by Harper Sloan
“Perfect. Just give me a ring and you can save me!” I look over at Dee to make sure she at least has some understanding of this new plan. She looks disappointed that we have to stop, but Christ, woman, I can only shop for so long without food.
“See ya then, baby girl.” He disconnects and I pocket my phone, turning with a bright smile to Dee. She has the most ridiculous pout on her face.
“Stop that right now, Dee. I have been a good little girl and followed you around like a little bitch while you racked up thousands of dollars of shit on my card. I don’t think feeding me is too much to ask, huh?” I try for stern but end up laughing in her face when she has the nerve to wobble her chin like she might cry.
“Okay, okay . . . but if we have to stop soon, we’re going to Neiman’s first. Shoes, Iz. I can hear them calling our names from here.”
Freaking weirdo.
Almost an hour later, I am finally able to drag Dee away. Greg has been calling for the last fifteen minutes, asking why the hell we haven’t popped out of this ‘stupid fucking girly store’ yet. I can just picture him pacing the entrance to Neiman’s now. He would die before he stepped one badass foot in here. We walk out with six more bags. Six fucking bags. I swear I will end up selling a kidney to pay off my next credit card statement.
Greg is, as predicted, pacing in a tight line. When he finally spots us, he stops and crosses his arms over his bulky chest, throwing that scowl back in place. It wouldn’t kill him to at least look happy to be here, but even grumpy, I’m glad he’s here.
“Holy shit. Now that is definitely worth stopping our shopping for.”
I’m a little taken aback by Dee’s husky whisper. I was so focused on uncomfortable Greg that I hadn’t noticed the good-looking man next to him. Joe? No, that’s not right. I vaguely remember him from the club the last week. A friend of Greg’s, his boy, which means he is a friend of Axel’s too. Lovely. I really hope this isn’t some ploy from Greg to get me to open up. I don’t know how much these other men know about my past with Axel, but I won’t be opening up to him today.
Sauntering up to the men, Dee and I both take turns giving Greg warm hugs. He might annoy the shit out of me at times, but he means well. Right now, though, it’s hard to remember that he is coming from a good place with his caring and protectiveness.
I start thrusting bags into his arms, not even giving him a chance to reject them, looking over at Dee to see her practically drooling over the man standing next to Greg. She doesn’t even seem to notice her fingers turning blue from her heavy burdens. I look over at Greg with a twitch of my head at Dee and a smirk. He laughs but still looks pissed that I’m making him carry my bags.
“Dee, quit,” I whisper quietly at her. She shakes her head and looks over at me with rosy cheeks and lust-filled eyes. Oh-kay . . . Looks like Dee won’t be pissed about stopping this trip anymore.
Greg finally has all my bags in order, huffing his attitude. “You two remember Beck?” He jerks his head over at his friend. Beck! That’s right—John Beckett.
I mumble a hello but notice that he isn’t focusing on me. He and Dee are practically past foreplay and moving into some serious hot sex with their eyes. Interesting development here. Dee has her fun, but I can’t remember the last time she took interest in a man like this. She’s focused on her career, and for the last few years, her focus has been me. I feel guilty about possibly having kept her from finding love, but she insists that she wouldn’t have it any other way.
I look back at Greg to see if he has noticed the sparks flying between Dee and Beck and notice his shock matching my own.
I clear my throat, hoping to stop this eye fuck before they both have some weird orgasm in the middle of the mall. “So . . .”
Greg laughs when they both jerk like they got caught stealing. “You two want to stop this shopping shit and head over to Heavy’s for some BBQ?” he suggests, knowing that Heavy’s is my favorite place in town. Dirty trick. . . . Looks like he’s bringing out the big dogs today.
“Beck, did you know that sex is biochemically no different than eating large quantities of chocolate?” I can’t help but laugh at that one. Or maybe it’s his face alone that’s hilarious. Dee and I have spent the last hour sitting here spouting off useless sex facts. It’s hilarious to watch these two big men squirm. Greg is used to this, but Beck seems to be having an issue with our topic of choice, probably because he is still back at the mall having creepy eye sex with my best friend.
