Dirty Disaster (Low Down & Dirty Book 2)

by Addison Moore

  Lex pushes a quick breath from her lips as if centering herself in the madness. “What on earth do I have to do to get you to stop calling me that?”

  “Go out with me.” I don’t miss a beat. Although, in hindsight I probably should have been more specific.

  Lex tips her head back so quick you’d think someone had shot her.

  “Okay.” She snaps her gaze to me once again.

  “Okay?” I parrot back in disbelief. My heart slams against my chest so loud and fast it drowns out all of the chaos in the bar. There’s no way I heard that right.

  “Don’t make me change my mind, Collins.” Her nostrils flare with rage as she piles the drinks on her tray and whisks off toward her table.

  Holy shit. Lex and I are going out. Hell has frozen over. Pigs are flying. It’s the twelfth of never. Every idiom of improbability is employed in my life all at once.

  My entire body enlivens with adrenaline. You could light a match under my feet and I’d rocket straight to Mars.

  Lex—my Lex is back in my life. We’re going to work this time come hell or high water, and we’ve already been through both. She’s softening, molding to me, no longer able to avoid the gravitational pull of who we are—or at least that’s the version I’m feeding myself. Nevertheless, Lex and I are off the ground. We have liftoff, and I’ll make sure we never come crashing back down to earth again.

  Joy of Sex With Your Ex

  Lex

  A week ambles by, and it’s all I can do to stave off Axel and that date I promised. But it’s Friday. He’s scheduled me off for the night and booked a table at Enigma—only the finest dining experience in the tri-city area. So, of course, I couldn’t say no. I’ve already selected my navy dress and matching heels with the straps that lace up past my ankles. It will be cold in the dining hall, so I’ll bring my leather jacket, the one with the spikes running up and down my chest which will also provide a decent barrier if he decides that treating me to a meal entitles him to get frisky. And seeing that he’s a man, it will.

  I’m just about to get ready for my culinary rendezvous with a vegetable ratatouille crepe brimming with goat cheese, but before I do so, I feed Strudel two heaping scoops of his favorite lamb kibble. On nights that I eat well, I make sure Strudel does, too. Sure, the world might say Axel is my date, but he’s more of a transportation system, a conduit between me and one of my favorite meals. He’s nothing more than the middleman in this scenario. It’s not a real date. I would never date Axel Collins. I swore I would never go out with him again, and I’m not breaking a single vow I might have made to myself way back when. This is just sort of a—I step into the living room and groan—mess.

  Just the sight of my poor disheveled home makes me grunt with discontent. That horrid bridal shower I inadvertently threw Low a few weeks back may have ended, but I still have one party guest who refuses to find the door. After Raven confessed that her things were in her car and that she was essentially homeless, she’s been holed up here ever since. Suddenly homeless? Living out of her crappy car? She has so much in common with Low it’s scary. I can see why they’ve christened one another “besties”. God, I hate that word. It’s perky and annoying and it belongs solely within the confines of a sorority. Nevertheless, Raven has magically transformed my neat as a pin home into a hoarder’s playground.

  It turns out Raven isn’t so much a neat freak after all. She’s a master manipulator is what she is. She’s an Oscar to my Felix. In a single week, she transformed my Zen little paradise painted in calming hues of blues and greens and deconstructed it into an ode to a frat house complete with odd splatters of color dotting the floor as her clothes slowly migrate toward the laundry room.

  She’s curled up in a ball on the couch, clad in gray sweats, glasses that keep sliding down her nose, an ice cream bar pinned between her lips and a slice of pizza in her other hand. She’s so engrossed in that silly rom-com she keeps playing on a loop she doesn’t even know I’m in the same airspace.

  A tower of pizza boxes stacked near the sofa catches my eye. “You’re insane,” I belt out the words in disbelief.

  “I’m insane? I don’t have an entire army of people protesting my actions. I’m not the one with protesters on my lawn.”

  I glare at both her and the leaning tower of pizza boxes. “Please tell me this is some sort of performance piece you’re pulling. Or that the pizza recycling bin waiting to happen is installation art because God and I both know you mentioned your specialty was making my tiny home look unlived in.”

