by J. M. Stone
“Hayden, get your sticky little behind back in here, right now, young lady!” Jenna yelled from the kitchen.
I looked at Hayden, made a face, and we both took off for the kitchen.
“Holy shi-oot, Jenna! Did you blow the place up?” I asked her, taking in the state of the kitchen.
“Very funny, Emma,” Jenna replied drolly. “We made pancakes for breakfast and Hayden, God love her little face, decided that it would be more fun to splatter the batter than to cook it. That, and she wanted to wear the syrup more than eat it. I mean, how messy can a four year old get? Jarrod wasn’t that messy and he’s a boy!” she exclaimed.
“Where is Jarrod? And Noah?” I asked.
“Noah is in the garage organizing his screws or some manly shit like that, and I sent Jarrod up to get a shower to get the batter and syrup out of his hair. Don’t ask me how that happened, I turned my back for five seconds to wipe batter off the cat and when I was done, Jarrod was looking at me like, what the hell?” Jenna sighed.
“Mommy said SHIT!” Hayden yelled at the top of her lungs, running in circles around Jenna’s legs until she spied the cat and took off after it.
“HAYDEN, NO!” Jenna shouted, taking off after her.
I shook my head, grinning at Noah as he came in the door.
“Hey, Em. Welcome to the nut house. Wanna come help me organize the garage?” Noah grinned at me before looking around the kitchen and wincing. Without another word he turned around and headed back to the safety of the garage.
Jenna came back in the kitchen then, dangling the poor cat, Tommy (Hayden named her, poor thing) in her outstretched arms, who’s fur was matted and sticky with syrup where Hayden’s hands had grabbed her. Blowing out a breath, I grabbed a washcloth and wetted it with warm water and a little bit of dish soap.
Between the two of us, Jenna and I managed to get the cat, Hayden, and the kitchen cleaned in record time. Jarrod came down the stairs fresh from the shower, shook his head at his sister, and went out to the garage with his father.
A couple hours later, Jenna and I were sitting on her back deck sipping wine and I made the mistake of mentioning Luke, which led to how I met him, which led to Jenna shrieking and calling our mother to tattle on me. Geez, like I’m not almost thirty!
Jenna was mad that I hadn’t shown her the tattoo right after I got it, but shut up pretty quickly when I reminded her that she was quite preoccupied with her stakeout fiasco the last time I saw her.
“Speaking of, Jenna, are you done trying to convince yourself that Noah is cheating on your dumb ass?” I asked.
“Smart ass,” Jenna replied. “Yeah, we worked it out. And for the record, I was going a little crazy at the time. I was late. As in, late!”
I choked on my wine, setting my glass down and staring at Jenna wide-eyed. “Are you pregnant?”
She shook her head at me. I think she looked a little sad, but then Hayden came running outside wearing Jarrod’s underwear on her head, Jarrod hot on her heels yelling, “Mo-om!” Jenna just leaned forward, put her head on the table and began banging it, whispering, “Why me? Why me?”
I left Jenna’s house around six and called Allie from my cell when I got in the car.
“Emma Marie Jensen, you devious little bitch!” Allie yelled into the phone, not bothering with niceties like saying hello or anything. “I gave up fat clothes night and special sundaes for you to roll around naked with that hot piece of ass and you can’t even call me to give me details? I thought you were my best friend! I’m breaking up with you!”
I couldn’t help it. I laughed. “Allie, calm down!”
“You don’t get to tell me to calm down, chickie la la. I went out since we weren’t having fat clothes night, and instead of finding me a hot piece of my own, I ran interception for you because I saw Leah at the bar. She was working herself up over the loss of her current man candy of the month and was planning on crashing your place again. So what now?” Allie yelled into the phone.
“Okay, okay, okay, geez, keep your panties on! I’m sorry, thank you, I love you, you have my undying gratitude, and if you are done yelling at me, meet me at Griff’s for a drink and I’ll give you the low down dirty details. Will that make up for it?” I asked.
“Yes,” she huffed. “Be there in ten. Maybe fifteen.” She hung up.
I chuckled, pulled out of Jenna’s drive and headed downtown to Griff’s.
