by Gina Watson
“I didn’t mind at all. He’s got a really nice ass.”
“I haven’t actually seen it yet,” Bailey said as she wiped her nose with a napkin.
“Yet!” Maura exclaimed.
“Yet. I plan on having many¸ many more booty calls.”
“I think you should. We need to come up with a system. Like a bra hanging from the front doorknob.”
“Oh yeah, or a thong.” Bailey poured more soda into her pint of vanilla ice cream and watched it fizz as she sat on the floor, leaning her back against the couch. “He took me to this burger joint.”
“I didn’t know he was taking you to dinner.” From the couch Maura wrote a grade on top of the essay in her hands and handed it to Bailey who entered the score into the grade book.
“It wasn’t planned. I had a little trouble at the clinic today.”
Maura snapped her grading pen down with force. “What happened?”
“The nurse had difficulty finding a vein that wasn’t collapsed and by the tenth stick I couldn’t keep down the sandwich I’d eaten.”
“Did you tell them to insert on your left arm?”
“Maura, they tried. It wasn’t my day. Anyway, by four o’clock I was feeling dizzy and tired and when I went to tell Parker that I needed to leave early he insisted on driving me and taking me to eat.”
“You should have called. I could have brought something to you at the clinic.”
“I’m fine now. Besides, there was no way I would have pulled you from your lunch with Julian. I’m ready to hear all about it.”
Maura smiled, her eyes bright and glossy. “He met me out in front of the building looking like sex on a stick. I thought Dr. Roberts was going to faint when she saw him.”
“Told you she’s a horny old bird. I’ve seen her checking out the freshmen.”
Maura scoffed and shook her head.
“It’s true, she eyes them like they’re some kind of Bengay salve to ease all her aching joints.”
“Jesus, Bails. You really need to be writing this stuff down. I don’t think anyone would believe the drivel that comes out of your mouth.”
Bailey rolled a finger in the air. “Continue.”
“Oh Bails, he’s such a gentleman. He asked me what I had a taste for. Actually he said, ‘What do you have a hankering for?’ with a delectable southern accent.” Maura did her best to imitate his southern drawl.
Bailey giggled. “He’s a cowboy.”
“He’s so nice to me.”
“Where’d you go?”
“He took me to this sweet little Italian restaurant. We shared calamari and I had shrimp scampi, he had regular old spaghetti and meatballs, then we shared a tiramisu.”
“Jesus, Maura. Are you in love with him already?”
“What?”
“You’re all googly.”
“I am not googly.”
“Whatever.” Bailey shook a vile of pink nail polish.
“Ooh”—Maura stuck her foot in Bailey’s lap—“Will you paint mine?”
“Only if you tell me your feelings about Julian.”
Bailey started painting Maura’s toenails. “He’s quite handsome. Whenever he’s around I can’t talk very well because my brain is sizzling from the fallout of hot sparks he gives off.”
“Yeah, I noticed.”
“Oh my God. Are you serious?”
“Well yeah, Maura. I am your sister. I noticed.”
“Do you think he did?”
“I don’t know, he’s pretty intense. I don’t think much gets by him.”
“Well that’s embarrassing. But you’re right—he’s in it for a commitment and I just don’t have the time or the position for that right now.”
“What are you talking about? You have plenty of time. And what position? I hope you’re not talking about Alan. I’ll put a bullet in his brain if he comes around here again.”
“Bailey, please don’t talk like that.”
“Fine, but don’t let him have any more of your future. You’re done with Alan.”
Maura fiddled with the birthstone ring Bailey had given her as a Christmas gift. “It’s not just Alan, I’ve got to focus on you. We need to redouble our efforts to locate a new kidney for you.”
“Dammit, Maura.” Bailey paused her task of painting Maura’s toenails. “You know how I feel about that. We tried. It’s over. Forget it. You like this guy and he likes you. Don’t think, just do.” She giggled.
