“Hey there, mate, we are here to party,” he taunts with a thrust of his hips.
“Please, you obviously aren’t even from Australia. That accent sounds Jamaican.” I put my hands on my hips, and I’m pretty sure that this is the straw that broke the camel’s back. Visions of me picking up a knife and stabbing him in the fucking heart in a fit of rage dance through my head.
“Party was cancelled. But you can charge the card twice for your trouble,” I tell them before slamming the door. I head back out to the backyard and look right at the man who has set this particular nightmare in motion.
I see Rachel in the chair next to him and watch as his head lifts, eyes seeking mine. I see it, the moment his eyes recognize the fury in mine and he realizes that I’m onto him.
“Okay, folks,”—he gets up—“I hate to cut out early, but…” he stammers, “but, but…” He looks to Noah for help, but Noah is too focused on whatever Kaleigh is saying. Austin kicks Noah’s chair to get his attention.
His eyebrows shoot up when Austin says urgently, “Gotta go,” then glances over at me and continues, “now would be good.”
I don’t know if Noah knows what is happening or not, but he throws his napkin on the plate in front of him “This has been fun,” he murmurs, trying to escape while keeping an eye on me at the same time.
“Running off so early, guys?” I sing-song as I come up behind them.
“We intruded,” Austin says. “Thank you for having us. Dede, Frank, I wish you many more years of happiness,” he rushes out on a wave as he hurries out the side gate.
Kaleigh gets up. “What did I miss?”
“The entire cast of Thunder From Down Under just arrived.” I look around to see if the guests are okay. I can’t wait for this party to be over.
She looks around excitedly, pulling her skirt up a bit. “Where? Are they inside? Shit, do I look okay?” She fluffs her hair.
“Kaleigh,” I whisper-hiss, “they aren’t here anymore. I sent them away.”
She groans. “Why? Why would you do that?” She runs to the side gate to see if they’re still in the driveway. “Buzz kill.” She calls me as she picks up Rachel. “Can you protect me from Mommy?” she whispers in her ear before blowing kisses in her neck.
I sit down in my chair and immediately start drinking another glass of wine as I try to calm myself by counting down from ten. It takes four times before I no longer feel like I am a danger to myself or others.
The rest of the afternoon goes by without any further penis-related incidents. All cupcakes have been consumed, minus the penis cake toppers that I removed before serving them.
Once everyone has left, I plop down into my chair and throw my feet up on the one Austin sat in. “That was fun, right?” Kaleigh asks.
“You told people I had a strange excessive hair issue on my hoo-ha that required a complicated bikini wax and styling.” I glare at her.
“I was trying to get Josh to imagine that you’re a woman with a hairy bush so he doesn’t ask you out again!” She drinks from the wine glass she is holding in her hand. “You’re welcome.” She smirks.
“What the hell are we going to do with all those penis balloons?” I look around, hoping to see that some of them are deflating. Sadly, they are all still fully erect and happily smiling at me. “Asshole,” I grumble under my breath.
“What’s the story with Noah?” Kaleigh tries to be casual so I don’t pick up on her curiosity over him.
“No idea. He’s Austin’s best friend from what I gathered today,” I tell her while looking at Rachel, who is running in circles with, unfortunately, a penis balloon in her hand. “Ten minutes to bath time!” I call out, hoping she acknowledges me, but she just continues her one-girl—with a penis balloon—parade.
“Mom,” I hear Gabe call from behind me. “Can I go to Jesse’s house to kick around the ball?”
I check my watch and see it’s almost seven. “Only for thirty minutes, okay?” I know he’ll be forty-five minutes.
“So, what are you going to do to Austin for all of this?” Kaleigh asks, pointing to the balloons.
“Nothing.” I smirk. “We called a truce.”
“I know that smirk. I’ve been on the receiving end of that smirk!” She sits up.
