“Thanks.”
“You know what? We need a real drink. I’m breaking into Christopher’s liquor cabinet. And then, peanut butter, you can tell me all the disgusting, invasive, embarrassing details.”
Reese flashed a real smile, only for a second. “I’ll have—”
“Scotch. Neat. Give me a little credit.” I went downstairs and returned five minutes later with an unopened bottle and two heavy crystal glasses.
“He’s going to kill you if you open that,” Reese said.
“I know.” I studied the bottle. “Damn, it’s like older than me.” With that, I opened it. I wasn’t a complete idiot. I knew that Christopher was going to be livid and I also knew he would get over it. Most importantly though, I knew I was a bit of a snob. It was the result of only drinking Christopher’s liquor growing up. He shouldn’t have kept such a nice supply if he didn’t want us to consume it.
“I’m blaming that on you.”
“Blame it on Kerry.” I poured the deep gold liquid and handed Reese hers.
“Fuck Kerry.”
“Charming, darlin’. You want to tell me what happened?” I settled across from her on the arm of the couch.
“No, I want to get drunk and watch telenovelas.”
“Good. Constructive.”
“Don’t start. It’s your fault anyway.” Reese took a healthy swig. The glare she shot across the glass had just the right amount of authenticity.
“That’s a damn good single malt. Please don’t chug it.” More glaring. “How could Kerry dumping your ass be my fault?”
“She thought we were hooking up.” Distractedly, she pointed back and forth between us.
I nearly spit a mouthful of booze. “Huh?”
“I wouldn’t tell her why I smacked you. Somehow that equated to…” Reese waved her hand in the air vaguely.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s her problem. If she trusted me, it wouldn’t have mattered. No, if I trusted her enough to tell her, it wouldn’t have mattered. Anyway, it’s over.”
“I’m sorry about what I said. And did.” It took balls for me to say that, so when it came out, my voice was barely a whisper.
“How much of what you said was true?” There was an attempt at her previous nonchalance that just came off harsh and cold.
We both should have had a lot more booze. I tried to answer, but I blushed instead. That was a first.
“I thought you were screwing with me.” There was something resigned in her eyes that made my clit shrink and my stomach turn.
“Oh come on, Reese. You’re fucking beautiful.” As if hormones could explain my behavior.
“It was dark. You couldn’t see shit.” Damn, she had a point. Still, I was surprised when she set down her glass and went for the stairs.
“Whoa, hey.” I ditched my scotch and rushed to block her way. “Where you going?”
“Somewhere else.”
“How long are you going to be mad at me?”
“It’s you, so I’ll probably hold the grudge for life,” she said like she wasn’t kidding.
“Fine. I can’t change that.” I couldn’t very well argue with her. So I decided to move on. “Will you watch crappy TV with me now?”
Reese glared at me as she considered. “Okay, but stay on your side of the couch.”
Chapter Seven
The next morning, I woke up to screaming. There was one voice that didn’t fit. Fuckin’ Christopher. As quickly as possible, I pulled on some clothes and brushed my teeth. The hair could wait. On my way downstairs, I distinctly heard the word scotch. For the last few steps, I slowed. Feigning ignorance, I strolled into the kitchen yawning and rubbing my eyes.
“Hey, Christopher. Good to see you back,” I said like I meant it. He was in the middle of the kitchen with his back to me. The twins were on the other side looking scornful.
“Hello, Vivian,” he turned and greeted me cordially. Christopher Lagorio, douche bag extraordinaire.
“How was the trip?” I sauntered to the fridge, which brought me even closer to him. A position I didn’t exactly relish. I would rather swim in sewage than touch Christopher. He gave off bad fucking vibes.
“It went well,” Christopher replied noncommittally. He was decked out in the usual weekday splendor. Perfectly cut suit, shirt, and tie that cost more than my tuition, shoes shined until they were mirrors. Every hair was combed into place, and he was cultivating a close cut beard. His eyes were particularly bright and clear that morning. Glittering like sapphires. If he were anyone else, he would have been unbelievably handsome. Since he was Christopher, my hands were shaking and my stomach hurt.
