by Shelly Ellis
Though Lauren stood only five-foot-one-half-inch tall, there was enough fury on her face to make her seem two feet taller. The woman’s angry gaze faltered. She took a hesitant step back from the stall doorway.
“I . . . I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to her,” she said as she pointed over Lauren’s shoulder to Stephanie, who was holding the gown’s bodice to her chest.
“No, you were talking to me. You called my family, and by extension me, a whore,” Lauren said with eerie calmness. “I just wanted to make sure I heard you clearly. You did call us whores, didn’t you?”
The woman took several steps back. She bumped into her friends, who were standing behind her. The dark-skinned one loudly sucked her teeth.
“You are whores,” she spat. “Everyone in town knows it! A bunch of broke hoes, as a matter of fact. I heard that even that mama of yours has started to sell off her furniture because no man was willing to pay for her old ass anymore!”
That was it. That was the trigger!
Minutes later, if anyone asked Lauren what had happened at that point, she couldn’t honestly remember. It was like she had blacked out. She only came to reality minutes later when the salesgirl was tugging her backward by the shoulders and she realized she was sitting astride the dark-skinned woman, who was screaming and covering her face with her arms. The one with the wire-framed glasses, which were now askew on her face, was sitting on the dressing room floor with her legs crossed. She wept quietly as she held her reddened cheek in her hand. Stephanie was in her bra and panties, grunting and rolling around on the floor with Mrs. Montgomery. Stephanie seemed to be winning her fight.
“You can’t do this!” the blond salesgirl yelled. “This isn’t that type of store! Vanessa, call mall security! Call the police!”
Lauren blinked as she slowly came to. She saw the full carnage that surrounded her. Chairs were overturned. The champagne glasses and tray of hors d’oeuvres had crashed to the floor, and canapés and chocolate-covered strawberries were now enmeshed in the gray plush carpet.
“Get her off of me!” the dark-skinned woman screamed. “She’s crazy! She’s trying to kill me!”
Lauren looked over at her sister, who gave Mrs. Montgomery one final shove before triumphantly staggering to her feet.
“I think we should go now, Steph,” Lauren said with huffing breath.
Stephanie nodded.
“What? Who’s going to pay for this?” the salesgirl shouted as Stephanie stepped into the stall and grabbed her sundress and her purse. “Who’s going to pay to clean up this mess? You ripped a six-thousand-dollar dress!”
“The dress wasn’t that cute anyway,” Stephanie muttered as they opened the sliding glass door and stepped out of the dressing room.
They reentered the shop floor and were greeted by stares from the several women who stood stark still. Realizing they were still half-naked, Stephanie hastily tugged her dress over her head and shoved her arms through the straps while Lauren adjusted her blouse, which had been ripped open. They walked down the center aisle of the shop, ignoring the gazes of amazement that followed them.
They quickly made their way through the mall, taking a different path than they originally planned when they noticed a mall security officer racing toward the second level, where the dress store was located. They still garnered stares from each person they passed as they drew near the outdoor parking lot.
We must look insane, Lauren thought as she tried desperately to fix her hair.
As the adrenaline from their dressing-room boxing match disappeared, shame gradually washed over her. Lauren couldn’t believe she had done that. She had beaten a woman she barely knew, slapped another, and nearly got arrested—because of what? To defend the honor of her family, the same family that on many occasions she had called whores herself? In fact, secretly she had called them a lot worse!
What was I thinking?
Stephanie laughed as they drew near their cars. “Oh, I can’t wait to tell Cynthia and Dawn about this one! You should have seen yourself in there, Laurie! That woman had to have you by about seventy pounds and you still whooped her ass! I handled mine, too!” She clapped her hands. “Talk about the Gibbons girls, huh? Do that and you get beat down!”
Lauren narrowed her eyes at her sister. “Did you have sex with that woman’s husband, Stephanie? That Hank guy she was talking about? And don’t lie to me!”