“It’s true, you know,” she pipes up. “I can get just enough pleasure from a bag of Kisses than I can from any man.” I look over at Dee and laugh so hard I have to hold my sides.
“You are not wrong, my friend. Kisses are so much more pleasurable than any of my battery operated boyfriends. Just as satisfying but no work necessary.” I think we are on our second—no, make that our fourth—pitcher of beer now, and my laughs are coming so frequently that I’m worried I might piss on myself at any moment.
“Iz, you’re nuts . . . Anything is better than a fucking dildo. I’m talking real men here, but throw me some chocolate and I’m golden.”
My laughter is coming even louder now when I see the shock of what she just said register on her face.
“Sugar,” Beck interrupts my ruckus with a wink, “if chocolate is more fulfilling than sex, then someone isn’t doing their job right.” He smiles back over at me but quickly turns his eyes back on Dee. A Dee who, I noticed, has gone silent again.
I’m sitting between Greg and Dee at the round high top we claimed when we arrived at Heavy’s. Greg keeps pushing more food in front of me. He must think he can somehow slow down my drunk by keeping me full of shit.
Whatever.
“I don’t know what her reason is, but that’s just it for me. It’s better because ‘the someone’ doesn’t exist anymore. I get my kicks where I can.” I punctuate my seriousness with a stab towards them with the fry I’m munching on. “I’ve got chocolate and chocolate-induced satisfaction. I love chocolate. Might get messy sometimes, but there is no drama.”
Dee is nodding her head enthusiastically now. “It’s true, and you should see our chocolate stash. We’re good for at least a solid year of orgasms. Who needs a boy when you have Hershey’s!”
Greg smiles over at us, laughing right along with Beck now. “You two are fucking nuts, you know that?”
I open my mouth to respond when Dee yells, “Hey, is it true that you guys think about sex seven times a day?” She is looking directly at Beck. I might laugh if I didn’t decide there was a serious need in this knowledge.
I stop long enough to ponder that one. I’ve never really given that much thought. Case in point, I am not having sex, therefore why do I need to think about it? “Yeah, is it something like, because you have a giant dick bobbing around down there, you are constantly reminded to think about using it? Like you have some sex beacon?” I am completely serious right now.
Beck and Greg look at each other and then back at us. Then they throw their heads back and laugh so deep and so loud they draw the attention of almost the whole place.
I don’t think they understand how serious I am right now. “This isn’t funny,” I pout.
Greg stops laughing and starts to answer with humor twinkling in his eyes, but his phone interrupts him. Glancing down at the display with a small frown, he excuses himself from the table.
Okay, whatever. I look over at Beck and throw my question back at him. “So? Do you? Do you think about sex that much?”
“Sugar,” he starts before turning his attention back over to Dee, “I have thought about sex—hard, fucking dirty sex—about a hundred times since we sat down to eat.” Looking back over at me, he says, “Does that clear it up for you?”
Oh, my.
“Ah, well . . . okay. I think we need more beer!” I grab the empty pitcher and take off to find the waitress for more. I glance back at the table on my way to the bar and notice that Dee is still locking eyes with Beck, a look of
complete rapture on her face.
I take my time returning, giving those two dirty perverts a second to do whatever it is they seem to be doing before I make my way back over.
“So what’s next on the schedule for today? Or I guess tonight now,” I ask, trying my hardest not to snicker at my two tablemates. If this gets any more heated, I might feel like I was an unwilling threesome participant.
Dee clears her throat and looks over at me, lust still clouding her brown eyes. “Um. I know! Let’s go get some tattoos! You keep talking about how much you want one.”
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Dee. I think they frown on people being a mile over the legal drinking limit.”
Dee and I are debating on the benefits of getting tattoos when you are far from sober when Greg returns. The laughter and lightness that had taken over his face is gone and his scowl is back. It looks like grumpy Greg is back.
