Trifecta

by Kim Carmichael

  With one eye narrowed, Jason nodded. "Dr. Dalton."

  Lauren shifted her weight from one foot to the other and turned to the floor.

  She didn't want him to go. Of course, up until five seconds ago, he didn't want to go. Now he didn't know what he wanted, except he wanted Lauren to want him to go. "Lauren?"

  Suddenly, she raised her head. "Yes, dear Russell, come with us to Dr. Dalton's." She went to him, pressed her body to his, wrapped her arms around his neck and connected their lips.

  She opened her mouth and searched out his tongue, sucking on it, causing him to hold her tighter and moan. Right now he knew what he wanted.

  As fast as she kissed him, she pushed him back. "Is that the kiss of a porn star?" She licked her lips and let her gaze travel down to the front of his pants.

  He glanced over at Jason.

  "Trust me on this one." Jason shoved his hands in his pockets.

  "That's the last one either of you will get until I get a real apology. If you are so worried why don't you come with me?" She held her head high, spun on her heel and left.

  "Okay." He motioned for Jason to go ahead.

  Jason stopped in front of him. "It would have been nice if the three of us would have gone to lunch today."

  "I got called into a meeting." He turned away from Jason to grab his suit jacket.

  "That's how you can just take off now."

  He arched his back at Jason's words. "I'm not in a meeting now."

  "I suppose Lauren's work is safe, what could happen there?"

  Russell faced him. "Your jealousy brought you here. Lauren didn't want us to go."

  "Jealousy doesn't live here." Jason motioned toward himself. "Neither does embarrassment."

  "Maybe we should get going, we don’t want to make her late." He walked away. Yes, work was safe, and he needed to see the man Lauren didn't want them to meet. More importantly, no way would he be called on the carpet by the man who knew him better than anyone. Everything was a mess.

  ***

  The moment the elevator opened, Jason knew this wasn't the typical doctor's office.

  First, this doctor's practice took up the whole floor. Second, the patients in the waiting room didn't appear to be sick at all, in fact everyone there seemed to have stepped directly off a runway. Third, the office wasn't an office. It was a showcase, from the marble walls and floors to the planned lighting and furniture. Everything planned to provide a perfect background for every masterpiece in the place, from the art to the patients.

  After some hushed whispers to the front office staff, Lauren and the two of them tiptoed to the doctor's private office.

  Maybe Russell was right. They shouldn't have come here, shouldn't have been privy to their competition.

  However, it wasn't the books or degrees that told the tale of Dr. Dalton. Plenty of men earned their M.D.

  It was the art.

  Art connoisseurs came in only three flavors. Those who could both afford and love the art, those who loved the art but couldn't afford it, and those who cared less about the art but wanted to own it.

  As they sat in the famous and infamous office of Dr. Dalton, Jason had no doubt which type of art connoisseur the good doctor was, with his mix of styles and fashionable choices. The selection here was eclectic, but deliberate. Designed both for maximum impact and impression, not because the art was appreciated.

  He swung his leg and rocked back and forth in the red leather chair waiting for the appearance of Lauren's number one account.

  "Stop fidgeting." Lauren crossed her legs and spun her chair toward the desk.

  Her skirt rode up on her leg, her bare leg. "Her skirt is too short.

  She squirmed in her chair causing the skirt to rise even higher.

  "Lauren."

  Russell shook his head. He hadn't said a word since they left.

  "Say something." Jason motioned toward his friend. The man was going to have to face a lot of things if he wanted this to work, including this doctor and their situation.

  Russell opened his mouth

  Jason nodded. Now Lauren would get it from the king of sanity.

  "How can anyone even speak when we are in the presence of such beauty?"

  Saved by the interruption, Russell shut his mouth.

  They were finally face to face with who had to be Dr. Dalton, complete with the white doctor's coat, various medical instruments in his pockets, and a toothpaste smile.

  For exactly one second he held out hope that this man may not be Dr. Dalton.

