Hot Pants

by Kade, Teagan

  “He’s already in jail. Derek took care of it,” I explain, still giggling. It feels good to laugh about this.

  “Derek? That fireman?” Mom suddenly seems quite keen to drop the whole murder topic. “I hope you know I didn’t mean all the crazy things I said about you and him.”

  “I know, Mom,” I say softly. “He’s a really great guy. He told the officer looking into my case Travis was responsible for everything. He’s the reason why the police aren’t on my case anymore. I got that insurance check because of him.”

  “Sounds like you found yourself one of the good ones,” Mom says. Her tone is wistful and melancholy, as if she’s imagining the life she could have had if she’d made a different choice. “Don’t let him go.”

  “We haven’t known each other that long.” My kneejerk response is dismissive. Guilt envelops me. Sure, Derek and I haven’t known each other very long, but we have already been through trials far more difficult than the average couple will face.

  “I won’t let him go.” Silence stretches across the line, though this time, it is not one of sadness, but contentment.

  “So,” Mom says, sucking in a breath. “Are you going to use that insurance money to remodel? If I know Travis, he probably left a gigantic mess for you to deal with. Other than the attempted murder thing,” she adds hastily.

  I understand she doesn’t know how to talk about what happened. I don’t know how to either. There is no manual for how to talk about being almost murdered. But Mom and I are talking, so I’m willing to roll with the awkward punches on this one.

  “Um, no. Actually, I don’t think I will,” I say with sudden certainty. I’ve entertained the idea of a remodel to change this place so much, I would never recognize it as the place where I almost died. It’s a silly idea, really. I will always know that, beneath whatever new floors I install, the carpet below reeks of gasoline.

  “Oh?” Lucinda sounds as surprised as I feel.

  “I think I’m going to fix it up a little. Fix the damage done by the fire and Travis. After that, I think I’ll put it on the market,” I say, growing surer of myself by the second. I can fix this place up for cheap. I bet Derek and all the muscular guys at the fire department will be willing to lend a hand. It’s a decent neighborhood, so it would probably turn a fair profit.

  “And then what?” my mother asks.

  Good question.

  “Well, I was actually thinking that you should take half of the insurance money,” I say in a rush, in case I lose my nerve.

  “What?” Mom stutters. “You’d offer me that after everything I put you through?”

  “I’ve been thinking about when I left home,” I say. “You needed help, Mom. You never wanted to ask, but you needed it. I had a good education and good job prospects, and I never helped you once. I knew you needed it and I didn’t help you.”

  “I don’t blame you for leaving,” Lucinda says. It’s like a weight is lifted off my chest. “If I was half as smart as you, I would have left too. And, yeah, I did need help, but I sure as hell didn’t deserve it. I made bad choices and I got stuck with the consequences. That’s how life works, hon.”

  “But there’s some extra money now, Mom. You wouldn’t have to break your back at the diner full time. I want you to have it,” I plead.

  “After everything that’s happened, I don’t think I can take it from you,” Mom sighs. I know this must be a tough call for her. “But I’ll tell you what you can do for me instead,” she continues.

  “Name it,” I say.

  “Now that I know Travis is gone for good,” she says, “I think I have a really good shot at turning my life around. I haven’t had a cigarette in three days, you know.”

  I’m speechless. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Mom without one of her signature pink lights. She’s like the female Marlboro Man. “If I can keep this up, I want to be part of your life again, the way I should have been these past seven years.”

  “I would like that,” I say. Tears prick the back of my eyes, but I blink them away. I don’t want to cry anymore.

  We talk for a while longer, Mom and me, before agreeing to make time for another chat later in the week. I tuck her letter into the front flap of one of my suitcases. That’s everything I need. I can now leave this place behind—for good maybe, if things keep going the way they have been with Derek.

