Once she realized she wouldn’t be getting out of the gallery event she combed out her long brown hair, and applied the exact right amount of clear lip gloss to her already plump lips. She didn’t need a lot of makeup, adding anything extra to her small features would detract from her overall beauty. No, she wasn’t hot, not in the Southern California, blonde, boobs and built sort of way. She was the ideal incarnation of the woman one spent the rest of his life with. The kind who could put on a suit and lead a board meeting, don a cocktail dress and entertain a room full of people, or put on nothing, and ensure any man's satisfaction. They both wanted her, which was why neither had her.
“I need to find the ladies room.” Lauren faced Russell.
Jason frowned, he may be the artist, the man who knew his way around a gallery, but Russell was the man with answers, including the location of every bathroom, any direction they needed to take and all life issues in general.
Russell put his arm around her and pointed toward the corner of the room. “Is everything all right? You look gorgeous.”
“I have some adjusting to do.” She pulled down the hem of her skirt before swiping Russell’s arm off her. Jason received one narrowed eye when she let go of his hand, looking at her palm as she walked away.
“You’re plan isn’t working. All we’ve done is piss her off.” Russell stepped in front of him, jaw set, fist struggling not to clench.
“We've just started and she’s jet lagged.”
“From a sixty minute flight from San Francisco?” Russell grabbed his sleeve. “You said we all had the latent desire to be together, I’m beginning to think you don’t know what latent means.”
“It means dormant, existing as potential, and that’s exactly what we do have.” Though he wanted to flaunt his psychology minor at his best friend, a flash of orange stung the corner of his eye. Like venom, the color seeped into his retinas, taking hold of him and rendering him motionless.
“What do we do now?” Russell waved his hand in front of his face.
His eyes remained affixed on the living Jack ‘o Lantern. If the woman had a green stalk coming out of her head the picture would be complete.
“Jason?” Russell looked behind him and turned back, his fist closing at last. “Let’s get out of here.”
“No, we can’t after we dragged Laurie here.” Caught in a stare, his voice lacked any backbone. He watched the bitch pick up a glass of champagne and nod. She nodded, damn it.
“Speaking of Lauren.” Russell stepped to one side, blocking his view of the woman who destroyed his life.
With the spell broken, Jason blinked and got his mind back to the present. “If you stick to the plan the three of us will be a couple by morning.” He conjured a smile at the image. "Actually in our case it would be a trouple."
“How are we supposed to be a couple?” Russell raised his arms.
“So the two of you finally made it official.”
Catherine Dumar loomed out from behind Russell, the orange glowing blob who would like nothing more than to overtake him, smother him and absorb his lifeblood. She already did.
“At least I have someone to make it official with.” Everyone assumed artists were gay. He didn’t defend his heterosexuality anymore, and shoved his hand in his pocket.
She licked her teeth, reminding him of an animal who finished off its kill. “It’s nice that Steve was able to make it for a last minute show. I suppose he has enough finished pieces to act fast.”
“I had less than twenty-four hours for my show.” Jason's throat dried out, his voice cracking like a blob of dried paint.
She cocked her glass of champagne in his direction. “When you get the call you need to act.”
“I’m an artist, not an actor.”
“Then maybe you should go into acting.” She chuckled, sounding like a wicked witch even if she looked like a pumpkin right before it was carved.
“You were the only critic who didn’t admire his efforts.” Russell leaned forward.
Jason’s body went dead. That same sensation when he woke up after sleeping on his arm. The numb right before the prickles came. No matter how many times he explained to Russell that efforts and talent were two different things, his friend would still defend those reviews. Laurie understood, she never reacted, only read the comments and scooped them up for her scrapbook.
“You forget something.” Catherine stared Russell down, even though he stood well over a foot taller than her. “My opinion is the only one that matters.” She finished off her drink and thrust the glass toward Jason. “This one looks like he makes a good living, maybe you can be the housewife.”