“I mean, we called truce today, right? We didn’t call truce on Wednesday when he made me run back out for a fucking crisp kosher pickle, because the one that came with his sandwich was limp, right?” I ask her with a perplexed smile on my face.
“What did you do now? From the pictures, his balls were almost the size of Gabe’s soccer ball.”
I slap the table. “You saw pictures?” My mouth hangs open.
She nods her head yes. “I did. Not the actual frank, though, just the beans. But they were ginormous.” She motions with her hands, forming them into huge round objects in the air. “Now, what did you do!”
“Nothing that will make any part of him swell. I will never, ever do something like that again.” The guilt still runs through me. “I may have shred one of his parking tickets that had to be paid by yesterday so he could avoid his car getting booted,” I confess quietly, looking into the glass I picked up from the table.
“Holy shit. I hope you kept the photocopies, because you can’t not pay that. He is going to know it was you,” Kaleigh warns
“I know, I know. I kept them, so just relax.” I put my hands on my hips and state defensively, “I’m going to pay them.”
“When?” she asks, earning her an eye roll from me.
“Next week,” I reply as I get up and ignore any further commentary from her. “Rach, bath time.” I walk to the back door. “Don’t you dare sit there and judge me, missy.” I point at Kaleigh. “By the way, the potatoes had butter in them. That’s for the bikini wax,” I say before I turn my back to her and walk inside with the sound of her curses filling my ears.
The next week goes by without any more incidents. It seems we are both on our best behavior. Well, I am. He’s still a Neanderthal, and I’m almost tempted to not pay his tickets, but I promised Kaleigh I’d be the better person. Apparently though, I was one day too late on that, because at around one o’clock, he storms out of the office without a word, running down the stairs instead of taking the elevator.
Twenty minutes later, he comes storming back in, huffing and puffing as he stops at my desk.
“Did you pay my tickets?” he asks as I pretend I’m shuffling around papers and hoping that he can’t see my heart practically beating out of my chest.
“Um, yeah, I did. I have it here somewhere. Why?” I glance up and see the vein in his forehead is twitching and some sweat is gathering at the side of his face, obviously from running down the stairs.
He puts his hands on my desk, leaning into me as I lean back in my chair. I know I should be pissed that he’s in my space, but I only feel a trickle of excitement. “Why, you ask? Because Trent just called from downstairs. They booted my car and towed it.”
“No!” I say, trying to force a look of shock onto my face instead of laughing in his and saying, ‘HA, in your face, sukkah!’
“Yes, Lauren, they towed me.” He is leaning even further into me. “Now, you are going to lend me your car for the meeting I have to go to downtown.”
“Um, I can’t lend you my car. What if my kids get sick at school and I have to leave? What if—” I start but think the better of it as I take in the murderous look on his face. “Okay, fine.” I duck under his arm to reach into my purse and grab the keys. “But if anything happens to it, you’ll pay for it,” I warn, dangling the keys in front of him.
He snatches the keys from my hand and turns to head into his office, slamming the door behind him, causing the shades to rattle on his side of the room. I pick up my phone to send Kaleigh a text.
Oopsie. I waited too long to pay the tickets.
I wait for her reply, hoping for some words of wisdom, which is not at all what I get.
Play with the devil, you’re
gonna get burned.
I look at my phone in confusion, because really, what the hell does that even mean? Before I can question her, Austin’s door opens and he comes back out. He has changed out of his suit, which was probably all sweaty anyway.
The suit he’s wearing now is navy blue and molds to him perfectly. He swings the jacket around, putting it on in one fluid motion, then grabs his cuffs, pulling them out of the sleeves of the jacket. He’s not wearing a tie, but the top two buttons of his bright white shirt are undone, giving me a slight peek at his bronzed chest. The image of my fingers playing with that third button pops into my head, and I have to blink to clear it.
Having inappropriate thoughts about my boss is the biggest no-no in my life; that and there’s the fact that I hate him. Well, maybe not hate, hate is a strong word. But I do dislike him, like a lot.