  I don’t look back once I lock the door. I am overcome with a strange sense of certainty. Maybe I will come back to this house and take another shot at making it a home. Maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll drive around the country with no map and no plan, getting food when I want to eat, sleeping at whatever motel I can find. Maybe I won’t travel at all. But now, I know for certain that, whatever I end up doing, Derek will be by my side for all of it.

  I’m giddy when I get into the car. I’m going to Derek’s apartment, a place that has felt more like home than my house ever did. Inside that apartment, chic as it is, is the man who made it all happen.

  EPILOGUE

  DEREK

  So much has changed in my life—and all the changes are, undoubtedly, for the better.

  I’m standing in my apartment, which is clean for the first time in what seems like forever, chopping actual, from-the-ground vegetables and reflecting on all the positive changes in my life that have occurred thanks to the force of nature named Elisabeth.

  I peel the carrots and chop the kale before adding them to the pan with hot oil, garlic, salt, and pepper.

  The wild rice is boiling on the stove, and the London broil is grilling on the barbecue outside.

  All this, combined with the freshly made baking bread in the oven and the lavender incense wafting throughout the house, is conspiring to make a beautiful scent in my previously dank, barren—definitely smelly—apartment.

  Beth has been responsible for these changes, of course.

  Before she came along, I was more than content with leaving my apartment to become a slovenly disaster. A half-stale burrito, hastily tossed in the oven and an ice-cold Pabst Blue Ribbon were more than enough for me come dinner time.

  And as for the girls?

  In and out of my life, in and out of my apartment.

  Hell, I should have installed a turnstile at the front door with the way they were coming in and out.

  But then she came along—and, yes, we’ve had our problems. Yes, we’ve had our fights. Yes, we’ve had more than our fair share of drama.

  But she came along, and the fact of the matter is, not only does she make me a better man, she makes me want to be a better man.

  That sounds fucking corny, I know.

  But it’s the truth.

  All these groceries I’m using to cook dinner for us tonight are groceries she bought for us.

  Us.

  I never thought I would feel comfortable saying that word.

  But it’s true. I love the fact that there’s an us now, not just a me.

  When it was just a me, I was careless. I would run into fires not caring if I lived or died, and be the rogue daredevil firefighter. And then I would go back to the house—or back to my apartment—and take two girls at a time with me.

  Did I care if I got any diseases? Fuck no. It was a stroke of sheer luck I never caught anything. God looks after children and idiots, as the old saying goes, and I was a little bit (well, okay, a lot) of both.

  Did I care if I got a girl pregnant? No.

  Fortunately, that hasn’t happened.

  Not yet, anyway.

  Because let me tell you, I would love to have a child with Beth.

  She’s my everything. She changed my life. Fuck it. She is my life.

  We went through a lot more than any other couple would have gone through in such a short period of time.

  We not only survived, we thrived.

  And we’re here now, together. I speak for her when I say I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else or with anyone else.

  After I broke up with Mary, but before I got together with
Beth, my longest relationship was a month long, at best. That’s only if you counted weekdays—because weekends and national holidays were a totally different story, and I acted like a single man.

  In my mind’s eye, that didn’t count as cheating. Why would it? Did any of them have a ring on their finger? No, they did not.

  Now, however, with Beth, I’m talking in the long-term. Not days, not weeks, not months, not even years, but the promise of a lifetime of love and, if the afterlife exists, an afterlife of love, too.

  It certainly helps that, little by little, she’s moving in with me.

  It’s not a deliberate move, of course, but she’s leaving a bra and panties set here, a toothbrush there, a hairclip on the nightstand, and her favorite smoothie in the refrigerator.

  I believe the term for what she’s doing is called ‘nesting.’ It’s what women do when they feel they’ve found their ‘home’ with a man.

  And while this prospect used to scare me in the past, it fills me with hope for the future today.

  Home is a notion that comes with a house, a car, white-picket fences, a well-manicured lawn, two kids playing in the backyard, and a dog scampering along beside them.

