by S. J. Bishop
“Thank you,” I said, finally. “For the contract. The gesture... For Lea…”
Ryan smiled and took a step closer to me so that we stood with our arms touching. “It wasn’t an empty gesture. I meant it. It was the only thing I could think of to do to prove to you how serious I am about being in Lea’s life, about providing for her. For both of you.”
I shook my head. “But Ryan, what about providing for you? You told me you were going to retire soon. If your income is going to Lea, how will you live?”
Ryan looked sheepish and ran a hand through his hair. Finally, when he seemed resolved, he looked me in the eye, and he smiled. “I’ve always had this dream of being a kept man,” he said. “I’m perfectly content to find myself a sugar momma and sit on my ass eating bonbons.”
He pulled a blue box out of his pocket, and my breath caught. No. Oh no!
“Relax,” he laughed, seeing my face. “I’m not proposing. I was thinking about gestures. It was easy to sign my money over to Lea. But it’s more difficult to make a gesture that you’ll accept, Courtney. Because I know I hurt you. And I know you can’t trust me. I’m just…” He trailed off, tossing the box up and catching it again. “I’m just letting you know that I’m serious. That I don’t want to look back on my life and regret the next ten years as much as I’m regretting the ten that have passed without you.”
He held up the box. “I wanted you to know that this was here. That someday, I plan to give it to you.”
I couldn’t help it. Tears began to slip down my cheeks. Ryan reached out and cupped my face, using a thumb to wipe a tear away. “I know,” he said. “I have that effect on a lot of women.”
I laughed and swatted at his hand, and he backed away, grinning.
“So,” he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I rented a Suburban. The seats fold down. Care to drive to the dunes?”
I sucked in a breath, heat flooding through me, and nodded. Ryan reached out, taking my hand in a vice-like grip. “Let’s go,” he said, and he started to run.
We made it back to his car in record time, only to realize we’d left our shoes on the beach. “Fuck ‘em,” Ryan growled, spinning me so that my back was against the car. He leaned down and kissed me.
I reached up, tangling my hands in his hair and opening my mouth to his assault, nearly moaning with relief as our tongues collided. The desire was no longer clouded by mixed feelings. There was no doubt and no motive beyond passion. Ryan wasn’t going to leave me.
His hands wrapped around my waist, and he lifted me up. I wrapped my legs around him, trapped between his chest and the car. I was aching for him; I wanted him inside me. I arched my hips against him, sucked on his tongue, and bit his lip. He tugged my hair until I let go, my neck arching backward. His mouth found the sensitive spot beneath my ear, and I nearly died of pleasure as his teeth scraped and his tongue teased my earlobe.
Reaching down, I tried to unbuckle his belt, but he trapped my hand against the car. “Greedy,” he admonished.
“Ryan,” I hissed, tugging at my hand. “If you don’t stop teasing me, I swear to fucking God…”
“Not yet, baby,” he said, his lips teasing the sensitive skin at my neck. “Swear to God later.”
He dropped me. My bare feet hit the ground with a thud, and then he was moving. He made quick work of the Suburban, laying down the back seats. “Hop in,” he said. “The windows are tinted.” He got into the front seat.
The door closed behind me as I scooted onto the surface he’d made for us. Ryan peeled out of The Mangroves’ parking lot, heading for the dunes. His eyes found me in the rearview mirror. “Show me, baby,” he said, his voice deep with desire.
I stripped slowly, tugging the polo off and sliding my shorts down my legs until I was in my black bra and panties. I unclasped the bra, letting my breasts spring free. Ryan groaned up front, and I saw his hand disappear into his lap. Two could play at that game. Facing him, I pulled my underwear down until I was naked. Leaning back on my elbows, I spread my legs. With one hand, I reached between my thighs and touched myself.
“Fuck,” Ryan cursed from the front seat.
“You should be watching the road,” I told him, one finger sliding inside, then two. I was wet and raring to go. I wanted Ryan. I wanted him to want me. I felt wild and unburdened. I undulated against my hand.
