“Shut up, you. I get it. I already had the lecture from three of my four friends, got a slap from the fourth, and my grandma called me this morning and called me a loser-ish ninny. Nothing you have to say will in any way be worse than the talking to I got. Now drive, man, I have a man to go get.”
It takes a little too long for my liking and by the time he pulls into the main drive and screeches to a halt at the doors all I have time for before I start running is to throw a “wait for me!” over my shoulder.
I’m winded and panting by the time I get to the front counter, and I want to cry when I hear them calling Jones’s flight.
By the time I get through security and have the number of a female guard that felt me up and decided she liked what she felt, I run toward his gate.
“Wait!”
It’s too late. I want to start bawling and screaming when I see that the door is closed.
“Sorry, ma’am, they’re already cruising down the runway.”
“No.”
She gives me a stern look when I go to touch the door.
“Please step away from the door. You’re too late.”
Breathe, Indie, just breathe and stop for a minute. Attacking an innocent airport employee isn’t going to get you anywhere but arrested.
Hell, what am I supposed to do now? Even if I manage to get a flight out, or take the jet, by the time I get to the wedding the thing will be over and Jones will still have his date on his arm.
Goddammit.
My walk back toward the doors is a long and downtrodden experience as I fight the urge to cry and shake off the melancholy I feel. It’s one thing to have all these grand plans and ideas about getting Jones, but the sad truth is that he’s chosen what he wants and she’s sitting beside him on a plane, going to a wedding I should have gone to in the first place.
He didn’t choose me.
“Aw, you didn’t get to him on time?”
I slide into the front seat beside the cab driver and let my shoulders droop in defeat.
“No. The gate was closed by the time I got to it.”
“That’s too bad, darling, since I was really rooting for ya. Maybe you could call him?”
I could, but what would I say? Telling someone you love them for the first time is not something you should do over the phone, and besides, even if I were so inclined it could just be a wasted effort.
Jones has steadily rejected every woman I’ve thrown his way for the last few weeks, finding fault with them in the tiniest ways. It drove me crazy at first, but I was happy too because I was thinking he was just making excuses to keep me close.
And now? Now he’s obviously satisfied with my latest match, enough so that he’s taking her to a wedding and hasn’t so much as bothered to call me to discuss anything.
That can only mean he’s made his choice. A choice that doesn’t include me.
“I’m not calling him. The man is going to a wedding with another woman. Someone I set him up with, someone who is everything on that fucking list of his.”
“Well, I think you’re being a coward.”
“Coward? I just ran like an Olympic athlete to get to him, even though I may not have succeeded even if I reached him, and you’re giving me shit?”
“Yup. I would have dived through the door and held on to the fucking wing if my love was on that plane, lady.”
I really want to argue with the man, but I just shrug instead and look out the window.
Whatever. I end up giving him an address, and by the time I trudge into the Marks residence and just fall into Finn’s chest where he’s lazing on the sofa, I’m not at all impressed with life. Or myself.
“Hey, kid, you okay?”
“No. I missed Jones at the airport and now I’m depressed. Wanna go do something with me?”
“Sure. What are we doing?”
My smile is wicked as I crook a finger and start for the door.
No, I’m not giving up yet, but maybe, just maybe there’s something I can do to show him what he’s missing instead of pulling the clichéd airport love scene.
Chapter Seventeen
“That’s all folks.” -Bugs Bunny
Woody
Watching from behind a column as she almost flew at that door was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I wanted to run over to her and sweep her up and kiss her till our breaths weren’t our own but Jack is right.
I can’t let this be how our story ends. Or starts. Whatever. He said I can’t let her be the one to do the declaration and prove her love because that is on me. Not because I’m the guy, though God knows that does play a part since I have pride, but because she’s fought hard enough and it’s up to me to do the fighting from here on out.
So I let her think that I was gone and I watched her shoulders droop and her body slink away defeated because I have a plan to prove my love and devotion.
Maybe if I do this right I can get the girl and everything will work out as it needs to.
“Are you sure this will work?” I ask Jack for the hundredth time as I shuck my clothes and use the signboards he’s given me to cover my ass.
I’m about to make a fool of myself in front of a buttload of people, but I don’t give a shit. This is my last chance, the final scene in the messed-up love story I’ve been living for well over a year.
“It’ll work, man. Indie likes the outrageous, and if we’re being honest here you are the exact opposite of outrageous.”
Which is why I’m doing this. Why I have done everything else thus far and set out to prove to her that she’s perfect. She doesn’t have to change a thing about herself. It’s me who needs to be better to deserve her.
The slight burn on my chest where the new tattoo extends from my left pec all the way up my shoulder and around my neck to my nape reminds me that I’ve changed already.
