Starfire (Erotic Romance) (Peaches Monroe)

by Strong, Mimi

  The leather on the seats felt buttery, and there were so many buttons to adjust everything—buttons I didn’t know cars had.

  Shayla and Mitchell had to forcibly drag me from the car. I apologized and hugged Mitchell, picking him up off his feet without even thinking.

  “I’m not a toy,” he howled, laughing and struggling for me to put him down.

  Shayla stared at Mitchell, with his curly gold hair and light blue eyes, then turned to me. “You’re right. He’s fun-sized, just like Golden.”

  Mitchell pointed to me. “Golden? That’s the blonde veterinary assistant who’s dating your former high school crush who you fooled around with this summer but never slept with, and broke up with on Monday, by the duck pond? He talked about the moon and made you sad?”

  Shayla elbowed me. “If Mitchell already knows everything, how are he and I supposed to bond with each other? We were supposed to gossip about you at the fitting today.”

  Mitchell did a fun hand swoosh. “I’m sure there’s something. Peaches can’t go five hours without doing something shocking, unless she’s asleep.”

  “That’s my girl,” Shayla said proudly.

  Mitchell followed Shayla up into the house, both of them chattering away without waiting for the other one to respond to a question.

  Mr. Galloway waved from his porch, catching my eye.

  “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but congratulations on the new car, and on the wedding, of course.”

  “You are coming, right?”

  He beamed. “Yes, and I have a date. Do you know Dottie Simpkins? Pink hair. Very interesting lady.”

  “Wow. You’re ready to start dating again, and you’re diving in at the deep end. Watch out she doesn’t make you husband number seven.”

  He chuckled, looking like a man smitten. He was definitely under Dottie’s spell, and that made me almost as happy as getting my new car. Almost.

  “Where is this wedding?” he asked.

  “Secret location. Show up at the bus depot and they’ll take you there.”

  He looked around for anyone who might be in hearing range, then held up his hand alongside his mouth and whisper-shouted, “I hear they’re setting up tents at Duck Pond Park.”

  I held one finger to my lips. “Shh.”

  He winked and nodded. “The secret’s safe with me.”

  I made Mr. Galloway promise to come to the bus depot anyway, and then I went into the house to join the Shayla-Mitchell gossip session in progress.

  CHAPTER 37

  The drinking started innocently enough.

  We were showing off our booze collection to Mitchell, and he suggested we sample the vodka he’d brought up with him.

  The vodka was tasty.

  We became too inebriated to go anywhere, but then Shayla called our friend Chantalle Hart and asked for a favor. She got Chantalle to agree to driving us around for a spur-of-the-moment bachelorette party.

  With a sober person as our chaperone and driver, the three of us in the wedding party were free to get into as much trouble as we wanted.

  And we had no problem finding trouble.

  From the house, we proceeded to Cougar Town, where we consumed chicken wings, nachos, and as many drinks as they’d serve us.

  That place was pretty dull, even for a Wednesday night, so we left in search of our own fun.

  After a dire warning about what I’d do to people if they threw up in my new car, we got back into my sweet ride and started driving up and down Leonardo Street while passing around the vodka bottle.

  I can’t say for sure whose idea it was to break into Dalton’s cabin, but we all agreed the idea was excellent.

  Chantalle made a few wrong turns, but eventually we found the heritage site for the cabin, at the edge of Dragonfly Lake.

  “This is the wedding site?” Shayla asked as we pulled up to the cabin.

  “That’s a secret!” I yelled at her.

  Chantalle turned back to me. “It’s okay. I won’t tell anyone. I’m just glad I’m invited.”

  “Peaches, honey, I don’t think the wedding is going to be here,” Mitchell said. “I think Dalton lied to you, to throw us off. That man is as cunning as he is gorgeous.”

  I groaned. “He’s such a liar!”

  “This place is a total construction site,” Chantalle said. “There’s no way you can have a wedding here. Are the guests going to sit in those dirt-digger things and have tractor wars?”

  “That would be awesome!” Shayla said brightly. “Who cares. We’re still breaking in. I gotta pee.”