“You think Kaleigh can come get you if I don’t get back on time?” he asks almost like he’s worried about how I’m going to get home.
I nod my head yes and then tell him, “Listen, there are a couple of things you should know about the car,” I try to explain, but I’m quickly hushed by him instead.
“Seriously, I think I got it. It’s a minivan. How different can it possibly be from any other vehicle?” He heads to the elevator.
“Okay, but just so you know how t—” I continue from right behind him.
“Lauren, I got it. It’s not brain surgery. I’m good.” Then he gets onto the elevator and the doors close.
I look to Carmen. “Oh, well, I tried to warn him that Frozen is stuck in the DVD player and “Let it Go” is on repeat.” I give a little shrug before I turn and walk back to my desk. Oh, to be a fly in that car right now!
Chapter Fourteen
AUSTIN
The minute I got that phone call, I knew this had to do with Lauren. Ever since she came into my life, it’s been one crazy, fucked-up episode after another. There has never been a time when I’ve frowned more than I have lately, but I can also admit that I’ve laughed more than I ever have as well. She brings out not only this insane, absurd awfulness in me, but also a fun, silly, playful side I didn’t even know I had.
A month ago, I would have had her fired without a second thought, but now, she quits pretty much every day, smiling each time she gives me her notice.
But her not paying my tickets was a low blow. My car—my baby—was impounded, and I have an important meeting with Denis on site at the restaurant so we can finalize a couple of things.
Now, I’m walking out of the office with the keys to her bus in my hands. Okay, so it isn’t an actual bus, but it’s damn close to one.
I click ‘unlock’ on the key fob and get in. My knees are pressed against the dash, and the steering wheel is so close it’s practically cutting off the air to my fucking throat. I fumble around on the side for the buttons to change the seat’s position and give me some leg room.
Once I’m situated and circulation returns to my legs, I touch the keyless starter button, and the car starts right up.
I buckle in and am on my way. Soft music plays in the background when all of a sudden, a girl’s voice starts filling the car.
Soft at first, and a bit annoying, so I push the button on the touch screen to switch to the radio. After clicking it once, nothing happens, so I try it again. And again, nothing happens.
I’m too busy trying to weave my way through traffic in this huge behemoth of a vehicle, so I try to block it out. And I’m somewhat successful, that is, until the shouting starts and scares the shit out of me. Someone yelling about letting it go.
What the fuck is this? I press the button again, this time for the satellite radio, and still the fucking song about letting it go is playing. The voice gets higher and higher. The music gets louder and louder as I desperately try to turn it down.
Unable to silence this current Lauren-induced nightmare, I grab my phone, dialing her number, still trying to turn down the volume but having no luck.
She picks up after one ring.
“Yes,” she answers, obviously annoyed that I’m bothering her if the tone of her voice is any indication. Well, good, I’m annoyed, too.
“Something is wrong with the car,” I yell into the phone that I’m holding in my hand as I tap the screen, putting her on speaker.
“Well, whatever you did, undo it,” she advises then continues, “I told you before you took it that if you break it, you pay for it.”
I breathe out an aggravated sigh. “I didn’t break anything. I can’t get the radio to shut off.” Meanwhile, the song has started—again —the voice breaking in with the fucking letting it go.
“Oh that, yeah, I know. I have to get it checked. It’s like it’s frozen,” she says and immediate starts laughing at herself. “Get it? Frozen?”
I look at the phone, wondering if this is really happening, if I’m really having this conversation. “I don’t get it,” I huff while the lady sings about the cold never bothering her anyway. “How the fuck do I get her to shut up?” I shout over the music.
“Oh, yeah, I don’t know. I tried to Google it, but nothing came up.” I hear her typing like this conversation isn’t even bothering her.
“You ‘Googled’ it,” I deadpan and then repeat because surely, I heard wrong. “You Googled it?”
I can practically hear her eyes rolling. “Yes, I Googled it. What else would I do? Google knows everything.”
