April (Calendar Girl #4) (7 page)

I sighed and continued typing out my plan then figured I needed reinforcements. I pulled out my phone and dialed.

“What up, skank?” Ginelle’s voice rang through the line. Just hearing her familiar voice made me happy. It also had the downside of making me homesick.

“Planning a fundraiser.”

Gum-smacking and a full-bellied Gin laugh broke through my concentration on the list I was typing. “Uh, isn’t the idea to raise the money you need to save Pops already happening? You know, lying on your back!” She laughed manically at her own joke.

“Not for me!” I sighed. “For Mason.”

A strangled noise slipped through the line. “The rich baseball player needs money? Why?”

I groaned. “Just listen, bitch. We’re improving his image by supporting the local breast cancer awareness group here in Boston. His Mom died young from the disease and he wants to do something to give back. Since he’s playing ball and practicing, I’m working on an event where we could raise some money and help his image. Make sense?”

More gum smacking. Truth be told, I liked hearing the sound of that way more than the sound of her inhaling one of her cancer sticks.

“So what are you thinking?” she asked. My best friend, Gin was nothing if not creative. She’d come up with some good ideas. I ran through the gist of the event. We were going to hold it at some posh hotel downtown. Most of the starting team agreed to participate. Several friends of Mason’s would be there, a famous DJ agreed to play the event free, another restaurateur friend of his PR firm agreed to offer their services and food free of charge.

“Oh, and we’re going to have a silent auction filled with baseball paraphernalia, and other donated items from friends of the players. But I don’t know, I need something that will really draw some high dollars. Got anything in mind?” Ginelle paused so long I wasn’t sure she was still there. “Well?”

“I’m thinking, don’t get your panties in a twist…if you’re even wearing any that is,” she accused and she’d be right. I wasn’t wearing any because I had on tight leggings that would show lines and no one needed to see that.

“Shut up!” I warned.

Gin laughed and it sounded like home. My heart filled with love and joy as I waited patiently and did random Google searches for other charity events to see what they did.

“Okay, so you’ve got a bunch of really hot baseball players going to this thing right? Like at least twenty?”

“Yeah,” I said, not knowing where she was going with this.

“So instead of just doing a silent auction, why don’t you auction them? Get an auctioneer guy, you know the ones that talk really really fast, make sure the guys wear really hot outfits like tuxes, or maybe have them strip off their shirts. Rich women love that shit!” She was not wrong. I could see women plied with champagne falling all over themselves to get at a shirtless baseball player.

“Gin, that is fucking brilliant.”

She huffed and I could imagine her twirling a lock of hair and gloating prettily. “I know. I’m good like that.”

“Yes, you are. Have I told you lately that I got nuthin’ but love for you baby?”

“Whatcha got?” She sang back bringing us both back to the old school jam we liked to listen to on the radio back home. It played all kinds of throwback songs from the 90’s. We were too young to know the songs then, but in our twenties we both appreciated the silly rap/pop songs from that era. 

I thought about how this would work. I’d get the guys to agree to a date with the woman that buys them. She has to pay but they have to do what the woman wants for a four-hour period. Even the married ones would do it for the cause. “Gin, honestly I think this could raise a lot of money.”

“Well duh. The men are hot. What rich bitch wouldn’t want a piece of that eye candy on her arm for a night?”

Again, not wrong. “I’m going to draw up the plan. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

“Eh, you can pay me back with pictures of hot dudes stripped to the waist. And I’m not kidding. You have this event and you do not send me pictures of half-naked men I will find really evil ways to embarrass you in the future. And don’t think I don’t have pictures to prove some of the shit you did in the past.”

“Whore!” I shot back, remembering she did in fact have an entire box full of trouble we’d gotten into over the years to pull from and use against me. “You wouldn’t!”

She clucked her tongue. “I so would! Half-naked men pictures, sent to my phone, individually…and do not forget Mason. I want one of that sexy bastard.”

I laughed hard as Rachel entered the kitchen where I was set up. I waved and she went to the coffee pot and pulled down a mug and filled it.

“All right you black mailing dirty slutbgag,” Rachel’s eyes were wide and she almost dropped her coffee cup. I didn’t have a chance to explain, but tried to shake my head and wave in a gesture that meant everything was okay. “You’ll get your pictures. But you drive a hard bargain.”