When I got to Griff’s, I headed to our favorite booth in the back. It was primo positioning, you had a clear view of the bar, clear view of the door, and, for the nights they had bands play, a clear view of the small stage. Unless people start a mosh pit in the middle of the floor, but I try to avoid those nights.
When I got to the booth, I pulled up short because it was occupied. Then I got a clear look at who it was and my night just got even better.
“Calland Andrew Jensen,” I drawled. “Imagine finding you here, little brother.” I slid into the booth beside him, effectively blocking him in. Well, as much as I could because we both knew he could get past me if he wanted. He could slide out under the table, or, frankly, could bodily shove me out of the way. And he’s done both before, so…
“Emma, how many times do I have to tell you? Younger brother, youn-ger. I’m bigger than you. I’m stronger than you. Do we need to have this conversation again?” Calland asked.
Calland is 27, the only boy, and, well, there’s no way around it. He’s a spoiled rotten little asshole. But he’s a gorgeous spoiled rotten little asshole. He’s tall, topping out at six-two, and he’s built. He has thick, dark brown hair cut almost in a high and tight, but his hair is a little longer on top. It always looks like he just ran his hands through it, but its actually styled like that. Weird, but it works for him, I guess.
His eyes are the same jade green as all of ours, rimmed in thick, long dark lashes that should have made him look feminine, but did no such thing, and his skin is nicely tanned. (Makes me sick because I generally just burn; which is why he’s always so kindly telling me that I was adopted. Asshole, see?)
“Asshole,” I muttered under my breath before saying, “So. You owe me so big for Monday night. You barge into my house, where I’m clearly busy, and then if that’s not bad enough, you left our sister passed out, not three sheets to the wind, but like six sheets to the wind, on my living room floor. I didn’t get laid because of you, jerkwad!”
Eek! I realized as soon as the words left my mouth that I had yelled that last part. And, of course, the song playing on the jukebox had just ended, so my words echoed in the sudden silence of the bar. The whole bar. Ugh. I hate my life sometimes.
Willy, a regular at the bar who, more often than not, was drunk by two turned my way and hollered, “I’ll do ya, sweet cheeks! Won’t leave ya hangin’, either!” Yikes.
I chose to ignore Willy (he hits on everything that walks by with long hair and two legs. Caused a few tiffs, that’s for sure, especially when it’s a poor unsuspecting dude with long hair.)
I turned back to Calland, opened my mouth to say something, and he punched my arm.
“Don’t call me names!” he smirked.
Rubbing my arm (it stung!) I replied, “What are you, five? Cheese and rice, man!”
Allie, fortunately or unfortunately, however you want to look at it, chose that moment to barrel up to the table, throw herself into the booth, and yell, “Go!”
I shook my head at her, knowing she was giving me my cue to spill. So I started telling her, relishing the horror that flashed over Calland’s face before he shoved me out of the booth in front of him and took off, waving and hollering, “Later!” over his shoulder.
When I finished telling Allie every last little detail, she blinked for a second before saying, “I just have one question.”
Uh oh, I mentally groaned.
“Please, please tell me you had mowed the lawn. You did, right?” she asked, a pained expression on her face.
Really? She had to go there? “Yes, Alli
e. Mowed down to the dirt. Bare floors. However you want to call it, there’s nothing there. Are you satisfied? Can we forget about that for once?”
“Well, Em, you have to admit it’s a valid question. I mean, you did look like you were smuggling Side Show Bob in your bikini bottoms. Bushzilla, baby!” She cracked up like she was the funniest thing alive.
I glared at her. “Allie, that was summer camp, when we were thirteen! I cant help it, it was like I went to bed and woke up with my cha-chi revisiting the seventies!”
Looking back, that had to have been the most embarrassing moment of my life. Allie was rushing me to get to the lake so we could swim with Alec Holt and Brad Sumner. I had walked out of the bunkroom in my swimsuit, ready to go. Allie and our counselor were standing in the living room of the cabin, and they had frozen, mouths open, gaping at me in shock. The counselor had turned without a word and walked into her room for a second before returning and handing me a pair of nail scissors. She then had pointed to the scissors, pointed to my thighs, and pointed toward the bathroom. Even at thirteen I got the hint, and never looked back. Bushzilla had never returned.
