by Cat Mason
Once she IDs them, the couple walks over toward me, and I smile at them. “Hi, I’m Kennedy, how can I help y’all today?”
The man, who looks to be in his late forties, leans in. “Does she always wave those around at the customers?”
I can’t help laughing, then I nod. “Honestly, if she could run them up a flagpole outside, she would.”
“Damn city and their ‘aesthetically pleasing guidelines and family friendly protocol’,” Lynsey shouts. “They ruin all my fun.”
“How about you guys have a look around and you let me know if you have any questions or need any help, OK?” I ask, watching their faces as they scan one of the displays.
Nodding, they walk over to a wall full of lingerie and floggers. Turning to face Lynsey, I flip her off and shake my head. “Seriously, Lyn, customer service needs to be a goal for you.”
“There is only one type of service that is a goal for me. Everything else is why I have you and Mark.”
Shaking my head, I go back to stocking the shelves with what is left in the boxes while Mark continues to bring more out. Lynsey answers the phone and handles the register while talking to everyone about their sex lives. She truly lives for reading into what people are hiding and figuring out what they are missing in their lives. She is determined that World Peace will be gained by a sexual revolution.
Viva La Orgasm.
Between helping customers and stocking the shelves, time flies by. By the time the boxes are empty and broken down, it’s time for me to leave. Grabbing my bag, I can’t help overhearing Lynsey selling a couple of her favorite things to a man that came in to buy his wife a birthday gift.
“Well, Joe, I can tell you that I’d bet my monthly Brazilian that if you buy your wife this jeweled, glass anal plug and the Silencer she will quit nagging about that new Jeep you just bought. Hell, she may even pay for new tires and window tinting.”
“Why do they call it the Silencer?” he asks, looking at the large neon green vibrator.
Lynsey grins. “Because she’ll scream so loud, she’ll lose her voice. I mean, if she still nags after you give her orgasm after screaming, breath-stealing orgasm, then at least you won’t be able to hear it.”
“Ring it up.”
“You got it,” she replies, sliding it into a bag.
“Gunnar has practice tonight and it’ll probably run late. Wanna do dinner at my place?” I ask, not wanting to go home to an empty house.
Turning, she glances at me. “You’re on, babe. I expect booze, stuffed crust Hawaiian pizza, and for you to spill your guts on what has been up your ass the last couple weeks over ice cream after.”
Of course she knew something was up. She always does.
Nodding my head, I acknowledge her, telling her I’ll see her at my house once she closes up. I shout my goodbye to Mark, who is too engaged in a game on his phone to give a shit that I’m leaving, and head to the grocery store with my thoughts whirling in my head again.
By the time I get through the insanity at the grocery store and grab our pizza, I make it home just after six. I lug in the bags and begin unpacking them to put things away just as the back door opens and Lynsey struts in like she owns the place.
“Did you buy the store out?” she asks, digging through a paper bag. “Aha!” she shouts, pulling out the bottle of vodka I picked up. “This is why we’re friends.”
Grabbing two glasses from the cabinet, Lynsey dumps in ice and starts mixing the vodka with different juices from the fridge. Once I get the last of the food put away, I plate two pieces of pizza and put them on the island for us. Images of Gunnar and me this morning on that very counter flash through my mind, making me guzzle my drink before setting the glass beside my plate.
“Whoa, don’t get too far ahead of me, Kennedy,” Lynsey teases, sipping her drink through a straw. She stares at me curiously, cocking her head to the side. “Hmmm, something’s up with you. I know it.” Sitting her glass down, she grabs her pizza. Turning it around backwards, she bites a big chunk out of the crust. “You gonna spill or do I need to beat it outta ya?” she mumbles around the food in her mouth before swallowing. “Whatever it is, it’s juicy, I can tell.”
Taking a breath, I roll my eyes. “You know that just by looking at me?” I ask, taking a bite of my pizza. “And who eats their pizza backwards anyway?”
Taking another bite of the crust, she shrugs. “I’m greedy and too impatient to wait the good stuff.” Standing up, I walk over and begin making myself another drink. “As for reading you, it’s not hard. You’re uneasy, and you’re out drinking me.” I turn and glare at her, but she simply grins at me, arching a brow. “No one, except Dixon, out drinks me.”
