Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
W hy couldn’t I find a job? I’d spent the last two weeks applying for jobs without one callback. Not one. I supposed it didn’t help that the kinds of jobs I applied for probably didn’t coincide with being the sister-in-law of America’s conservative candidate.
The LGBT Youth Alliance. Women First. Coexist. I yearned to use my degrees. Yes, I said degrees. I double-majored at U of M in Gender and Health, and Communications. Those two degrees meant something to me. They meant a lot to me. I could do a lot of good in the world if given the opportunity. And really, with all the money that came with being Gloria Parker, not one organization would need to beg for grants ever again.
But as my husband got up and went to work every day, I grew more and more desperate. Like, I even applied for a job at Miracle Brew, an independent coffee house not in Woodstock. Even if I had to commute, it’d give me something to do with my day. But alas, when I handed in the application, the young manager, who might’ve been twenty at best, laughed in my face. Then she hardened hers, telling me how rude I was for wasting their time.
Everyone knew my face now. Everyone knew I belonged to the Parkers. I laughed off my uncomfortableness. “I wasn’t being rude. I was a barista in college. You’re understaffed. I thought since I was here, I’d offer my help.”
Her face softened. “That was kind of you, but it would be impossible for me to let you behind the counter. What can I get you?”
Defeated, I inwardly slumped my shoulders, even though I outwardly squared them, then gave her a big smile. “Sweet cream mocha and a blueberry scone.”
The woman rang me up. I paid. But instead of stepping to the side, I whispered to the cashier, “Pay it forward. Charge my card for a grand.”
She balked. “Really?”
“Why not? It might really help someone who needs it. You never know what people are dealing with.”
“That’s so kind,” she said, sounding surprised.
I resigned myself to people thinking that of me now. Then I stepped aside.
When my order came up, I took my cup and scone to a table and sat down. It wasn’t but a couple of seconds later that a woman with long, curly brown hair and pretty blonde highlights, sporting tortoise-shell glasses dropped down in the chair across from me. Her delicate off-white sweater and orange dress together reminded me of a Creamsicle. Somehow, she made the look work. Not just a little, but like she dominated it. Like whip and humiliation level domination.
“Um… hello ?” I asked.
“You really wanted to work here, didn’t you?”
“I—”
“I’m Lorelei.” She held out her hand for me to shake. “You’re Gloria Parker. I’ve seen you on the news.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t give interviews.”
“Interviews? Do I look like I want an interview? You just look a little sad. I have an incurable habit of trying to cheer people up when they look sad.”
“I like working with people.” She told me something, so it seemed apropos for the situation.
“Have you been here before?” she asked.
“No. It’s my first time. But my husband works and I get bored.”
“I work for St. Martins furniture.” —she pointed out the window in a direction down the street— “We cater to the established Vermonters, if you get my drift. It’s a pretty sweet gig.”
A pretty sweet gig? “I bet.”
“They need furnishings and we broker the deals to make it happen.”
“You’re a furniture fairy, granting the wishes of all the good little girls and boys.”
“If by good you mean can pay, then yes .”
“Well, you’re honest… I’ll give you that.”
“No other way to be,” she replied and I wholeheartedly agreed. “How long have you been married?”
“We’re still newlyweds. How about you? Married?”
She just about choked on her latte. “Not even close. I’m single and ready to mingle.”
Good for her. Single and ready to mingle had never been my scene. Birds and crackers were more my speed.
She never once mentioned Brock or the Parkers. Bonus.
“Listen,” Lorelei said, “I’ve got to get back to work, but I like you. What do you think about hanging out sometime?”
Hanging out? I liked her but enough to ‘hang out?’ I mean, the facts were facts. My friends lived in Michigan. My husband worked and Jupiter—well, I had no idea how Jupiter spent her days but she didn’t spend them hanging out with me. “Okay. I’d like that.”
We exchanged numbers and then went our separate ways.
I rolled into the driveway right before my husband. But Gloria, where’d you get the car? Blake surprised me with it a couple of days ago. I liked the Cayenne that we’d rented so well that he picked one out for me in Carmine red—a deep ruby color. I waited on the front stoop for him to reach me. His eyes, when they found me, twinkled like stars winking in the sky.
“Just getting home?” he asked right before pressing his lips to mine.
Slowly, I nodded. “I went to Miracle Brew.”
“Long way to go for coffee,” he replied through lips still lingering on mine and then he kissed me again.
“Went for a job.”
His body tensed.
“I know your family would run me down for taking a job at a coffee house, but I did it in college. I enjoyed it.”
“Did you get it?” he asked, trying to sound enthusiastic.
I shook my head. “The manager recognized me right away. She wouldn’t even consider me as an applicant.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. Let me take you out to dinner tonight.”
“Can we go to the drive-in?”
