POP ROCK

by Charity Ferrell

  “My name is Belinda Jackson?” I ask.

  Knox laughs and holds up his ID. “And soon to be Belinda Kettle when the night ends.”

  “You’re really going to play up this whole bride and groom thing, aren’t you?”

  “Hell yes.”

  “And I almost forgot this,” Yasmine says, handing me something. “This is for the bride.”

  I look down and play with it in my hands. “A Ring Pop?”

  “I provide the best bling for my wife,” Knox says.

  “Dear God, this is going to be a long night.”

  “But a fun one. I can promise you that.”

  I’m taking slow steps as we make our way through the casino. How is everyone else acting normal? Even Knox doesn’t seem phased that someone might recognize us.

  “Go with it, wife,” he says, bringing me into his side. “You need to loosen up.”

  “I’m trying,” I hiss.

  “No, you’re not. You look like we’re plotting to rob the place.” He takes my hand and squeezes it in his. “Act like I’m a regular guy that no one cares about. Forget about Knox Rivers. We can pretend I’m your sweater-wearing club boy, Joe.”

  “Josh is not my boy, and we could’ve picked clothes that don’t draw attention to us. We look like freaking weirdos.”

  He runs his hand down his shirt. “Excuse me, speak for yourself. I’m lovin’ my look.”

  “There’s an open table over there,” Yasmine says. “Let’s get to gambling.”

  We follow her to a Blackjack table and take a seat. The dealer, Lou, who looks like he’s peeking at seventy, doesn’t look enthused at our arrival.

  “Hello,” he grumbles. “This is Double Deck Blackjack. Does everyone know the rules?”

  “Sure do,” Knox says. “We play it all the time on the farm, but we usually bet with beer caps and sunflower seeds.”

  “I won the lottery last week,” Spencer says, his accent ridiculous. “Two million buckaroos, that’s a helluva lotta money. I bought my momma a new home and decided to take my friends to the infamous Vegas to try my luck some more!”

  I put my head down and cover my mouth, trying my best to contain my laughter.

  “That’s nice,” Lou says, clearly not impressed.

  “I’m going to sit this one out,” I say.

  “What? Why?” Knox asks.

  “The minimum is fifty dollars. I suck at this game, and I’m not about to waste money I don’t have.”

  “That reminds me.” He pulls out two stacks of bills and slides one over to me. “This is for you.”

  I shove it back his way. “I’m not taking your money.”

  “Yes, you are. Now take it before we make a scene.”

  “Fine, but if I win anything, I’m giving it back.”

  “Whatever you want. Just take it so we can start. You’re holding shit up.”

  A waitress stops by to take our orders, interrupting Lou as he starts to deal the cards.

  “Fireball for everyone!” Spencer yells to her.

  “And a water for me, please,” I add.

  Spencer points at me. “And a fireball for her as well.” He pauses. “Correction, make it double shots.”

  Lou looks like he’s ready to kill us. “Let’s get started.”

  We play the first hand. I’m not much of a Blackjack player, but I know the basics.

  Lou wins.

  We bet again, and the waitress brings us our shots. The sweet but rough taste of hot cinnamon flows down my throat as I take mine.

  Lou deals the next hand, and I squeal in excitement when I hit Blackjack.

  Winning always makes things better, and well, so does alcohol.

  We play another round. Spencer orders more shots.

  Knox wins the next round, and we order more drinks.

  “We got married an hour ago,” Knox tells Lou. He grabs my hand with the Ring Pop and holds it up. “Have you ever seen a rock this big?”

  Lou rolls his eyes and releases an exasperating breath. “Can’t say I have.”

  “The one in his pants might be a little bigger.” My hand flies to my drunken mouth. Oh my God. Did I really just say that?

  Knox looks at me in surprise but goes with it. “That’s my girl. She loves her big rocks.”

  I can’t stop laughing. I’m happy I didn’t stay in my room. I’m actually having a fantastic time. I’ll forever remember this night.