She pushed the glass into his chest, but Jason held his arms back, causing the champagne flute to crash to the brick floor. The shatter of crystal echoed off the walls, causing everyone to turn toward them. “Or maybe not.” She kicked the shards in his direction and turned.
“Don’t say it.” Jason moved toward a wall when a uniformed waitress rushed over with a dustpan and brush.
Russell shook his head. “Say what?”
“That I shouldn’t have defended myself after her review.”
“All right, but it wasn’t a defense, you went after her, and rule number one is not to comment on your reviews.” Russell motioned for a waiter with a tray of drinks.
"Stop telling me what I know." Jason took a drink and sniffed it. “This is watered down garbage.”
“Whatever.” Russell retrieved two glasses. “Here comes Lauren, now what?”
“Keep the plan. Take everything to the next level.” Right here was the reason they had to move forward with Lauren. He was distracted and his art suffered. Russell just needed her, period. He downed his drink. There wasn’t enough alcohol to even tickle his tongue.
Lauren returned stepping backwards, pounding her fist into her palm. “The bitch is here.”
“Here.” Russell gave her one of the drinks.
“Should we leave?” Lauren turned up backwards, again at Russell.
"I'm standing right here." He waved at her.
“They already went a few rounds, maybe it’s over.” Russell shrugged his shoulders.
She frowned at him while she had her conversation with Russell. “It won’t be over until he kills her by putting on a show to die for, not by attacking her.”
Russell tapped his glass against hers and they both took a sip.
Jason crossed his arms. "I'm standing right here."
Lauren turned and held her glass out to him. "You have the talent and soon the world will know."
The moment she looked at him and the edges of her mouth curled up in the type of smile girls used when they held a great secret, the scene from before began to dissipate. Halloween began to morph to Christmas, and he wanted his present.
“Let’s go see the art.” Jason clinked his glass against hers and they finished off their drinks. He took her glass and motioned forward.
Lauren walked ahead and he turned to Russell. They nodded at each other, put their glasses down, and followed.
They caught up with her at the first piece. Russell put his arm around her, while Jason took her hand.
Lauren glanced between the two of them, pursed her lips, and stared at the sculpture.
Jason leaned back on his heels, allowing Lauren time to absorb the art. The sculpture depicted a man and woman in the throes of sex. The man grabbed the woman by the hips, and his thick erection was ready to plunge into her. The woman's head was thrown back in apparent ecstasy.
Lauren let go of him and put her hand over her mouth.
“I like it.” Russell pointed at it. “Do you?” He pushed Lauren closer.
Jason supposed this was his best friend's way of talking sexy to her, but he went in for the redirect. “Watching can be almost as fun as doing.”
She wrapped her arms around herself and stomped to the next piece.
“We sound like perverts.” Russell elbowed him.
“No, we’re getting to her. I could sense ho
w turned on she was when we dressed her.” He watched as Steve, the artist of the evening intercepted her. The two of them hugged, and Steve leaned in and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Lauren returned the favor and gave him another hug.
"Great." Russell grumbled.
"Come on." Jason pushed him and the two of them went after her.
“Let me show you something.” Steve put his arm around her, corralling her to a different sculpture.
Both Jason and Russell rushed behind them.
The second sculpture was derivative of the first, with the same man and woman now having sex. Her legs were spread, he was deep inside her, one hand cupped her breast, the other held her tight. The woman's mouth was half open as if she wanted, no needed, to moan.
“Tell me what this evokes in you.” Steve moved his arm down around Lauren's waist.
Russell looked at him, eyes wide, jaw set. "Steve wants her."
Jason held up his finger. "They're friends, maybe he can relax her."
This time Lauren's art critique wasn't silence and storming away, she put her hand on Steve's shoulder and whispered something to him.
Steve moved her hair away from the side of her face, his mouth heading for her ear.