“G, Dee wants to go get some ink. Personally, I think it might not be the best idea . . . You know, numerous pitchers of beer and all. What do you think?”
He seems shocked by my question. Maybe he was expecting me to push him on his mood, or it could be the fact that I have suddenly decided branding myself with something permanent might be a good idea.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, baby girl. Not something you do when you aren’t thinking straight, and damn sure not something you do when your head isn’t in the right place.” He’s looking right at me when he says that. There is no denying that he is only speaking to me. No joking to be found in his tone now. Seriousness is painted heavily all over that reply. No fucking way. I knew he wouldn’t be able to leave it be for long, and that comment just pisses me the hell off. My head is fine just where it is, and I do not want him psychoanalyzing me.
I look over at Dee, who seems to be just as shocked at his answer as I am, which just further pisses me off. Damn infuriating man. “Dee, where’s that place you told me about the other day? You know, the one your assistant was telling you about?”
She looks at me, trying to judge if I’m serious or not, and I practically bug my eyes out of their sockets to communicate that I am very fucking serious.
“Right, you mean Smudge, the new parlor over on Grove. She said the big guy who does her work is the best, but I couldn’t tell you his name.”
“Perfect. Just perfect. Finish up, people. Places to go.” I clap my hands together and look at Greg with all the seriousness I have in me. He will not stop me. No way in hell, he would have to lock me up now.
“Head not in the right place.” Fucking asshole. He’s pissed, I know he is. I down another two beers, locking eyes with Dee. She has a look about her that says she’s down for whatever but clearly confused by my agreement to visit Smudge. She brought it up, so she better be ready.
Greg leans over and says something to Beck before getting up and marching out the door again. I watch him throw the door open and storm out and then look over at Beck. “What the hell is his problem now?”
“Don’t know, sugar. He just said he needed to do something and he would meet us there.”
Okay, I might have overreacted slightly. But you know what? I am sick of being treated with kid gloves like some breakable porcelain doll that might shatter with the smallest touch. My path to find the old Izzy starts right now, and I’m not going to let Greg and his shit-fit mess this up.
“You two almost ready to go? I’m going to go track down our ticket so we can get out of here. Think about what you want to get, you little bitch. Remember this was your idea.”
I stand up and walk off, once again leaving them at the table, but I doubt they are drenched in their lust cloud anymore. Beck is probably trying to figure out what brand of fucked up he has stumbled on and Dee is probably back to worrying. At least this time she isn’t worried about my mental stability—or at least I hope she isn’t. She is probably worried about this big-ass boulder that seems to have popped up between Greg and me.
CHAPTER 9
Dee is pretty silent when we first get in the cab after leaving Heavy’s. She is probably still playing back my refusal to ride with the boys. We left her car at Heavy’s and jumped in the first cab I saw, leaving a fuming Greg and a confused Beck standing at his truck. Greg was waiting outside of Heavy’s when we walked out. So much for his having something to take care of. I knew that if we let Greg drive he would control the destination, and I was seeing this through.
For the first five minutes, she sits silently gazing out her window. Soft country music plays through the speakers, not loud but enough that the silence isn’t awkward. She finally has enough and turns to me.
“All right, tell me what this really is about, Iz. This is more than a few drinks and sex jokes. What’s really going on up there?” She reaches over and taps my head.
“Nothing is going on up there, Dee. I’m sick of everyone looking at me like I am some unfixable toy. Some toy that, no matter how many times you slather Elmer’s on, keeps falling apart. I’m sick of being that girl, Dee. Greg just pushed my buttons when he said I wasn’t right in the head. I’m fine. Just because I don’t want to talk about . . . Axel, that does not mean I’m not right in the head. It doesn’t.”
“Who exactly are you trying to convince, Izzy?” she asks softly.
“I don’t need to convince anyone. I just need you to have my back and trust me to handle this on my own terms.” I let out a frustrated huff and turn my head to watch the city zoom past. I’m so tired from this week of dodging Greg and running from Axel. I just want it to be over, this bad dream that I am beyond ready to wake up from.