  Raven doesn’t take her eyes off the screen. “It was. It is. I mean the art, and the unlived in part.” She says so many nonsensical words at once, and the urge to smack her over the head with one of those pizza boxes comes on strong. She shrugs it off with her crooked ponytail lopping to the side, her slacked sweats pulled high on her waist as she wilts on the couch, craning her neck past me to see the television screen.

  “But I can’t seem to get another job. I can’t even get an interview,” she whines. “Something tells me if I ran naked through the Arctic tundra I couldn’t catch a cold.”

  “Oh, boo-hoo. Cry me an icy river. Quit feeling sorry for yourself and get a paycheck already. Flap your wings down to The Pelican with me. I’m sure Axel will have you bussing tables before dinner rush.” I cringe at the thought of yet another waitress eating my lunch or dinner as it were. It’s bad enough that nutcase yippy-yappy puppy that I’m sure belongs in a sorority house somewhere Abby Wilcox keeps weaseling her way into my piggy bank. Twice last week she snaked two of my tables. Just snatched them from under me, claiming she didn’t realize I had that section. It’s odd how she gets her sectional wires crossed when there’s a party of ten or more—leaving me with her lousy date night couples with the sleazy male quasi-flirting with me while he’s too cheap to spring for two entire meals. Split an appetizer for dinner, my ass. I hope the losers never get laid again.

  “I can’t work at The Pelican.” Raven takes a healthy bite of her waxy looking pizza. Bleh. You couldn’t pay me to wipe my bottom with it, let alone push it past my lips. “My brother owns the place. It’d be weird.”

  “What you call weird others refer to as employment. The tips alone will keep you in cardboard pizza for a month.” My heart wrenches at the thought of losing my new moneymaking gig. I certainly don’t plan on working there forever. My ex owns the place. It is weird. Let’s get real. The only other way I can get this kind of money is if I steal it, and I’m too harebrained and terrified not to get caught.

  “My pizza funds are secure. An old frat boy I used to date gives me his employee discount. Believe you me, I’ve earned it.”

  “I’m afraid to ask how, so I won’t. Something tells me getting on all fours was involved.” I snap up a trail of rainbow colored tank tops and dump them onto her lap. “And feel free to tidy up any time you want. Be sure to have this place looking as if you never set foot in it by the time I get home tonight from my date.”

  “Date?” She balks at the idea through a mouthful of cheese wax. “Who the hell would want to date you? The only one off his rocker enough to even contemplate such a ball-busting move is—” She looks up at me and gasps so loud I’m half-hoping she’s inhaled the bolus churning in her mouth. Surely a lungful of crappy Italian food should qualify her for more hygienic quarters—say, the hospital?

  “Are you kidding?” Her limbs scatter as if they were trying to find the quickest exit off her body.

  A knock erupts at the door before I can electrocute her with another word.

  I head over and open it to find Low with her hair in a bouncy ponytail, a buoyant smile on her lips. “Long time no see, bestie!” She rings her arms around me in a strangulating hug. “Oh my God, I missed you like crazy!”

  “Relax.” I pluck her off me as she saunters on in and I entomb us inside lest the protesters meander up the walk as they’re prone to do. My God, don’t they have a home? Jobs? Children? Parole officers to check in with? “I’m ju
st a girl you barely know, not a child you lost at the mall.”

  Low honks out a laugh before getting settled on the sofa next to Raven. “I know you all too well.”

  “Get this.” Raven gives Low a violent shove that nearly sends her flying off the couch. Nice. Break her arm before her wedding. Now that’s a bestie for you. “She’s going out with Axel tonight.”

  Low looks up at me as if I just plunged a knife into her belly, and believe me, I’m tempted.

  “With the Ax? As in Axel Collins, the ex who we were given strict instructions not to speak of? Axel Collins who not only had me arrested but was the ironic reason for that arrest Axel Collins? Are you off your meds again?”