“Lauren, I’m about to puncture my eardrums if I have to keep listening to this girl go on and on AND ON about letting it go and the fucking cold never bothering her. How do I turn this shit off?” I touch every single button on the screen.
“You aren’t the only one. I just don’t know what to do. I guess I have to call the dealer.” Her voice is flat.
“You should call them the minute you call impound and find out how the fuck to get my car back,” I snap, right before the radio yells ‘let it go’ again.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m on it. Is that all you called for?” She is brushing me off. Just when the piano drift starts again.
“That’s all,” I grumble. “Thank god, I just got to my meeting. This fucking song is the soundtrack from hell, I’m sure of it,” I state before disconnecting and turning off the car. Of course, I’m shocked and dismayed that I can still hear it playing. It isn’t until I open the door that the radio finally shuts off. I’m hoping—praying, really—that it resets itself. Grabbing the keys and my phone, I shut the door and don’t even bother to lock it, thinking Lauren would be lucky if someone stole it.
When I open the door to the restaurant, the smell of wood and paint hits me. This is my favorite part of my job. Creating something. I may not be good with my hands, but I have the gift of vision and conceptualization, which is what I get paid for.
Denis walks up to me, wearing his regular cargo pants and construction boots. “Hey, you look much better than you did last time.” He holds out his hand to shake mine. No kidding, I almost died the last time he saw me. I just nod to him and head over to the bar area where the plans are spread out.
I look up seeing the staircase coming along nicely. I notice that the glass blocks are installed exactly as I intended them to be, so that when patrons head up the stairs, they can see through them to the downstairs area. The rounded booths will be great for a group of friends who want some privacy; each booth can be seen from downstairs as well. I can’t wait until the draping comes and is installed, completing the look that I was going for—like a cozy fort. A sexy high class but still cozy fort, obviously.
I look around to see the tables that will be scattered throughout the middle of the vast space are all stacked up in the corner. “You also got some high-top tables, right?” I ask as I look around for them.
“I did, yes. Those are coming in next week along with the stool version of those chairs.” He motions toward the chairs stacked next to the tables. I run my hand along the bar top, a heavy mahogany wood that is smooth and shiny, sexy. It’s the only rusti
c touch in the space; the base of the bar is a frosted glass with lights that appear to be embedded in its panes. The barstools look like they’re made of thin metal rods, giving them a sleek, modern appearance. The whole back wall of the bar area is mirrored, causing the space to look bigger. The shelves, which will be made from the same frosted glass as the base of the bar, have yet to be installed.
I see Serena heading toward me. Oh, Serena, with the glossy brown hair that flows down to her waist and those long, lean, toned legs that she’s flashed at me enough times in her efforts to entice me. Her eyes never wavering from mine, she saunters over to me like a huntress tracking her kill.
I smile as I take in the red suit that pours over her curves like it was made just for her. With the money she has, it probably was.
Serena is one of the backers of this venture. It’s one of her ‘side jobs’ as she calls them. She made the bulk of her money from the style app she created.
“Austin,” she sings in her Southern accent. “I didn’t know when I got here that my day was about to get a million times better with a visit from you.” She walks right up to me, hugging me close as she tilts her head and kisses the underside of my jaw.
I move away from her and her blood red-stained lips. “Serena, I didn’t know you would be here,” I say over her head and mostly to Denis.
As hot and gorgeous as Serena is, my dick knows that if I go there with her, she’d do whatever she could to sink those bright-red talons into me. Plus, she sucked off Noah and swallowed. So, yeah, I know it’s crazy, but my mouth is never getting near hers. Ever. For those reasons, I haven’t taken even a little sip of what she’s constantly offering.
I disentangle myself from her clutches and look around. “This is going to be a huge success, I can feel it,” Serena states as she continues to eye me up and down with blatant carnal interest.
“I think so, too. Denis, you said you had something to discuss with me, something in the kitchen?” I look at him pointedly, seeing a look of surprise before he finally gets it.
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