Russell stepped forward, but Jason took off, sliding between Lauren and Steve. They couldn't have this roadblock now. "Do you use live models, or do you just work from your very foggy imagination?"
Steve chuckled, gave Jason a friendly slap on the arm and shook Russell's hand. "Erotic art is where it's at. I am just trying to get a read on what Lauren thinks of it."
The three men turned their attention to her.
Lauren curled her lower lip over her teeth and bit down, her gaze traveling between each of them.
Steve stepped forward. "If Lauren wants, she and I can go talk about it in private, not in front of her roomies."
"Lauren can do anything in front of us." Russell crossed his arms.
Lauren's mouth opened.
"Maybe Laurie would rather talk about in private with us." Jason put his arm around her, and attempted to pull her toward him.
"No." Lauren pushed him away. "I told you I had to talk to you before, but you ignored me with your dumb games." She put her hands on her hips.
"Lauren." Russell reached out to her.
Jason tensed. He couldn't be wrong about this.
Lauren backed up. "So, now I'm going to say it. I'm done with this, I'm moving out." With her hand pressed to her chest, she glanced around the gallery and ran toward the exit.
No, not Lauren, she never left. She had to be with him, with them. "Shit."
"I think I need to see to my show." Steve nodded and walked away.
"Looks like you have no choice but to be the housewife, your little woman just ran out crying." Catherine came up behind him.
Jason arched his back. Her words crawled down his spine giving him the chills.
"Well, your art can always be your hobby." She chuckled.
"Maybe being a decent critic can be yours." He turned to her, the bright orange overtaking his sight. "I take your crap as a compliment."
"I guess we'll see on your next show, if you ever have one." She tilted her head and sauntered away.
"Are you trying to destroy everything in one night?" Russell elbowed him. "You and your ideas and your mouth."
"Hold on, let me think." He shut his eyes. In the grand vision he created in his mind of the three of them, Laurie announcing that she wanted to leave them was definitely a break in his plaster.
"You think. I'm out of here."
Jason opened his eyes and watched Russell dash in the direction Lauren took. The gallery was crowded. Steve's show a success. Steve got the head nod. He took a breath and tried to figure out how to revive his own masterpiece.
Chapter Three
"Laurie!" Jason called after her.
"Let's talk." Russell tried this time.
Somehow, she would never know how, Lauren managed to dodge both Russell and Jason in the gallery and slip into a cab. It was worth the forty dollars to not sit in-between them on the way home. She wasn't sure what sick joke they were playing with making blatant sexual innuendos toward her, but at least she knew she made the right decision.
Even with having to pay the cab driver, she managed beat the boys home by a less than a minute. She opened the door and ran through the house as if monsters were chasing her. In the horror movie that was now her life, she collided with the door to her bedroom, the moisture on her palms making the knob slick. She began to shake, her breath short, and the wood door waxing and waning as she struggled for escape. At last the knob turned and she fell inside her room, swearing she felt a couple of stitches pop on the too tight dress that encased her.
Tears started the moment she kicked the door closed, running cold down her cheeks, chilling her body, attempting to freeze out her emotions.
The fact they played this game on tonight made her choice easy. She dragged herself up vowing to forget those kisses, touches, and glances. The fantasy of having both of them was only that, a fantasy, now made worse because of a prank.
She stood glancing around the room Jason painted the perfect sea foam green, and the custom shelving unit Russell installed. The mirror Jason hung, and Russell hung again when it wasn’t level. She walked across the space. Every single item was somehow attached to them. The photo albums and scrapbooks crammed full of their history, the pottery Jason made her, the computer Russell fixed. Even her clothes were products of them, each item telling the tale of where she was or whom she was thinking about when she bought it.
Her body began moving on its own, her eyes glazing over, trapped in a stare as she went to her closet and pulled out a duffle bag, her suitcase was still in that godforsaken truck. Never blinking, she unzipped the bag, and focusing on the blank space on her wall she absentmindedly reached up and began pulling down any clothing that met her hand.
