Until Merri: Happily Ever Alpha World

by Suzanne Halliday

  “Along the way, we went from pals to friends. Our families know one another, so we saw each other when he was home. Basically, we acted like bad kids, and it was fun—almost like an inside joke or something only the two of us knew. We’d make elaborate plans to sneak away at gatherings. Very clandestine stuff where we’d meet up behind the barn to devour a half gallon of ice cream. Silly shit like that.”

  JJ groaned. “This sounds platonic to me. So you two were what? Playmates?”

  “Weird way to put it but yes. The friendship was real, though. We talked too. It wasn’t just kid’s stuff. He confided in me. I listened. You know.” She shrugged.

  “Anyway,” she continued, “when the marriage fell apart, he got out of the service, but it was too late. The c-word wife served him with divorce papers the minute he came home. It happened incredibly quick, and bim-bam-boom, they were divorced.”

  “How long ago was that?” June asked.

  “Bunch of years. He started his business and got on with things.”

  JJ pinned her with a look. “And what about you?”

  “Well,” she muttered darkly, “this is where it gets personal. Right before the whole Army discharge and divorce, Shumpler and I got engaged. When we were about six weeks from a little garden wedding, Tom tells me he saw my fiancé at a bar in Nashville getting rowdy shitfaced with a group of guys and some professional party favors.”

  “Hookers?” JJ screeched. “Shumpler did you dirty with hookers?”

  Merri smirked. “Truth time. By then? I didn’t care if he fucked those girls or not, and I didn’t bother to find out. He screwed up, and I immediately pulled the plug. Dunzo.” She swiped her hands. “The mere suggestion of hookers was the cover I needed to get the hell out of the relationship.”

  “Because Tom was single, and you two were friends? Adult friends?” June grinned when she put it together.

  “Ding, ding, ding,” she quipped, and after a couple of tries, she managed to put a finger on the tip of her nose.

  “Sounds pretty smart to me,” JJ said with a grinning smirk. “Sometimes a girl just has to do whatever it takes.”

  June snorted with amused laughter.

  “Well, yeah, but here’s the thing. We’re stuck in the friend zone. If one of us were gay, we’d be Will and Grace.”

  “That’s a funny show.” JJ chortled. “And I get what you’re saying. You two are buds, right? Best buds.”

  She rolled her eyes. “He held my hair while I puked my guts up after my birthday party last year.”

  “Ouch.” June winced.

  JJ’s expression was one of horror. “Oh, no! He’s got bathroom privileges? That’s a serious friend.”

  “Or a potential husband,” June quietly murmured.

  Merri gulped. “Ya feel me then?”

  Her new friends nodded.

  JJ suddenly blurted out, “Have you tried some old-fashioned tits and ass?”

  “Uh, I’m a coward. A balls-out seduction—especially if it ended wrong—would be horrible. Rip up my feminist card if you have to for admitting this, but he has to start it. It can’t be me.”

  June smiled—it felt approving—and said, “Nothing wrong with expecting a man to act like a man.”

  She got it! Merri winked at her. “But the good news is he balled up and asked me out. I made him clarify if it was a real date or a friend scenario. He said he’d wanted to ask me out for a while.”

  “The friend zone is tough to blast out of.” JJ said this with such vehemence that Merri wondered if her opinion was of a firsthand or secondhand nature. “Are you one hundred percent sure? Would be a shame to fuck up a solid friendship if you had a sliver of doubt.”

  Thinking about JJ’s wise words, she did a double take on June’s face when she asked an important question. “First—is he torching after the ex-wife?”

  “Laurel?” She scoffed. “Hell no.”

  June nodded. “And second, has he dated since the divorce?”

  “No, he has not.” She broke into a smirky smile. “I heard him tell his mom when she asked the same question that he was too busy getting his business off the ground.”

  “But now he wants to move out of the friend zone? With you?”

  Merri heard the romantic speculation in June’s voice. “Yeah.”

  “I sense hesitation. Why?”

  “We’re both afraid of screwing up a good thing. He hasn’t even kissed me yet. Not properly. A lot’s riding on our date.”