I can feel the blush heating my cheeks. My eyes instantly go to my hands as I fix my drink. I try to sort through the jumbled mess of shit in my head, desperate to make one clear thought before I open my mouth, but I can’t. I feel the tears threatening to fall and that can’t happen.
“There’s something missing,” I blurt. Sitting down at the island again, I keep my eyes on my plate instead of looking at Lynsey. “There’s an elephant that’s always in the room, being ignored, and it’s only growing bigger and bigger by the day. I’m afraid of what’s going to happen to us, hell, to me, if I keep ignoring it. I know things have changed, but I don’t even know how to talk to Gunnar about it.”
“I don’t know, but if it were me, I’d say to tell him how you feel.” I jerk around, nearly falling off the bar stool when I hear Gunnar’s voice from behind me. “Who knows, baby, maybe he feels the same way.” Walking over, Gunnar dumps his gym bag on the bar before grabbing a slice of pizza. Opening the fridge, he takes out a beer and tips it at Lynsey. “Hi, Lyn.”
“Gunnar,” she says sweetly. Backing off the stool, she grabs her pizza from the plate. “I’m thinking that some things take precedence over a girls’ night. I’ll see you guys for dinner this weekend.”
“Thanks, Lyn,” I reply when she walks by me, stopping only to kiss Gunnar on the cheek before walking out the door.
Gunnar sighs, his eyes meeting mine. “You honestly think I can’t tell when there’s something on your mind, Kennedy?” he asks, shaking his head. Tossing his pizza on a paper plate, he twists the cap off his beer and takes a long, slow drink.
“I didn’t know how to go about bringing up something like this, Gunnar. I didn’t think it was fair to add to everything on your plate already. This is something I’m just struggling with,” I begin to explain. “Besides, I don’t want you to think you aren’t enough, that we aren’t enough. We are, it’s just…”
His eyes soften when he sees me struggling with my words. Tears threaten to fall again, but I force them back. It’s not time for me to crack, the last thing I need to do is become a whimpering mess because things aren’t how I want them to be between us. Placing the bottle on the counter, Gunnar reaches out for me and I willingly go into his arms. His warmth is comforting, even though it doesn’t solve anything. The only thing it does is cause a tear to slip down my cheek and drip onto his gray t-shirt.
“Don’t cry, Kennedy. When you struggle, I struggle— it’s that simple. We’re in this together. I think I know what you need, baby, what’s missing from our lives. People change and learn to want and need other things to be happy.” Pulling me tight against his chest, he kisses the top of my head before tipping my face up to meet his brown gaze. Smiling down at me sweetly, Gunnar brushes away a stray tear with his thumb. “I love you, Kennedy. Right now, that’s all that matters to me. Everything else will work itself out.”
I nod, then his lips are on mine. Softly, he moves his lips against mine and I sigh into his mouth when his hands slip beneath my shirt and meet my bare skin. Nothing has been fixed tonight, and I didn’t really expect it to be, but at least the elephant in the room has been made smaller by talking. For now.
***
By the time Saturday night comes along, I am grateful for the distraction of everyone coming over to o
ur place for dinner. It’s a weekly tradition. Gunnar and Dixon barbecue and drink too many beers while Mark bounces in-between them and Lynsey and I as we gossip and drink margaritas while fixing the rest of the food.
“Hey, what the fuck’s a guy gotta do to get another beer around here?” Dixon shouts, coming through the patio doors with empty bottles in his hand.
“I don’t know, maybe say please?” Mark snorts, pulling veggies from the fridge to make a salad.
Dixon tosses the empty bottles into the trash and rakes a hand over his scruffy face. “Find me a chick to suck my cock, please.” He laughs. “I’d ask you to suck my cock, but I’m not sure how I feel about stubble grazin’ my balls. I’m all for tryin’ new things and pushin’ boundaries, but I prefer bigger tits than what you’re packin’.”
Mark dumps the veggies on the counter in front of me and flips Dixon the bird. “With a mouth like a Hoover shop vac, the last thing you’ll be worryin’ about is my lack of double D’s.” Grabbing two beers from the fridge, Mark kicks the door closed and smirks before walking out the patio doors.