“Always do, and hey, Mads is doing great. That boy she’s seeing is totally nice. I double-checked…still a virgin, but girl, I’m not thinking for long. He’s really cute, likes her a lot, and she falls all over herself to please him. It’s actually really sweet. So far though, he seems like a good guy. She could do a lot worse for her first time.”

I groaned and put my head in my hand. “You think she’s going to give up her v-card to him? For real?”

“Yeah, she can’t stay pure forever, Mia. She’s a grown woman. She’s nineteen for crying out loud. Shit, I’m not even sure I can remember how old I was when I gave up the card; it’s been so long. I honestly can’t remember a time where I wasn’t getting hot cock.”

This time I moaned. “Gin, don’t talk about cock and my sister in the same sentence. You’re going to make me break out in hives. And you better not be encouraging her to give it up to him either or I’ll hunt you down, pin you to a wall and cut off all your hair, put honey on your nipples and leave you for the ants!”

“Jesus Christ on a cross. That’s fucked up. You’d do that to your best friend? I need to make new friends. Mine’s a goddamned psycho!” she roared then laughed hard. I followed suit imagining her stuck to a wall with honey on her tits and her hair cut in chunks all over the place.

Controlling the laugher, I took a deep breath. “You’re right. I wouldn’t do that, but please, next time you see her, have her call me okay?”

“Will do. I’ve got to go practice the new routine. Let me know how the event goes and don’t forget my reward!”

I shook my head. “Hey skank, I love you, and I’m proud of you for laying off the cancer sticks. Want to keep you in my life so that we can grow old, get a bunch of cats and a beach house together.”

“I always loved cats.” Gin said wistfully, her voice petering off.

She totally set me up for it. “That’s because you love pussy!” I howled and then hung up on her before she could get in a retort. “Ah, all is right in the world,” I opened my eyes and came face to face with a stricken Rachel.

“Are you being blackmailed?” her eyes were as wide as milk saucers.

I laughed out loud and shook my head. “No, that was Gin my best friend. We’re always like that.”

“You always threaten each other and call one another foul names?” her voice was screeching and I didn’t understand why.

“Uh yeah? Don’t you with your best friend?”

She shook her head numbly. “No. No, I do not. We say very nice things to one another, do lunch, and shop together.”

I cringed. They shopped together. Yikes. That is not something Gin and I did together. Drink beer, check out hot guys, gamble a little, play cards, go to concerts, yes, shopping…er no. “Sucks to be you,” I said, meaning every word of it.

“Somehow I doubt that.” She said flippantly, and I grinned. So she had a little fire in her yet. That was good. Mason would light a fire under her so bright she’d get burned if she didn’t have a little of her own to battle it.

***

Rachel was not excited about the auctioning men idea, but Mason thought it was brilliant. He called each guy on his team and came back with commitments from over twenty players that were available this weekend and willing to be auctioned off to the highest bidder, and take their clothes off, well their shirts, for charity. I found pink suspenders for each guy to wear and asked them all to wear a nice suit. The plan was to have the men remove their jackets, shirts, and be left with the suspenders. I was also planning on painting a pink breast cancer ribbon over each man’s chest directly above his heart to keep with the theme.

Once Mason got home, he sat down at the table with Rachel and me and brainstormed other ideas while he grilled steaks on the balcony, and I made the side fixings. Together, we came up with tons of ideas to get the word out in such short notice along with ways to get his Dad and brothers involved, too, since this was ultimately a way for them to honor their mother’s memory. I told him to have his Dad get a picture of his wife that he loved blown up and framed for use on one of the tables. The other players that had family members they’d lost to the disease would also share images of their loved ones so the donors in attendance would know the real reason behind the event.

We made certain the chapter president of the local Breast Cancer Awareness group would be there and could say a few words.

“Mia, Rachel, I gotta hand it to you ladies, you’re the bomb at planning a last minute event.” Mason grinned and hugged my shoulder then kissed my cheek. He went over to Rachel who stiffened the moment he moved close.

Mason’s voice got low, but I could still hear him. “I’m sorry about what you saw last week. It shouldn’t have happened. That’s not the kind of guy I want to be.” He looked deeply into her big blue eyes and she nodded but didn’t respond. He moved close, inhaled against her hairline, and then kissed her cheek. “Thank you for your help with this. You didn’t have to pull all those strings.”