  JJ sat up straight and giggled. “I’ve got it! Wait, no, what’s that stupid word? Oh, yeah! Eureka! You need to get him in a situation where his pants are off.”

  What did that mean? She looked at JJ with confusion.

  “I mean it literally,” JJ said. “You and your Signal Corps guy have to be in the same room when he isn’t wearing pants. How he ends up sans pants is up to you. It’s what happens once his pants can’t protect him.”

  “Jeans disguise a stiff one,” June quipped with glee. “I like JJ’s no-pants scenario. The possibilities and promise are endless.”

  JJ wadded up a bandana napkin and stuffed it under her shirt at her waist. “Think of it like bulge specifications.” She jiggled and made the napkin wobble. “Always measure the sway factor.”

  June lost it in epic fashion, pounding on the table and giggling uncontrollably. “Sway factor?” she shrieked. “Ah, ha-ha!”

  “What’s that song?” JJ asked. “Kid’s sing it. Something about ears hanging low. Only, in this case, it would be dick.”

  Merri wiped away her tears as she laughed and tried to sing the ditty she knew from the kids at Maplewood. “Does his dick hang low? Can he tie it in a bow?”

  They hiccupped with gales of screaming laughter and slapped their hands on the table.

  “Stop! I’ll pee myself,” Merri squawked.

  “Seriously?” An amused male voice cut right through the gleeful noise. Her head whipped around, and she nearly toppled off the chair.

  Tom was standing behind her, arms crossed, and a glint in his eye. Next to him was June’s hottie, Evan. He was holding a stack of pizza boxes and was openly smirking at his fiancée.

  JJ clapped like a drunken seal, hooted with laughter, and pointed at the guys. “I think the cavalry has arrived. Do I smell pepperoni?”

  June shot out of her chair and grabbed a box of pizza. She kissed her guy and waved at the drunken scene. “They’re both snot-faced. I poured.” She sniggered.

  Closing one eye to help her blurred vision, Merri tried looking at Tom. She asked, “Do you two know each other?”

  Evan drawled, “Who? Him?” He quirked his head at Tom. “Never saw him before in my life. He delivered the pizza.”

  The two men cracked up laughing. There was some back-slapping, a fist bump, and a ton of smirking.

  June guarded her pizza box like it was the one ring. When JJ tried to filch a piece, June snarled and smacked her hand away. “Back off, bitch! I’m eating for two.”

  “Bitch’s bump,” JJ hollered as their fists flew wildly and mostly missed.

  “Jesus.” Tom chuckled. “Merri, look at me.”

  She tried. She really, really tried, but the pizza had extra cheese, and extra cheese usually won.

  He handed her a stack of napkins. “Wanna tell me what’s going on? Brew said your car is acting up?”

  “Ermygawd,” she snarled through a mouth of pizza. “That fucking car.”

  Tom laughed.

  JJ mumbled some words.

  “Excuse me, what?” Tom and Evan said at the same time.

  “I said,” JJ slurred, “she got shumplered.”

  “Damn straight,” June confirmed with an adamant head bob. “The Shumpler Effect.”

  “These two perfectly lovely bitches”—they stopped everything to fist bump—“rescued me from a dark parking lot.” Merri slammed her hand on the table and made the other ladies flinch. “I have been shumplered for the last time. The car has to go. Even if it costs me.”<
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  “Aw, sweetie.” June giggled. “I know those words sounded fine in your head, but the tequila translation wasn’t all that great.”

  Taking a mouthful of pizza, she shouted, “Fuck that car. Is that clear enough?”

  JJ called for another round of shots, but Tom and Evan teamed up for an effective man-block to shut down what had been a memorable ladies’ session.

  “Okay, Merri. Come on,” Tom drawled as he drew her from the chair. “Let’s get you home before you end up wearing that pizza on your shoes. Lucky for you, I’m driving the truck ’cause no way could you sit a bike right now.”

  She grabbed his arm for support and stabbed her finger in front of his smirking face. “AreyouinsinuatingI’mdrunkcauseI’mnotandIneverthrowup.” She sniffed. “So there.”

  “Mm-hmm.” He used a bandana napkin to wipe her mouth. She waved her fingers so he’d take care of the grease.

