by Dee Palmer
“They were SEALs before they were your husbands, Finn. You shouldn’t want to change them. You should love them for who they are, warts and all.”
I balk at the accusation and can’t hide the hurt in my curt reply. “I do. I never asked for Charge to change his position, Hope. I wouldn’t do that.”
“I know, babe, sorry. Wasn’t really talking about you. My mind was wandering.” I can see my defensive response is wholly misplaced when the thick cloud of sadness that seems ever-present, descends on my best friend.
“You think someone wouldn’t love you because of a few warts?” It’s my turn to take her hand and squeeze some reassurance right back at her.
“Let’s face it, Finn, I have more than a ‘few’, and that’s not what I’m saying. I mean, just because someone could love me, doesn’t mean they should.”
I wish I could look at her face and try to see what the hell she’s talking about. Why on earth does she think she shouldn’t be loved?
“Isn’t that their choice?” My vision darts from the busy highway to my friend who is definitely hiding more than her eyes behind those Audrey Hepburn sunglasses.
“Doesn’t mean it’s the right choice.” The noise of the wind whipping between us makes her soft words almost inaudible. I don’t get the chance to push her to explain, when she yells her next sentence, effectively ending that conversation. “How far is it?”
I pinch my lips tight together to contain the myriad of questions her cryptic statements have generated in my head. I’m afraid to make this mess any worse. I can’t help feeling responsible for her self-doubt. She’s always been so sure of herself and her goals, and I’m the worst friend ever for questioning the change. I have to believe her intentions are pure. She’s never lied to me, always supported me, and the least I can do is reciprocate. She deserves to be happy.
“A couple of hours.” She seems genuinely surprised that I chose to answer her question and ignore the elephant now sitting in the back seat. I clearly have a ton of questions still written all over my face: When did she know? How did she know it was him? I mean, I know why it’s Pink, but when did it happen for her? Has she told him? So, so many questions, but not for now. Now we sit back, hit the road, and enjoy this weekend. No tests, no traps or tricks, just a good ol’ girlie weekend. Everything else can wait. “We’re picking up Flick and her girlfriend on the way. The others are meeting us at our apartment.”
“You’re so fancy, our apartment.” She holds an invisible cup to her mouth, pinkie finger extended, and has rolled out her most ridiculous and poshest British accent.
“You won’t be saying that when there’s seven girls trying to get ready in just two en suites. It’s more a crash pad than a luxury penthouse.”
“You know me; I can get ready in the back of the cab on the way to the club if I have to.” She kicks off her flip-flops in the footwell and plants her feet on the dash. She unclips the clasp keeping her hair tamed, and lets the wind whip it up in a storm of fiery red and golden streaks.
“Well, we have a limo for tonight, so there’ll certainly be room.”
“Ooooh, get us, we’re all so fancy!” She twists away from me, thrusts her boobs forward, lifts the hem of her top and flashes the trucker we’re just overtaking.
Wow, she really has changed. She kept her bra on this time.
We cruise down the swanky streets of Beverly Hills just so Hope has seen the place. We’re not here to shop, and even with her new status of businesswoman of the year, she’s not quite ready to drop a few grand on one outfit for a night out. We could be dressed in bin liners and we’d still have the best time. Good music, great friends, and one or too many cocktails are the only ingredients, and tonight we have all three.
“I thought we’d see someone famous.” Flick’s girlfriend, Tiger, says, as she lights up a cigarette. We have just finished a delicious lunch in a chic Italian restaurant, and we’ve all come outside to keep her company.
“Why?” Hope asks.
“There’s a photographer over there, I assume there’s someone around, I just haven’t seen anyone I recognise. He’s taken a few shots of us, I think, but we’re hardly on anyone’s A list.” She sniffs out a flat laugh, and we all look over to where a man with a long lens and baggy clothes is facing us. To be fair, Flick does look like she belongs in the movies, and Hope’s mighty mane is red carpet ready, still I have to agree with Tiger when Hope’s startled panic jolts beside me.