  We play a few more rounds and then decide to give Lou a break.

  “Where are we off to now?” I ask.

  “A club?” Spencer suggests.

  “We’re going to a club as normal people?” Yasmine asks. “I’m not trying to sound pretentious, but screw that. I can’t stand lines and people rubbing up all over me.” She shudders. “New idea.”

  “What about a strip club?” Spencer asks.

  “What about I break up with you?” she fires back.

  Spencer holds up his hands. “Guys, the strip club is a terrible idea. Who would even recommend that?”

  “How about we walk the strip?” Knox suggests. “I’ve never really been able to do that, but I’ve heard shit gets crazy.”

  “I like that idea. It’s something we normally wouldn’t do,” Yasmine replies.

  “We can buy a bunch of stupid shit and have fun,” Knox goes on.

  He looks over at me and raises a questioning brow.

  I nod. “That’s fine with me.”

  I love to people watch, so that’s right up my alley.

  Knox grabs my hand and throws it up when we make it outside to the strip. “Ladies and gents,” he yells. “This chick and I got hitched. She agreed to be my wife, and I’m going to have sex for the first time!”

  He grunts when I release my hand from his and shove my elbow into his side.

  An older couple stops in front of us. “Oh young love,” the woman says. “Congratulations. Would you like us to take a picture of you?”

  “Sure,” Knox says.

  She takes his phone, snaps our photo, and they congratulate us again before walking away.

  We have a blast on the strip. I’m enjoying it more than when we were gambling. We go into souvenir shops and buy stupid stuff, take pictures with the best impersonators, and enjoy our time together with the help of our buzzes. No one even recognizes us.

  Their plan is actually working.

  I yawn and finally look at the time on my phone. “Wow, it’s four in the morning.”

  “Damn, really?” Yasmine asks. “We were having so much fun, I lost track of time.”

  We head back to the hotel and crowd into an elevator. Everyone gets off on their floors. Knox and I are the only ones left.

  “Admit it,” he says, when we reach our floor and the doors open. He drags me into his side and rests his arm on my shoulders.

  “Admit what?” I ask.

  “Admit you had fun tonight.”

  “Fine,” I grumble. “I had fun.”

  “I knew you’d enjoy being my wife.” He pauses when we reach my door and grins wildly. Why does it feel like we’re ending a date? “Are you sure you don’t want to consummate our marriage?”

  I pull the Ring Pop off my finger and hand it to him. “We are officially out of our marriage roles.”

  He moves in closer, the Ring Pop on the tip of his finger. “What if I don’t want it to be over?” I shiver as he runs his hands up my bare arms. “What if I want this night to keep going?”

  I gulp nervously, leaning back against the door for support. “It can’t … we can’t … and you know that.”

  “Why are you fighting this? I know I’m not the only one who wants it.”

  I shut my eyes, taking a calming breath. He’s not the only one who wants it, but I have to be the one who thinks logically. “I’m fighting this because it’s not a good idea. I made a promise to myself not to get hurt again.”

  I clasp my hand to my mouth. That’s not the argument I planned on saying in my head.

 
“What do you mean get hurt again?”

  Shit. How do I get myself out of this conversation? “Nothing. I’m exhausted and not thinking clearly.”

  “Too exhausted to invite me in?”

  I rub my hands over my face and nod. I turn around and unlock my door without giving him another look. “Goodnight, Knox.”

  “Goodnight,” he whispers behind me. He’s still standing there as I close the door.

  I’m tired, yes, but that’s not my biggest problem.

  I’m so ridiculously turned on I can’t think straight.

  I open my luggage and head directly to it, but it’s not there. I feel around, thinking I probably misplaced it, but find nothing. I start tossing everything out. My clothes hit the bed, the floor, even the lampshade as I desperately search for it.

  It’s gone.

  What the fuck?

  I’m positive I packed it.

