I couldn’t process the words and move fast enough, so I chose to focus on escape. Once inside, the air conditioning assaulted my heated body. A chill raced from the top of my spine to the base, and my skin felt tight like I’d been baking in the sun all day. The marble was cool on the bottoms of my feet, but nothing topped the icy-cold way Collier hollered my name after I shut the door to the guest room.
I quickly stripped out of the wet swimsuit in a race to put my clothes on and run to my car, but just as the bikini bottoms hit the floor, Collier charged into the room. I turned to face the door, assuming it was Beck. And there I stood. Naked as the day was long, while Collier turned every shade of red imaginable.
5
“He just stood there and watched you get dressed? Without so much as a word? No apology?”
I shrugged. He had sort of just stood awestruck, but I’d gotten dressed faster than he could have realized what was going on, and tore out of his house like a bat out of hell. I hadn’t bothered to call Veronica when I screeched out of Collier’s driveway. I sent her a text and told her I would be at her house in minutes and to prepare Trish. I hadn’t had time to think about what I was doing. I just knew my head was all kinds of fucked up, and I needed my best friend.
Ronnie asked the questions, and Trish poured the wine. And something in that visit changed between my best friend’s girlfriend and me, but I hadn’t pinpointed it just yet because I was still too mortified to face reality.
“Your life is like a soap opera.” There was humor in Trish’s statement but not condemnation. She handed me a glass before joining us on the couch.
“I don’t get it, Giselle. You’re thirty-nine years old. At what point does this stop being your life?” By “this,” Ronnie referred to the immaturity of the situations I constantly found myself in. It didn’t matter if it were men or women—drama surrounded me.
My eyes narrowed at her judgment. “I guess the same point you stop going out on spending sprees like a teenager with Daddy’s credit card.”
Trish snickered, and for the first time since I’d known her, she was on my side. She hadn’t announced her alliance, but clearly articulating her points to her girlfriend only strengthened my case.
As usual, Ronnie blew me off to focus on the subject at hand. “Tell me again what Beck said when you ran into the house.”
“I don’t remember the exact words, but she implied he’d scared me off—like I had been an option for him until he reared his ugly head.”
“But you don’t even know the guy, right?” Trish couldn’t wrap her mind around the insanity, either.
“They had an intimate morning.”
Trish’s eyes went wide. “You slept with her brother?”
“No! I haven’t slept with anyone.” I took this opportunity to point out I’d been more successful with the recent females in my path than males. “I did, however, have an amazing orgasm courtesy of Roxie last night.”
“Chapping your lips on her leg in a bar to the tunes of classic rock does not count.”
“You’re so vulgar, Veronica.” I turned to Trish. “I have no idea how you put up with her.”
“This from a woman with a thousand ways to say vagina without ever using the actual term.” Ronnie raised her eyebrows at me like she’d proven some point.
“Can we get back to the point here, please?”
“And what would that be, Giselle? That you’re approaching forty but still living the life of a teenager whose hormones are out of control? Give me a break. I hate that you threw up on the guy, but what the fuck were you doing out at two o’clock in the morning, drunk, on a work night, anyhow?”
Veronica had my best interest at heart. I knew she did. We loved each other like sisters, but I’d come here for advice, not a brow beating. “Look, I’m sorry I mentioned it. I should have just gone home.” I unfolded my legs from under me on the couch and set my wine glass on the coffee table.
“Don’t go, Giselle. Ronnie’s just mad because she wasn’t out with you. If she could get away with it, she’d still be pulling all-nighters, too.” I’d never noticed how soft her face could be, almost motherly—which was likely what she considered herself refereeing the likes of V and me. “You deserve to have some fun and explore. You were married for far too long to someone who didn’t appreciate you. Don’t let her rain on your parade.” Not once, in all the time I’d known Trish—and it had been years—had she ever gone to bat for me.