Ryan slammed the breaks, and I realized that we’d made the short ride to the dunes - but that was all I was able to ascertain because he was climbing into the back seat, nearly kicking the headrest off of the passenger seat in his effort to reach me. He fell on top of me, his mouth searing against mine, his teeth clashing in the fierceness of our kiss. Ryan’s hand fumbled at his belt, ripping at his pants until he sprang free.
I sobbed as his thick, hot length pressed against my opening, sliding between my lips and coating itself in my wetness.
“Slowly!” I begged. He was huge. “Slowly! I want to feel all of you. Every last fucking inch!”
He sank into me slowly, spreading me impossibly wide and filling up every inch of me until I couldn’t tell where I ended and where Ryan began. Then, he was moving, a deep implacable rhythm, his hands finding my hips and grinding me against him with every stroke.
I was sobbing, incoherent. My world was only sensation, the intensity of that border between pleasure and pain. I wanted him to stop. I never wanted him to stop. I was chanting curses. “Fuck me, Oh God! Oh God!” He was swearing, too.
“You feel incredible. Ah! Courtney.” He couldn’t control himself. His pace picked up, driving me with him, pounding against me, hitting every nerve center, and stoking my flames higher and higher…
He roared. My orgasm came upon me like a tidal wave, decimating my consciousness and overwhelming my senses. I contracted around him as he throbbed inside me, jerking against me, all control gone. I squeezed at him with my legs, my thighs quivering. When he tried to pull back, I didn’t let him. I was never letting him go again.
Epilogue
Courtney
I don’t know how Ryan kept so calm and in control while his friends critiqued my menu and contemplated the details of the expansion. He’d introduced me to all of them and, I’m sure, expected me to do most of the talking, but I was too nervous. The minute Ryan had signed his portion of the restaurant over to Lea, the stakes became even higher. So I was working behind the scenes, making sure every dish that came out was perfect, making sure that nobody wanted for anything.
Only four investors were supposed to come, but we ended up seating a table of eight. Ryan had promised Caz Woods and Jamie Anderson, and he’d promised that his old college friend Law Henry would come, and he was bringing a Dolphins lineman who was interested. Burke and Sarah Tyler, and Dash and Becca Barnes were last-minute additions that I hadn’t been expecting. Dash and Burke were big time. Between their contracts and their endorsements, they were some of the wealthiest players in the NFL.
I wandered back into the room following the dessert trays. We were serving key lime pie, flan, mango wraps, and pastries filled with cheese and served with ice cream. There was nothing else to do now but take my seat next to Ryan. His hands gripped my knee reassuringly under the table.
“So,” said Karen as the group dug into their desserts. I was having trouble taking my eyes off of Becca Barnes, who looked like she’d sucked on a lemon. “You’ve got the numbers,” said Karen, indicating the sheets in front of them. “You’ve heard the pitch and projections. I’ve hopefully answered your concerns. Are any of you interested in investing in The Mangroves Seaside Restaurant?”
The two Miami Dolphins players nodded immediately. Law Henry cleared his throat. “I’ll want my lawyer to look over the particulars, but I’m interested.”
Karen nodded and handed two slips of paper to the Dolphins to indicate their contributions.
Caz was looking at Jamie, who seemed intrigued but was uncertain. “I’d be interested,” said Caz after a moment, “in seeing how Miami does before
investing. If Miami is a hit, I’m happy to contribute capital to the next few restaurants.”
Burke Tyler was regarding Ryan with suspicion. “Tell you what,” said Burke, crossing his arms over his chest and directing his comments at Ryan. “If you’d asked me two months ago, I’d have told you to fuck off.”
“But?” asked Ryan. He didn’t sound enthusiastic. Apparently, he and Burke weren’t on the best of terms.
“But I’m interested in the opportunity,” said Burke. “And you’re not the same guy you were two months ago. If Law thinks it’s a good investment, then I’m confident enough to risk my money.”