Maura smiled. “You think he likes me?” Baby-pink polish splashed onto Maura’s big toe in a perfectly formed drop.
“What are we, in high school?” Maura shifted. “Hold still.” Bailey expertly brushed the polish to the edge. “He likes you. Any guy would be crazy not to, but this guy likes you, likes you.”
“What’s that mean?”
“He’s very intense whenever you’re around and he stares at you without blinking.” Bailey attempted to imitate Julian with furrowed brows and a frown.
“Really?”
“Maura, seriously? How can you not see it?”
“I don’t know.” Maura cocked her head to one side as she pondered the enigma that was Julian David. “When will you get some more booty from Parker?”
Bailey coquettishly bit her lip and smiled. “We have a lunch date tomorrow.”
“Oh my God, and you think it will end with sex.”
Bailey frowned. “I doubt it. He’s taking me for a picnic on an airboat over the crawfish fields.”
“I think Parker really likes you too.”
“He’s a total player. You said he winked at you. Winked at you. A guy doesn’t plow into one sister while he winks at the other unless he’s a sexual deviant.”
“Sexual deviant?”
“A person whose sexual behavior deviates from what is considered acceptable.”
“Yeah I get it, but where do you get this stuff?”
She shrugged. “Dr. Phil, the internet, urban dictionary. It’s the information age, and yet … we still can’t find a black market kidney.”
Maura pulled her foot out of Bailey’s hand. “I don’t think that’s funny, Bailey. I know you have a sick sense of humor sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I want to hear shit like that.” She stood with the essays she’d yet to grade and walked to her room. Pedicure incomplete.
Bailey took a deep breath and put the top back on the polish. She then walked her empty Häagen Daz carton and orange soda can to the trash. She knocked lightly on Maura’s door before she opened it to find her on the chaise lounge, softly crying.
“Maura, I’m sorry. I never meant to upset you. It’s slowly dawning on me that I’m not the only person going through this.”
Maura stroked her neck. “You shouldn’t have to worry about upsetting me. It’s just … our time might be limited and I can’t find any humor in those thoughts. I’m not strong like you. You never even cry. You didn’t cry at Mom’s funeral. I was a mess. You had to deal with everything. I wish I were more like you.”
She delicately sat next to Maura on the chaise. “If it were up to me we’d be out on the street. You have drive and discipline and you do what needs to be done no matter what the cost. I wish I were more like you.” Maura sniffled.
“Well then we make a great team.”
“Remember what Grandmamma used to call us?”
“The dynamic duo.”
They laughed and hugged and for a moment forgot about their adult problems.
Bailey went to bed that night with her mind on the big surprise she’d planned for her and Parker.
***
After what seemed like thirty million hours lunchtime finally rolled around. The phone in Bailey’s office buzzed to announce a delivery. Her feet danced with nervous delight as she waited for the deliveryman to make his way to her office. She pulled a five-dollar bill out of her wallet for a tip. She opened the door to reveal a blonde-haired man, short in stature and close in age to her own. In his hand he held a styrofoam beer cooler complet
e with Duff’s insignia, causing Bailey to squeal in delight.
“Miss Jones?” The UPS man quirked a brow at her.
“Yes.”
“Sign here, please.”
She signed and gave him the tip money. “Thank you.” Sitting in her chair with the cooler in her lap she lifted the lid and inhaled deeply. Her lungs filled with the vinegary spice, stirring sweet memories from long ago. Bailey recalled one of the many times she and her college peers celebrated the end of a long semester after a grueling final exam schedule. Those memories were everything to her because they meant she’d lived a little bit of her life free from the burden of physical affliction that currently weighed her down.
She rested her palm on the foil top. “Oh my God, they’re still warm.” She secured the lid onto the cooler, and went in search of Parker.
Her heels clacked along the corridor and her smile widened as she imagined Parker experiencing Duff’s for the first time. Rounding the corner she stopped in front of his secretary’s desk. “Hi, Mrs. Banks. Is Parker in his office?”