  “As if I needed a single chemical to hold down the fort.” I smirk at the two of them all huddled together, ready for a night in with their plethora of soft porn. “Yes, Axel Collins. The jack-in-the-box that broke my heart.” I check my face in the mirror above the couch and note I’ll need a touch more blusher. I abhor looking pale in decent lighting, and Enigma not only has the best food, they have impeccable lighting capable of erasing decades off even the prunish of faces.

  “Jack-in-the-box?” Raven looks to Low for explanation.

  “Read jackass.” She wrinkles her nose. “Lex hates expletives more than she hates poor Ax the ex.”

  “Not true,” I offer quickly. “It’s about an even split.”

  Low flicks off her sneakers and tucks her feet under her bottom. “So where’s the big miracle taking place? Hallowed Grounds? Something quick and caffeinated?”

  Raven scoffs. “The Witch’s Cauldron? Something hot and immersive that a soul or two can drown in?”

  I chew on that for a moment. “As tempting as a scalding death sounds, I’m not up for suffocating him just yet. He’ll be treating me to a meal at Enigma.”

  “Oh?” Low muses as she swings her ponytail from side to side. “Then are you heading up to his place for a little nightcap? Maybe some whiskey with a twist of sin?”

  I pause a moment on my way back to my bedroom. “That’s right.” I gasp. “Enigma is in the Jepson Towers. He did mention his penthouse is in the same building. I guess I didn’t put two and two together.” My entire body fills with heat at the idea. “But trust me, that boy knows better than to think he can just whisk me off to his place and land me flat on my back. There’s no way he’s hitting a home run with me ever again. And the rest of the bases don’t stand a chance either. Nope. This is strictly about the food—and by acquiescing to the date, he’s kindly offered to stop calling me Lexy.” I take a moment to glare at Raven. “Don’t even try to say it.”

  “Oh, I won’t.” She spikes her ice cream stick into her next pizza slice as if it were a fork. “Low filled me in on all the levels of crazy it brings out in you. As delightful as it would be to witness from afar, there’s no way in hell I’d pop the cork on that bottle.”

  I glare at her for a moment until she sinks lower on the sofa.

  “I meant H-E-double hockey sticks, Mom.”

  “That’s better. Now clean this house before I get back or I’ll beat you with a wooden spoon until you’re black and blue.”

  The two of them titter out a laugh at my not-so vague threat while I primp and pamper myself into polished perfection.

  I strut back out and do a little twirl, thus breaking their TV trance.

  “Oh my God!” Low exclaims with marked excitement. “You are so getting laid tonight!”

  “No, I’m not.” I swing my hips from side to side. “Well, maybe. I have been flirting with Pink Thomas ever since you left him behind. I’d seal the deal, but Strudel’s already claimed him for himself.” It’s true. That dildo that was left behind on the night of the bridal shower wars is now fast friends with my little horny pooch. Although in Strudel’s defense, he thinks it’s just an incredible vibrating chew toy. I’ll admit I’m a bit envious. Especially on those nights where I miss a man—ironic since the only man I’ve ever been with is the one I’m going out with tonight.

  Raven bumps her knee to Low’s. “Ten bucks says they hook up and she doesn’t make it home tonight. You don’t put on a dress like that for an ex you claim to despise more than foot fungus.”

  It’s true—the foot fungus thing. “I stand by my claim. The reason I’ve donned such a hip-hugging frock is to look admirable while walking into Enigma. Everyone knows the who’s who of anywhere can be found dining in that very place. And who knows? Maybe there’s a suitor lurking in there for me yet.” I lean in to glare at Raven, and that smug little smile of satisfaction on her face regarding the state of my vagina. “And if I don’t happen to come home tonight, it will be because I met up with a serial killer. I’m much more emotionally prepared to deal with that than I am spending the night with Axel Collins.” I stalk out the door, and both Low and Raven trail me to the porch.

  “Do everything I would do!” Low sings.

  “You’re such a whore,” I grumble as I crawl into my car.