A knock on the door caused her muscles to seize, her fingers tightening around one of her favorite shirts.
“Lauren!”
Russell threw her name out like a bomb. It landed on her and exploded, leaving a crater right in the center of her chest.
She shut her eyes and continued packing.
“Laurie.”
Jason’s tone was light and breezy, a feather floating to land where it may and make everything better.
“No.” She wrapped her arms around herself.
“I have the key to your room,” Russell reminded her.
“Don’t tell her that,” Jason’s voice interjected.
“I want her to know we can go right in.” Russell raised his voice. “We can go right in,”
“A man would say they would break the door down.”
She opened her eyes at Jason’s remark.
“We’re coming in.” Jason knocked again. “Open up or it’s going down.”
“Lauren, we’re serious,” Russell joined in.
Part of her was dying to know if they would have the guts. Fine, all of her wanted to know. She stayed paralyzed with her suitcase in front of her. This joke, this teasing, this experiment, or whatever, went too far. She needed to tell them to leave her alone.
A light rap on the door interrupted her. “Lauren.” It was Jason again. “Open up, okay?”
She swallowed, pressing her hand to her stomach. Jason never used her full name. “Please go.”
Silence answered. They left. Deep down she didn’t need to be told she wasn’t door-kicking material. After all these years they never tried anything like this before. With a breath, she stood up straight. She would finish packing. She wouldn’t stay here tonight. Not one more night.
The huge bang coupled with two men’s shouts joining her own scream let her know they did indeed kick the door down. The noises combined made her cover her face, preparing for the walls to disintegrate.
“Lauren.” Russell caught her, taking her shoulders and dragging her up.
Her heart hurt from the hurrie
d beats it made trying to recover from her shock, and with no air left in her lungs, she gasped, only to have her mouth covered by Jason's.
Or was it Russell's?
No, it was Jason, parting her lips, tangling his tongue with hers, the taste of champagne still lingering, daring her to lap it up—and she tried. No doubt it was Jason, even with four hands caressing her and her eyes closed, it had to be him. Only Jason would taste like sin and decadence, the cheesecake in the middle of the night you couldn't take one bite of, but you had to sit on the floor of the kitchen and have the whole cake.
Wait! Her mind screamed. Four hands? No one, not even the most spoiled ate cheesecake with two forks, and she forced herself to put her hands on his chest and push him away. She didn't need the last bite. It was time for a diet.
Damn him, he had a smile. A broad smile that said he won, it was the same smile he had when he beat her in a game, or bested Russell in some major life issue. She raised her arm, preparing to slap him across the face for giving her the morsel of what she couldn't have.
"Do it Russ." Jason kept his gaze affixed on hers.
Russell? He was talking to Russell? She opened her mouth.
"Now Russ." Jason stepped aside.
The men looked at each other.
"We have to," Russell spoke, but Lauren wasn't sure whom exactly he addressed.
Before she could ask him, tell him to explain, he pulled her in, wrapped his arms around her and kissed her.
Russell's kiss was different than Jason's playful passion. His kiss was demanding, it told her what he wanted, and it said he wanted her. Jason may be an indulgent dessert, but Russell was a main dish. Strong, hearty, comfort food, the kiss that let you know you were home.
Jason rejoined them, his lips landing elsewhere, teasing her ear, trailing down her neck, and her stomach spiraled. Dreams were made of this moment. The one where she didn’t have to choose, but they both wanted her. This couldn’t be real.
Her knees gave out when Jason sneaked in for another kiss on her mouth. He held her up to explore the rest of her, his hand trailing down her side, then up to cup her breast.
She should protest, stop them, but didn't. Not when Jason unzipped the back of her dress, not when Russell moved her dress down her shoulder and let his mouth settle there, and especially not when her dress dropped to the floor.
Trifecta Page 2