Owning Corey (34 page)

He looks over his shoulder at me, eyes stretched wide in shock, then breaks into a huge grin. “I’m beginning to think you might like me, Doc.” His fingers skim across mine as he covers my hand with his. The simple gesture and the feeling of solidarity that comes with it are enough to make me giddy.

“Oh? If you’re not sure yet, maybe I need to step up my efforts.”

By the time we’ve maneuvered the crowd and reached Possum, he’s gotten another glass of champagne, and I’m worried that Blackwood’s finest will need to catch a cab home. In fact, there are a lot of people in this house who might need to catch a cab, and I believe Blackwood Taxi only has two cars. We’ll have to plan better for key checks and designated drivers at the next party, which I’m thinking will be Valentine’s Day. In the past I’ve sneered at the occasion, condemning it as depression-inducing consumer rape, but tonight I’m imagining pink festoons over the transoms and trays of heart-shaped petit fours.

Talk about a change of heart.

“You boys have really outdone yourselves here tonight,” Possum says with a hint of a slur. “I don’t normally cut loose, but this is nice. And you should feel honored at this turnout. Shows just how many friends you’ve got.”

“Yeah,” I reply with a smirk. “Most of them probably just wanted to see what I’ve done with the house.”

He chuckles. “A few of them, I’m sure.”

“I’m here for the free food and champagne,” Corey says.

Possum holds his hand out for a shake, as if he’s just noticed Corey is here. “Good to see you, man. Look, I’m sorry about the private investigator thing… what I said to you. It wasn’t personal, you know. And I see neither of you heeded my advice anyway. Not that I ever thought you would.”

“We did for about ten minutes,” I admit.

Possum nods. “I know you did. If I was a betting man, I’d say the two of you got all that sorted out anyway.”

Corey’s eyebrows shoot up. “What makes you think that?”

“You’re still alive, aren’t you?” He pauses for impact. “The morning you disappeared and got Ben all in an uproar, I drove by to check on things here. Seeing an armored SUV in this town sets my bells to clanging, so I ran the plates, and what I found made my blood run cold. Don’t want to be on the wrong side of someone that powerful, if you know what I mean. Especially when dead bodies start popping up the minute they leave town.”

“What?” Corey and I both ask in unison.

“Some little skinny fella got pumped full of lead out at that club, the County Line. A bullet in each hand, six in the brain, and one in the pecker for good measure. Atlanta authorities came down for that one. Toted him away all hush-hush, and I knew better than to ask too many questions.”

Corey looks at the floor. “Allister… Poor dumb bastard never did have any sense.”

“Just tell me we’re not about to have a mafia war in Blackwood.” He downs the last drop of champagne and sets his glass on the walnut sofa table at his back.

“It was all a misunderstanding,” I assure him. “The guilty party obviously paid for his transgression. Corey had nothing to do with it. Now what about your nickname? We’re dying to know where you got it.”

“I think it’s a travesty that Ben hasn’t asked you already,” Corey says. “Some friend he is.”

“Hey, I was a kid when I met him. I just assumed Possum was his birth name. I’ve heard stranger.”

“Well, if you two will quit running your mouths, I’ll tell you the story,” Possum interrupts with a chuckle. “You see, my grandma was a laundress. I used to have to help her get the wash in and out, but one day I fell asleep in the grass beside the basket, and she didn’t wake me. I heard her tell that story several times, so I cooked up a plan. From then on out, whenever I didn’t want to do something I’d play like I was asleep— like a possum plays dead when he’s threatened. She caught on and started calling me Possum.”

I stare open-mouthed at him, and Corey wears a similar expression. “Wow, that was really anti-climactic. I thought we were going to be hearing about grizzly bear attacks, or attempted murder, or broken bones… Something exciting. You need to jazz that story up before you tell it again.”

“Kiss my ass, white boy. Where did that champagne get off to? It’s almost midnight.”

As Possum wanders off in search of a drink, I glance at the clock. Sure enough, it’s only three minutes until the New Year. I grab Corey by the hand and make a mad dash for the stereo system, turning the music down and getting
Auld Lang Syne
cued up to play. My karaoke setup, which I thought I’d never have occasion to use, serves as the P.A. system.

Corey hunts down a couple of glasses of Cristal while I grab the wireless microphone, step up onto the tall hearth at the fireplace, and attempt to get everyone’s attention. “Excuse me, everybody… It’s almost midnight, and I wanted to say a few words before the big moment.”