  We parked the car and all jumped out.

  We ran up to the cabin first, but found the door locked tight and all the windows boarded up for the construction.

  “I could climb down the chimney,” Mitchell offered.

  Shayla and I thought that was a marvelous idea, because after as much vodka as we’d had, we were pretty sure anything was possible.

  Luckily for Mitchell, Chantalle ran over to the Airstream, found it unlocked, and called us over.

  Giggling, we all climbed up the steps into the trailer.

  It was even smaller with four people inside.

  We all squeezed into the kitchenette and were absolutely silent. I was trying to figure out where the wedding was going to be, and Mitchell was fascinated by the trailer’s compact interior.

  “Hurry up!” I yelled at Shayla, who was in the bathroom.

  “These walls are paper thin!” she howled. “You guys have to talk or something. I can’t go if people are listening!”

  We all covered our mouths to keep from laughing.

  None of us started talking. It was more fun to torture Shayla.

  I don’t know why drinking makes you kinda mean toward your friends, but I like to think you only abuse the ones you love.

  While we were huddled there in the kitchenette, one of the cabinets began emitting an odd noise.

  “The trailer is haunted!” I squealed.

  Mitchell and Chantalle screamed, and we all pushed and shoved each other to get out the door. We ran down the steps and to the ground outside.

  “Totally haunted,” Mitchell said in agreement.

  “I’m never going in there again,” I said.

  A few minutes later, Shayla came out with some papers in her hand. “That noise was a fax machine, you dummies.”

  “It must be a time-traveling Airstream,” Mitchell said, his eyes wide. “How else would you explain having a fax machine?”

  “Probably architectural drawings or some shit for the cabin,” I said.

  Shayla gasped and ran to the car with the papers, where she sat on the passenger side. She left the door open and the interior light on. “MOTHERSHITTING MAMA-BEAR!”

  Chantalle slid into the driver’s side and grabbed the papers from Shayla. “What’s the big deal? Looks like these are different wording options for a screenplay. This fax is from the office of some writer dude. That makes sense, since Dalton is an actor. Except…”

  Mitchell shot me a grave look then asked, “Is the content anything Peaches should be concerned about?”

  Chantalle laughed. “That’s a funny coincidence. It’s actually wedding vows for something. Hmm. That’s odd. It says Peaches Monroe in this script.”

  Mitchell ran around to the driver’s side of the car, grabbed the papers, and ran back to the Airstream yelling, “No good can come of this! We were never here. This did not happen!”

  I slid into the back seat of the car and pried the vodka from Shayla’s hands. The booze had smelled of vanilla and other herbs when we started, but now it went down as easy as water.

  It crushed me to learn that Dalton had someone writing his vows. If he actually loved me, why would he hire someone else to say it?

  Chantalle was confused and upset. “I don’t understand what’s happening, you guys. What the fuck is up with everyone this summer? Golden is dating Adrian and Carter, and Carter is dating Golden and Tiny-Shirt Trisha, and I can’t keep tr
ack of who else Trisha is dating, but I think Lester’s in there, and Kirsten. Has everyone lost their minds? And why is everyone acting like I ate a box of kittens? What’s the deal with the script?”

  Mitchell slid into the back seat next to me and wrestled the bottle from my hands. “The fax has been returned,” he said. “We’ll just pretend we were never here.”

  Chantalle turned around and asked again, “What’s happening?”

  “Peaches has trust issues,” Shayla explained to Chantalle. “Back when they first met, Dalton used a bunch of scripted lines to get into her panties.”

  I snorted. “And he also used his eyebrows. His sexy vampire eyebrows.” I grabbed back the bottle. “But mostly I’m upset because you can’t ever trust an actor. He’s always acting!”

  Mitchell gave me the saddest look. “Oh, Peaches. He might be corny, but he does love you.”

  “Does he? Then why hasn’t he said it?”

  The two girls in the front seats turned around so fast, they bumped heads with a crack.

  Rubbing her head, Chantalle said, “What the fuck is going on? Why would you marry a guy who hasn’t said he loves you?”