I took this blank canvas and did something that may or may not be proof enough to my girl that I’m the one for her. All I have to do now is this last part, and maybe she’ll forgive me and give me a third chance.
God willing.
“Okay, let’s do this.”
I’m nervous as hell when I walk out of Jack’s room, and I get even sweatier when I go for the front door and get stopped by Callie, Percy, and Luci—their cackles of glee making my already shot nerves dance beneath my skin.
“You fuck this up and they’ll be doing forensic testing at Dot’s place, looking for evidence of what’s left of you, Woody. You got me?”
“Yeah, Percy, I read you loud and clear,” I huff, moving the boards to cut off Luci’s search-and-find mission as she tries to see what I’m hiding and starts giggling.
“She was right, he is loaded in the shorts.”
“Hey now, lady, stop looking at other men,” Freddie gripes, his eyes glaring my way as if I’m the one doing the freaking voyeurism play instead of his wife.
“Stop it. You guys are making me nervous and I’m already nervous as hell already. You sure she won’t try and stab me when she sees me?”
“Maybe. Who knows? This is Indie we’re talking about after all.”
I nod once and hightail it out of there and into the car, my nuts shrinking at the thought of what I am about to do. Especially considering Jack called everyone I know and told them where to be if they want to see the show.
We pull up to the Hyatt a few minutes later and I turn to Jack and Freddie as the monumental task ahead of me starts wreaking havoc with my mind.
I’m set to walk into a hotel filled with people at lunchtime wearing nothing but a John McClane board declaring my love for a woman who is not all that happy with me right now.
I’m doing this because as far as Jack is concerned, if I can get the woman to just look at me I already have a foot in the door. The tattoo is my main play, though, and damn me, I hope it works because this shit hurt.
How she sat through all the ink on her body just makes me respect her even more, because it tells me that she took all that pain to show h
er love the only way she knows how.
“Get out of the car.”
Fuck.
I open the door and hesitate for the smallest moment before putting my bare foot down on the asphalt and standing up.
People start whispering and staring even before I’ve walked three steps into the hotel lobby, and I feel my face heat with a blush when one little old lady takes a long look and gives me that thumbs-up.
Percy and the others, Indie included, should be just arriving. I take a deep breath, stop in the middle of the packed lobby, and turn to the door, ready for whatever may come next.
***
Indie
The sound of muttering and giggles reaches my ears as I walk into the Hyatt Hotel with my girls and start making my way towards the dining room area.
Why they wanted to come here is a mystery since I know that Jack and Callie hate this place and the staff that work here, but whatever. I’m just along for the ride since I got a message from a prospective client and I promised to meet him here for lunch and a rundown of my services and what he wants.
It’s only when I’m halfway to my destination that I realize the others have stopped and I turn back and look up, searching for them as the voices stop whispering and I see everyone staring at something over my shoulder.
Oh please God, don’t let this be like my dream where I turn around and some psycho is standing right behind me. I freeze and frown, my nerves pinging when I see not just Jack and the boys but the entire Levin clan, Jones’s family, and even Finn and the moms standing off to the side, grinning at me with stupid expressions on their faces.
I know then who is behind me, and that may just be way worse than the psycho. I’m no coward though, so I turn and almost swallow my tongue when my eyes land on Jones, a very naked Jones, and the big white boards protecting his modesty.
The first thing I notice is that he’s nervous, sweating buckets and looking at me in a way I’ve only ever seen him look at me in my dreams. The second is the big, angry-looking tattoo glaring at me, the swirling font curling from his heart all the way up and onto his neck.
My name. He’s had my name inked on his perfect skin.
“Jones?”
I can’t say another damned thing because my nose starts tingling and I feel moisture collect in my eyes at the look of pure love and regret I see in his green eyes.
“I fucked up, Indie. I messed up so bad that when you left I thought I was never going to get another chance.”
“You did mess up, Jones. You messed up big time, pal. I’m the one, can’t you see that? I love you. I have from the beginning when I saw you and realized you were my match. I don’t care that you’re weird and match your clothes like a prissy woman. I don’t care that I have to share you with the stick you have shoved up your ass. You’re mine and I will be Goddamned if I’ll stand around and watch you push me away to go after women who will never give you what I can.”
“Indie—”
“I’m everything you need, Jones. Everything good that you don’t deserve at all but will get because dammit, I deserve you. You will stop ignoring me. You will stop making me pimp you out when you belong to me, and by God, you foolish ass, you will marry me and accept that I won’t be a housewife or suitable for those assholes you hang with for business. I’m not changing and neither are you, and that’s that!”