“Woo, take it off,” Julie screams to a chorus of laughter and lecherous hoots.

I spot her swaying in the crowd and give in to the urge to retaliate. “Alright, could someone block Julie from the wine table? I think she’s had quite enough.” More laughter follows, and it’s clear most of the other revelers should be blocked from the wine table as well. It’s good, though. Everyone is having fun, and as far as I’m aware, no one has puked on my rugs.

Allie steps over to Julie and throws an arm around her shoulders. “I’ll take care of her, Ben.” She doesn’t look in any condition to be caring for anyone, but I refrain from making that observation aloud.

“Thanks, Allie. Now back to saying a few words… I’m not great at speaking, but here goes.” Corey hands me a glass of champagne and stands near me, sipping on his. “I love this town and the people in it. I really do. And I don’t think I tell you guys that often enough. I’ve had the privilege of taking care of many of you and your family members, and I appreciate your trust in me. It’s been brought to my attention recently that I can come off as unfriendly or cold—”

“Antisocial,” Julie yells, and Allie shushes her too loudly. Corey snickers at my side, turning his back to the crowd so as not to call attention to himself.

“Thanks for that, Julie.” I give her a smile and a thumbs-up. “Anyway, I wanted to apologize for my
antisocial
behavior. Please know that it’s because of my own insecurities. This party is my first step in getting closer, being more a part of the community, and it’s only the first of many. Thank you all so much for coming.”

Everyone claps and whistles, and I don’t mind admitting it makes me feel great. Who knew bearing your soul in a cheesy speech could be so rewarding?

“Time for the countdown,” Corey calls to the crowd. I hand him the microphone, and he laughs into it. “Oops… Eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one. Happy New Year!”

I hit play on the remote, and the song starts. Party horns and whistles go off, cheers ring out. Every couple is kissing.

I turn to Corey, taking his glass out of his hand and setting it on the mantel beside mine. He looks confused as I lean in and take his lips in a soft, tentative kiss, darting just the tip of my tongue out to taste the champagne on his before pulling away.

“Happy New Year,” I whisper.

“Doc, I’ve got to hand it to you. When you come out, you really come out. With an audience and everything.”

I look out into the crowd of guests. Some are still kissing, some are obliviously drunk, and a few of them are staring at us in undisguised shock. I simply smile and turn my attention back to Corey. “Some of them are surprised, but they’ll get used to it. And if they don’t… fuck ‘em.”

Corey wraps a hand around the back of my neck and pulls me close, resting his forehead against mine. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you just did that. You claimed me right in front of everyone. Because whoever isn’t here tonight will hear about it tomorrow, I guarantee you.”

“Yep, and I’m glad. Pretending is way too hard. I want the entire population of Blackwood to know how I feel about you, because I’m damn proud of it, Corey. Plus, I don’t know if I can handle much more of every single woman in town trying to get in your pants. They need to know you belong to me.” I realize too late what I’ve said. He’s just escaped a nightmare of slavery, and here I am claiming ownership myself. “I’m sorry. That was an insensitive thing to say after what you’ve been through. I didn’t mean—”

“Shut up, Ben. I know what you meant, and I feel exactly like you do. You may not have bought me, but I’m yours just the same.”

Keeping his hand around my neck, he presses his lips to mine, and suddenly we’re the only two people in the room. Everything else falls away. The people, the cares, the stress… All that’s left are two broken people who have made a choice to become whole together. If there’s anything I’ve learned from this experience, it’s that living to please others is like burying yourself alive. I’m just not willing to do it anymore.

Another thought occurs to me as I lean in to deepen the kiss. All this talk about owning Corey has obscured the fact that he’s owned me since the day we met. And you know what? I like it, dammit.

THE END

Like many of my characters, I grew up in semi-rural South Georgia, gorging myself on equal parts classic literature, historical romance, and horror. Back then, it was all about Gothic. Since I've grown up, the dark stuff still has its appeal, but my tastes have changed. After reading and writing my way to three degrees including one in English, the classic literature overstayed its welcome, the historical romance gave way to contemporary, and the horror... well, it just got too darn scary.

These days, I spend most of my time dreaming up new and inspiring ways for men to fall in love on the page. Hey, it's a dirty job, but someone's gotta do it! But the truth is, a story is nothing without a reader, so I really appreciate everyone who has read my stories into being. I just hope I can do right by you.