“Am I in the fucking Twilight Zone?” Ronnie shrieked rather than spoke. “Do you two hear yourselves? You went out with a crazy chick who’s now trying to set you up with her brother after reconciling with her ex. And you dry humped a woman in a bar like a dog, before being escorted home by date number one’s twin who you promptly threw up on the next morning. Then to top it off—you gave him a peep show before running out of his house. In what world is Trish sticking up for you, and when did I become the voice of reason?”
I couldn’t stop the gales of laughter that erupted from deep in my belly and out my mouth. Shoulder-shaking, stomach-clenching, can’t-catch-my-breath laughter. My life had become a shitshow, but for whatever reason, I just kept playing along.
We ended up hanging out the rest of the night, which was an early one for me, before I went home…alone. My house was dark when I pulled into the garage. There was no one waiting for me; nobody who cared if I even came back, much less how much I spent on a pair of shoes. I didn’t often find myself in a pity party for one, but lack of sleep and too much alcohol would do that to a girl. Luckily, I was out with the lights and woke the next morning feeling like a new woman.
One positive to my new love interests, my phone kept me busy. If it wasn’t a text from someone I’d recently connected with online, it was Beck or Roxie. I was popular in the most artificial way, but I’d take it. No one else knew I didn’t have a clue who these people were. Well, other than Ronnie and Trish—but neither of them cared.
A text from Roxie brought a smile to my face. I was excited to see her tonight, but the anticipation was different than what I’d experienced with men. A tad nervous, or maybe embarrassed by my actions Thursday, but it felt more like the buzz of seeing a friend I hadn’t seen in ages than a date. No part of me thought about my outfit or my hair. Like a load of bricks dropped on my head, I realized my wallet was in my purse…which was still in Collier’s possession. I couldn’t go out without money and couldn’t get money without my ATM card…in my wallet.
Fuck.
I had two choices: Call Beck and hope she didn’t ask questions—which based on her outburst before I’d left her house was slim to none—or stop by and hope Collier was home. Or three: Hope his car was unlocked in the driveway, and my stuff was still in it.
In my twisted psyche, the last seemed the best choice. I put on a black tank top and black jeans, threw my hair in a knot on top of my head, and found my darkest sunglasses. Because in my mind, dressed in solid black in broad daylight was less conspicuous than shorts and a shirt…coupled with the neon-yellow Camaro that screamed subtly, I proceeded in ninja-stealth mode.
I slowed as I neared the entrance and saw the 911 right where I’d hoped it would be. But instead of pulling in behind him so I’d have to back out, I pulled along the edge of the property, parallel to the road. With the car idling, I jumped out and looked for witnesses. Seeing none, I ran up to the Porsche and tried the handle.
Locked.
With an obnoxiously loud and sensitive alarm system.
I panicked. As if jerking on the handle would open the secured door, not only did I try the driver’s side twice in my haste, but I also ran around to the passenger side and tried it instead of aborting the mission. When I heard the front door open, I glanced up, not in the direction of the porch, but rather the neighbors who were watching me like I was a thief—although I’ll mention, none of them tried to stop me.
“Giselle?” Collier was closing in on me. “Giselle! What the hell are you doing?”
&nbs
p; It dawned on me, the car was empty. Had I bothered to look before touching, I would have seen my stuff wasn’t in the floorboard. Just before Collier reached for me, I took off toward my car, jumped in the driver’s seat, and threw it into gear. Only to realize I was sitting at a dead end and had to do a three-point turn to get out of the neighborhood.
By the time my three-point turn morphed into a sixteen-point fiasco, Collier now stood in the middle of the street with his massive arms folded across his chest, his feet shoulder width apart, and a scowl that took over his features. Anger. Fury. Something stronger than rage stood between me and freedom. But even as much as I didn’t want to face him, I couldn’t exactly run him down, so I surrendered and pulled over.
Either Collier was in an incredibly good mood, or he felt sorry for me, but I liked this personality—the other two frightened me.
“Why didn’t you just knock on the door?” he asked, squatting at the side of my car so he was at the window.
My face and shoulders shrugged without an answer.
