He’d left her on her belly in bed after making her sit on his face until she came then fucking her until she came again. She didn’t even twitch when he bent in, kissed her neck and whispered in her ear that he’d be back in awhile.
He hadn’t been gone an hour. Now she was having a girl’s afternoon in.
This meant she was going to tell her friends everything which didn’t make him happy because he didn’t like anyone in his business. Then she was going to get shit advice. Then, maybe, she was going to do something stupid.
“Who’s comin’?” he asked.
“Cheryl…” she answered.
Not good, that bitch was hard as nails.
“Feb…” she went on.
That was okay, Feb was cool.
“Dee…” she continued.
Wildcard. Dee Owens called ‘em as she saw ‘em and Cal had no clue how she’d see him.
“Jessie…”
Fuck, Jessie Rourke was a nut.
“Mimi…”
Christ, he’d fucked two of Mimi VanderWal’s close friends.
“And Jackie.”
Cal relaxed.
Jackie Owens was Feb’s Mom, salt of the earth. Even with the rest of the hens in that coup, Jackie’d be the voice of reason and not many people were stupid enough not to listen to Jackie’s reason, including Cheryl Sheckle and Jessie Rourke.
“Then, um… after, I’m goin’ to Mike’s,” Vi said in his ear.
Cal didn’t speak.
“Then, um… we need to talk,” she finished.
“I’ll go into the office after I get the dog bed. If I gotta stay gone, you need me to pick anything up?”
She didn’t answer his question, she asked, “The office?”
“Yeah.”
“What office?”
“My office.”
“You have an office?”
Had he been closed that tight? Christ, he had.
“Yeah, baby, I have an office in town. Got a girl named Lindy, schedules my meetings, my walkthroughs, sends invoices, does the books, arranges travel, orders the equipment if I do the install myself, shit like that.”
“In town? You mean, the ‘burg?”
“Yeah.”
“Lindy?”
“Yeah?”
“She live in town?”
“Avon.”
“Oh.”
“Take you to meet her,” Cal offered.
“That’s okay,” Vi replied quickly.
Cal sighed then let it go and repeated, “You need me to pick anything up?”
She hesitated then repeated, “Pick anything up?”
“Coffee, milk, beer, pick anything up.”
“Groceries?” she breathed, like the concept of groceries was foreign to her.
“Yeah, Vi, unless Armageddon hit while I was fuckin’ you this morning and we missed it, I’m thinkin’ grocery stores still exist and they’re all still stocked.”
He heard her soft giggle before she swallowed it.
His woman, Cal realized, was a nut.
“Vi?” he prompted.
“I don’t drink beer.”
“I do so we need it.”
“Do you have some in your fridge?”
“Buddy, my fridge is at the dump.”
“But wasn’t it a perfectly good fridge?”
“Yeah, but my Dad bought it at Sears thirty years ago so I don’t think Katy and Keirry are gonna dig on it bein’ in the kitchen they design.”
“Oh,” she said in a soft, sweet way he felt in his dick just like when she said his name.
He ignored it and asked, “So we need beer?”
“Um… yeah.”
Christ, that was a long conversation to get down to needing beer.
“Okay, stick with me here, buddy, and concentrate. Do we need anything else?”
“I don’t know, what do you eat?”
“Anything.”
“We don’t have Power Bars or Gatorade or anything like that.”
“Vi, I’m not in training for the Super Bowl.”
“Right,” she whispered.
Cal started laughing.
“What’s funny?” Vi asked over his laughter.
“You are, baby.”
“How’s that?”
“Gatorade?”
“Well, I saw you working out,” she defended herself.
“So I’ll buy water. You got eggs?”
“Yes.”
“Bacon?”
“Yes.”
“Oatmeal?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m set.”
“Okay.”
He pulled into the garden center parking lot and found a spot.
“I’m at the garden center.”
She sounded distracted. “And Cheryl’s just pulled into the drive.”
Great, Cheryl got there first.
“Vi,” he called.
“Yeah?”
Before Cheryl unleashed her claws, Cal decided now was the time to tell her.
“You know that hole?” he asked.
“What?” she asked back.
He didn’t repeat himself, he said, “You were right. You and the girls plugged it.”
He had her attention, he knew it because she was whispering when she repeated, “What?”
“I’m not empty anymore.”
Silence then, “Joe –”
“Full to bursting, buddy.”
A breathy, “Joe.”
That made his dick twitch.
“Gotta go, baby.”
“Joe –”
“Later.”
He flipped his phone closed, jumped down from the truck and went into the garden center to buy a dog bed.
“And that’s um… it,” I finished my long story and looked around my living room.
I was sitting cross-legged on the floor. Feb was sitting by me, leaned back on her hands, her legs stretched out in front of her, baby Jack crawling all over her like she was a human jungle gym. Dee, Mimi and Jessie were on my couch. Jackie was in one armchair, Mooch, exhausted from eating dog beds and running around the yard with me in it for an hour, was flat out asleep on her lap. Cheryl was in the other armchair.
“Let me get this right, hon,” Jessie said softly. “You’re brother was killed, what? Three days ago?”
“Six,” I answered. “They found him five days ago.”
She nodded. “And since then Joe Callahan and Mike Haines have been goin’ essentially head-to-head, no pun intended, to get at you?”
“Um… kind of but not exactly,” I told her.
“Babe, Cal’s forcin’ a meeting with all your loved ones by hornin’ in on the funeral, not to mention you’re meetin’ his family in Chicago, and it’s the family. And Mike’s goin’ for the gusto, makin’ certain, if you pick him, that you don’t forget about the family house, the six thousand dollar bed and the family pet, doin’ it by givin’ you the business in that bed with dog in attendance. They’re definitely head-to-head,” Cheryl informed me.
“Holy crap,” Jessie whispered.
“Gotta say, livin’ in this ‘burg my whole life and knowin’ Cal the length of it, there’s a lotta gals, a number of them in a one mile radius of this house, who’d give their eyeteeth to eat pizza at Vinnie’s Pizzeria and get a go at havin’ their photo on the family wall,” Mimi remarked.
“Gotta say, livin’ in this ‘burg my whole life and knowin’ Mike the length of it, there’s a lotta gals, some of them next freaking door, who would give their eyeteeth to have a shot at showin’ Mike Haines that all women are not selfish, greedy, materialistic bitches like Audrey,” Jessie noted.
“Same could be said for that girl next door wantin’ Cal,” Mimi told her.
“I think it can be taken as read that Tina Blackstone would just about jump anyone and it’d be difficult for that woman to prove anything against bein’ selfish, greedy and materialistic,” Jackie pointed out. “She’s hardly a good example for debate.”
“Cal,” Feb spoke up, putting in her vote.
“Mike,” Cheryl shot back.
“Cal’s hot, but, seriously, he’s a dawg,” Mimi put in, looked at me and voted, “Mike.”