“Okay, Iz. I understand. Or at least I’m trying to. I just don’t like seeing you hurting, and I don’t like seeing you and Greg fight. You know he’s got to be hurting too. He would do anything to take your pain away. You know that. Don’t think he is being pushy to be a dick. He really does care.”
I don’t reply. What’s the point? I don’t know what to think about Greg. I know he cares, but now that his loyalty is torn, I can honestly say that I don’t know which way he is going with his need to chat with me. He wants me happy, I know that much, but at what cost?
We pull up in front of Smudge a few minutes later; the cabby lets us out right at the front door. I quickly pay him and rush for the door. When I see Greg’s truck roaring up the street, I take off for the inside of the building. He won’t cause a scene, not in a public place like this. He might look at me with his displeasure and judgment, but he won’t say anything. No, I will get that later.
We walk into the brightly lit building. The walls are painted a deep red; the ceiling and the tile are black. They have the room set up with little cubicles against the sidewalls, each one with a wall about four feet tall. There are some rooms against the back wall, but all three have blacked-out windows. Not sure I want to know what happens back there. I walk over to the huge U-shaped display case set up in the middle of the room. There is a young, heavily tattooed woman standing behind it. Her short pixie hair is sticking out in random directions and dyed electric blue. Her face is classically beautiful and would look odd against her body art and hair of choice, but she has the most elaborate makeup on. Her eye shadow is as bright and as blue as her hair, thick black lines outline her almost violet eyes, and her lips are painted red.
“What’s up, ladies? I’m Trix. Welcome to Smudge. We’ve got a few clients ahead of you, but I think we can fit you in. Which one of you plans on getting some ink tonight?” she asks with a cheerful smile.
Dee looks over at me, clearly starting to second-guess opening her big mouth back at Heavy’s, but no way am I letting her off the hook. “Both of us,” I shoot over at Trix, giving her a smirk of my own.
I hear the bell over the door clank. I don’t need to turn around to know who just came in the door. Even if I didn’t know it was Greg, the look Trix is shooting over my shoulder says it all. Greg might be like a brother to me, but even I can admit how hot he is. Next to Beck, I’m sure
the boys are quite an eyeful.
“Right, so where do we need to wait?” She can lust after them when she gets this show on the road.
She looks back at me, a slight blush spotting her white cheeks, “Sorry. Okay, I just need a copy of your license and for you both to fill out these forms. Have a seat over on those couches and have a look at the photo books on the table if you need to get an idea of what you want. I’ll go see who is almost finished and can pick y’all up next.” She turns to look over at Greg and Beck one more time before walking down the rows of cubicles. I have just enough time to register her hot pink tutu as she disappears into one of the back rooms. Hmm, maybe next time I need to ask her to take me shopping. Tutus look pretty freaking awesome.
I grab Dee’s arm and pull her over to the couch, thrusting the clipboard with the forms on them in her arms. “Fill them out and then look,” I say, pointing over to the binders. I make quick work of filling out the sheets, pull my license out of my wallet, and walk back over to Trix. Handing everything over for her to do her thing with, I walk back over and sit down next to Dee. She is slow enough with her papers that I know she is trying to find a way to back out. No fucking way.
“This was your idea, remember?”
She looks over at me. There might be some fear in her eyes, but she is mostly curious about just how far I plan on taking this.
“I know. Don’t worry I’m not backing out. Just promise me we can talk about this soon?” God, I love her.
“Sure, Dee. Sometime.” I reach over and pluck one of the books off the table, opening the cover and taking in a very up close and personal dick with a metal barbell attached to the head. Okay, clearly they don’t just tattoo here. I turn a few more pages and come to some female piercings. Now those don’t look quiet as traumatizing as the decorated dicks. They almost make this chick’s tits look . . . beautiful.
I must have been looking at them for a while. I can’t imagine how weird this looks, my zoning on someone else’s tits. Dee looks over and gives a soft snort. “Seriously, Iz? Nip rings?”