  I want a dog, I think to myself. We need to adopt a dog so we can have a practice run as parents.

  Granted, houses in Los Angeles are far from cheap, and the ones that are truly worth it—the ones that are fit for me and my queen—will surely run me more than my fireman’s salary will allow.

  Of course, when I take the promotion, that worry will be non-existent.

  Yes, I said when, not if.

  The thought of taking the promotion used to scare me. Who would want to give up the care-free, reckless life I had? Now, it thrills me. Not only am I getting a sense of stability, but I’m getting a bump in pay, respect from my colleagues, and peace of mind for my future wife.

  Beth needs to know I’ll be coming home at night, that I can provide for us, and that I can be a good father to our children. I can’t do that unless I have a steady, good-paying job, and she deserves more than to have me tramping around Los Angeles with my cock in my hand.

  I don’t have to throw myself into the fire to feel like I’m doing something worthwhile. What I do for our soon-to-be family is plenty worthwhile. Why stoke the fires outside when I can stoke the home fires, to a much greater effect?

  I don’t need to live up to my father’s expectations anymore. He was proud of me all along. I see that now.

  And though I loved my father, I hope I am one hundred times the father to our children my father was to me.

  These are all thoughts that run through my head as I set the table and light a candle, putting the final touches on our romantic dinner at home.

  Almost on cue, Beth walks through the door and kicks off her shoes. She can barely get the door of my apartment closed before she’s flinging herself in my arms, kissing me all over.

  “Baby,” she says breathlessly, “I missed you so much.”

  I return the kisses with equal intensity. “I missed you more,” I say, desperately trying to keep my hands to myself and my dick in my pants.

  After all, I have to get dinner on the table, not us.

  But there’s something else, something more I have to tell her.

  I want her to know the truth.

  I kneel before her, and for a minute the look of shock on her face suggests she’s scared—terrified, even—of what I’m about to ask her.

  That fear is suddenly dissipated when I reach in my pocket and pull out a five-carat, pear-shaped sparkler.

  I’m putting it on the appropriate finger as her eyes fill with tears.

  I must tell her what I feel, how I feel, and why I need her to be my wife.

  “Beth,” I begin, speaking the words I’ve been practicing in my head for what seems like forever, “you’re not only my lover, you’re my best friend. You make me want to be a better man, and you inspire me to chase my dreams and reach for the stars. Before you, I only knew pain and loneliness, but now, with you in my life, I feel nothing but true, pure love and a sense of family and marriage.”

  Tears of joy are running down her face. “Marriage?” she asks.

  “Yes, Beth,” I say, pointing to the ring on her finger. “I want to marry you. I want to commit to you. I want to dedicate the rest of my life to making you the happiest woman on Earth, much like you have made me the happiest man. I only hope I can be the perfect husband for you, that I make you happy.”

  “Yes,” she says, crying. “You make me happy beyond words, Derek. You know that.”

  I smile, kiss her hand, and continue. “Then, I need to ask you: Elisabeth, in front of all of our family and friends, and sending a big ‘fuck you’ to the people who doubted us and wanted us dead, will you marry me?”

  She smiles and takes my head in her hands.

  “Yes, Derek,” she replies. “Yes, I will marry you.”

  The look in her eyes instantly makes me horny. I decide now is as good a time as any to celebrate our impending nuptials.

  Screw dinner. It can get cold while we get hot.

  I lift her dress over her head, exposing her bare nipples and her tiny thong underwear. I proffer an ice cube from the wine bucket and run it lightly over her perky nipples, watching them tighten as I do so and licking the dripping water off them.

  Her eyes are closed, her breaths are quickening.

  “I’m kind of hungry,” I say to her, slowly sliding her panties to the side to expose her bare pussy. “I would like this as an appetizer, ma’am.”

  She laughs then shifts her hips towards me, opening her legs slightly. I can see her arousal glistening on her clit. Before she can even catch her breath, I’m devouring her with a burning intensity.

