. I don’t know why the hell no one decided to tell me any of this before now.”
“That’s disgusting,” I said, wiping the sleep from my eyes. “Amber seemed so happy with him, he’s abusing her?”
Nate laid back down next to me, Rex asleep at his side. “Yeah, I can’t wrap my mind around it. She’s never really had many boyfriends before him—she was always athletic, but not really, you know, more than friends with guys. This dude knew her from high school and I guess they re-connected on a dating site. He said all the right things, convinced her to marry him after only a month of dating. I’m just shocked.”
“What are you going to do?”
“He’s going to fucking go home and beat the living shit out of this douche bag,” Rex answered, rolling over to wrap his arms around us.
Nate’s hand slid across Rex’s powerful forearm, and with a quick caress he answered, “I wish I could. I’m mad as hell, but this asshole has disappeared. She filed charges this time, and he’s God knows where.”
“I’m sorry, Nate,” Rex said softly, his head on my shoulder.
“She wa
s doing so well! Almost finished with culinary school, and some big restaurant in New York was willing to offer her an internship,” Nate explained with a sigh.
“Go to her, man,” Rex said, “if I had a sister, I would.”
The next morning, Nate left for North Carolina. I wanted to go with him, but Rex had a group of survival students arriving that week and I had to be home to arrange the complex travel arrangements—two were from Shanghai. Nate texted me all day, but with both men gone that week I was out of my element. Childishly lonely, I browsed the internet for pets. When Rex was able to call one afternoon, I nagged him about some dog I’d seen at a rescue place in the city. “What, the snakes aren’t enough?” he teased.
Nate came home the night after Rex—with a surprise. Amber stood at the door with him, two heavy suitcases accompanying her. “You both remember my sister Amber?” Nate asked casually.
Rex and I stood staring in shock until Rex reached out his right hand to the thin woman. “Amber, nice to see you again. Welcome to our home.”
She shook his hand and looked to me. All I could do was stare. Her face was swollen—battered and bruised, enrapt in shades of horrid blue and unnatural red. It had been nearly a year since I’d seen her last, after her mother’s funeral, but the weight loss on her once-athletic body was ghoulish. Beyond being beaten, she was frail and shattered.
“Penny,” Nate prompted, a hand to my elbow attempting to break me from my agape stare.
“Oh, hi, nice to see you again,” I said, trying to dampen down the sound of surprise in my voice.
“Amber needed to get away from home for a little while—I thought she could recover here?” Nate said with a nod to Rex.
“Ah, yeah, of course—you must be exhausted,” Rex said warmly.
Amber nodded, her short black bob bouncing as her swollen lips formed a smile. “If it’s too much trouble, I can head back.”
This Amber was nothing like the woman I’d met a year ago—she was more like an abused puppy ready to slink into a corner than the pretty but shy sister I’d met before.
“My home is Nate’s home,” Rex said, reaching over to squeeze Nate’s hand, “You must be exhausted, but before you crash let me have a quick look at that swelling around your eye.”
Amber looked nervously to Nate. “What?” she asked frantically.
“He’s a doctor, Amber,” Nate explained.
She was agitated, wringing her hands, unable to make eye contact with Rex. “Uh, okay,” she said, her voice shaky.
“Amber, the swelling around your eye is getting worse even as we stand here. Let me treat it in our medical room—Nate and Penny will stay the whole time, okay?” Rex said, his voice soothing as he looked to us.
She’d been beat to hell for several months and feared men—my heart broke for her.
We convinced her to let Rex treat her, but she was still nervous.
“I think it’s the travel,” Amber said meekly as Rex shined a bright light on her black and blue cheek.
“Most likely,” Rex answered, “but the swelling is worrisome, both here and up near your eye. How long ago was the injury?”
“A week,” she whispered. He nodded.
“I’m going to give you some medication to help—get plenty of rest. You’re safe here, Amber,” Rex assured her, tears flowing from her puffy black and blue eyes.
“He said he’d find me, he’d kill me, he’d kill us both and anyone who stood in the way.”
Nate wrapped his arms around her. “He can’t get to you here, sis. We have guards out front, cameras, all of that. Kip won’t hurt you again.”
“Kip?” Rex asked, his eyebrow raising, “Seriously?”
Nate looked at him and nodded knowingly. “Seriously.”
Amber’s marriage happened so fast, and since they eloped, we knew little of her new husband.
“What?” she asked through the tears.
“Nothing. Listen, Amber, no one will hurt you here, not under my watch, and you are welcome to stay as long as you’d like, okay?”
Fresh tears streamed down her bruised face. “Thank you all,” she said so quietly I could barely hear her.
The next day, Amber didn’t leave her room. Rex said the painkillers he’d given her would make her tired, and to leave her be.
“Well, should I cook for three or four?” I asked, glancing at my watch.