  June nudged a laughing Evan.

  Merri saw the dark-haired woman’s eyes twinkle a split second before she sweetly cooed, “Aww, you two make a cute couple.”

  Evan made one of those coughs that cover up whatever he was going to say. The guy looked at Tom and snickered.

  Other stuff happened. Words were spoken, but she didn’t follow. She was hammered and had enough on her hands just staying on her feet.

  With Tom’s arm around her waist, he guided her to the door.

  “Tits and ass,” JJ hooted. “Just remember, tits and ass.”

  Chapter Five

  It was a good thing he’d kept his appointment with Dr. Schwartz because getting his shitfaced drunk girlfriend out of the truck and through the door of the warehouse took some serious effort. At one point, Tom considered hoisting her over his shoulder, but the possibility they’d both go crashing to the floor stopped him.

  He’d brought her to his place because she’d handed her key ring over so a friend of Brew’s could see to her car. With no spare key to her house available unless he wanted to call Stephen Merriweather, Tom was left with no choice.

  Halfway down the hallway on the way to his office where a private elevator led to his second-floor apartment, Merri got her second wind. In the blink of an eye, she went from stumbling to dancing like they were at a club.

  He enjoyed the show. Tom happened to think she looked sexy as fuck in her pink waitress uniform with the frilly white apron tied around her waist. She pulled the clip out of her hair and let her beautiful dark curls tumble around her shoulders.

  The cheerleader she once was took over, and before he knew it, she was cartwheeling awfully close to the walls.

  “Whoa,” she murmured after landing on wobbly legs. “Spinning.”

  He caught her before she fell. Thank god they were right outside his office. Somehow, he got her through the door. She plopped onto a rolling desk chair, said, “Whee!” and spun around. He prayed the tequila and pizza stayed in her stomach.

  The wheeled chair ended up being convenient. He rolled her into the elevator and triggered the biometric sensor that activated the controls. A cleverly concealed pad lit up. He punched in some security info, and a few seconds later, he swung the door open into his private sanctuary.

  The warehouse portion of the building wasn’t the only thing he had renovated. With some creative design, he took what had been second-floor offices and converted the space into a large, open living area. It gave him plenty of room to breathe, had a small, functioning kitchen suitable for a non-cooking dude like him, and one bedroom with a wet room and separate toilet area. What he liked best about the arrangement was the security. Not only was the building fully secured, but nobody but Tom could activate the elevator’s biometrics, and the emergency door only operated from inside the apartment.

  Brad was the exception. In the event of an emergency, Brad knew how to activate a default. The guy was a piece of work—who wasn’t these days—but Tom trusted him with his life.

  “Bathroom,” Merri mumbled. She shoved both hands in her hair and rubbed her head. “Ooh, and then dessert. What do you have? And why are we here?” she asked as their surroundings finally dawned on her.

  “No key to your house, remember? You gave the ring to JJ so Brew’s crew could look at your car.”

  “My daddy always has a key.”

  “Yeah, I know. But you’re more than a bit buzzed. If I called him for help, you’d be in for a lecture.”

  She chuckled and pretended to be scared. “Thanks for the save.”

  It wasn’t the first time she’d been in his apartment. After her alcohol-soaked brain cells got their bearings, she wandered off toward the bathroom. He watched her go. The apron tied around her waist accentuated Merri’s ass, so the Pavlovian throb of his dick was so damn predictable. In keeping with the classic interpretation of Pavlov’s Theory, her glorious butt qualified as a biologically potent stimulus.

  He chuckled to himself. If he managed to pull this off, he was going to be one lucky motherfucker.

  First things first. He checked the thermostat. His girlfriend BFF got testy if she caught a chill. The wood stove setup she liked wasn’t convenient on the second floor of an old warehouse, so he countered with clever design options like heated flooring, tankless water heaters, and a visually awesome gas fireplace that gave off a lot of heat.

  After assuring Merri’s comfort, he sauntered into the kitchen for a look at what was on hand. If he couldn’t find something to satisfy her sweet tooth, there were always loads of delivery options. He had the Postmates app on his phone and used it frequently.