“Sure. But we can’t stay for the second show. I have an early meeting.”
I ran my finger along his shirt until hooking it under the button by his collar. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”
“Oh, you want me so bad.”
“Tell me something I don’t know,” I teased and he surprised the heck out of me by scooping me up into his arms and bursting through the door to our home, carrying me toward the stairs without even saying hello to Maisie, who laughed and clapped her hands, like she couldn’t get enough of this.
“Okay, you’re getting me now and tonight.”
“Right,” I replied, all heaving bosom and breathy voice. When it came to getting turned on by my husband, I went from zero to six hundred in less than 2.75 seconds.
Oh, yes, I loved being married.
After taking his time with me in the shower, we toweled off, dressed, and then he drove us to the drive-in. He’d been promising to take me here since we got back from Mexico. It’d been years since I’d been to one. We dined on fried pickles with ranch dressing, crispy onion rings, and seriously the best, messy cheeseburgers in the entire state of Vermont—not that I’d eaten every burger in Vermont, but the drippier the better and this dripped a puddle. It seemed a safe bet.
The next morning, he left me lying naked in bed while he went back to the office. I felt useless now that we weren’t heading out on the road any longer and I still couldn’t find a job. I didn’t even have the ability to be a homemaker unless I wanted to put people out of work and that was the last thing I wanted for our staff. They relied on their paychecks and Blake paid really well.
As I wandered downstairs for my first fortifying cup of coffee for the day and one of Dee’s breakfast pastries with eggs and cheese and in my case, mushrooms, and spinach, my phone lit up with Lorelei’s name.
“Hey,” I answered.
“You busy today?” she asked.
“Well, you know I have to work today, and then I have to come home and cook, then clean the house.”
“Damn… I was hoping you wanted to hang out at the lake with me. It’s too bad.”
We both started laughing. “Which lake?” I asked.
“Does it matter? Vermont is full of them and it’s a lake. Only good, idyllic fun can be held at a lake.”
“Tell that to the counselors at Camp Crystal Lake.”
“Ooh—good point. Okay, so not every lake. But Jason Voorhees lived in New Jersey. It’s second summer this week and I’ve never heard of one serial killer coming back from the dead in Vermont.”
“You promise—not one?”
“Scout’s honor.”
“Were you ever a Girl Scout?”
“Not even a Daisy.”
Fits of giggles echoed through my house between the two of us—I had her on speaker phone while I sipped my coffee that Dee already had sitting in a large mug waiting for me. Dee smiled as she worked around me. The kitchen solely fell under Dee’s domain. She ran it like a small restaurant.
“You’re done here,” Dee said, swiping my plate out from under me even though I’d only halfway taken another bite of my pastry. I looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Go get ready for the lake.” Then Dee shooed me off. I felt lucky to leave the kitchen with my life and my cup of coffee intact.
She laughed at me scooting out the kitchen with my phone pressed between my chin and my shoulder while holding the pastry between my lips and hugging my mug to my chest. Hey, that took talent.
I rearranged my pastry to lay flat over the mouth of my coffee mug, which left me a free hand to hold my phone.
“I’m headed up to get changed,” I told Lorelei.
“Wear a suit. We’re swimming today.”
“I don’t think I?—”
“Well, then, it’s a good thing you have me to think for you.”
Pretty ballsy for a woman I just met. I liked it. Her strong personality reminded me of Sierra. Si never held back. I missed her. I missed Pen, too. And Ant. Okay, I sighed. Sue me. But then, no . I lived in Vermont now. I had to start living my life here… in Vermont.
“Gloria? Are you still there?” she asked.
Oh—shoot . Caught in my own head again. “Yup. I’m here. Sorry. I was going through my mind to see if I even have a swimsuit here.”
“Don’t give me that. You told me yesterday about the trip to Cancun. You have a damn suit.”
“Where do you want me to pick you up?” I asked.
“Don’t bother. I’ll swing by and grab you.” She’d swing by? That would entail me giving out my address. My personal address that I shared with my husband, Blake Parker . Gloria Kowalski would have given her address without thinking. I started to panic, unsure what to do. “Gloria? Your address?”
As my time ticked down, I squeezed my eyes shut, and took the plunge. “Listen, you have to understand that with my husband’s family and the upcoming election, giving out my address is complicated.”
“Your address is safe with me.” The seriousness in her voice convinced me.
“Okay.”
Please , I prayed to the universe. Don’t let this blow up in my face. I like being married . And then I promptly dug out my suit. Second summer rocked. I pulled on a pair of green shorts with white trimming over the bottoms and a black tank over the suit top. Then, after sliding my black thong sandals on my feet, I pulled a large bath sheet from the linen closet, shoving that in my beach bag along with my phone, keys, and lastly, my little wallet holding with my credit card, a little bit of cash, and my ID.