Stephanie sat on the hood of her BMW. She casually reached into her purse, flipped open a gold compact, and examined her reflection. “Damn it, that bitch scratched my cheek,” she mumbled. “And I was going to do another house tour tomorrow. I’m going to look like a hot mess!”
Lauren took her sister’s refusal to answer her question as a “yes.”
“I do not believe this! You did have sex with him!”
Stephanie slid off the hood. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yeah, right! Why the hell should I believe you?”
“It’s the truth! We didn’t have sex!” She wrinkled her nose. “I just . . . I just spanked him a little.”
“What?”
“Girl, don’t look at me like that! It was what he needed!” she argued, flipping her compact closed with a click. “Believe me! I was helping him out! That guy is working through some serious issues, and it’s not like his wife was gonna spank him! Come on, you saw her! That chick’s so tight-assed you could stick a coal up her butt and make a diamond. She should be thanking me!”
Lauren gritted her teeth. “I stood up for you. I stood up for all of you! I almost got put in handcuffs to defend a family of women who steal other people’s husbands and aren’t even ashamed about it!”
“I wasn’t trying to steal her husband! I told you! I just spanked him. That’s all! I got a gold diamond bracelet out of it! I thought it was a fair exchange. Besides, it was more like . . . it was more like . . . I borrowed him for a bit. You know how it is.”
“You use men!” Lauren pointed up at her sister. “You hunt them down! You take their money! And you use them until they get tired of you or until they don’t have any more money to steal! You sell yourselves to the highest bidder!” she yelled as tears began to fill her eyes. “You’re all just a bunch of . . . of . . . gold-diggin’, ass-spankin’ whores! And I’m tired of it! I’m tired of getting dragged into your crazy bullshit!”
“Our crazy bullshit?” Stephanie shouted. “What about the bullshit you dragged us into with James? Huh? What about that?”
“I didn’t drag you! You guys were just as happy to use him like I was, and now we’re all paying the price for it! You’re not going to make me feel guilty about this, Steph! I’m tired of all of you making me feel guilty! I’m tired of all of you!”
Stephanie looked deeply wounded by her sister’s words. “But . . . we’re sisters. We always have each other’s back. You have mine. I have yours. That’s what Mama taught us!”
“Well, maybe she taught us wrong!”
Stephanie watched as Lauren climbed into her car.
“Where are you going?” she asked as Lauren turned on the ignition and threw the car into reverse, tires screeching in her wake.
“Lauren! Lauren!” she yelled as the car drove out of the parking lot.
Chapter 25
“Lauren? Lauren?” Cris called from the other side of her front door. He knocked again. “Baby, if you’re in there, open up.”
“I’m coming,” Lauren answered tiredly as she shuffled across her living room in her bedroom slippers, tank top, and drawstring shorts. She had already addressed the few scratches on her face with hydrogen peroxide and strategically placed Band-Aids, but she was still nursing the swollen knuckles of her right hand with a sandwich bag filled with ice cubes. Nothing could be done for the few bruises that were starting to sprout all over her body, probably the result of the wild tumble she took to the ground during the dressing-room brawl.
She slowly opened the door to find Cris leaning against the frame, gazing down at her.
“Hey.”
“Eh, Rocky. Did you get a knockout in the eleventh round or the ninth?”
“Very funny.” She turned around and walked back into the living room. He followed her after shutting the door behind him.
“You all right?”
She slumped back onto the couch, still holding the ice pack to her knuckles. “My self-respect is in worse shape than I look, if that’s what you mean.”
He sat down beside her. “What happened?”
“Don’t you already know? I mean . . . I would have thought the story had traveled at lightning speed by now.”
“The town version has,” he said as he studied her with his dark eyes and rubbed his hands together. “But I wanted to hear your version of what happened.”
She grumbled loudly. “Just the same ol’, same ol’.” She raised the ice pack to look down at her knuckles and flexed her sore hand.
She wouldn’t be handling any knives anytime soon. It would probably be a good idea to tell Phillip she wasn’t coming in tomorrow.
