April (Calendar Girl #4) (12 page)

“Fine fucking ass that woman. Damn, I’d like to take a bite out of it right now.” He growled and then slugged back the rest of his brew. “Let’s get shitfaced and take a cab back?”

Brayden came over to our side of the bar. “How you two doin’?” he said his coppery hair glinting red off the neon pink bar lights behind him.

“We’re ready to get serious. Shots and beer chasers. Mia, we’re about to play a game!”

I shimmied on my seat. “Love games. What’s it called, maybe I’ve heard of it?”

“Called bullshit.”

“Bring it on, ball boy. My girlfriend Gin and I wrote the book on this fucking game. Never lost!”

Mason grinned a mocking evil little smirk. “Line ‘em up, bro,” he said to his brother.

Since Mace was throwing down the gauntlet, I unzipped my Red Sox hoodie and put it around my chair leaving me in a tight tank. My girls were on display in a big way. He glanced down at my tits and groaned.

“That is not playing fair. What are you doing, trying to distract me?” He accused and I laughed.

“Well, we’re going to need some more players.”

Junior and Kris were sitting close. We brought them into the game and Mason explained the rules. Then the drinking commenced.

***

“Once upon a time I was walking through the woods and I stepped in some bear shit!” Mason said. Usually the stories were more involved, really creative, but we’d been at the game awhile and we were all losing pretty regularly.

I was Bear Shit. So when he said bear shit I had to respond with, “Bullshit!” I yelled, slapping my hand on the bar.

“Who shit?” Mace’s head slammed back as if punched.

“Baby shit!” I snickered and pointed to Kris.

The way the game worked is, you started with a story, blamed “shit” on one of the player’s fake names, then they claimed “Bullshit” and the accuser would respond with “Who shit?” or some version of the same. The person accused would blame someone else. Then the new accused would claim “bullshit.” And so on and so on. I was a master at this game having played endless rounds with Ginelle growing up, but that didn’t stop me from drinking the entire game, right along with the people who messed up.

“Uh, uh…shit, I forgot what I was supposed to say!” Kris pouted.

“Drink!” Both Mason and I roared and pointed. We all did a shot because it was more fun to drink together than one at a time and we continued with the game.

By last call, Mason and I were blotto, barely holding one another up. We’d not had dinner, but had munched on some fries and nachos throughout the game. I tried to slam back water every time Brayden put a glass in front of me, but I’m certain for every glass of water I drank, I’d had three beers and a couple shots to boot.

Brayden got us both into a cab, paid the driver from Mason’s wallet, patted us both on the heads, and told the driver where to take us.

We weren’t really sure how we got home, but there was a lot of singing baseball tunes, cussing, and hollering.

Eventually, we made it back to Mason’s house. We stumbled up the walk.

“How the fuck do we get in,” he slurred and leaned heavily against the door.

I swayed on my feet and looked around. The street was really pretty. Blurry swaths of color streamed past my vision. The wind blew my hair and kissed my skin, making the hairs on my arms prickle enticingly.

“I love your street. It’s like art, all colorful and halos of light,” I moved to step down but Mason caught my arm before I tumbled down the stairs. He pushed me back against the door.

“Keys!” he said as if he’d won the lottery. He pushed a hand into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys showing the prize. “Yes!” he pumped a fist in the air and I tried to high five him but it didn’t really work. It ended up being more a slap of his curled fist.

Together, we struggled to get the door open and then essentially tumbled into the foyer drunkenly. With effort we leaned on one another and made our way up the stairs.

“Shhh, you might wake up Rachel,” Mason said, bumping into the wall and taking me with him.

I concentrated hard and pushed him forward. “She’s not here!” I reminded him.

His entire face went sad. “Oh man, that sucks so bad. I wanted to fuck her. Man,” he slid a hand over his face.

“Aww, it’s okay. You can totally fuck her tomorrow!” I offered, stumbling forward. He pressed me into the wall his chest crushing mine.

“You fucking smell so good, Mia. Did I ever tell you that?”

I shook my head and blinked several time. “No but that’s super nice. You should be nice more often. I like you, like you’re awesome likable when you’re not a douchebag.”

He put his hands to my hips and held me close. “I miss Rachel,” he said, leaning into my chest, his head on the soft pillows of my breasts.