“Great, great.” I gave up on the fridge.
“How is your summer going?” He clapped a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. It brought me just a little closer to him. Why did he have to be so much taller than me? “Do you have anything exciting planned?”
“Not really.” I blew him off. “So I was just wondering if we were still going to get breakfast. Sorry, if I interrupted you guys.” I looked at the twins like it was our plan all along.
“No, no. Not at all. The kids and I were just talking.” Christopher seemed to think I would buy that. He didn’t like to expose family matters. As if Ryan didn’t tell me everything. Christopher also had grudging respect for me. None of us were sure why, but I sure as hell didn’t question it.
“Yeah,” Ryan piped up. “Are we going to Old Folsom?” That was our breakfast place. The mugs were all mismatched and the gravy was made with chicken sausage so Ryan and I could get biscuits and gravy. Reese called it Grandma’s Kitchen, but no one knew the actual name of the restaurant.
“I figured.” The three of us started to leave the kitchen.
“We need to finish our discussion when you two return,” Christopher ordered like he was talking to twelve-year-olds.
“Oh, hey.” I turned back. The twins were headed for the nearest exit. “I opened that bottle of scotch you had. Hope it’s no big.”
The muscles under his stubble clenched. “That was you.” It wasn’t a question. “That was a thirty-year-old bottle.”
“Oh, shit. Sorry, I didn’t realize.” Yeah, yeah I did. Take that, asshole. “You want me to hit you back?” I asked all innocent, as if I had cash to throw down for booze like that.
“No.” More jaw clenching. “Just ask next time.”
“Yeah, sure, no problem. I forgot to even tell these guys.” I waved toward the twins then I grinned. “Okay, see you later.”
We didn’t start breathing again until we were in Ryan’s car with the doors closed.
“My life flashed before my eyes for a second there,” I declared melodramatically.
“Your life flashed before my eyes too.” Ryan started the car and backed out of the driveway. “I don’t even know how that bottle got opened. It wasn’t us.”
Reese met my eyes in the side mirror.
“It was me,” I said from the backseat.
“What?” Ryan looked a little pissed.
“No, it was me.” Reese gave me a look in the mirror that said shut the hell up. “And I’m not talking to you.” She glared to make sure I knew she was still pissed. “But if I were talking to you, I would kiss you for taking the heat.”
“First of all, I opened the goddamn bottle, so don’t start,” I told her. Ryan began studying the road to hide his confusion. “And second of all, you seem to be talking to me, so I would like my kiss now. Oh, and please take off your shirt beforehand,” I said like I was ordering a beer, not a woman.
Reese turned to Ryan. “That’s why I’m never talking to her again. She’s a fucking pig.”
“Could you guys at least try to get along?” He was on the verge of begging.
“Ryan, could you please tell your sister that I’m sorry?”
“Ryan, could you please tell your friend that sorry won’t cut it this time? She’s disgusting and womanizing and I don’t appreciate being treated like a whore or a
piece of ass.”
Ryan looked ready to kill himself.
“Ryan, please tell your sister that if she didn’t act like a whore or a piece of ass, I wouldn’t treat her like one; however, that shirt she is wearing implies otherwise.” The top really was skimpy. I’d already seen far too much of her pristine tits that morning, and if I looked down her shirt once more I’d have to do something about it. Like touch them.
Wordlessly, Ryan pulled to the side of the road. He turned off the car and slowly turned in his seat so he could see both of us.
“Neither of you is a whore or a piece of ass or a womanizer or a pig or any of the other bullshit names you come up with. But you guys are both acting like complete bitches. I have no idea why you hate each other or why this summer you are being unbelievably cruel, but I can’t fucking take it. So stop. Both of you.” With that, he turned away and gripped the steering wheel hard. His hands twisted on the leather until his knuckles were white. “Now, can we go enjoy a civil breakfast?”
“Yes,” Reese and I quickly promised. Ryan looked like he might cry. He nodded curtly and started the car again. He was right about everything.