A ponytail seemed to fit the situation. I forwent the makeup because we were swimming today. One last check in the mirror to make sure that I wouldn’t scare small children if I got caught on camera later and I ran down the stairs to wait for Lorelei.
About a half hour later she rolled up in a teal-blue Jeep Wrangler that shimmered like a mermaid in the sun. She turned down the radio as I climbed in. “Buckle up. We’re heading to Silver Lake.”
“I’ve never been.”
She whipped her head to stare at me, mouth agape, like she was actively watching horns growing out of my skull on both sides of my head. “You’ve never been to Silver Lake?”
“I haven’t lived here that long. Blake moved me here from Michigan, we spent the first few days copulating like brown antechinus on every surface in the house, and then his brother accepted the party nomination.”
“Wait—copulating like brown antechinus? What, are you a nature host on National Geographic? It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Attenborough.”
I threw my hand over my mouth, fighting back the giggle fit. It sounded ridiculous when she said it back to me, but my point held merit. “First—I love the Sir David Attenborough reference. Secondly, the brown antechinus mating habits are fascinating. For two weeks during mating season, the male has sex up to fourteen hours a day. Now, the brown antechinus usually moves from female to female, but given the committed nature of our relationship, Blake only had me. But I assure you, I was up for the challenge.” The last words came out of my mouth and— crap . It felt so nice to be with a friend again, I forgot that I hadn’t vetted her trustfulness yet. Open mouth and insert foot. Blake and I couldn’t afford for me to make mistakes.
It was done. I couldn’t suck the words back into my mouth no matter that I’d hook my mouth up to a vacuum if I thought it’d work.
In less than twenty minutes, she turned us onto the road that led into the state park. We waited in the line of cars, trucks, and SUVs for our turn to pay, which I was fully prepared to do, but when we reached the front the park official waved us through. That was when I noticed the sticker in the corner of the windshield.
We pulled into a parking spot and walked to the sandy beach. People camped here, too. I saw the signs all over the place. For a weekday, the beach had a lot of people. But if Vermont winters were anything like Michigan winters, then this made sense—second summer and all. We actually found our way to an empty section of the heated sand. It shifted under my feet, causing a couple of unsexy slips, but ask me if I cared. The sun warmed me down to my bones. It felt nice.
Blake would love this place. I’ll have to get him here before the temperatures drop .
Both Lorelei and I laid out our towels and I realized that I’d forgotten my sunglasses. Too late now, I simply made the best of it. Whenever she talked to me, I held my hand over my eyes as a visor.
“Did you bring sunscreen?” she asked. Sunscreen? What in the ever-loving-pasty-white-redhead was wrong with me? How had I forgotten my sunglasses and my sunscreen? The melanin-challenged such as myself lived by the sunscreen or died by the sun. My Day-Glo skin made me a prime candidate for full Vitamin D absorption—if I lived in Norway. Neither Michigan nor Vermont lay along the same latitudinal lines as Norway. More like Rome and Madrid. See the problem?
I imagined the headline: Gloria Parker takes her campaigning in the red states a shade too far . Could anyone say humiliating?
“What has you so distracted?”
I heard, or, I thought I heard her speak, as I was too busy berating myself for forgetting the two most important pieces of kit for any beachgoing redhead.
“Gloria?”
I heard my name again and looked up to see Lorelei snapping her fingers at me, half-frowning, and half-laughing.
“Never mind,” she said. “Here.” I took the aerosol can of SPF 100 that she handed to me.
The both of us coughed and choked on the cloud of chemicals that floated around our heads as I kept my finger down on the spray nozzle to cover myself from head to toe. But I still had my shorts and tank on. Smart Gloria . I toss them onto the towel before pressing the nozzle again to get the yet-uncoated parts until they turned white from the buildup of spray. When they find a new hole in the O-zone layer, they know who to blame.
“There goes that can,” she muttered under her breath.
“These are the consequences of befriending a ginger, lady.”
“Yeah, well… I have nothing to counter that with because I did offer you my sunscreen. But when I think of something, rest assured, it’ll be a scorcher.”
“It’ll glance right off.” I pointed to my skin. “ Sunblock .”
Sitting under the blazing sun, that glistening water looked crazy refreshing. I stood and walked down to the lake. Lorelei followed. We splashed and played around like a couple of six-year-olds. No regrets.
Neither of us kept track of time because phones and water, but Lorelei gave up first, heading back to the towels to dry off. I stayed in a few minutes longer before deciding to sun myself again. Okay, I loved the beach. I lay back and closed my eyes letting the warmth envelop me.
Coolness suddenly hit my skin. Either a cloud stalled overhead or some loser blocked out our rays.