Bringing up my arms, I patted his back and ran my nails through his silky hair. “It’s okay. She’ll be here soon. She’s gonna make us lunch probably. She’s really nice like that,” I said but didn’t have any idea what I was saying. If I had I’d known what I’d sounded like, basically an uneducated idiot, I might have tried hard to think straight but the liquor was taking its toll. It dawned on me that technically I was a junior college dropout but whatever. That shit didn’t matter anyway. I was making a hundred G’s a year. A month. Whatever it was. A lot of fucking money.

While I was thinking about my station in life, Mason had moved his hands up and was squeezing both my breasts, looking down at them in complete awe. “You’ve got the best fucking tits. Rach has small tits, but I like 'em. Yours are world class fuck me titties. Can I fuck your titties? That would be awesome!” He screamed happily and I pushed him away. He hit the other wall and barely stayed standing.

“No, stupid. You cannot fuck my tits. And thank you.” I smiled wide and held my own boobs appreciating their size and weight. “They are some good tits. Men like ‘em a lot. It’s one of my best features.”

Mason shook his head vigorously and so many times that, in my drunken state, I worried it would break off.

“No, no, no. You’ve got great tits and ass for sure. But your hair and eyes could make men worship at your feet. Your eyes are like green diamonds,” he came close and held my face up into the hall light. “Yep, like fucking jewels. You have jewel eyes!” He exclaimed and then rubbed his jaw into my neck. His body seemed then to slump against me. “I’m tired.”

When he said it, I thought about it. My limbs became really heavy, as if I was carrying around a box of rocks in each hand and had a two ton weight on my chest. The weight was Mason who was leaning his entire body against mine, practically sleeping. I could tell by the tiny puffs of air that he was going to fall asleep standing up.

“No, we have to get you in the bed.” I pulled against him and we both maneuvered sloppily to his giant bed. “Now get ready,” I told him.

He lifted his chin and pulled off his shirt. Fuck me. His chest was golden and muscled to perfection. I thought back to my Frenchie. He had a really hot body just like Mason. “Your turn.”

For some reason this request, in my current state, did not sound odd. I pulled off my tank then together we unbuttoned our jeans and slid them down. I was in my bra and panties and he was in his boxer briefs.

“Are we gonna fuck?” He asked swaying on his feet. I glanced down at his equipment. Nothing was happening.

“No! Stupid ass,” I pulled back the covers. “Besides, you have whiskey dick,” I giggled and cuddled into the covers. The second my head hit the pillow I was falling asleep.

Mason rummaged around, pulled back the covers and climbed in. “I no not have disky wick,” he claimed and I laughed hard snuggling deeper into my cave of blankets. “I mean dick whiskey,” he slurred then grabbed me by the waist, and plopped me on his chest. “Nite Rach,” he said, holding me close.

“Not Rach. I’m Mia,” I rubbed into his warm chest enjoying the heat.

“Mmm ‘k, night, Mia.” He said and we both feel into a sleep of the dead, or more distinctly, the sleep of the drunk.

***

Vaguely, I could hear noises downstairs. I figured maybe Mason was making breakfast. My head was pounding like an entire marching band was playing a John Phillips Souza tune in my head. Instead of opening my eyes, I snuggled deeper into the warmth that surrounded me.

“Oh man, fucking hell, my head,” I heard Mace say. Only it wasn’t from downstairs or across the room, or next to my bedside. It was a deep rumble against my ear, adding to the music in my own head.

I blinked several times and opened my eyes. At the same time I started to pull away from the body I was in bed with, the comforter fell to my hips and left me half naked in my bra.

“What the…” I said looking down at a bare chested Mason who was slowly opening his own eyes.

Of course, none of this made a lick of sense. My head roared and I pressed my palms to my temples desperately trying to relieve the pressure while trying to remember what happened.

That’s when the door opened and a chipper, suit-clad Rachel entered saying, “Wake up sleepyhead…” and then she saw me, and Mace sat up, the blanket revealing his bare chest. “Oh my God.” Tears instantly pricked at her eyes and a delicate hand covered the horror wanting to spew from her lips. “No…” she uttered and her entire body trembled.