“Really, where?”
I pat her arm reassuringly when she spins back away from the prying lens. Laughing at her, I offer up a no-news-day explanation for the photographer. “I get it sometimes. It’s nothing. Charge is a bit of a big deal in this town, or his parents were. His uncle is still very Hollywood, and we get snapped when we come to town, not always. Just when it’s a slow week in entertainment. It’s another reason Charge doesn’t really like coming here.”
“Why does he keep the apartment then?” Flick asks, and I’m too distracted to reply straight away since Hope is acting really weird. She’s scooped up her hair and tucked it under the baseball cap she had in her bag. She puts her sunglasses back on, and I have to laugh.
“Okay, there, Miss Incognito, no one’s going to recognise you now.”
“What? It’s the sun, I’m a redhead and a Brit. Remember, I’m not used to all this sun exposure.” Her nervous laugh is clipped with agitation as she continues to look uneasy and odd.
“Of course. Come on, before he calls for reinforcements.” I slide my arm through Hope’s, still laughing at her strange behaviour. She’s quick to start walking back toward my car.
“So why does he keep the apartment?” Tiger repeats her unanswered question.
“I don’t know, honestly. I doubt he gives it one thought.” I’m having to skip to keep up with Hope’s long and determined stride.
“Lucky for some.” Flick says. Hope is tense beside me and has her head down. I pull her in for a proper side hug, and she seems to relax and slows down to a normal pace.
“Lucky for us. It’s compact, but it’s a stunning apartment and right in the heart of it all. Come on, unless you want to go someplace else, let’s go to the apartment, chill, get ready and drink cocktails until it’s fashionably late. Then we can hit the club. How does that sound?”
“Sold.” Flick and Tiger cheer out, high-fiving each other.
“You had me at cocktails…and hold the tails!” Hope wiggles her brow playfully and snorts a filthy laugh. I’m getting a case of whiplash dealing with bipolar Hope; this one I know in my bones. The other one I’m really meeting for the first time, and I’m not so sure I know her at all. She’s the one holding something back and is uncharacteristically unsure of herself and talks about love.
I have mixed up a second batch of French Martinis, and they are sliding down way too easily. We are suited and booted and ready to hit the town. I’m wearing a champagne halter-neck body con dress, fitted to the waist with a shimmery crossover skirt that is sexy, floaty, and a little see-through. Hope has gone all out and is wearing a metallic silver loose scooped front and backless mini dress, which is held up by a mix of will power and the thinnest diamanté straps. The sparkles thread under the dress and cling to the curves of her breasts, looking a little like a bra made entirely out of diamonds whenever she spins. She’s towering over me and I’m wearing my three-inch black patent Jimmy Choo sandals, still no match for her Choice Lux Lurex Louboutins.
High heels and alcohol, what could possibly go wrong?
“Damn, you girls look good.” Flick holds up her cocktail glass in salute, and we return the gesture even if my glass is perilously close to being empty.
“Right back at ya, Flick.”
“If only I could tempt you to the right side.” She blows a sexy kiss our way, and as flattering as the compliment is, I’m also pretty sure she’s joking. She’s very much in love with Tiger, still, Hope feels the need to reply.
“I’ve dabbled, but I’m all abou
t the D, a little like my girl here.” She lays her arm across my shoulder and has trouble making sense through the giggles. “Although she takes taking the D to a”—she air quotes—“hole other level.”
“You’re so funny, Hope, and don’t pretend you’re not my primary bad influence. I didn’t even know what those abbreviations stood for until you told me.” She squishes her face to my cheek, testing the non-smearing capabilities of her lipstick to its limits.
“Abbreviations?” Flick asks.
“DVA, DVDA, double vag, double anal.” Hope is all too quick to clarify, but then I did bring it up. Heat flashes across my cheeks, as I close my eyes and try and let the embarrassment just wash over me. I’m sure it won’t be the last incident this evening, because it certainly isn’t the first.