Rachel lifted her head and blinked, staring prettily into Mason’s gaze. Could it be any more obvious how into one another these two were? I needed to up my game and get things moving in the right direction. “Mason, I’d help you with anything,” she said in an equally low tone. 

His fingers tunneled into the hair at the nape of her neck, his big hand cupped her jaw, and his thumb swept across her bottom lip. She gasped and I watched with rapt attention, hoping he’d make the move and kiss her. “What you’re doing to help my Mom, it means a lot. I won’t forget it. You need me, Rach, I’m there. Just call, anytime, anywhere. Got it?” he said then leaned forward and kissed her forehead as if she was something precious.

Right then, it dawned on me. To Mason, she was just that…precious. For him, Rachel wasn’t like all the other girls. He felt he needed to treat her with kid gloves, touch her as though she were spun glass or a fragile artifact. Wow. Once those two hooked up, that was going to be it for him. He might have been a player, but I think he saw a future in her eyes, one he desperately wanted, but didn’t know how to capture. Good thing I was here for another two weeks to make sure he got the girl.

“I do, Mace,” she said then smiled as he pulled back and went to the balcony to tend to the steaks.

I put my head in my hand and waited until he was gone. Rachel watched his every move as he left. “So, smitten much?” I said, waggling my eyebrows.

Her head shot back to mine and she narrowed her gaze. “I have no idea what you mean. Last week I was drunk and out of line. I may have given you the wrong impression about my feelings toward my
client
.” She stressed the word client, but I wasn’t sure if it was for my benefit or hers.

I tilted my head to the side and took a long sip of beer. “You aren’t fooling me and you definitely are not fooling Mace. He’s on to you honey. And soon, he’ll be on you,” I snickered at my own joke.

Rachel groaned and shook her head. “You need to stop, Mia. If you haven’t forgotten, you are his girlfriend.”

“Pretend girlfriend and honey, let’s not forget that. I’m doing a job. The fans love him; we’re working on a fundraiser that will only do good for Mason’s image professionally but more so it’s good for him to do personally. Giving back in honor of his Mom. He really loved her and misses her a lot. All the Murphy men do. You helping the way you are proves that you care and not just about Mason’s image. You have more than a little crush. Admit it,” I dug the last shot in and sat back.

Rachel licked her lips and bit down into the bottom one. She leaned her head forward and nodded. “Fine. I admit it. I’ve cared for Mason for a long time. Heck, I think I fell in love with him the moment we met two years ago. But that hasn’t changed the fact that I’ve watched him parade around with women, drink like a fish, and spent a lot of my own time picking up those pieces. Doing that changes your opinion of someone.”

“It can, it does.” I agreed with her. “But obviously it hasn’t changed the way you feel or you wouldn’t be doing what you’re doing. You wouldn’t have volunteered to help him clean up his act. You genuinely care about him and you’re breaking at the seams trying to hide it. I’ve seen the way you look at him, how you light up when he enters a room. You’re not fooling me. You may have been fooling him the last two years, honey; but his blinders are off. He sees you and he likes what he sees.”

Her delicate hands came up to her face and she ran them over her features. “How can you be sure? I don’t want to be the next up in a long line of throwaway women. I’d rather not have him at all and get to be in his life always, than have a taste of him and lose him forever when he wakes up and realizes I’m not the type of girl he likes. If you look at his track record, you’d know I’m not.” She points at me, my curves and makes a circular gesture. “No offense, women like you are his type. Buxom, beautiful, sexy, all the things a man like him can get time and time again.” She sighed and dropped her head into her hand with finality.

“Sweetheart, I’m not the type of girl you marry. I’m the type of girl you flirt with and fuck. Mason doesn’t want to settle for a girl like me. He wants to have what his Dad had. A wife, a home, children, the whole enchilada. You’d give him that and more. You’re the whole package. Not an escort who’s talented at waiting tables, can act, and rocks a man’s world in the bedroom. That last one I’m pretty proud of, but it isn’t going to secure me Mr. Right, just Mr. Right Now. I think you need to be open to more with Mason, especially since I’ll be out of your hair in two weeks.”