  A quick search uncovered an unopened carton of chocolate ice cream, a two-pack of aerosol whipped cream cans, and a squirt bottle of Hershey’s syrup. If she was in the mood for ice cold and chocolate, it might do the trick.

  The main space of his unique place was cleverly portioned. In addition to the modest kitchen was a living room, where he spent most of his time, and a work zone that was part office and part study. He arranged solid custom-built cabinets and bookcases to define the space. He liked books. Lots of books. Books to read, books to look at, books to decorate with. The more books, the merrier. He chuckled at the unintentional reference.

  The more, the merrier. How true.

  His bedroom and dressing room connected to the bathroom, so he avoided going in there to give her some privacy. Instead, Tom dropped onto an enormous sectional sofa and tugged his boots off.

  Ah, yes, he thought while quickly massaging each foot. He wanted to unbuckle his belt and open the top button on his jeans but then thought better of it. Instead, he emptied his pockets onto the coffee table. Wallet, a folded flyer, a handful of change, his phone, and a roll of wild cherry Lifesavers. He acquired a fondness for the sweet candies when he was doing his Army thing. Now? He was addicted.

  Checking his phone for anything important, he deleted most of his notifications and a bunch of spam emails. Noting that it was half past ten, he wondered if Merri had to be anywhere tomorrow morning. Her schedule was a thing of beauty because she basically made it up as she went along. The Maplewood folks didn’t care what hours she kept, and the diner was nothing if not flexible.

  Reaching for a remote control, he pointed it at the seventy-inch TV impulse purchase from Best Buy. He went into the store in search of coaxial cable for work and left with the gigantic TV plus a stackable washer dryer unit that he put in a closet laundry.

  He glanced toward the bedroom. Merri would watch anything, but she had her favorites. Pulling the channel guide up on the big screen, he searched for the kid’s programming and found what he was looking for. Scooby Doo was a safe bet for background. She had a hardcore passion for the animated franchise that spawned a cultural icon.

  He heard her approaching not because she was loud but because she covered the floor space between the bedroom and living room by scooting on the rolling chair. The sound of the wheels on the wood and tile flooring heralded her arrival.

  She rolled to the edge of the sofa and grinned. “How much do you love
me?”

  Tom blink-flinched and then laughed. She was drunk, and the question wasn’t about their relationship. She wanted something.

  Relaxing against the back of the sofa, he put his feet on the coffee table with a thud, crossed his ankles, shoved a hand into the waistband of his jeans, and regarded her with a smirky leer.

  “Are you seriously trying to butter me up with sweetness?”

  She giggled softly and pushed her hair behind her ears. “Hey, don’t knock what works.”

  His playfully long-suffering sigh made her smile. “Just tell me what you want, sweet cheeks.”

  Pointing at herself, she made a face. “My uniform smells like meatloaf, and if I don’t take this bra off soon, my boobs are gonna mutiny. Can I borrow some clothes?” She batted her eyelashes. “Please, please, please.”

  “What is this love-hate thing women have for bras? One minute, you’re dropping a hondo on some silk and lace, but then you complain up a storm about the indignity of wearing one and can’t wait to rip it off.”

  Her dry retort pushed him to the edge of hilarity. Punctuated with a snarky sniff, she said, “If you had to wear a jock strap for twelve hours a day, you’d understand.”

  Tom winced. The idea of stuffing his cock and balls into the protective but hellaciously restricting apparatus masquerading as a garment was not met with glee.

  “Strapping the boobs down is no different than keeping men’s, um, equipment in an upright and locked position. Just because it’s sometimes necessary does not mean it’s comfortable.”

  Upright and locked position. Holy shit. Where does she come up with this stuff? Tom was glad he opted to keep his pants buttoned and belt in place because add alcohol to her normal mischief and he was in danger.

  “You win by default,” he joked.

  Standing, he took a second to shake out each leg. His pants felt tight.

  Merri whirled around on the chair and pointed toward the bedroom. “Giddyup. C’mon. Push, push.”

  Well, this is fun, he mentally snickered. “Buckled in?” He jostled the chair and made her scream. She hung on to the seat, raised her feet, and gave the go-ahead.