Allie shrugged. “Just looking out for my bestie,” she said. “Anyway, so when are you gonna see him again?”
It was my turn to shrug. “Not sure. We didn’t really talk about it, and I don’t have his number. Come to think of it, he doesn’t have mine, either.”
Allie pursed her lips, looking thoughtful. “No, but you do know where he works. We could always hit up Skin Deep…”
I shook my head. “No, I’m not stalking him at his work. He called me at my work, so he knows how to get ahold of me. And I just remembered that I’m mad at him anyway. He just called out of the blue, ordered me around, and just expected me to listen!”
I was trying to work myself into a good pissed-off-ness, trying not to think about how hot it actually was when had done that, when Allie said, “He did give you four orgasms, Emma.” Allie, always (not always) the voice of reason.
Hmm. She’s right. Only it was six. Can you say multiples? Holy shitballs, girls, they’re real!
Shaking my head to clear those thoughts before they made me drool and stare glassy eyed off into space, I asked Allie what she wanted to drink. She gave me her order and I bellied up to the bar between Willy and Billy, Willy’s drunken best friend and bar stool neighbor for life, and ordered two sangria margaritas, on the rocks, sugar rimmed, please.
I fended off Willy and Billy’s questing hands, grabbed our drinks and headed back to Allie.
As I got close to the table I said to her, “Okay, no more talk of Luke, who may or may not ever call me again, orgasms, or Bushzilla. We’re gonna drink our drinks and then I think we should go hit the drag show at Shimbots on Broad later. Showmia Buffet is headlining and I just love her!”
I didn’t pay much attention to Allie until I sat the drinks down on the table and started to slide into the booth opposite her. When I looked at her face, I noted that she was staring wide-eyed at something. I turned my head to see what the hell she was looking at and my eyes collided with smoky blue-grey ones. Yikes!
“Uh, hey, Luke,” I stammered.
He nodded, his lips twitching, before crowding into the booth beside me, giving me no choice but to slide over for him. As I did, I realized that he wasn’t alone. Brandon was shoving Allie over on her side, as well.
“Hey, hey, ladies!” Brandon crowed, grinning at both of us. He then reached over and without a beat, snatched Allie’s margarita, and downed it before licking every bit of sugar off the rim.
“Hey!” Allie screeched. “You bastard, you owe me a drink! I hadn’t even gotten to taste that yet!”
Brandon leaned over and put his head on Allie’s shoulder, giving her puppy dog eyes and sticking his bottom lip out exaggeratedly. “Forgive me, Allie…please?”
I snorted, trying to hold back my laughter, but couldn’t. I glanced at Luke and found him grinning at Brandon and Allie, and it made me feel warm inside. Which kinda scared me.
Luke caught my eyes with his and the smiles faded from both of our faces. Without thinking, I leaned in and kissed his lips softly before quickly pulling back. He blinked at me in astonishment and I heard twin gasps come from the other side of the table. I turned my head and found Allie and Brandon both staring at me, Allie’s jaw hanging open and Brandon grinning widely.
I closed my eyes and dropped my head to the table. I couldn’t believe I had just done that.
I felt a heavy arm drape itself around my shoulders, pulling me in close to a hard, warm body. I raised my eyes and found Luke’s face close to mine. He smiled at me, pulled me back from the table, and tucked me into his side.
Allie’s shrill voice turned my attention back across the table and I watched as Brandon slid his hand over to my drink and smoothly pulled it back before draining it, Allie shrieking in indignation and slapping at him.
“Brandon, you dickhead, that’s two drinks you owe us. Get your ass up to the bar!” Allie was yelling at him, all the while shoving him off the edge of the booth. She managed to push him out completely and followed him towards the bar, presumably to make sure he actually replaced our drinks.
“Miss me?” Luke’s voice rasped in my ear.
I quirked my eyebrow at him, refusing to answer. He smiled a slow, secretive smile.
“Okay, then, who’s Bushzilla?”
Oh, hell no! Not touching that one with a twenty foot pole!
I shrugged, then asked, “What about the shop? Aren’t you busy on Saturday nights?”