“Stupid Lauren gets wrapped up in family drama, and Stupid Lauren makes an ass of herself. This time I just ended up assaulting a few people in the process.”
“So you did start the fight, then?”
“Well, yeah, kind of . . . I guess.”
He slowly shook his head. “Damn it, Lauren . . .”
“Look, Cris, I know what I did was dumb! I don’t need any lectures. It was completely out of character for me. That’s not the type of person I am.”
“So why were you that type of person today?”
“Because that chick pressed the wrong button! She shouldn’t have talked shit about me, my mom, or my sisters even if . . . even if most of it is true.”
“But Lauren, baby,” he said quietly, “you can’t punch everyone who talks shit about your family. This isn’t a school yard. You could get arrested. You could end up in jail and—”
“I know that.” She clenched her jaw so hard it hurt. “I told you I don’t need a lecture, especially from you. You don’t know what it’s like!”
“What what’s like?”
“Everyone in town respects you! You’re Cris Weaver, the big-time NFL wide receiver! You don’t know what it’s like to have everyone think the worst of you, to have people whispering things about you as soon as you walk into a room. Hell, before you even get into a room!” She tore her gaze from his. Her eyes drifted to the carpet. “I’ve tried so hard to prove to everyone around here that I’ve changed. I don’t want to steal anyone’s husband. I’m not trying to take anyone’s money. I bust my ass in that restaurant every day because I want to feel worthy of their respect, Cris. It’s like I’m saying ‘Look, everybody!’ ” she shouted with tears welling in her eyes. “ ‘Lauren Gibbons did it all by herself! She didn’t need any man to give it to her! No one pulled any strings! I did it all by myself!’ ” She angrily tossed her ice pack aside. It landed on the scuffed coffee table and slid across its wooden surface before tumbling to the floor. “But they won’t accept that. They keep throwing the past and my family in my face! They won’t let it go!”
Cris watched her quietly weep.
“Lauren,” he began softly as he placed a warm hand on her shoulder, “why are you trying to prove anything to those people? Who cares what they think? Besides, if you hate the people in this damn town so much, why don’t you leave? Why do you stay here?”
Lauren wiped her tears away with the back of her hand. “I used to think it was because I couldn’t stand to be away from my mom or my sisters. I could kill them sometimes for the things they do, but I still love them. They’re all I’ve ever known. But now . . . Now I’m not so sure that’s the reason. I think it’s something else.” She finally tore her gaze from the carpet and looked up at him. “I think . . . I think I’m scared, Cris.”
His frown deepened. “Scared of what?”
Tears began to fall onto her cheeks again. She licked her lips, nervous at the fact that she would finally express her deep, dark fear aloud.
“I’m . . .” She hesitated. “I’m scared that everyone else in the world will see me the same way that everyone sees me in Chesterton. I’m scared that the chef’s coat and the smile won’t hide it.” She pointed at her chest. “They’ll look at me and they’ll see me for what I really am.”
Cris raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for her to finish.
“A whore. They’ll know I’m a whore, Cris. Then I won’t be able to lie to myself anymore. I’ll know I’m not fooling anyone.”
Cris fixed her with a measured gaze. “You really think that’s what people would see?”
“I don’t know.” She exhaled and grabbed the ice pack from the floor. “Like I said, I’m too scared to find out.”
She wiped the last of her tears away and sniffed for the last time. She noticed after a few seconds that Cris was still staring at her. She gazed back at him.
“What?”
“Do you want to know what I see when I look at you?” She gave a tired smile. “I’m afraid to ask.”
“You shouldn’t be. Because I see someone who didn’t have the best upbringing, who was taught a lot of wrong things, but managed to overcome them and try to make things right. I see a woman who had a man belittle her and beat her, but she didn’t let him break her.”
When her gaze started to wander to the floor, he grabbed her chin and shifted her head so they gazed into each other’s eyes.