  Exactly one second later his hope was gone, exactly like a wrinkle in this office.

  "Doctor Dalton."

  Jason whipped back around toward Lauren. Her voice was low, both breathy and breathless. He knew that voice. That voice belonged to him and to Russell. It was the voice she used when she wanted something, namely them, and she was willingly giving it to this Dr. Dalton.

  "Lauren." He held his arms out.

  Unlike the playful hugs he watched Lauren give to everyone from doctors to janitors throughout the day, this hug was different.

  Along with the voice that was only for him and Russell, she also had their look, right down to her flushed cheeks and plump, ripe lips. She pushed herself out of the chair and didn't jump, skip or dash to the recipient. Instead, she stood up straight, and with only one side of her mouth curling up in a smile walked straight into his arms.

  She leaned into him while he wrapped his arms around her.

  Jason moved to the edge of his seat, and glanced at Russell. The man hadn't moved.

  Dr. Dalton and held her at arm’s length. "Don't you love me anymore?"

  Jason grabbed the arms of the chair. How could Russell sit there and do nothing? This man way too charming.

  "Of course I love you." She patted him.

  He knew pickup lines. In fact, he was both the recipient and giver of many a line. Was Lauren flirting in front of them?

  "Then why so long since you've been here? What if I needed to place an order?" The doctor licked his lips.

  "I'm only a phone call away. You can call me anytime." She purred her answer.

  "Look up." The doctor took her face in his hand and moved her side to side as he seemed to study her.

  Jason almost fell out of his seat, but Russell finally reacted by crossing his arms. At least it was something.

  "Just about perfect." The doctor took a long Q-tip out of his pocket and pressed it to her face. "When are you going to let me add the final touch? Let me make amazing, magnificent."

  All day he was wound up, as if someone shoved a key in his back and turned it every time Lauren hugged someone, or showed too much leg. The art gallery only amped up his energy. But this was it. No one would call her amazing and then allude to her looks not being perfect. This man may be a doctor, but he was an artist, and he knew beauty. "Excuse me!" The chair tilted back when he stood.

  Russell caught the chair before it hit the floor, and Lauren spun toward him with her mouth open as if she were going to start yelling.

  "The front told me you were training." The doctor lifted his chin toward them but kept his hand on her back.

  "Lauren doesn't need any plastic surgery." He stepped forward.

  "Jason!" She went into her full 'dare to say another word stance' complete with her hands on her hips and one foot jutted out.

  He moved away from Lauren and held his hand out to him. "I don't think she needs plastic surgery either."

  Lauren widened her eyes at him.

  As if his hand had an anvil weighing it down, it pained him to raise it and shake this man's hand, but he knew he better if he ever wanted to make up with Lauren. He swore the man's hand was wet, clammy, cold and untrustworthy.

  "Dr. Dalton." He nodded and shook Russell's hand.

  "Russell." Russell glanced down at the palm of his hand when the doctor let go. At least Jason knew it wasn't only him.

  "I didn't mean to interrupt your day." Lauren focused her attention on D
r. Douche.

  "Place my usual order, and double whatever you need to get my syringes to help your quota out, then when we're in Vegas you can take me out with that chunky commission check." He winked.

  Vegas? He didn't recall any Vegas activities.

  "Thank you." She gave the man another hug.

  "Don't be such a stranger." He nodded at the two of them. "Watch her, she's the best." With that he backed out of the room and left.

  "Let's go." Lauren looked between them, pressed her lips together and stormed away.

  They both followed and managed to slip into the elevator with her.

  She crossed her arms and waited.

  One of them needed to say something. He hit Russell in the shoulder.

  Russell cleared his throat. "I have to admit I didn't understand how personal your job really was until now."

  Personal? He leaned back until his back hit the wall of the elevator. Personal? That's what Russell was going to call it. Maybe his best friend wasn't as into this as he thought.

  "What does that mean?" She put her hands on her hips.