*
“I know what’s gonna happen, but my heart still gets going and shit. I think it’s the music,” Ryan said.
We were halfway through Scream. It wasn’t scary and we’d seen it a thousand times. He was still squeezing my hand like that would stop the killing spree unfolding before us.
“Definitely the music,” I agreed and squeezed back. “You want some food or something?”
“Yeah.” His eyes were still glued to the screen. I paused it and we wandered into the kitchen. My parents had work in the morning so they were already asleep, and my sister was at a friend’s place so we had the house to ourselves. I left him quietly foraging in the fridge so I could grab some Mountain Dew out of the garage. My dad refused to keep it in the house. He hated junk food. My mom was a little nicer, but not much. When I got back, Ryan was carting ice cream bars, frozen chicken taquitos, pita chips, and hummus into the living room. The taquitos were for him. Who the hell ate frozen taquitos? That was just disgusting. Other than that, it was a good mix.
“We’re gonna get sick,” I said. He shrugged.
After ice cream and hummus, we moved on to the second Scream movie and pizza. I swear Ryan thought pizza was a food group. Down on the bottom of that food triangle, the largest section was occupied by pizza.
Sarah Michelle Gellar was getting slaughtered in a sorority house when Ryan’s phone vibrated on the table. He ignored it until it vibrated onto the floor.
“Damn.” He picked it up and read the screen. “It’s Reese.” His thumbs flew over the screen. “Wants to know where I am.” The phone was tossed back on the table. Five minutes later, someone knocked on the door.
“Who the hell is that?” I asked Ryan.
“Probably Reese.” He shrugged. “Dunno why.”
“You get it. I’ll get more soda.” I was halfway through the kitchen when Ryan screamed my name. Not just called, fucking shouted. “What?” I sprinted back to the front door.
Reese was standing there clinging to Ryan. Her chin tucked against his shoulder. When Ryan slowly turned to shut the door behind her, I saw her face. The whole left side was swollen and discolored. A nice gash across her cheek oozed blood. It didn’t look like she could open her eye.
“Oh my God,” I whispered. I was going to throw up. After a deep breath or two, I was able to direct them to the kitchen. The light was best in there. We sat her down at the table.
“Stop staring. It’s bad enough,” Reese said. She might have been trying to be funny.
“What happened?” Ryan finally asked.
At first, it didn’t look like she was going to answer. Finally, she muttered, “Christopher.”
“He fucking hit you!” I shouted.
“Be quiet. Your parents are probably sleeping,” Reese said.
Every muscle in my body tensed. I stood and slammed my fist into the wall. Then I pretended I hadn’t. Without looking at Reese, I got an ice pack, wrapped it in a towel, and handed it to her.
“He hit you.” Ryan found his voice finally. “I can’t believe he hit you. I mean he’s been bad before, but never, never…” He wasn’t even talking to us. The only connection he seemed to have to the room was the hand he was clutching Reese’s with.
“Well, believe it,” Reese said. She was the only calm one.
“Why? When? What the fuck?” I struggled to keep from screaming. I still couldn’t look at her. Instead, I gripped the sink with a hand that hurt like a bitch and stared into the darkness outside the window. All I could see was my own reflection.
“I told him I was applying to grad school. He hit me. That’s it.”
“Come on, there’s got to be more,” I said, turning to make eye contact with her. It hurt to see.
“Really, that’s it. I wish there was more.” Reese shook her head then immediately stopped as if she might puke. She probably had a concussion.
“You need to go to the hospital.” I forced myself to sit at the table next to her, her needs suddenly winning out over mine.
“No, I’m fine.”
“Really, babe, I think you do.” I placed two fingers on the right side of her face and made her turn toward me. “You might have a concussion and your eye looks pretty bad.”
Ryan’s head snapped up at my suggestion. “She’s right, Reese.”
“No, guys. I don’t want to.” She was adamant. “I just need to ice it and sleep.”
“I’m going to get my mom.” I stood and dropped her hand. “I’ll be right back.”
“Cooper, stop. I said no.” Great. Now she was going to stick up for herself.