  Her lips are pulsating and working magic on my tongue. I look up, my mouth still fully on her pussy, and watch her close her eyes and throw her head back in ecstasy.

  I know if I keep working these lips with my tongue, I can make her come in my mouth. I fucking love going down on her, feeling her pulse and shift against my tongue.

  I can’t think of anything sexier. So, with a sudden thrust of my tongue into her soaking hole, I unleash the proverbial floodgates. She moans, then screams, begging me to continue.

  “Oh my God, Derek!” she screams. I’m convinced that the whole neighborhood can hear us.

  Let them.

  My suspicions are confirmed when I look over and see my window wide open, my curtains pulled back.

  I smirk, stand up, and decide to give whoever’s watching a show of a lifetime.

  Unzipping my pants with one hand and fingering her slick pussy with the other, I bend her over the table and jam my cock as far into her tight wetness as it will go.

  She lets out a yelp of passion. I grab her by the hair and jerk her face up to mine, licking and kissing her neck in time with my thrusts.

  “Whose pussy is this?” I demand to know in between thrusts. “Tell me. Who’s fucking you right now?”

  “You, Derek, you,” she moans, barely able to form the words as I thrust deeper inside of her.

  Satisfied with her answer, I use one hand to massage her clit and to thumb the pink rosette of her ass. I feel my cock sliding below, thrusting harder now, determined to make her come harder than she’s ever come before.

  I flip her over, pull my cock and fingers away, spread her legs wide.

  Time for the showstopper.

  Carefully, I select an ice cube from the wine bucket and slide it into the hot void between her legs, my thumb working deeper into her ass.

  She comes immediately—over me, over the floor, gasping for air that suddenly seems in such short supply.

  When her screams and moans subside, she looks at me and says, “Well, I guess there’s no wearing white to the wedding.”

  She reaches down to my cock, giving it a light squeeze. “I’ll deal with you later.”

  And with that, we laugh, wipe each other off, and sit down to our naked d
inner—the first, but not the last, as an engaged couple.

  EPILOGUE II

  ELISABETH

  The sun is setting around us, casting a golden hue across the hills and the ocean beyond them. Every few seconds we drive out of its reach, only to reemerge back in the ethereal glow.

  I hold my hand up in front of my face, wriggling my fingers and grinning like a fool as I watch the way the light plays on my new diamond ring. A thousand colors seem to reflect around it, like magic.

  Which is fitting, because today, everything seems like magic.

  I could never have imagined anything like this sweltering in that trailer, hope and possibility so thin and unreachable.

  Derek catches me in the act, a slow grin spreading across his face as he watches me appreciate the ring for what must be the thousandth time.

  “I’d think you’d be used to it by now,” he says, inclining his head towards my still upheld hand.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it. It all still seems too good to be true.”

  He clasps my free hand with his own, squeezing tightly.

  “I know what you mean.”

  We lock eyes across the center console, his sage green gaze washing over me as if it were the first time.

  “Hey, eyes on the road, mister.”

  “I got it, I got it. You just keep staring at that ring of yours.”

  “You know I will.”

  I really don’t know how I’ll ever believe this is my life. It’s not just that it was all so fast—though admittedly it was—but also that it’s just all so perfect. I mean, before Derek I might not have considered a spontaneous elopement and honeymoon in Mexico exactly ideal, but fuck if it wasn’t.

  Days were spent coiled up in bed exploring every inch of each other. Nights were—well—honestly, pretty much the same. And now, we’re coming home newlyweds, the happy couple. It’s all so surreal.

  The sudden sound of radio rock startles me from my thoughts. I turn to find Derek fiddling with the knobs.

  “Babe, you’re gonna wake him!” I chastise, gesturing to the small bundle on my lap.

  Sure enough, it stirs, a tiny nose poking its way out from beneath the blanket, shimmering eyes and floppy ears following close behind.