  Shayla gasped. “You’re pregnant again? Gimme that. You can’t drink.”

  I gave her my steeliest shut-up look. “I’m not pregnant, nor have I ever been, Shayla. You should know, as my best friend.”

  Still rubbing her head, and looking like she really regretted agreeing to be our driver, Chantalle asked me again, “Why are you getting married? For money?”

  I began to laugh, rolling back in the seat and slapping my hands on my knees. “Got ya! I totally pranked ya!”

  “You’re joking?” Chantalle asked.

  Mitchell gave me a skeptical look.

  “Totally joking,” I said. “I know all about the scriptwriter thing. Dalton’s really into me. He totally loves me. He just isn’t so great with his own words.”

  “That makes sense,” Chantalle said, nodding in agreement.

  “I don’t feel so good.” Shayla let out a burp that sounded and smelled anything but good.

  “We’ll continue the party at our house,” I said, still pretending to be having a great time. “Or back to Cougar Town!”

  I expected Mitchell to agree with me, but he’d already passed out and was sleeping like a golden-curled baby, a sweet smile on his cherubic face.

  Chantalle started the car and made a five-star turn in the mucky front yard.

  “Hey guys, Mitchell’s asleep,” I said.

  Shayla unzipped her purse. “He’d look cute in my red lipstick.”

  “Do you have blush with you?”

  “You know it, girl.”

  Chantalle tsk-tsked us. “You guys are mean drunks.”

  “We’re fun drunks,” I said.

  “We’re totally fun drunks,” Shayla said.

  Chantalle muttered, “Remind me not to pass out around you two.”

  CHAPTER 38

  For the second time in less than a week, I woke up in an unfamiliar place.

  If I wasn’t mistaken, and that bright thing searing my eyes was indeed the sun, that meant it was…

  Thursday.

  Two sleeps until my wedding.

  Squeezing my eyes shut, I felt around myself timidly. I still had clothes on, and I was on top of something soft and non-human. All good so far.

  Someone stirred next to me. I rolled to my side and opened my eyes, finding myself face to face with beautiful golden-brown eyes.

  “Shayla, where are we?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “By the smell, a dumpster. Wait, is that your breath?” She puffed on her palm. “Nope, it’s mine. Sorry.”

  We were on a bed, in a hotel room. If I knew those hideous linens, we were in the Nut Hill Motel. There was another bed next to ours, empty.

  A door clicked open and Mitchell came out of the bathroom with a towel slung around his waist. “Rise and shine, fuckers!” he sang. “I’d like to especially thank whoever applied lipstick to my penis. Very funny. I guess I was supposed to wake up and think I’d enjoyed the pleasures of a woman last night?”

  Shayla smirked.

  Mitchell continued, “Unfortunately for your little prank, you left the lipstick tube in my shorts where you dropped it. You do get points for originality, of course.”

  Shayla kept a straight face. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mitchell. We went back to Cougar Town last night, and you disappeared for about twenty minutes with an older lady in a leopard print dress. Did you say it was red lipstick?” She turned to me. “Peaches, that woman at the bar last night was wearing red lipstick.”

  “She was!” I snickered. “Before that, she kept calling him apple dumpling and slow-dance-grinding to Bon Jovi ballads.” I blinked innocently at Mitchell. “We would have stopped her, but you seemed into it.”

  Mitchell threw his hands in the air. “I’m cured! I’m totally straight now! I like vagina!”

  Shayla and I both clapped and cheered.

  He grabbed the garbage pail and swept the empty mini-bottles from the top of the dresser into the plastic bin.

  “Those were all open when we got here,” I said. “Right, Shayla?”

  She nodded solemnly.

  The funny thing about the lipstick on Mitchell’s penis was that he actually did it to himself. He woke up and caught me putting lipstick on his mouth, and confiscated it.

  We went back to Cougar Town, where he did actually dance with an older woman. Actually, he danced with several, and they adored him.

  Chantalle drove us back to the hotel room, then left us to continue the party. Mitchell drank most of the mini-bottles, then told us he was going to play a joke on Mitchell. (Yes, he referred to himself by name.)