There is so much more I want to say. I want to tell him that I’m awesome. I want to ask him to be mine and live a life that may not be conventional but is happy because we both love each other and will never falter in that love. Most of all I want to tell him that this is the first time I’ve cried in years.
I don’t do any of that, though, as I look him over and finally get a chance to read the boards.
I love you.
Don’t hate me.
I’m sorry.
You’re the one I’ve waited my whole life for.
Marry me and let me have my name tattooed on your ass.
I’m YouTubing this as soon as you give me an answer.
My answer? I squeal like the girlish loser I am and throw myself at him, knocking the boards away as he scrambles to catch me and tries to cover his junk at the same time.
I miss him then too, with tears streaming down my face, and ignore the laughter and clearing throats as Jones kisses me back and chuckles at my mumblings.
“Please don’t leave me again. I haven’t slept since you left me and I can’t go another day without your insults and brand of affection. You’re it for me, Indie. I love your tattoos and foul mouth. I love that you eat salad with a spoon because you like to cover everything in dressing and it’s basically soup by the time you’re done. I love that you had a dick tattooed to your inner thigh before Gruffy had you cover it up. We’re talking about that later, by the way. I love everything about you and I am so sorry I made you feel like you aren’t worthy of me when it’s the exact opposite. I’m not worthy of you.”
“Keep going,” I urge when he stops.
His grin is wicked when he starts listing every flaw I have and telling me why he loves them. I especially like it when he starts listing my good attributes, because damn, that list is long.
By the time he’s done I’m so ready to climb him and ride him like a bronco that I have to just give in and start laughing.
“Shut up already, Jones, we all know I’m awesome. You don’t have to tell me.”
“Good, then tell me what I want to hear. Please. Tell me you’ll keep me forever.”
“Yes.”
And I will, because no matter what may come or what may never be, I love Woody Jones in all his perfect flawed glory.
Chapter Eighteen
And They Lived Happily Ever After
Indie
The last six months have been a whirlwind of activity and complete chaos for us Naughties, but what more can one expect from five woman who live every day as if it’s the last we have.
After that little debacle, possibly the most romantic moment of my life, I did indeed marry the stupid oaf and show him the tattoo I had inked on my ass the very same day he got his.
On the rest of the Naughty front, I am pleased to announce that Percy had her screaming bundle of joy, one Harrison Avery Marks. I still laugh that the kid’s initials spell out ham, something Marks does not find amusing.
As for the others, Dot had a little girl named Lacey, Callie got knocked up again and refused to talk to Jack for a week after she found out. He just laughed and shrugged, stating that his boys were overachievers. Luci still has Freddie and four terrors to wrangle.
The Days came to my wedding, an intimate little affair that I wore my leather skirt and biker boots to.
Married life is great, though I’ve had my fair share of arguments with Jones over the last few weeks.
The man wants a horde of demons just like me, I want to keep my vagina from looking like it was attacked by a rabid dog…we’re working on a compromise.
These days I’m so busy that it’s a wonder I haven’t run away from all the people wanting me to match them. The YouTube video Jack took and posted on the Internet was so popular that I’ve been inundated with business and yes, Marks is now a partner and learning the art of matchmaking. We have a lot of fun on some of our jobs, and I’ve come to know the man so much better over the last six months.
Something that is in no way related to what’s happened but chaps my ass raw is the fact that not once did anyone tell me that if I married Woody my name would be Indiana Jones.
“Baby? What the fuck are you doing?”
I am really drunk as I look down at Jones from my perch on top of the bar as the Days cheer me on. What? You thought I’d get married and all of a sudden lose the very qualities that make me this awesome. I may be thirty-one years old and an adult, but I’m not dead or dying.
I still get roasted and dance on bars. I still slip saucy notes and porn pics into the donation box at church, and I still watch porn and curse like a sailor.
&nb
sp; That’s me, that’s what Jones loves, and I will never change. I’m a Naughty after all, and if there’s one thing you can bank on for the next fifty years, it’s that I and the girls will never not deserve those titles.
“I’m dancing, Jones. Go away, that man was going to start shoving singles into my thong.”
I get a snarl and end up over his shoulder with a hard slap to my ass when I laugh and bite into his rock-hard ass.
“I can’t believe I love you, Indie Jones. You’re a disaster.”
My laugh is bawdy as I feel him up and play to the crowd, putting on a show.
“I am, Jones, but that’s what you love, right?”
His snort is derisive but I get the message loud and clear.
We’re a match made in hell, him and I, but it’s all good.
As long as he keeps me forever.
~ END ~
THE NAUGHTY ONES: The Complete 5-Books Series Page 60