“Cocksucker!” Dixon yells. “The least you could do after teasin’ me like that is get me a damn beer!”
“With an attitude like that, Dix—” Lynsey says, grabbing a knife from the butcher block. “—the only thing you’ll be getting from him is that beer bottle shoved up your ass.”
“Oh, baby!” He chuckles, skipping after Mark once he grabs a bottle. “Maaaarrrkkkk, come back, sweetheart. I think we need to discuss our relationship limitations.”
“Kennedy, I swear to all that is holy, if that sonuvabitch gets laid again before I do, I’ll fucking rip off his dick and feed it to my pet tarantula,” Lynsey growls, chopping away at the lettuce on the cutting board. Slamming the knife down on the counter, Lynsey closes her eyes and yells, “Mark, don’t forget the rules. Your cock stays in your pants until my vagina is happy again.”
“I’m not sure your vagina will ever be satisfied, so don’t put that kind of pressure on the guy. That’s just mean,” I say, making sure I’m not within arm’s reach of the knife in her hand.
Mark saunters back in the house with a big grin on his face and I can’t help but laugh. “You do realize that maybe if you weren’t such a bitch, someone might want to pet your pussy? Maybe you should offer three for one specials. Fill all your holes at once so no one can hear you bitch.”
“Lyn, you could totally be a theme ride at the store,” I giggle, ducking behind the counter just in time to miss the bag of carrots she throws at me.
“You could be called Whore Mountain. But there’s a different kind of height limit.” Mark wheezes as he laughs. “There will be no peanut sized pounders allowed on this ride.”
“That’s right, only the best for the boss lady.”
“I hate you, bitches.” Lynsey scowls, pointing the knife between us. “You’re both fuckin’ fired.”
“Nonsense! You love us even with your sad vagina.”
Grabbing my glass, I swallow the last of my margarita before reaching for the pitcher, but Lynsey beats me to it. “You get nothing, whore,” she says, tipping it up and downing the last of it straight from the container. “I need it more than you, anyway.”
“Are you guys gonna toss a salad or throw the food at each other?” Gunnar yells from the grill.
Dixon’s head pops around the corner, his eyes searching the room. “I heard the word whore, followed by somethin’ about tossin’ a salad. I’m game, where’s she hidin’?”
“You get nothing either!” Standing up, Lynsey steps up in front of Dixon and grabs his beer, chugging it until it’s gone. “You. Get. Nothing.”
Dixon’s mouth gapes like a fish out of water, his eyes darting from the empty bottle she just handed back to him to everyone else in the room. “I don’t. I can’t. The fuck, dude!” Turning around, Dixon walks back outside with his shoulders hunched in defeat.
I look at Lynsey as she bends down to pick up the bag of carrots from the floor. Whistling, she turns on the sink and grabs a bowl, dumping the carrots in it to wash them off.
“If small children go missing tonight, I’m afraid I won’t be able to give you an alibi,” I say, staring at her in disbelief.
“They won’t be missing. They’ll be caged, like all tiny people should be. And some larger ones as well.”
Hitching my hip up onto the counter, I stare at her until she turns to face me. The look in her green eyes has me afraid she is going to go full on Hulk any second and kill me. “Wanna talk about it?” I ask, clearly able to tell something is bothering my best friend.
“Wanna die?” she warns, slapping the water off.
“Not especially, but are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?”
“Don’t analyze me, assface.”
Mark steps up next to her, running his hand across her back while trying not to laugh. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk? Let some of that aggression out so you don’t combust since you can’t have an orgasm. I mean, even your twat thinks you’re a bitch lately.”
“I’m sure the beer bottle she stole from me would be glad to help her out!” Dixon shouts, knowing better than to come back in the room.
Turning toward me again, an evil grin spreads across Lynsey’s lips. “How about we pick up where we left off the other night, Kennedy. I think that now’s a perfect time to jump into that discussion. We can all weigh in on it.”
“How about we just talk about Mark. He seems like the safer choice right now.”
“Yeah.” She smirks. “That’s what I thought.”