“Ah…ew!” Flick screws her face up with mock disgust.
“I bet you come like a train with that much cock.” Hope juts her hip into my side and nearly sends me flying. Steadying myself and groaning, I pray my tone is convincingly pleading rather than whiney.
“Hope, this is supposed to be a classy night.”
“What? It is classy. Oh, Finn, do you remember that time you found my butt plug under the sofa?”
“Unfortunately, yes.” I drag my hand down my face and wander over to refill my glass, resigned to a night that is rapidly looking like a not such a great idea of mine.
“Finn was crashing at my place after she came to her senses about Dave, the fucktard. Anyway, one night, I brought this guy back. Finn, you disappeared for a bit.” She nods for my corroboration and more Martini.
“It was the wise choice,” I explain.
“Anyway, this guy had mad skills and liked toys. I’m riding him like a mechanical bull, when he pinches both my nipples so hard, I climax, out of nowhere, and it’s huge! Every muscle in my body clamps down, and, whoosh, out shoots the butt plug across the living room.” She falls into herself as everyone joins in the fits and bursts of laughter. Gasping to control herself, she lets out a calming breath. “I did try and find it, honest.”
“Yeah, sure you did. You actually have to bend down to look for things, Hope.” She continues to snicker at my faux disapproval. “I found it when I was cleaning.”
“Ah, good times.” Hope and I clink glasses and giggle.
“You girls are strange.” Flick says and casts a knowing look at Tiger who makes a locking motion over her lips.
“Hope’s strange. I’m normal,” I object.
“Yeah, normal girls marry four guys.” Flick counters.
“One guy. The others are up for grabs,” Hope blurts, and my tummy tightens with the ever-present uncertainty of it all.
“Really?”
“It’s complicated.” Is all I can manage when my phone starts to vibrate on the side in the kitchen, impatiently dancing along the granite surface. I swipe the screen live and smile. Turning to the others, I tell Hope, “You can fill Flick in. I’ve got to take this. Number one husband is calling.”
“Tell him to suck my dick and leave you alone for one frickin’ night.” Flick calls out as I slide the door to the balcony and slip outside, then poking my head back in, I hold my phone out.
“You can tell him yourself, if you’d like, Flick?”
“I’m good.” She waves my kind offer down with a wide-eyed look of panic. She’s as tough as they come. I’ve seen her roughhousing with the guys and giving as good as she gets. However, Charge is a whole different story, especially when it comes to protecting me.
“Are you okay?” His deep voice is filled with concern, and the gravelly roughness never fails to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.
“I am, why?”
“Martinez said he hasn’t picked you up yet?”
“Charge, it’s eleven. The clubs don’t get going until at least midnight.” I’m fighting the biggest smile and desire to roll my eyes to the heavens. How can he be this adorable and irritating at the same time?
“Right, yes, of course.”
“You don’t have to check up on me, Charge. I’ll have my phone, which I know you track, and your driver is dropping us off and picking us up.” I let out an exhausted breath and try to focus on the reason why he’s so very cautious. It’s because he cares.
“That’s correct.” His brusque and unapologetic response ticks me off.
“If you call again, as much as I love you, I’m going to be pissed. I’m having fun. I’m safe. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“And you’re drinking?”
“Not as much as I’d like.”
“I guess I should be thankful that you need to have a clear head if you’re going to be testing Hope.”
“I’ve decided against that. I’m still wary, but it’s not my intention to interfere.”
“I’m glad. It was a bad idea.”
“It was a bad idea with good intentions.”
“Which is still a bad idea.”
“I know. I spoke to Pink before we left, and he all but told me he’s started to have feelings for her, and I think she feels the same.”
“So why not just let them get on with it? There is no need for games.”
“Exactly. This isn’t a game. This is Pink and Hope, and the Hope I know and love has always been a player. I’ll let them be, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have reservations.”
“They are both adults.” I have to smile at that since I can see Hope through the glass door, dressed like a screen goddess whilst trying to catch the cashew nuts Tiger is throwing at her from way across the room. Yes, very adult.