  Russell glanced back at him. "What I meant is that there is a lot of closeness in your business relationships."

  There were three times where Jason remembered being thankful for Russell's analytical and calm mind. Well, there were many times, but three stood out in this moment in the elevator.

  The first one was in math class in seventh grade where Russell spent five hours explaining pre-algebra to him. He never got upset but he never wavered. Russell only continued to repeat himself until Jason understood. The second time was in college where Russell somehow, someway talked his professor into extending the deadline for the term paper.

  This would go down in Russell history as the time where he explained to Lauren, the woman they were sleeping with, that her job was pornography, and as their girl it was unacceptable. "Or prostitution."

  "What!" Lauren went to him, standing close enough to cause her to have to look up. "Did you just call me a prostitute?"

  Not realizing he said the words aloud, he raised his eyebrows and tried not to look directly at her. "No, I did not, I said prostitution. Your job is not pornography, it is prostitution." He never did have Russell's way with words.

  Russell covered his eyes.

  The elevator door opened.

  "Maybe you can see what its like then when you have to hail a cab home. I know you don't have any cash on you." She kicked his ankle and ran out of the elevator.

  The point of her pump practically punctured his leg, sending a sharp, searing pain up his calf and down to the sole of his foot. "Hey!" He bent down and grabbed his throbbing appendage.

  "You're jealous." Russell patted his back and went around him.

  "You're terrified." He rubbed his ankle. Jealousy was not an emotion that existed in the land of Jason Morgan. If jealously did rear its green little head it was because someone was jealous of him, not the other way around. Fine, maybe he had a little tinge when Steve got his show, but that was professional jealousy. He definitely didn't have jealousy when it came to women.

  Before the doors slid closed and trapped him inside this stupid building, he hopped out. He joined Russell and Lauren at the car, straightened up and took her by the shoulders. "I was jealous."

  They both turned to Russell.

  "You were jealous too." Jason gave Russell the best friend glare.

  He pointed to himself. "I never said I wasn't, I just said you were."

  "You were jealous?" Lauren faced him again.

  His nose wrinkled, meeting the smile Lauren fought. The corners of her mouth quivered, wanting to turn up. "You heard me."

  The smile took over and she glanced over at Russell.

  "I never said I wasn't." He opened the car door for her.

  She got in the car. "Good."

  Russell and him caught gazes from across the car. "I'm glad I went."

  "We need to do more."

  Russell nodded. "You were jealous."

  "So were you." This argument was becoming washed out, like too much water in his paint.

  "We weren't talking about me." Russell got the car.

  He took a breath and caught sight of Lauren's profile in the car window, the reflection from the sun lighting up her hair, illuminating her skin. Yeah, he was jealous, jealous that his art wasn't worthy to hang in Dr. Dalton's office, and jealous that Lauren fit in there.

  He needed to get himself together.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Russell rifled through his closet and shook his head. Something was off, and it couldn't be his count. However, somehow, on a Tuesday night, he didn't have a clean shirt or a clean suit for the next day. "This is impossible." The dry cleaner came Friday to pick up their items and returned them Tuesday, therefore, at this moment, he should be the proud owner of clean work clothes. Come to think of it, he also didn't have any casual clothes except for what he currently wore, and this t-shirt was Jason's.

  He slid some clothes across the pole. Thus far besides a pair of leather pants he picked up along the way and never wore, there were also two pairs of Jason's jeans, one of Lauren's work suits, and a cocktail dress. He lifted the dress and put it back. "How did this get in here?" This one was black and beaded and still had the tags.

  He chose to gloss over the pile of shoes at the bottom of the closet. The only shoes of his he could find were the ones he wore to work today and those were in the front hall.

  "Lauren must have everything." He scratched his head, went over to his dresser and opened the top drawer. Plenty of underwear was thrown in there. Thrown in? He spun toward the drawer. Gone was his neat pile of underwear separated into boxer briefs, boxers and miscellaneous. Instead, there were his variety, the same brand he'd been wearing since high school, and Jason's various brands mixed in. As a bonus there were at least two pairs of Lauren's intermingled. One was lace, red lace. He remembered those and smiled.