“I’m afraid he hasn’t been in today, Bailey.”
She frowned. “Is he coming in later?”
“I’m not sure. I haven’t heard from him.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks.”
Well that totally sucked. What the hell was she going to do with fifty hot wings? She walked to Julian’s office, but the light was off and the door locked. Defeated, she headed back to her office.
By five-thirty she’d finished creating the new merchandise page. Her stomach grumbled and she eyed the Duff cooler full of wings on the credenza. She sighed and began to shut down her computer. Rather disheartened with the outcome of what she had thought was going to be a wonderful day, she gathered her laptop, purse, and the cooler and called it a day.
She’d known great disappointment in her twenty-four years. So why then did this dismissal from Parker ache more than any report she’d received regarding her diminishing health? Last night she’d thought they got on well enough. He seemed just as easy going as her and she assumed he’d enjoyed himself, but who was she to know?
Spying her white car from across the parking lot she could tell something was off. She walked swiftly, anxious to get a closer look.
“Well if that isn’t just the perfect end to a shitty day.”
She deposited her things into the front seat of her Jetta and then kicked the flat tire with her dress pump.
One thing Mrs. Jones had been adamant about was that each of her girls should know a little about automobile maintenance. Bailey had a tire in the trunk—not just a spare tire, but the real deal. She also had a flat tire car kit and knew how to use every piece. That didn’t mean she felt like copping a squat in her silk blouse and tight pencil skirt to change the damn thing. She inhaled deeply and let out an exasperated sigh. Her stomach grumbled for the third time in a matter of minutes. She slipped her expensive shoes off, and then grabbed the cooler and a tub of wet wipes she kept in the car door.
Inhaling the wet Louisiana air made her think of the warm days back home in their little corner of the world. She’d grown up in Aurora in a farmhouse built in the late eighteenth century. The butter-yellow kitchen had come equipped with a green Glenwood turn-of-the-century stove. She giggled as she recalled thinking that her mom had probably purchased the house because of the stove—even had the thing outfitted with modern gas burners despite the updating costs. Bailey guessed the very first homeowners would have used wood burning stoves and ovens.
A waft of fresh air tinged with the smell of wet earth hit her nostrils. Moody Baton Rouge weather could change in an instant. Case in point, clouds rolled in and thunder echoed in the distance and she felt the day’s tension melt away. Bailey loved storms and wouldn’t mind if she were to get a little wet. She climbed onto the top of a picnic table that was out under a few shade trees at the edge of the parking lot. The gray canvas that made up the sky had a few breaks where sunbeams escaped in an impressive arc that reached from the clouds to the earth. She was aware of stuff like that now. Funny how a time bomb could do that to a person—make them appreciate things they never had before.
She removed the wings from the cooler and pulled the foil off the container. They’d gone cold but they’d still be delicious. She used the foil to deposit the discarded bones. How many of these could she eat? While she knew she could make a dent, she didn’t think she could eat all fifty.
The salty tang of the sauce took her right back to New York. The beautiful noise of whistles, garbage trucks, squealing brakes, diesel buses—she missed all of it. Mom had a degree in art history and she’d worked for the Augusta historical foundation. The small college town comprised of seven hundred people was more of a village. Most were small business owners or farmers, and everyone in town knew the Jones girls. She recalled walking into Dotty’s—the ice cream shop near the library owned by its namesake. Whenever Bailey walked past the storefront, Miss Dotty demanded she come in and enjoy a dish of her favorite—cookies and cream. Bailey took her first job there at the age of fifteen.
She’d made it through about ten wings when she decided a drink would be nice. Maybe an ice-cold Coke. She really hadn’t thought this through very well. The sound of a door closing beckoned her attention. She turned to see Parker walking toward her from his mammoth-sized truck. She wasn’t all that happy to see him. After all, he was intruding on her very private moment. Although it could not be denied that his tight jeans and the Henley shirt that hinted of the biceps beneath were a welcome sight.