  The fact he’d done it to himself only made the lipstick prank funnier.

  “He’s crazy,” Shayla whispered to me. “Can we keep him?”

  “Yes, let’s keep him.”

  Mitchell set his suitcase on the dresser and unzipped it to reveal very orderly contents.

  “You’re taking me for breakfast at that chocolate fountain place,” he said. “Then we all go to our dress and suit fitting appointment.”

  Shayla and I agreed to the plan and did our best to get up and make ourselves presentable while wearing the previous night’s clothes. We pinkie-swore to never drink again.

  ~

  The three of us went to brunch at Pancake International, which gave me a moment of déjà vu. Shayla and I had gone there with Golden just a few weeks earlier, and sat at the same table with the mis-matched wooden chairs. Mitchell is a similar height to Golden, and has curly blond hair as well, so it was funny, but the good kind of funny.

  The waitress even said, “You three again!”

  This visit, however, Adrian wouldn’t be flirting with me by text message. Our whole fling had started and ended since the last time I had the Elvis in Paris (crepes with peanut butter and bacon.)

  I pulled out my phone and looked over the last messages from Adrian. We hadn’t spoken since our walk around the pond on Monday. I composed a dozen messages, but couldn’t hit the send button.

  Shayla grabbed my phone from my hands and tossed in in my purse. “Busted,” she said.

  “Fine, I’ll cover the tip,” I said.

  Mitchell raised his eyebrows appreciatively. “I get it! That’s a good trick. I should use that on my friends. They’re always texting when we hang out.” He chuckled. “They should be punished.”

  Shayla waggled her eyebrows. “You always hurt the ones you love.”

  “Aw, I miss you guys already,” Mitchell said. “I’ll have to catch a lift up in Dalton’s plane next time he comes to Washington.”

  Shayla leaned over and kissed him on the side of the cheek. “I always want what I can’t have. Mitchell, are you sure you don’t have a straight side? We could get married.”

  “Double wedding?” I offered. “We’ve got plenty of food.”

  Mitchell
laughed, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment, or maybe happiness.

  ~

  We finished breakfast, and stepped out into the sunshine.

  The sun glinted off an approaching convertible, cherry red, with the top down. At the wheel was Dottie Simpkins, a scarf wrapped around her pale pink hair. Sitting next to her was my neighbor, Mr. Galloway, waving to me. A rust-colored labradoodle sat in the back seat.

  “Hello, Dottie! Hello, Mr. Galloway!” I called out, waving back.

  Mitchell snorted with laughter. “I love this town.”

  “We don’t all know each other,” Shayla said. “But sometimes it does feel like we’re the charming extras and backdrop to someone else’s movie.”

  “That’s why Dalton was here filming,” Mitchell said.

  Shayla got a grumpy look as we started walking down the street toward the seamstress.

  After a few minutes of silence, Shayla said, “I’m trying to be a good sport about Dalton swooping in here and taking away the best thing about this town.”

  “I can’t be your roommate forever,” I said.

  She muttered something I couldn’t hear.

  “Listen, I’m nervous, too,” I said. “I’ve never had a real relationship with a guy. Dalton is the first guy I’ve even slept with more than ten times.”

  Mitchell snorted, then said, “Wait, sorry. You’re serious? You’ve never been in love before?”

  I stopped walking and rubbed my stomach. We were still a few blocks from the seamstress. “I feel weird. Too much bacon. Everything’s jumping around inside me.”

  Mitchell fixed me with a serious stare. “Peaches. That fluttering is love, not bacon.”

  “Are you sure? It feels like bacon. Does love feel like bacon?”

  Shayla nodded in agreement with Mitchell. “You usually eat all your bacon and some of mine, but you hardly touched your breakfast. The fluttering must be love.”

  “I wish Dalton was better at expressing his feelings,” I said. “Then I could be sure.”

  She grabbed my hand and shook it in the air between us. “Maybe if you wore your engagement ring, you’d be more sure. Stop being such a weirdo and let yourself fall. If I can let you go with a smile on my face, you’d better smile, too.”