“I have twin toddlers,” Lisa blurted, her voice almost plaintive. She blushed all the way to her ears. “Robert’s and my sex life has been pretty G-rated since the kids came along, and they’re going to be two. That’s a long time to go without some X-rated nookie. Frankly, I need something to spice it up before I go nuts.”
“Me, too,” Racquel said.
“And my Manuel, God rest his soul, has been gone for years now,” Alma said. “He will always be the love of my life, but I don’t think he’d want me to be a nun for the rest of my days.” A pretty pinkness touched her cheeks as well. “You see, there’s this new gentleman in my running club that all the widows have an eye on. I need something to set me ahead of the pack.”
“Oooooh, Alma!” Lisa said. “You never said anything about that to us.”
“Well, I was feeling out the situation.”
Lisa stood to give Alma a high five across the table. “You go, girl. Crack yourself off a piece of that.”
Cristy’s mouth dropped open. She took several long gulps of wine, then held out her glass. Racquel topped it off. She pointed toward Allegra. “What about our young friend here? Am I supposed to expose her to my knowledge?”
Allegra rolled her eyes. “God, Cristy. I’m eighteen, you know. If I’m old enough to vote, I think I’m mature enough to get a few phone sex tips. I mean, I don’t have anyone to use them on now, but who knows about the future?”
“You kind of owe them,” came Lola’s voice from behind her.
Cristy whipped around to find her chef leaning against the archway wall, grinning. “You knew about this?”
“Heck, I helped them pick the wine. Oh, and I’m done in the kitchen and all the doors are locked, so I’ll just grab our cheese and cracker tray and pull up a chair if no one minds. I’m all for some heavy breathing on a Friday night.”
Lola disappeared into the kitchen for a moment and returned with a gorgeous spread that included brie, gouda, and other cheeses arranged around grapes and dates and homemade crunchy bread sticks.
By the time everyone had loaded up a plate, Cristy was on her second glass of wine, feeling no pain. She also felt no shame. She hated to admit it, but going on her sister’s radio show had opened her mind up to the idea of letting her inner extrovert out to play every now and then. What could it hurt? She’d always have her shell to retreat into, but venturing out could lead to…who knew what? And this was a perfectly safe venue in which to give her new boldness a whirl. Hey, if she could help spice up her friends’ sex lives, why not?
“Okay,” she said, enjoying her friends’ bright expressions of anticipation. “Simplicity is closed for the day.” She gave a sly smile. “But, Sinplicity is officially open, and ladies? Class is in session.”
The women all applauded.
Just before she started to talk, someone knocked on the front door. Cristy jumped. God, she hoped she hadn’t released Diego too soon. The legs of her chair scraped against the wood floors as she pushed back. “Sit tight, gals.”
She crossed to the front door and peered out carefully. It was her sister. Marisol gave a little finger wave.
Perplexed, Cristy threw the dead bolt back and opened the door. “What are you doing coming to the front?”
Marisol shrugged one shoulder. “Trying to turn over a few new leaves. Can I come in?”
“Sure.” Cristy glanced at her friends over her shoulder and held up one finger to them, then stepped out on the front porch and pulled the door shut behind her. “I never got to thank you, for that list of names idea,” she said. “To be honest, I had no idea what to use as pervert repellent. You really helped me out. And yes, it kills me to admit that.”
Marisol smiled, a bit sadly. “Can you forgive me?”
Cristy crossed her arms over her torso. “Will you refrain from talking about my life on your show from here on out?”
“I’ll try. I promise you that.” She held up one hand. “Not that my promises mean anything to you.”
A smile tugged at Cristy’s lips. “You’re such a pain in my ass, Marisol.”
Marisol spread her arms, and Cristy moved forward into the hug. “I know I am,” her sister said. “But you love me anyway.”
“I do, damnit. That’s the worst part.”
Marisol laughed, then stepped back. “Truce?”