“Wonderful,” said Karen. She handed Burke the paper, and he wrote down a number.
“It’s a family-friendly place, right?” asked Sarah Tyler, speaking up for the first time. “Because I write a blog that talks about traveling, and there’s a whole section about travelling with family. I could do a write up. I have a bunch of readers. It would be good free press.”
I nodded. “That sounds wonderful,” I said earnestly.
All eyes turned to Dash. He’d looked wistful over the word “family,” and he opened his mouth, but Becca spoke before he could. “Not interested,” she said. Her tone was cool. “But thanks.”
“No problem,” said Ryan smoothly. “We’re just happy you both could join us tonight. Dash, man, good to see you outside the huddle.”
Dash nodded. “Speaking of which. We’ve got a game tomorrow, boys.” He stood, reaching out to shake my hand. His grip was warm. “Thanks for the wonderful evening. And I wish you the best of luck!”
“I’ll make sure you get an invite to opening night,” I said.
I shook hands with the players as they left the room. When Law Henry passed, he leaned in close and said, “Any woman who can turn this player into a monogamist is set to take on the world. I’d trust you with my life savings. I think you’ve got a great thing going.”
I thanked him warmly, and when they all left, only Ryan, Karen, and I remained in the room. Ryan wrapped his arms around me, pulling me against his chest.
“Well?” he said to Karen.
Karen looked at the numbers that our three investors had written, and she pursed her lips. “Your buddies Henry and Tyler went in big. We still have to go to the bank, but they’ll say yes for certain.” Karen looked up and beamed. “We’re on, Court. The project is a go.”
She gave me a short hug and shook Ryan’s hand. “Congratulations, baby sister. You’ve got a lot of work to do.” She exited the room.
“We’ve got a lot of work to do,” Ryan whispered in my ear.
“You’re going to help?” I smiled up at him.
“With the restaurant?!” Ryan sounded incredulous. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I’m talking about tonight. I’ve got a game tomorrow. I’m going to need a little TLC.”
I spun in his arms, looking up into his dark, beautiful eyes, excitement and anticipation whirling through me. “Well then, get ready, baby. Because you’re about to get more than you can handle.”
Hail Mary
1
Law
“Do you mind if I sit here, Father?” I asked the priest as I entered Saint Catherine’s Church and stopped beside a pew.
Father Armando looked up, surprised. He hadn’t heard me enter. He checked his watch and confirmed that he wasn’t running late; I was early.
“I do not mind at all,” said Father Armando. “I assume you’d like to sit for a while before everyone gets here.”
“If you don’t mind.”
The priest left. I took my seat in the third row, which is where Eric and I used to sit with our mother, back when we were kids and attended Church regularly. Since my mother passed away, I’d attended only the handful of times one of my uncles couldn’t escort my grandmother.
Easing into the pew, I stared at the gilded statues of the Madonna and Child and tried to take some comfort in their silence. To be honest, I’d felt God on the football field more often than I’d ever been able to feel him here – but I hoped there was an afterlife and that Eric was at peace in it.
My brother had died last week when his car had swerved off the road and flipped. He and his fiancé were killed instantly, leaving behind their worldly possessions and their two-year-old daughter Nikki.
Footsteps sounded in the aisle before a heavy hand gripped my shoulder. “Hey, man. How you holding up?”
I glanced up into the unusually stoic and concerned face of Ryan “Mac” Mcloughlin. Mac wasn’t usually in Miami. Since the season had just started, he spent most of his time in Boston, playing for the New England Patriots. But he and I were friends, we’d played college ball together, and since his fiancé had recently opened up a restaurant in Miami, we’d been having dinner together when I got the news.
“Okay,” I said. The shock of the accident had worn off, and while I was still feeling the dregs of the ‘depression’ stage of grief, I’d ceased being angry. “I’m just bracing myself for what comes next.”
I stood up and stepped out of the pew. With forty minutes until the funeral started, people would start showing up soon. I could see that the man from the funeral home had already pulled up and was unloading two urns from the back of his car: one for my brother and the other for his fiancé, Mia.