“Make extra, I suppose. I’m not familiar with this Penelope who looks forward to her turn in the kitchen, though,” Rex said.
“I have a new recipe I want to try for Taco Tuesday,” I shrugged.
“Taco Tuesday, in Colombia,” Rex teased.
“We’re Americans, so we should celebrate Taco Tuesday,” I said, ignoring my own failed logic.
“Penny, just promise me tonight’s masterpiece will not involve mixing canned tuna with prunes?”
I scowled, remembering one desperate night when we were out of grapes. “It was an improvisation, and you shouldn’t talk. Your last attempt at rack of lamb went straight to the trash.”
He smiled and nodded. “Yeah, I fear my night to cook has become an automatic sandwich night.”
Twenty minutes later, I turned the music on and scurried around the kitchen. Rex made fun of my American understanding of tacos, but I had planned to make a dish I enjoyed in Vegas, only with a local spin. A place on the Strip had the best Mahi Mahi tacos, so tonight I’d planned to surprise the boys with something not out of a can. The day before in the village, when I’d naively asked the merchant for Mahi Mahi, he sold me a fresh fish popular in South America, Corvina. He even de-boned it for me, and told me how to cook it. His English was heavily mixed with Spanish, but I was pretty sure I got the details anyway. With pride that evening, I pulled out the fish and unwrapped it from the white paper it was rolled in.
I pulled up the recipe on my iPhone—I was able to get the executive chef to email it to me, and I couldn’t wait to dive in. I dried the fish off and put it in the heated oil without incident, then turned my attention to the sauce that was to go on top. Zesting the lime proved difficult, and in my quest to get the perfect shavings, I forgot about the fish in the pan—until it started to smoke and crackle. I grabbed an oven mitt and pulled my ruined fish from the flame. And then it got worse—the smoke alarm started blaring. Shit!
After what seemed like endless minutes silencing the alarm, and sending away the pesky security guy who came to check on the kitchen, I sat on a stool at the large marble island in tears. I jumped when I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned to look—it was Amber, her face far less swollen than before.
“Penny,” she said quietly, her dark eyes scanning my face, “what’s wrong?”
I wiped at my eyes with the back of my hand. “It’s dumb, I’m being a baby. I burned my fish—I was trying to make something special for dinner. Screw it, I’m pulling out a box of mac ‘n cheese.”
She walked over to the pan and examined my charred fish. “We can work with this. Can I help?”
I sniffled, mumbling, “Thanks.”
Amber poked at my fish with a fork and said with a smile, “We can save this. Whatever you were making will now feature blackened fish.”
I’d forgotten she was in culinary school. With hope renewed, I showed her the recipe. “Fish tacos.”
She looked over the recipe and asked, “What kind of oil did you use? Olive?”
I pointed to the green bottle. “Yeah, extra virgin like that always happy chick on TV.” She scraped the fish from the pan and asked me to juice the limes.
“The smoke point is pretty low with that oil. I think your flame was too high for it.”
We worked side by side for the next hour, turning my ruined mess into a gourmet meal. At the dining room table, over homemade margaritas, it was even better.
“This is amazing,” Nate said, looking to me as he picked at his blackened fish.
“It was Amber,” I said with a nod toward her. “She saved my flaming fish.”
Rex laughed. “So you were the smoke alarm earlier. Stan wouldn’t elaborate, he just said something about it malfunctioning.”
Amber poured us another round of her homemade margaritas from a heavy glass pitcher and sat back down. She looked to each of us before settling on Rex.
“Thank you all for letting me stay—I don’t know what I’d have done if he . . .” She started to cry, and Nate quickly moved over to hug her.
“It’s okay, he can’t get to you here,” Nate cooed to her.
Rex spoke, his deep voice soothing and warm. “You’re family to me now, Amber. No one will be allowed to harm you again. Stay here as long as you like, but at least until we’re able to get that abusing motherfucker neutralized.”
Nate sat back down and took a large gulp of his cold margarita. “Spoil us like this, sis, and we’ll never let you go,” he teased.
“I was wondering,” she said nervously, “if I might stay on and cook for you?”
Nate and I looked to Rex—we loved the idea, but he shook his head.
“You don’t need to do anything here, you’re our guest,” he said.
Amber gazed down at her glass, and quietly argued, “I need something to keep me busy so I don’t think too much. Nate’s offered me money, but I want to earn my own way. It will also look good to have a personal chef job on my resume. I had to take a leave of absence from school, so at least I can show something for my time away. Please, Rex—I’ll do a free trial if you want?”
Rex looked to Nate, who nodded. “We don’t need a trial, Amber, your food is top notch, and we’re pretty damn needy.”
He dipped his fork into the flan dessert Amber brought over from a sideboard. “Give Stan, the head security guy, a list of ingredients you need. He’ll either get them from the village or order them in from Bogotá. We can talk money and terms later.”