“Just be safe,” he says sternly.
“Yes, Sir.” I salute, and even if he can’t see me, I’m sure he heard the sass in my tone.
“You have no idea how much I want to spank you right now.”
“I have some idea. I can almost see your fingers twitching.” I squeeze my legs together with the instant liquid heat. The low rumbling sound coming from his mouth, vibrates in my ear and holds both the teasing threat and a delicious promise. The effort to swallow the dryness in my throat is audible and makes him chuckle.
“Have fun. I love you.”
“Love you too. See you Sunday.” I end the call and take a deep and steadying breath. How does he do that with just his voice? Sliding the balcony door open, I bounce into the apartment. And with excited little bunny hops on my toes and a huge grin on my face, I announce to everyone that it’s time to go.
THERE ARE ADVANTAGES TO BEING married to ‘behind the scenes’ Hollywood royalty. Thanks to Charge’s guardian, Donald, we are able to cruise past the long line of hopefuls waiting to gain entry into the hottest nightclub in West Hollywood. The building is nothing to look at, an enormous brick warehouse with spotlights streaking up either side of the large steel doorway, but inside, it’s like another world: opulent, decadent, with a hint of depravity, and a thick scent of hedonism saturating the air. One step inside, and I’m intoxicated by the subtle aroma of the promise of a good night. It’s called W for a reason. Wow, just wow.
One of the hostesses leads us through the main lounge area. She’s friendly and immaculate in a tuxedo with her cropped glossy black hair slicked back and fire engine red lipstick on her flawless ghost-white face. The androgyny is surprisingly sexy and is a striking look for both the male and female staff weaving through the club.
The room is massive yet feels intimate, dotted with plush sofas with sumptuous velvet cushions, low hung chandeliers, and crystal glass coffee tables. Ambient lighting softens the features of the glamorous guests, and the loud music has everyone engaged in what looks like conspiratorial conversations, with furtive glances being cast at whoever passes by. In a room full of secrets, I find there is really only one I thing want to know: Does Hope love Pink?
There is a large bottle of chilled champagne waiting for us in the roped off VIP lounge, and the girls waste no time pouring the bubbles. The hostess tells us there is a button to press when we require more complimentary
beverages or anything else and departs.
“This is amazing, how much is this going to set us back? You know I’m only on a servicewoman’s wage.” Flick says sipping the champagne.
“It’s taken care of, rich friend of the family. And trust me, it’s his pleasure.”
“Well, cheers, then.” Flick holds her glass up, and we all clink. She then downs the champagne like it’s water and is already pouring a second glass before I swallow.
The place is buzzing, and I can feel the swirl of alcohol in my veins causing me to giggle for no reason, feel a little lightheaded whenever I stand, and make my toes tap. The dance floor is just underneath us, and we’ve been sipping drinks and people watching for the last hour. Flick and her friends are shaking some moves on the dance floor and gathering a crowd of fun around them. I want to join them, but Hope isn’t so keen, and I never leave a man behind.
“I love you.” Hope’s head drops onto my shoulder with a heavy sigh.
“I love you, too.”
She jolts and puts herself and her slurry words right in my face. “No, but I really, really love you.”
“I know, Hope.” I hold her face and watch as her eyes try to focus on me. I’m struggling, too, and as soon as I can see just the two green eyes floating in front of me, I speak. “Come on, let’s dance. We need to burn off some of this alcohol.”
“Good idea.” She stands quickly and blinks rapidly, swaying a little and holding on to the corner of the booth to steady herself. I slap away her kind offer of a hand since she’s just as unsteady as I am. We snicker and are just about to walk away from our table when a waitress appears holding a tray with two fancy looking martinis.
“These are from the gentlemen at the bar.” She points over to the area at the end of the VIP section. Two men in dark suits and darker eyes raise their own glasses in our direction.
“Oh, thanks, but no.” Hope shakes her head and steps around the waitress. I grab her arm.