“Are you giving the eulogy?”
I shook my head. Not even for my brother was I going to get up in front of people and give a speech. “No. Mia’s sister, Gwen, is giving the eulogy.” Goddamn it. Even after all of these years, saying her name still felt like a knife to the gut. “You remember Gwen?”
Gwen was what I was bracing myself for. It’s one thing to lose your brother, to know he’s never coming back. It’s another thing to lose your soul mate, to know they’re out there in the world somewhere and have to see them again. I’d spoken to her for the first time in six years on the phone after the accident, long enough to express my condolences and tell her that I’d take care of the funeral arrangements. Gwen had thanked me and told me she’d take care of the eulogy. She knew how much I hated public speaking.
“Gwen?” Mac paused over the name, his eyes lighting up in sudden recognition. “Shit, man. Gwen Mathers? Your old girlfriend, Gwen?”
I nodded.
Mac shook his head. “Wow. I remember Gwen. You were really hung up on her.”
I rolled my eyes. Mac remembered Gwen because there had been more than a dozen nights in college where he’d tried to send me home with some tight-assed co-ed, and I’d put him off because I was with Gwen.
“Your brother was engaged to her sister?”
I nodded. Mia and my brother, Eric, had met through Gwen and me, though they hadn’t started dating until well after we’d broken up. To be honest, I had never been the biggest fan of Mia. She wasn’t the nicest to my brother - not that Eric had seemed to notice - and she had never seemed as into him as he was into her.
Or maybe I was just projecting. I’d been head over heels for Gwen. She’d been funny, and sexy as all hell, and just…good. Gwen was good. She was faithful, independent, and never clingy. From day one with Gwen, she’d felt like family. The breakup had felt less like a loss and more like a betrayal. I wasn’t looking forward to seeing her again.
And yet, I was about to. My brother would have wanted to be buried with the mother of his child. Plus, Mia and Eric hadn’t had that much money, and Mia’s family certainly would have struggled to cover a funeral expense. The Mathers’ father had died when the girls were young, their mother was an alcoholic middle-school art teacher, and Gwen was a social worker in Chicago. Not a lot of money there.
“You got here early,” I commented, changing the subject.
Mac gave me a small smile. “I knew you’d be here, Bro. You used to show up hours early for the game – always the first one in the locker room. But I didn’t want you brooding here all by yourself.”
“You’re a good guy,” I said to Mac. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are people starting t
o arrive.”
My mother’s brothers had also showed up early, escorting my grandmother, who lived only two blocks away from the church. I gave my grandmother a kiss and shook hands with Uncle Hector, Uncle Anthony, and Uncle Carlo. They smiled at me stoically and went to take their places in the pews.
Mac came up and stood next to me as people began to arrive. I had wanted the service to be small, just close friends and immediate family, but that had been wishful thinking. Not only had half of my Miami Dolphins teammates showed up, but the extended family was in attendance as well. I’d never known my father, but my mother was close with her parents and their families, the Garcias and the Julianos. Both sides were showing up in numbers.
Then, there she was.
A yellow cab pulled up in front of the church, and Gwen Mathers stepped out: tall and slender, with creamy pale skin, thick, dark hair and the face of a Botticelli Angel. Seeing her again was like getting sacked by an entire row of linemen. She wore a high-necked, black dress that followed her figure without hugging it and ended before the knees. Her dark hair was pulled back into a bun at the base of her neck, and sunglasses covered her eyes. The somber elegance was so unlike the girl I’d known. The girl I’d known had waited tables and tossed pizza dough in the back of Leoni’s, wearing jean shorts and a t-shirt.
I watched as Gwen’s mother stepped from the car. Where Gwen looked composed and calm, Alice looked like she was barely holding it together: her black shift dress was too large for her and slid off of her shoulder, and her graying hair was coming out of the pins she’d placed it in. She had not chosen to cover her eyes, and they were red and bloodshot.