“What are you still doing here?”
“I’m decompressing.”
“It’s probably not the safest place to do that.”
“Safety wasn’t my top priority.” She realized an ice-cold drink inhabited the thick styrofoam cup in his hand.
“No? What was?”
“Sanity. Well, that and hunger. Now I wish my plan had included something to drink. These wings are starting to get spicy.”
He passed her his drink. “You’re sitting out here eating hot wings?”
“Not just any hot wings. The be all, end all in the hot wing world.” She pulled the cooler up so that he could see the label. “Straight from Buffalo. I ordered them yesterday and they were delivered right at lunchtime.”
He pointed to the corner of her mouth indicating she had sauce on her face. She licked it away.
“So do you do this often? Order food to be delivered from New York?”
“No, it was my first time. I actually thought it would be a fun idea for our lunch. In case you’ve never had a Buffalo wing. Or if you thought you’d had one, but were completely misled.”
A short chuckle emerged before a click of his tongue. “Shit, Bailey. I totally forgot about our lunch date.” His gray eyes narrowed and he sighed, perching next to her on the table. “Last night my family was hit with Hurricane Courtney. She’s called off the wedding, among other things.”
She tossed her head carelessly and shrugged. “Hey, we’re just fooling around. Don’t sweat it.”
Her gaze traveled across the lawn as she drained his drink. She felt his eyes on her, but she didn’t feel like discussing his bullshit excuses, nor did she feel like making him feel better about his mixup. He could have called the office and left word for her. His behavior had been rude. Inconsiderate. Thoughtless. Selfish. That’s why she was so bothered by it. Okay, so it wasn’t. He’d forgotten about her and it stung a little, given that they’d had animal sex in her bedroom.
“Are you not going to offer me any wings?”
“Hot wings.”
“Right, hot wings.” His sexy smirk wound its way between her legs.
“They’re cold. They’d actually been delivered warm.”
“I bet they were good.”
“I wouldn’t know. I mean I do know that Duff’s makes the best hot wings, but I sort of missed lunch.”
He stood. His lips tightened and then he looked back at his truck. “Hey, do you want to
get out of here?”
“You just got here.”
“Yeah, I was fleeing the striking zone. Last night I stayed on the barge and tonight I’d planned to stay here, but now I’m thinking a drive down to Grand Isle is in my blood.”
“What’s in Grand Isle?”
“My boat is docked there.” His hands casually slid into his pockets and he leaned against an oak tree.
“How many boats do you have?”
“I only have the one. The other boats you’ve seen belong to the business, so technically they’re my father’s.”
Dusk was settling in and she felt at least two mosquito bites on her legs, as they liked to feed at that time. “I have to work tomorrow. My boss is kind of an ass so I don’t think it would do to call in.”
The mischievous sparkle in his eyes had her gasping for breath. Shit. She turned from him and stood, gathering her trash. She grabbed the cooler and he followed her to her car.
“Ouch.”
She turned to see him eyeing the flat tire. She put the cooler in the trunk and pulled out the toolkit, inserting a rod into the jack.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“I would expect a southern man to know, but I don’t mind educating you. I’m changing a flat tire.”
“Right. What I meant was, do you think a southern man would stand idly by and watch a lady change a flat tire?”
“I don’t care what you do.”
“My father would whip me with a belt!” He moved to grab the jack.
She pulled it from his reach. “Your father isn’t here.”
His hand rubbed the back of his neck. “Come with me to Grand Isle. I’ll call a wrecker. We’ll pick your car up on the way back in.”
“I don’t have any clothes.”
“You won’t need clothes.” She cocked a brow at him. “Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Please, you want it just as much as I do.”
His gray eyes pleaded, matching the storm clouds far above them in the atmosphere. She shouldn’t go. She had responsibilities. But the thought of having all of that muscle and skin to herself set her sex blazing. She’d go with him all right, and she’d have exquisite marathon sex with Parker, god of the sea.