  “Something tells me you’d be a better one!” she sings and my chest rumbles with a laugh because I’m positive she’s right. As much as I want to shove Low out of my life, something in me demands to keep her. There’s just something about her that’s always reminded me of Serena. I’d walk to the moon and back for my sister. And, evidently, I’d let someone in my life just because she reminds me all too much of my little sis, too.

  Raven mimes for me to roll down my passenger’s window, and I reluctantly do.

  She dashes over with that dark curtain of hair collapsing over one side of her face, leaving a bright blue eye staring back at me.

  “In case you decide not to come back tonight, just know that statistically speaking, men are not only far more aroused by women who make the first sexual move, they tend to keep her in the power position for the remainder of the relationship.”

  “What are you saying?” I’m not sure if I should be offended or simply run her over and put her out of her own misery. It must be tiring to be trapped in that head of hers.

  “I’m saying if you want to maintain the power position, strike first blood. Land that boy on his back and make him your bitch.”

  My mouth falls open just as I speed out of my quaint little neighborhood, and the protesters scatter as I almost nail a small clump of them. As if. I wish. Maybe someday if I’m lucky.

  Power position indeed.

  An image of Axel lying beneath me, those hungry eyes of his staring up at mine, his fingers digging into my hips as he pounds me over his body flashes through my mind, and every last inch of me ignites like a candle.

  This is not a date.

  I will not venture to his perverted penthouse where he’s undoubtedly bedded a bevy of bobble-headed beauties.

  I am going straight home after dinner.

  I think.

  At least I darn well better.

  By the time I give my car to the valet and head into Enigma, I spot Axel seated on the balcony alone, the way it most likely should be. But I’m here and the wheels to this hell train have already left the station. The truth is, I’m not only here to nix that nasty nickname he insists on calling me once and for all—although he knows better and is without excuse—but I also want to glean a little more on what happened to poor Emilia. As soon as he uttered that horrible truth, I ran home and looked up what I could on the Internet, only to find that it was a sad fact. There were no details, no hint of a prolonged illness, which could only mean one thing—she was snatched by death when she least expected it. The thought of poor, sweet Emilia disappearing from the earth forever was too much to bear, and I broke my rule and cried a river for her. She was my one true friend on the planet, at least for the year we knew one another. Low pops to mind, and, of course, her slovenly appendage Raven. I suppose they’re friends of sorts. Low for sure at least. Raven is more or less that annoying bonus sampler you never really wanted that smells like old socks. My God, does the girl ever bathe?

  My phone bleats in my purse, and
it’s a group text to both Marlin and me from Serena. A picture of her next to that bear mascot they keep in front of the Black Bear pushes an inadvertent smile to my face.

  I text back. Keep out! There are frat boys running loose in there without morals or brain cells.

  I shoot off a private text to Marlin. I’m calling in a report to the Jepson PD— check out the Black Bear. I’m pretty sure a beautiful redhead is about to be accosted. Hightail it up there, would you?

  He texts right back. On my way, sis. But only if you carve out time for coffee with me soon.

  I think on it for a moment. I think I just found the perfect way to ensure I don’t accidentally on purpose test out Axel’s mattress springs.

  Sure thing! Bright and early. How’s eight in the morning? I’ll meet you at Hallowed Grounds. Don’t be late!

  He pings right back. I’ll bring the donuts. ;)

  There. Nothing ensures a little chastity like your gun-wielding brother. There’s no way I’ll end up in that penthouse tonight. In fact, if I want to be able to pry my eyes open at that early hour, I’ll have to cut tonight’s date short and get myself to bed. I love it when I outsmart Axel Collins’ favorite appendage—the one swinging from between his legs.

  I put in my name, and the waitress leads me to the back. Axel offered to pick me up, but I know better than to trap myself with my ex and nary an escape route.

  He rises and turns as if he senses my presence, and his thick cologne hits me as soon as our eyes meet. Axel Collins isn’t playing fair tonight. He’s donned a dark inky suit, smooth silver metallic tie so buttery soft looking I’m craving to both touch and lick it. That thick black hair of his is neatly slicked back, his five o’clock shadow leaves him with that demented stubbled look that I find so irresistible, and a tiny moan crawls up my throat at the sight of him.