“I’m sorry. Someone needs to look at it.” I looked at Ryan. “Keep her here.” He nodded.
I took the stairs two at a time trying needlessly to be quiet. Lightly, I tapped on my parents’ door. After a second, I pushed it open. Disadvantage of having kids; even when they’re twenty, they’ll walk in uninvited.
“Mommy,” I whispered as I got closer to her side of the bed.
“What’s going on?” she whispered back.
“Are you okay?” my dad asked. “I thought I heard shouting.”
“You did.” I had no idea why we were still whispering. The entire household was awake. “Mom, I need you to come downstairs.”
My dad flicked on the light. “What’s going on?”
“It’s Reese. She just showed up and the whole side of her face…Christopher hit her. Looks like he punched her.” I’d never seen my dad move so fast. He jumped out of bed and started pulling a pair of sweats over his boxer shorts. “Dad, no. Stay here. She’s really freaked. Come down in a couple. I don’t want her overwhelmed.”
“I’m not going down there. I’m driving up to Serrano to give that piece of shit what’s coming.” Wow, my dad was cooler than I thought.
“Mitch.” My mom could probably kill someone with that voice. “Reese is probably scared, so stay in bed. I’ll send Vivian up to tell you what’s going on.”
He did as he was told, but he didn’t look happy about it. My mom followed me downstairs. In the kitchen, both twins were vacantly staring at points on the wall. Reese had the ice pack on her face.
“Hi, sweetie,” my mom greeted Reese.
“Hey.” I wanted to kill Christopher for making Reese sound like that.
“Let me take a look.” Slowly, my mom pulled the ice away. The towel had blood on it. Ryan and I stared dumbfounded as my mom did a little inspection. It didn’t take longer than a couple minutes. I’d never felt so useless.
“Is she going to be okay?” Ryan sounded like an old man, all raspy.
“Yes, of course. But we do need to go to the hospital.” She pushed Reese’s hair back and kissed her forehead. “I want to find out if your head’s okay and I think you might need your cheek stitched up.”
“Okay. Fine,” Reese conceded. It’s good
to know when to give up.
“Good.” My mom flashed one of those mom smiles. “I’m going to get dressed. You two”—she pointed at Ryan and me—“we need another ice pack and an extra towel.” We nodded, happy to be told what to do.
“My car’s in the driveway,” Reese announced after my mom left the kitchen. “I should move it.”
“Nope, I got it.” Ryan held out his hand for the keys. She handed them over somewhat reluctantly. “Be right back.”
I fixed the ice pack my mom requested and set it on the table. “You want to go get in the car?” I asked.
“Sure. Can I drive it off a cliff?”
“Nope.”
“Oh, well.” Reese braced a hand on the table and pushed up.
“I got you.” I slid an arm around her waist and pulled her close even though she could walk just fine. “Want me to carry you?” I tried for a charming smile.
“I’m all right, thanks.” She set her head on my shoulder and let me walk her out to the garage. “You feel good.”
*
When we got home from the ER, my dad had already left for work. He left a note telling us that my bed had clean sheets on it. Reese resisted the whole way, but we finally got her in my room for some sleep.
“I can get dressed myself,” she said irritably as I chose some clothes for her.
“I realize that, peanut butter, but my mom told me to help you and I’m more afraid of her than you.” That was a lie.
Reese scowled at me and sat on the bed. The swelling had gone down, but not much. A perfect line of stitches marred her face. The doctor said it wouldn’t scar too bad. I would have given my life right then for the mark to disappear.
“I’m not even tired,” Reese said.
“I know. Put your arms up.” I slowly pulled her shirt up over her head and dropped it behind me on the floor. It was spattered with blood. It only took me a second to take off her bra and drop that too. I tried really, really hard not to look at her. I didn’t do so good. She was smokin’.
“You’re fast at that,” Reese teased me. For a second, I wondered if she caught me peeking. She didn’t.
“Lots of practice,” I countered. I hadn’t given much thought to my bra removal technique since I’d started dating girls.
Dirty Sex Page 7