“Seriously, Giselle. I would have given you your stuff back. I wasn’t holding it for ransom. I wasn’t expecting you to be here last night and didn’t have your number. Beck hasn’t been home since you left, so I didn’t have a way to call you.”
This guy was a totally different person when his sister wasn’t nearby. Like Jekyll and Hyde, but I couldn’t remember which one had been the psycho. Either way, he was the nice one as long as Beck wasn’t within earshot…or maybe even the town limits. He invited me in, and my bag sat in the kitchen on the counter and appeared to be packed.
My nose scrunched at the sight of it and the thought of his vomit-ridden clothes being tucked inside.
His laugh caught me off guard but in a good way. A pleasant surprise. “I cleaned the inside and washed your clothes. Your purse is in there, too, but I didn’t go through it, so whatever is in there was there to begin with.”
Instead of being grateful, the thought of him touching my panties weirded me out—like I was fifteen, and he might have sniffed them…or worse, worn them. Nothing about Collier told me he was a pervert, but I couldn’t get the thought out of my mind.
He held his hands up in surrender. “I promise I didn’t do anything to your stuff. Nothing weird or gross. I didn’t even touch individual garments. Scout’s honor.”
I eyed him suspiciously. “Were you even in the Boy Scouts?”
“Not one day.” He winked at me and set my mind at ease.
I glanced over in the living room to an enormous amount of food.
“You hungry?”
“Are you feeding an army?”
“Some of my friends are on their way over to watch the game. You’re welcome to stay. That is if you don’t mind hanging out with a group of middle-aged men.”
It sounded safe enough, and I had a few hours to kill before I needed to meet Roxie. “You sure?”
“Absolutely.”
West didn’t mention that his “group of middle-aged men” were all incredibly good looking and equally single, but I was sure it didn’t occur to him since he thought I feasted on tacos.
They were all good-natured sports fanatics who yelled too loudly, burped too much, and ate like hogs at the trough. I wasn’t a fan of football. I didn’t dislike it; I just knew nothing about it. I laughed at them all acting like fools, hollering at a referee who couldn’t hear them and wouldn’t have cared if he could.
“West, what time we doing dinner?”
There was no way these buffoons could be hungry. They’d just eaten lunch.
“I can order pizzas now if you want? There’s another game on after this one, and I’ve got plenty of beer.”
I bolted upright from my lounged position on his enormous couch. “Oh, shit. What time is it?”
“A little after six, why? You got somewhere to be?”
“Crap. Yes! I have a date at seven.” I scurried to find my bag and put my shoes back on.
“Damn, West. Your girl’s dating other dudes?”
My eyes went wide. I hadn’t even sat next to him. There was no reason anyone would think West and I were together. None. At. All.
“Shut the fuck up, Parker.” He threw a magazine at his friend and stood. “Come on, Giselle. I’ll walk you out.”
I didn’t have time for formalities, so I threw my hand up in a quick goodbye. And then thanked West at the door for letting me hang out.
“Anytime. Give me a call.”
I was wasting precious moments, but I didn’t want him to think I didn’t want to talk to him, but I couldn’t very well call without his number. Once he realized what I was missing, he added his contact to my phone and quickly sent himself a text to get my number, and I squealed my tires trying to get back to my house. I didn’t care about my clothes, hair, or makeup, but I hated being late…anywhere.
I managed to make it to pick Roxie up and arrived at two minutes to seven. Thankfully, she’d told me to dress casually, so it hadn’t taken long to change clothes. I’d opted for layered tanks and skinny jeans with a kick-ass pair of black platform heels. My unruly hair piled high on top of my head in a messy knot took more time to perfect than it appeared. With a swipe of gloss across my lips, I assessed myself in the rearview mirror, puckered my mouth to ensure it had just the right pout, and then got out of the car.