“Yeah, usually. I got a couple other people that work part time sometimes. Brandon and I decided to grab some dinner real quick and saw you. Couldn’t resist a chance to do this-” and he kissed me. Hard, deep, lots of tongue.
I was lost in a daze when he finally pulled back from my lips but the catcalls and whistles rippling through the bar around us broke through, causing my cheeks to heat.
Allie and Brandon returned from the bar, each carrying two drinks. Allie had the replacement margaritas for us, and the guys had beers. I snagged mine from Allie, gulping it down quickly, which earned me another quizzical look from Luke, a grin and high-five from Brandon, and a kick under the table from Allie.
While we, well, they, were finishing their drinks, Luke and Brandon grabbed menus to look over. The waitress came over (she must have been new, because I didn’t know her) to take their orders, and they both looked over to each of us and asked if we wanted anything.
Glancing at my watch, I realized it was heading towards eight o’clock and I hadn’t had anything since this morning at Jenna’s.
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll just take an order of the pizza rolls. Thanks!”
I loved the pizza rolls at Griff’s. They weren’t like the pizza rolls you buy at the store or anything. These were wonton wrappers filled with pizza sauce, spicy pepperoni, and mozzarella cheese all wrapped up and deep fried to ooey-gooey /crispy crunchy perfection! I always had a hard time deciding between those and the tater poppers, which are these little shredded potato bundles that are filled with a mixture of cream cheese and jalapenos and then deep fried. Yum…
I had intended for the waitress to hear my order, but apparently she was too caught up in undressing Brandon with her eyes. Wait…ohmigod! She was staring at Allie! Whoa!
I heard Luke clear his throat beside me, and when the waitress blushed and tore her eyes from Allie, he ordered my pizza rolls for me and a bacon cheeseburger for himself. Brandon ordered the same, and then Allie ordered an order of tater poppers (Yes! I get to steal some!). The waitress stuttered through repeating our orders back to make sure she had them right before she took off towards the kitchen door behind the bar.
I didn’t waste any time. “Allison Anne McCormick, what the hell was that?” I said, laughing.
“Oh, you know, no big deal. I got pretty drunk last night running interception for you and maybe kissed her? Okay, yeah, I kissed her. And apparently laid it on her good,”
she chuckled, winking at me.
“All right!” Brandon shouted beside Allie, throwing his hand up to give her a high-five. “That’s what I’m talking about, baby! Shee-it!”
Allie just grinned, slapped fives with Brandon, and shrugged. “I’m an equal opportunity kisser, I guess.”
See? Free spirit. Very free. But I love her anyway.
Chapter 7
The four of us, me, Allie, Luke, and Brandon, all sat at Griff’s enjoying our food and drinks, and I guess time just flew. When I glanced at my watch, I gasped and shouted to Allie, “We gotta go! We’re gonna miss the show!”
Allie wasted no time in downing her drink, and then started trying to push Brandon out of the booth.
I looked at Luke and opened my mouth to ask him to excuse us so we could go, not in a million years imagining that he would want to go with us but he cut me off.
“Where you going?” he asked.
“We’re going down to Shimbots on Broad to watch the drag show. Why? Wanna come?” I asked.
Luke looked over at Brandon who just shrugged before he answered, “Sure. We’ll go.”
Allie and I looked at each other, not needing to say a word because we both knew what the other was thinking. Oh boy.
After having a minor squabble over who was paying the bill (Allie and I lost), we all headed out and walked the two blocks to Shimbots. The show was set to start at ten, but I knew that it wouldn’t. Queens always run late. I knew this with certainty because I, at one time, spent most of my nights hanging out at Shimbots with my best boy friend, Jace, who, I swear, was the straightest gay man you’d ever meet in your life. He had a penchant for drag queens, so I became a ‘fag hag’ and ended up as an assistant to Needa Mann. I spent my evenings soothing tempers, dressing, pinning, poking, fluffing, and generally running around like a crazy person, but it was fun. Seriously, though? You hafta give them Queens props, cause those gowns they prance around in? They weigh a ton!
We walked in the door at ten after ten and before we could even pull out our wallets to pay the cover, I heard the unmistakable voice of Needa.