“Sure,” Cristy said nonchalantly. “I mean, I can’t legally kill you, and I hate it when we’re not talking. As if you’re ever not talking, but you know what I mean. To each other.”
“I love you, Cris.”
“I love you, too, you hag.” They shared toothy, evil grins, like they’d been doing since childhood. “So, you want to join the party?” Cristy pointed over her shoulder.
“You’re having a party?”
“Sort of.” She smirked. “The ladies want me to give them phone sex lessons.”
Marisol’s eyes bugged. “And you agreed to it?”
“Eh, what the hell. It can’t hurt anything, right?”
Marisol laughed. “I guess we’re both turning over a few new leaves, huh?”
Cristy held up a finger and narrowed her gaze. “You will not—I repeat, will not, discuss this on your show.”
Marisol made a zipping motion over her mouth. “My lips are officially closed.”
“Wow,” Cristy said dryly. “And I hadn’t even heard that hell froze over today.”
“Oh, shut up.”
Arm in arm, the two sisters headed into Sinplicity together, and everyone greeted Marisol enthusiastically. They settled in, poured some more wine, and Cristy glanced around at her audience. “Okay, we’ll start simple. Sometimes, when you ask a guy what his fantasy is, he may be reluctant to open up. So instead, take control.” She grinned. “Come right out and tell him your fantasy instead.”
“Really?” Marisol asked.
“Like, how?” Lisa chimed in.
“Easy. Pick up the phone. Dial. When he answers, use your sexiest tone, and say, ‘I have this fantasy…. ’”
Chapter 12
Cristy made the usual commute downstairs to Simplicity on Monday morning after hell week, and stopped on the landing to take it all in. Everything seemed the same. The familiar sunlight slanted in the windows, the yarn looked fluffy and inviting. The whole place still felt like her.
But something was missing.
Diego.
Damnit. She sighed, raking her fingers through her as yet unbrushed hair. She couldn’t have her Monday mornings ruined just because she was mooning over some guy who would never be hers. She’d awakened earlier than usual feeling a little off, so she’d decided to creep downstairs and grab some coffee to take back up to her room. Lola wasn’t even there yet for company.
She had to recapture the magic. With determination, she started around the main room, straightening displays and clicking on lights—just like every day. But instead of feeling embraced by the serenity of her little oasis, she felt lonely. On any other day she would have just buried herself in work and denial until the feeling dissipated, but something elemental had changed inside her in the past week.
She was still Cristy, the one and only Avila who’d been born with an embarrassment gene. She was still an introvert. She still wanted to fade into the background, but now she sort of wished she could fade with someone, rather than alone.
Okay, not someone. Diego.
She didn’t want to lie to herself, for God’s sake.
Cristy sank into the window seat and stared unseeing out her front window. Damnit, she needed to start asking for what she wanted in life. If she’d learned anything from Marisol, it was that. And what she wanted right now was Diego Mora.
She had no idea what, if anything, he felt for her, or if he’d even respond to her suggestions, but that didn’t matter. Standing, she took a page out of her brave sister’s handbook and grabbed the phone. She didn’t need to look for his number, because she’d memorized it the moment he’d given it to her. For God’s sake, she was jus
t a grown-up version of one of those girls who doodled marriage names in the margin if a notebook, and right now she didn’t care at all.
It rang.
Panic seized her, but she held it off.
A second ring.
This was stupid. Maybe she should hang up and—
“Hello?”
She swallowed tightly. “Diego?”
“Cristy? Is that you?”
She stilled all her fears, closed her eyes, said a silent prayer, then lowered her voice to its most seductive level. “If that’s who you want me to be, sure. I’ll be whoever you want.”
A stunned silence ensued. When he spoke, she recognized his arousal in the timbre of his voice. “Damn, no wonder you made so much money on that phone sex line.”
“I’m not interested in money at the moment.”
“What are you trying to do to me, little Cristy Avila?”