When Roxie answered the door, my jaw dropped. I could have dragged her into the house and spent hours having her give me makeup lessons. She was tricked out like a fifties’ pin-up girl, and every detail was accounted for, but instead of the polka dot dress, she’d gone for a bright-red button-up she’d tied at the belly button and left agape at the cleavage and tight jean shorts that were cuffed just below her knee. Her shoes alone were reason enough to try to make this work. Talk about fuck-me heels—black patent leather. My furry furnace just danced a jig and started to pant between my legs taking her in.
Roxie could go from classic rock to chic fifties in the blink of an eye and owned it. Her eyes ran the length of my body and returned to my face with a mischievous grin. “You ready?”
“Yep. Where are we going?” She pulled the door shut and turned to lock it. “By the way, you look phenomenal.”
She turned around and kissed my cheek. “You look pretty damn delicious yourself.”
I stopped in front of the car, unsure of whether I should open her door or just get in. I always loved when a man helped me into the car on a date. Her face lit up when I beat her to the door just in time to pull the handle. With her settled, I rounded the front, took a seat, and let my baby sing when I turned the ignition. I couldn’t help it. Every single time I started the car, I held the key and closed my eyes to feel the power fill my body. It irritated the shit out of Ronnie, and my ex-husband always thought my fascination with cars was insipid.
But Roxie didn’t say a word. When I opened my eyes, ready to go, she was focused on me with just a hint of a smile playing on her cheeks.
“So where to?”
“You promise you’ll keep an open mind?” Excitement danced in her eyes, and her laugh lines became prominent as she spoke.
I nodded. I didn’t care what we did as long as I wasn’t sitting at home alone on a Saturday night.
“Roller derby.”
My heart raced at the thought. I’d heard lots about it and seen it on television, but I’d never been.
“My favorite team has a bout tonight. It’s actually a double header, but I wanted to go to see High Rollers battle it out against Bone Breakers.”
“I take it you’re a High Rollers fan?”
She blushed a warm shade of embarrassment, and her eyes softened in the cutest way. “Actually, I’m a Grim D. Mise fan. She happens to be a High Roller.”
“What’s a Grim D. Mise? Keep in mind, I know nothing about roller derby.”
Before she answered my question, she told me where to go. And I drove while she talked. Every time I glanced in her direction, she was more animated than the last. I wishe
d I’d waited to ask questions until we got there. I felt like her facial expressions and clear love affair with the sport were an important part of who she was. Having to keep my focus on the road, I missed those tiny nuances that said so much.
“Surely, she’s not a hundred years old.”
Her shoulders rose in an exaggerated shrug. “I don’t know. I’ve never asked her just how ancient she is, but she looks like she’s every bit that old. She’s teeny tiny, like five foot nothing, hell on wheels, and can bring a grown man to his knees in tears. She’s just badass.”
I parked the car, but before I could open her door, she’d gotten out and met me on the sidewalk. She took my hand in both of hers and kept turning to face me while she continued talking about the different derby girls who would be here tonight. Her shoulders would curl in as she got worked up in anticipation. The confidence I’d seen in her Thursday night still hovered just under the surface, but this version of her was much more feminine and less hard.
Roxie pulled tickets out of her back pocket when we got to the door, and once inside, I became a puppy on a leash. She knew exactly where she was going and led the way. Roxie also seemed to know every person we passed. It dawned on me everyone here appeared to know everyone—like a cult, or maybe a family. But the second an awkward feeling hit me, this bubble of energy popped next to us, nearly scaring the shit out of me.
“Myra!” Roxie’s voice had gone up an octave calling out to the woman in front of us.
“I’m so glad we ran into you. Giselle, this is Myra Volt. Myra, this is my date, Giselle. Myra is one of the High Rollers.” They chatted briefly before she had to run off, and Roxie and I found seats.
I’d never been to anything like this in my life. The moment the whistle blew, I got sucked in. Hardcore. Talk about high intensity, the fans were insane, their outfits were sexy as shit—even on roller skates, and these women were tough. I didn’t know a damn thing about anything going on, but I was sporting a lady boner from the moment they started moving around the track. After about five minutes, I couldn’t figure out why anyone would rather watch football than roller derby.
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