“Get your asses to the table,” Dixon calls, coming through the door with Gunnar behind him carrying the tray of steaks and barbecued chicken. “Time to put my meat in your mouth.”
“Shit, Dix, I don’t remember fryin’ any cocktail sausages,” Gunnar says, placing the tray on the table. “And if I did, they slipped through the cracks because your sausage was too small.”
Dixon smirks, sitting down at the table with a fresh beer. “Fuck you, man. There’s a reason I’m a firefighter. I’ve been handlin’ a huge ass hose all my life so they knew I had the qualifications before I even started.”
Everyone sits down and I look around the table at everyone, thinking about how far we have all come. Not just separately, but together as well. These are people that I have known nearly my entire life, that I spend almost every day with, and yet we all still lead separate lives. It’s honestly a wonder we all even became friends in the first place, being so different.
Where I am more quiet and reserved, to a point anyway, Lynsey completely lacks any filter. Quite frankly she is completely unashamed about anything she says or does. Gunnar and Dixon have been best friends since playing peewee football, but are complete polar opposites. When Dixon’s parents were killed in a house fire, Gunnar’s parents immediately stepped up and took him in, cementing their friendship into an unbreakable brotherhood. They are like oil and water, like Johnny Cash meets Avenged Sevenfold. Where Gunnar is sweet and almost the All-American boy type, Dixon is the epitome of trouble in ripped up jeans. He is more than willing to tell anyone that his nickname is Tin Man, all because he has no heart and isn’t afraid to break yours. In theory, it shouldn’t work, considering they’re practically from two different worlds, but for some reason, it does. And of course our final piece to our misfit fivesome: Mark. He fell in with us all one day in middle school when Gunnar and Dixon beat a couple guys’ asses for bullying him. For whatever reason, we all fit perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle.
Gunnar looks up and meets my eyes, the brown softening immediately. “Can you imagine our weekend dinners with kids runnin’ around the house, babe?” he asks. “Won’t that be somethin’?”
Suddenly, it feels like the world was just knocked out from under my feet. A baby? No, he said babies! Sure we talked about kids in theory, but never planned a when. We aren’t ready for that. I’m not ready for that!
“Children don’t run aroun
d, Gunnar,” Lynsey says flatly. “The little spawns belong in cages where they aren’t stealing the life of their mothers. Seriously, isn’t it enough that a woman carries a baby over nine months and it nearly destroys her body?” She shudders. “Then she’s expected to let it feed off her tits and wreck those along with torturing her with screaming, puking, pooping, and God only knows what else they are capable of expelling out of one of their holes in the eighteen years that we’re responsible for them.”
“I think I’m gonna throw up,” Mark says, covering his mouth with one hand as he gags.
“You’re gonna have like eleven kids, Lyn, you know that, right?” Dixon asks, smiling wide.
Lynsey glares at him across the table. “Oh yeah? Well, I hope your dick rots off,” she snaps making him wince and clutch his chest dramatically.
“Lyn, that hurt.”
“Kennedy, are you…” Mark leans over and cups his hand over his lips. “Pregnant?”
Suddenly everyone’s eyes are on me and I can feel the color draining from my face. Grabbing the beer from Dixon’s hand, I chug it, causing him to scowl at me.
“That’s two beers in one night that you bitches have stolen from me. I feel like you owe me a hooker or somethin’ to make up for stealin’ my buzz.”
“Does that answer your question, Mark?” I ask, turning to stare at him and ignore Dixon. “Pregnant chicks can’t drink.”
“Well,” Lynsey says, waving a hand in the air. “They can, but the doctors frown upon it. If it were me though, I’d encourage it. Get a head start, bitch, you’re gonna need that buzz.”
When I turn back to face everyone, Dixon is still pouting over the loss of another beer while Gunnar leans back in his chair, not taking his eyes off of me. I know that probably wasn’t the best way to make it known that I wasn’t pregnant, but it was the first thing to come to mind. Plus, I’m sure the buzz I’ll have after drinking tonight will come in handy when Gunnar wants to talk about my reaction. I can see it in his eyes, it’s coming. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for practicing, and babies are cute… as long as I can send them back to their parents. Yeah, one day in the distant future I’d like to be a mother, but that day is not today or even anytime soon.