“Me? Nothing. I’m just sitting here, still warm and cozy in my bed and wondering if you’re busy this morning…because, I have this fantasy….”
She heard his hard swallow. “Don’t move. Cristy? Cristy?”
“Yes?”
“I’ll be right there.”
“I’ll be waiting….” They disconnected, and she took the stairs two at a time so she could brush her hair and her teeth and spritz a little perfume on her skin.
Fifteen minutes later he knocked on her door.
Cristy swept it open and raked him naked with her bold gaze. It wasn’t just the fact that he looked like male perfection, although that was a bonus. Diego Mora was truly one of the good guys, and she knew, without a doubt, that he’d always have her back. He knew all her most devastating secrets, and he liked her anyway. What more could she ask?
Taking a deep breath, she decided caution was overrated. She threw herself into his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist. The heat from his hands seared through her thin silk pajama top and made her skin tingle. “Forgive me for being so forward.”
“No apology necessary, believe me.”
He smelled soapy and fresh and sexy, like a man with all kinds of ideas she wanted to experience. She flipped her hair back and pressed her lips to his, gently, and then more urgently. When they finally broke apart, she was breathless, and he obviously wanted her. God, risk was fun sometimes.
She smiled at him, and her heart clenched. “Hi.”
“Tell me your fantasy,” he said in response.
“Wow, don’t you have a one-track mind?”
“You expected anything less? After a call like that?” He shook his head, then nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth. “Tell me, Cristy. In detail.”
“I’d rather show you,” she told him. “In detail.”
The man needed no further encouragement. Carrying her easily, he headed for the stairs. “How much time do we have?”
“An hour and a half before Lola gets here.”
He grinned. “Is that long enough for you to tell—show—me your fantasy?”
“Not nearly.” She kissed his jawline. “But we’ll make it work.”
They started up the stairs, still wrapped around each other. Cristy glanced over Diego’s shoulder at her own little oasis. The glow had returned, and she loved it more at that moment than she ever had before.
As they reached the top and headed down the hall toward her bedroom, she tilted her head back and studied him. “Want to know my deepest, darkest secret?”
“Of course.”
“I love Monday mornings.”
He entered her bedroom, kicked the door closed behind him, and then laid her gently onto her bed and followed her down.” You know,” he said with a grin, as he gripped the shoulders of his T-shirt and pulled it forward over his head. “I’ll be damned if they aren’t beginning to grow on me, too.”
A+ AUTHOR INSIGHTS, EXTRAS, & MORE…
FROM
MARY CASTILLO,
BERTA PLATAS,
SOFIA QUINTERO,
LYNDA SANDOVAL
AND
AVON A
“Till Death Do Us Part”
Mary Castillo
Under the wedding dress…
Full name?
Mary Castillo.
Do you have a sister?
No, just a little brother whom I can’t beat up anymore. When I left my mom and then newborn brother at the hospital, I was in tears. My grandma asked what was wrong and I allegedly told her, “I don’t want a brother! I want a big sister or a puppy!”
I tried everything to get rid of him. On his first birthday, I informed Mom that he just didn’t fit in and we should return him before his warranty expired. Whenever my brother did something to annoy my parents, I reminded them a puppy would have been so much easier. But now I’m glad we kept him. He’s a good little brother, although he’ll probably kill me when he reads this!
So what true wedding horrors have you experienced?
There was the Wedding Hoochie of 1999. She wore a red knit dress and no underwear—Mom swore that she saw her, uh, hair, if you know what I mean. Wedding Hoochie attacked every man on the dance floor, pushing their wives or girlfriends out of the way to grind against their crotches. By the way, she was not the kind of girl a man would want anywhere near his crotch. At one point I thought she was going to deep throat the beer tap but she was escorted to a cab.
Is it safe to say that people should be on their best behavior when you’re around?