Mason looked at me in confusion then Rachel and jumped out of the bed as if a match had been struck under his ass. And then it got worse because he was wearing only his underwear. Rachel made a gurgling choked sound, and I shook my head.

“No Rach, no please. It’s not what it looks like,” I said, getting out of the bed stupidly clad only in a white lace wisp of fabric that could hardly be called panties and didn’t at all cover my ass, as well as the demi-cup matching bra that my breasts almost fell out of. If I leaned forward, I’m sure I’d have a nip slip. I yanked at the comforter and pulled it against my body.

Rachel pointed at me. “It looks like you had sex with my boyfriend. Which I guess I should have assumed would happen seeing as you’re a whore for hire!” she screamed her hateful words, and they hit my heart and soul exactly as intended. Like a fucking knife shredding through me bit by bit, slice by slice.

“Rachel, nothing happened!” Mason walked over to her and she held a hand out in a stopping motion in front of her form.

“I cannot believe I trusted you. A player. I thought you’d changed. You didn’t change. You just hid your true self really well.” She groaned and tears slipped down her face. “I was in love with you, Mason! I was going to tell you when Mia left and it was just us!” she screamed and sobbed at the same time. Then she turned on her heel and ran out of the room.

“You deserve each other!” she screamed behind her.

All we could hear was her heels hitting each step and then the door slamming shut.

Chapter 9

Mason ran his fingers through his hair and pulled at the roots. “Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. I can’t believe we slept together. Shit!” he paced the room.

I reached for my tank on the floor, pulled it over my head, and then grabbled for my pants. When he was turned away, I slid them up and over my hips. “Mason, we did not sleep together.”

He stopped and looked at me as if I’d said something supremely stupid and pointed to the bed. “Um, hello?”

I blew out a tortured, annoyed breath. I needed coffee and a handful of ibuprofen and quickly. The tiny men doing construction, drilling into my brain with their tiny little tools, while laughing at me for drinking so much last night, needed to go away so I could think straight. “No. We slept together, but we didn’t have sex. We were drunk as skunks. Believe me, I’d know if I’d gotten laid and I’m a hundred percent positive I didn’t.”

He looked at me from tip to toe. “Yeah, you would,” he grinned and I cringed. “Sorry. Fuck!” He said again obviously feeling like a jerk. “How the hell am I going to get her to believe me? She knows my history, Mia. This is just like the fucked up shit I’d do before her.” He slumped and sat down on the bed.

I sat down next to him. “Okay, this is what we’re going to do. We’re going to shower, get some food, coffee, and drugs into us,” his eyebrows rose. “Ibuprofen or Tylenol dumbass, and then we’re going to call her up. You’re going to grovel and explain that we were just drunk, didn’t fuck, and though it looked really bad, nothing happened but sleeping next to one another.”

He pushed his thumbs into his temples, his big hand spreading wide. “I remember fondling your tits and asking to fuck them.” He groaned and looked at me guiltily.

“Well, don’t tell her
that
part. That was just stupid drunk behavior and no one else saw it. Harmless.”

“Yeah, harmless,” he grumbled. His shoulders slumped over; he put his head in his hands, and elbows on his knees. He was the perfect vision of a man who’d lost his way, who thought the world was over.

I slid my hand up and down his warm bare back. “Do you love her?” I asked. His head shot up and his gaze focused intently on mine. He closed his eyes and nodded solemnly. “You have to tell her, Mace. It might be the only way to get yourself out of this bind.”

He blew air out his mouth, his cheeks puffing out with the effort. “She won’t believe me. I know Rach. She’ll think I’m saying it to save face. I should have told her the moment it hit me. Then she might believe it.”

Mason loved Rachel. Will wonders never cease? The chauvinistic, womanizing, player had come a long way since the day I arrived almost a month ago. “When did you know?”

He stood up and started pacing then went over to the window and observed the street below. “That first night we made love. It was…it just was, you know. It’s like I knew then that was the only woman I really wanted to be with forever. And I fucked it up. Christ!” He pulled back and slammed a flat hand to the wall. Thank God, he didn’t punch it or he’d be off the mound for the foreseeable future.

I walked over to Mace and set my forehead to his back. “We’re going to fix this. You’ll see. It will all be okay in the end.”