  I snatch my phone from the bed and hit Mia’s name. Hopefully, she’s not asleep.

  Me: Check my nightstand drawer and see if I left V.

  I continue to look through my shit until my phone beeps with a response.

  Mia: Drawer is clear of V. Should I look anywhere else?

  Me: No.

  Mia: Is V MIA?

  Me: Apparently.

  Mia: Go replace V with the real thing. I know exactly who you should ask.

  Me: Goodnight.

  She’s just as bad as he is.

  I throw myself down on my bed and let out a long sigh. I knew this was going to happen, which is the exact reason I put it on my packing list. There’s no way I can survive months of Knox’s flirting and not relieve myself.

  My phone beeps. I check it, knowing it’s most likely Mia telling me she found it.

  I’m so wrong.

  Knox: Are you missing something?

  He wouldn’t. He couldn’t.

  Me: What are you talking about?

  He sends me a picture of my vibrator.

  And I fucking lose it.

  24

  Knox

  I can’t fight off the grin on my face as I stare at the picture I sent Libby. I debated with myself on whether or not to go through with my plan. I was going to wait until we were on the road longer to break it out, but I have a feeling that’s the first thing she went for when she got back into her room.

  She was trying to hide it, but there was no doubt she was turned on in the hallway.

  She hasn’t texted me back yet, but the three dots on the bottom of our message feed tells me she’s trying to come up with a response.

  I wait another minute.

  Nothing.

  I decide to help her out.

  Me: Why not come over for the real thing?

  The bubbles stop … and then reappear … and I wait for it.

  Libby: Why are you sending me a picture of a vibrator?

  She’s trying to play clueless.

  Me: I found it in the hallway and figured the owner might want it returned.

  Libby: You seriously stole my vibrator? You’re evil. Just plain evil.

  Me: You’re more than welcome to come and get it, but I’m demanding ransom. You have to spend the night with me.

  Libby: You’ve lost your damn mind!

  I exit out of our text messages and go into my call log. I hit the Facetime option next to her name. It rings a few times, and I’m shocked when she answers.

  “What?” she yells. I crack a smile at the grimace on her face.

  “I have something you might like to have back,” I say. I grab the vibrator and show it to her. “If you want it back, untouched, do what I say, and no vibrator will be hurt.”

  She pinches her face together, her blue eyes narrowing in on me. “Have you ever heard of invasion of privacy? I cannot believe you went through my luggage, creep. Did you smell my panties while you were at it?”

  “No, I didn’t have time to.”

  “Keep the vibrator. You probably need it more than I do.”

  “The hell I do.”

  “Goodnight,” she sings out.

  “Stop! What are you wearing?”

  She tries to hold in her laughter but fails miserably. “You remind me of a little perv right now.”

  “Only for you, babe.”

  She rolls her eyes before hanging up on me.

  Mission failed.

  25

  Knox

  I’m not sure if Libby is going to answer my phone call this morning when I hit her name on my phone screen.

  “I’m only answering because you’re my boss and I don’t want to get fired,” she immediately says. “I ordered your breakfast. It should be there in about ten minutes.”

  She’s being the professional Libby, not the spontaneous one I had an incredible time with last night. I need to break down those walls more to see that beautiful, carefree side of her.

  “Did you order something for yourself?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “Call room service back and tell them to deliver yours to my room. I need to go over some shit with you.”

  “Right now? We have an entire bus ride to do that. I mean, hours upon hours.”

  “True, but I don’t want to sit in here and eat breakfast by myself. So get your ass over here and enjoy some waffles with me.”

  “Fine,” she groans. “I’ll be there in five.”

  I’m grinning from ear to ear as I drag myself out of bed and head to the bathroom to brush my teeth. I run some cold water over my face, and I’m still shirtless when the doorbell rings. I walk through the living room and answer the door to find Libby standing in front of me, her light hair wet and in a ponytail, and she’s wearing another one of those long dresses, this one black lace and hanging loose from her shoulder.