“I see a woman who has more strength in her than I’ve seen in anyone. And I see a woman who has been trying so hard to prove she’s changed her ways that she’s kept me at arm’s length. She won’t let me in.”
Lauren was instantly hurt by his words.
“That is not true! I haven’t tried to keep you at arm’s length. I’ve told you everything . . . everything . . . there is to know about me! I’ve done everything to show you that I care about you, that I . . . that I love you, Cris.”
“Everything short of sharing your bed with me.”
She closed her eyes, unable to argue with that. Yes, she hadn’t slept with him, but it wasn’t to put distance between them. He had to know that. If there was anyone she desperately wanted to feel a connection with—mind, heart, and body—it was Cris.
“But we could easily change that. Let me stay the night.”
She bit down hard on her lower lip, trying desperately to think of an excuse why he shouldn’t stay, but she could not. He wanted this. She wanted this. But something still held her back.
“You’re . . . very important to me, Cris,” she said softly, finally opening her eyes, trying to put her tangled thoughts into words. “I’ve screwed up a lot of things in my life. I just . . . I just don’t . . . want to . . . mess this up, too.”
“So don’t.”
“But it’s not that simple!”
“Yes, it is.”
He then cupped her face and lowered his lips to hers. A warm tingle flowed from his lips to all points in her body. She wanted to pull away from him but couldn’t work up the will to, not when he made her feel like this.
He shifted his hand from her chin to the back of her neck and carefully tilted back her head as their kiss deepened.
She could taste her own salty tears and she could taste him. Their breathing grew heavy, almost synchronizing. When she felt herself being pressed back against the couch cushions, she didn’t try to sit up. She let Cris lead the way.
The soreness from earlier disappeared, along with the feeling of helplessness. She felt warm, content, and secure in his arms. But the warmth was growing more and more intense, into a searing heat with each caress and each kiss. Her hesitation was quickly dissolving under his touch.
He tugged her tank top over her head and tossed it to the carpeted floor. She wasn’t wearing a bra underneath, so he instantly cradled one of her breasts in the palm of his hand, teasing the dark nipple, making it gooseflesh. His other hand slowly descended past the elastic waistband of her short
s and parted her legs as his nimble fingers began to fondle her clit, coaxing forth a supple wetness between her thighs. She moaned. She bucked. She twisted beneath his touch.
His eyes darkened with pleasure as he watched her writhe. He pulled his hands away and Lauren took that as her cue. She eagerly pushed her shorts and underwear over her hips and down her legs, figuring now was the moment that he would enter her.
With James it had always been that way—a few minutes of foreplay before he had her bent over the side of the bed.
But Cris—once again showing how much he was unlike her ex—did the opposite. He left her there panting, practically squirming with sexual need as he stood and slowly undressed, unbuttoning his shirt and lowering the zipper of his jeans, as he hungrily gazed down at her. And she hungrily gazed up at him, letting her eyes rake over his body: his muscles, his glowing brown skin, the tattoos on his shoulder and back. Standing there, he looked eerily like some Polynesian god who had just descended to earth, ready to take his maiden.
When he pulled off his underwear, she saw the very visible evidence that he was just as aroused and eager as she was, but he was taking his time. When he finally finished undressing, she grabbed his hand and eagerly tugged him back down to her. Despite her small size, she pulled him with enough might that he fell against her and the couch, making them both smile.
When Cris eased between her thighs again, she knew without question that she wouldn’t be able to hold back this time around. Despite her worries and misgivings, she wanted him. She wanted him so badly, she swore that she would explode if she couldn’t have him tonight.
They kissed languidly, enjoying the sensation, having their fill of one another. Her fingers traced the landscape of his back and shoulders as his mouth lowered and he nibbled at her breasts. He kissed her again and she gripped his manhood, feeling it tense in her grasp, listening to him groan at her touch. He pushed her legs wider and she felt his fingers slide inside her then. She closed her eyes. As his fingers moved, gliding in and out, she shivered and bucked, whimpering against his lips.