  Curiosity alone made him open the second drawer. This drawer should have exactly five piles of socks inside.

  Instead of the three stacks of white socks and two stacks of black socks, he was met with a sock salad. All different socks were tossed together, including some pink fuzzy ones, and as a garnish, three of Lauren's bras. "Okay."

  He backed away, glancing around the bedroom, taking in the unmade bed, the pile of towels in the corner, and a knit cap on Mr. Robot. The moment his back hit the doorjamb he spun around and ran toward the kitchen. "Lauren!"

  "Laurie!" Jason came charging in from the other entrance.

  "Where is she?" Russell raised his arms. The last time he saw her she said she was going into the kitchen with her laptop under her arm. They couldn't have misplaced her as well.

  Jason shrugged his shoulders. "I need to talk to her."

  "I get her first." Her laptop was on the table, but she wasn't there.

  "That was last night." Jason crossed his arms.

  "Lauren!" Russell yelled again. They had to resolve some things right now, or more importantly, he needed to know something, anything. Everything was off kilter.

  "Hold on!" Her voice came out strained from the laundry room.

  They both looked at each other and ran forward, bumping into one another in their quest to see who could reach her faster. They collided at the doorway, and Jason slipped inside the small room.

  "What's wrong?"

  At Jason's question Russell squeezed in. Lauren was on her knees, and the contents of her purse were strewn across the floor. "What's wrong?"

  She huffed and looked up at them, spreading her arms out over the mess. "I can't find my nude pump, my black pants, my flash drive and my pills."

  "I don't think your shoe is in there." Jason got down with her.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. "Why are you here?"

  "I'm missing my favorite pen, my red t-shirt and my grey button down. I'm not sure where my underwear is, and I can't find my knit cap." Jason picked up her makeup bag and unzipped it. "
Did the laundry guy skip us or something?"

  "Did he? Maybe he stole our clothes." Lauren's eyes widened. "I swear I have nothing to wear."

  Russell noticed a trend and joined them. "I think your pump is in my closet, I now own everyone's underwear, and the knit cap is on Mr. Robot." He took Lauren's bag from Jason and dug through it.

  "There's your shirt." Lauren lifted her chin toward him. "I guess Russell needed it."

  Jason turned to him. "Cool."

  "Here's your pen." Russell pulled a lip liner and Jason's pen out of Lauren's bag. "And here's the flash drive." He handed each of them their respective possessions.

  Lauren took her flash drive and kissed it. "I am also missing my black slip."

  Jason took his pen and held it up like a torch. "I am the current owner of the black slip. I put it on the bed, I thought we could use it again in a bit." Then he held the pen out like a sword. "What did you need Laurie for?"

  "Since I have most everyone else's things, does anyone know where my things are?" He pushed Jason's hand away.

  Lauren raised her hand. "I have a pair of your striped boxers, one of your white shirts and four ties."

  "Ties." Jason nodded. "That was awesome." He leaned forward and began herding Lauren's items into a pile. "Let's go play tie again. I have a belt I can contribute, at least I know where that is." He held up his shirt to show them.

  Russell turned up to the ceiling. While those ties weren't four of his best, the game was indeed awesome. He supposed he could wear the same suit he did today, and if Jason found his grey button down he could borrow it. Now come to think of it, the mess, the lack of knowledge, the total loss of control came in a distant second, third and fourth to playing tie. "We'll find the rest tomorrow."

  Jason began scooping Lauren's paraphernalia into her bag. "Sweet. If we need to take a bath after I hid a towel away, we'll have to share."

  He swallowed down any reaction to the towel comment, or the fact that a pile of towels was festering in the corner of his room, probably getting moldy. It was okay, they were going to play tie. He held out his hand to Lauren. "Shall we?" No, he wasn't thinking about the moldy towels and missing clothing.