  I lightly chuckle, not missing the way her eyes roam down my chest before moving back up to meet my gaze.

  “Morning,” she says slowly. “Thomas wants to have a conference call, so I told him to call us in about two hours. That will give us plenty of time to pack up and make sure we stay on schedule for the next city. That okay?”

  “You’re the boss, babe,” I answer, resting my arm against the doorframe. “And have I ever told you how much I love those dresses you wear?”

  Her baby blues narrow in on me. “It’s too early for me to deal with your flirting.”

  I move aside, allowing her to slide into my suite. The door closes behind her, and I meet her in the living room.

  “Are you still mad at me?” I ask, sitting next to her on the couch.

  “I was never mad at you.”

  “You sure acted like it.”

  She shakes her head. “Not mad. I just now know I need to keep in mind that you have sticky fingers, thief.”

  I can’t help but grin. “Babe, if you let me have you for one night I’ll show you how great it feels when my fingers are sticky.”

  She pushes forward to slap my shoulder. “You went through my bag, Knox, and took something of mine. That’s invasion of privacy. You’re lucky I didn’t report you for stealing.”

  “Go right ahead.” I hold my phone out. “Tell them you need to make a police report for your missing vibrator.”

  She swats it away. “It’s also too early to deal with your bullshit. I’m sleep deprived.”

  I get up from the couch and start to head towards my bedroom. “If you want it back …”

  She jumps and runs after me. “No! It will be humiliating if you hand me my vibrator right now.” She grabs my elbow, drags me back into the living room, and pushes me down on the couch.

  “Then how exactly do you expect me to give it back? Mail it to you?”

  She throws her arms out, shaking her head. “It’s not like I’ll need it for the next few days. Slip it in my bag or something when I’m not looking.” She gives me a cold glare. “And don’t take anything else.”

  I stick my lower lip out. “You’re ruining all my fun. I was planning on making a shrine of you. I’ve been saving up all yo
ur used bubble gum and water bottles.” She flips me off. “Another question.”

  “No more questions if it involves anything having to do with a vibrator.”

  I hold my finger up. “One more question, and I promise I’ll stop.”

  She falls back onto the couch. “Fine, one more.”

  “Do you have anything kinkier in that little suitcase of yours?”

  I grunt when a pillow flies towards me and smacks me in the face. “No,” she screeches. “I like vibrators. They get the job done without any commitment.”

  “What the hell? I can do the same job.” I stop and clear my throat. “Let me correct myself. I can do a better job without the commitment. What’s the difference?”

  “There’s a big difference. I can’t develop feelings for my vibrator. My vibrator can’t develop feelings for me. When it’s time for me to part with it, it’ll be easy. Vibrators give you the benefits of a relationship without the hassle and heartbreak.”

  “Wrong. It gives you an orgasm. That’s not the only advantage of being in a relationship.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “One of these days you’re going to let me in, Libby Graves, and I mean let me in a lot of different ways.”

  “Not happening.”

  “Life is too fucking short to be afraid of doing things you want to do. I’ll leave it at that.” I decide to drop it. It’s not going to go anywhere right now, and I don’t want her to think I’m trying to push her too much. “What time do we head out?”

  “In about an hour. I’ve already scheduled to have your bags brought down. They let Marvin use their kitchen this morning, so he’s prepping meals for you as we speak. Our next stop is Seattle.”

  “Sounds good.”

  Libby is sitting on the couch with her computer on her lap when I walk up the stairs to the bus.

  “Looks like we made headlines again,” she says.

  Fuck. Here we go again.

  If we’re in the news, that means she’s going to pull away more.

  “Good news or bad news?” I ask.

  She turns the laptop around so the screen is facing me and starts scrolling down the page. There’s a picture of us sitting at the Blackjack table. My hand is resting on her knee, and we’re staring at each other, laughing.