Absolutely not! Where would I get all my best ideas from? Don’t worry, America. I don’t name names, and at the very least, I’ll change your hair color so no one will be able to identify you.
The seating chart…
Are you more like Dori or Sela?
Dori. No, Sela. No, Dori. No—neither. Well, I guess I’m like Dori in that I hide my emotions and I can be terribly competitive. Sela has many of the qualities that I’ve often wished that I’d had. (How’s that for a nonanswer!)
Is there a character type you would like to try (a pirate, for example)?
I had always wanted to write a free spirit, and Sela was my first opportunity. It was a test to see if I could put myself in the shoes of someone who is impulsive, driven by desire, and then completely shocked when it all blows up in her face. I know that sounds like I judge her harshly but I really could see the story through her eyes, and when she gets chummy with El Tigre…heh heh…that was fun!
Where did the idea for, ahem, the, uh, “big revelation” at the end of the story come from?
Not personal experience. The idea was born out of a conversation I overheard at a wedding. This couple had been to a “virgin” wedding, where the bride had saved herself for the big night. Apparently this was a big deal because the priest mentioned it during the mass and then the bride nearly had a nervous breakdown when it was time for her to leave with her husband. I thought to myself, What if she lied? What if there was evidence that she wasn’t what she said she was? The story was born.
Do you have plans for a sequel to “Till Death Do Us Part”?
Not at the moment. Sela and Dori were very strong in my head while I wrote the story and then they left to parts unknown. I imagine Sela went on to complete her CD and then had a torrid affair with her bigwig producer and then left him for someone like Axl Rose. Dori got over Pete and met a hunky, hubba hubba firefighter who volunteers at the San Diego Burn Center reading books to children. But their brother, Robbie…hmm, I wonder.
What other books do you have out there?
There’s Hot Tamara (Catalina magazine’s Best Chick Lit Book of 2005) and In Between Men, which are related. (Isa, who is Tamara’s best friend, is the heroine of In Between Men…get that?) And then there’s my novella, “My Favorite Mistake” in Friday Night Chicas, which is how I met Berta and Sofia. I was a fan of Lynda back when she was writing Latina romances for Kensington, and met her when she spoke at my RWA chapter. We’re buds now.
What’s next, you big tease?
What would happen if you accide
ntally switched bodies with your best friend? Would you sleep with her man, pretending to be her? Could you stay alive while being Mommy to her one-year-old kid, or finding the right guy for your single friend? Fabulously single Aggie Portrero and her new mommy friend, Nely Mendoza, find out that the grass isn’t greener one way or the other in Switchcraft! Visit my website, www.marycastillo.com to read the excerpt and enter contests.
MARY CASTILLO is the author of Hot Tamara and In Between Men. Both novels were selected as” Chick Lit Book of the Year” by Catalina magazine. Mary loves to connect with readers through her website at www.marycastillo.com.
“What Stays in Vegas”
Berta Platas
Susana’s boy toy is a lot younger than she is. Would you date a younger man?
I would, except that my husband would object! But if I were single…Actually, I’ve always been attracted to older men. That doesn’t mean I’m against older women dating younger guys. Go for it, hermanas! Let’s show Hollywood casting directors that it works both ways, although it’s borderline creepy that all those fiftyish male movie stars get paired with female costars who are barely into their twenties.
Does Susana ever get back with her husband?
Oh, absolutely. But it won’t be easy. She left him, after all. He’s a forgiving guy and he wants her back, but she’s going to have to change, or compromise, and she’s had all the compromise she’ll ever dish out. She’ll expect him to change, too.
You know whose story I’d love to do? Susu’s daughter, Heidi. I’ll bet that little girl has seen a lot. And while her mommy is off with her borrowed hunk, Heidi will think she’s the lady of the house, dealing with the dog and the stinky diapers, even though she’s at her grandmother’s house. When her parents return they’ll be working on their marriage, and Heidi’s going to be a terror to get some attention.
Names I Call My Sister Page 31