“You ladies are far too pretty to be here alone,” a deep, rumbly voice said and because it sounded kind of sexy, I barely opened one eye to check him out. The dude was kind of hot. Not my husband hot, but then again, not many were. You could say I hit the sexy husband jackpot. And by you , yes, I meant me .
But this guy had a fair build and the slightest definition of a six-pack. His brown hair did this kind of natural spikey thing at the tips, even though he wore it short, and he had a beard. The beard definitely worked in his favor. All in all, pretty doable— for someone else . I held up my left hand with my fingers splayed wide. “Sorry, married.” But I quickly pointed over to Lorelei. “But this one is single and ready to mingle.”
Her eyes lit up when she opened them to yell at me, but they landed on him before she could and the smile on her face said she liked what she saw. She patted a spot on the towel and he dropped down next to her. You’re doing God’s work, Gloria .
His friend joined us too, albeit acting disappointed that he got stuck making nice with the married chick, but I filed that under: not my problem .
At one point, when Guy A or, John, as he introduced himself, went back into the water with Lorelei, Guy B, Ryan, got up to get himself a drink and I took the opportunity to call Blake.
“You’re saying while I’m stuck at the office, my beautiful wife is in a bikini at Silver Lake?”
“Do you mind?” I asked.
“Hell yeah, I mind. I want to be there with you taking in the view.”
“Don’t you mean views?”
“Only one view I’m taking in: my wife. In her bikini .”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“Ah—no, I’m incredibly turned on. There’s a difference.”
“What if I promise to keep my suit on until you get home? You can help me peel it off and wash away the sunscreen residue.”
“Woman—you better get in that car. I’ll be home in a half hour and you better be there.”
I laughed so hard I snorted again. “My friend drove,” I replied.
“God you’re cute. Put her on the phone.”
“She’s in the water with John.”
“Woman, she could be in there with Paul, George, and Ringo, too. I don’t give a damn. Put her on the phone.”
“Lor, the hubs is on the phone. He needs to speak with you.”
“If it’s about you leaving, then he doesn’t,” she called back.
“Know what? I’m on my way.” Then he said, “Love you,” and hung up.
Maybe an hour or more later, I felt a cloud drift overhead again. Ryan had long since given up the ghost and found himself someone else to try wooing out of her bikini bottoms—as in, he never came back from getting that all-important drink. Did that make me happy? Yes, yes and yes! One less person to keep me from getting my imaginary tan on without interruption.
I opened my eyes to check out the cloud and let me just say, the cloud was foin . I smiled up at said cloud. “You’re blocking my sun,” I said, acting totally blasé. In reality, my insides were doing a little happy dance.
“This seat taken?” he asked, pointing down to the empty spot on my sheet.
I held my hand out, fingers splayed, exactly like I’d done for John. “Sorry. Married.”
“What your husband doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he replied while letting that sexy smirk spread across his face. I was a Blake Parker sexy smirk slut and he knew it. Still, I played it off.
“Sorry. I’m completely loyal.”
“Give me a chance to change your mind.” He dropped down next to me but immediately rolled over to pin me under him. Then my husband set about kissing the ever-loving crap out of me. I giggled as I allowed him to discreetly move his hand into very impolite places on my body.
Finally, I heard, “Ry?” Then it was quickly followed by, “You’re not Ry.” I carefully removed my hand from where I’d been low-key giving Blake a handy to lift my arm over the both of us and point in the direction that I’d last seen Ryan walking. My husband chuckled in that devious way he often did. The way that told me both he loved bursting that guy’s bubble and that we were far from done.
It wasn’t but a second later when we heard Lorelei shout, “No. It’s still business hours. Shouldn’t you be working?”
My husband rolled off me, still smirking. “I assure you,” Blake said in his best “ I’m still turned on by my wife now ” voice. “I’m very busy working.”
I slapped at his chest, giggling.
Then he went on, “As a matter of fact, I think I’ll be putting in loads of overtime.”
“ Loads ,” I agreed. Then I thought better of my reaction, given how we were still lying on a public beach and the image of an old 1940s newspaper headline flashed across the screen in my mind: Scandal! Or, you know, something along those lines. A newspaper headline writer, I was not. “Lorelei, Blake. My husband. Blake, my friend Lorelei.”
Blake’s eyes sparkled when his met hers. “I’m so glad that Glory has a friend here. I tore her away from her life in Michigan, and I love her, so I want her happy.”
“I am happy,” I countered.
“Okay,” he said thoughtfully. “Then I want you to stay happy.”
“Am I married to you in this scenario?”
“Always.”
“Then my first statement still stands.”
“And this is why I hate newlyweds,” Lorelei mumbled as she shoved Blake over to the other side of me so she had the space to drop down on the towel back in her original spot before going off with John.
John dropped down on the other side of Lorelei. Then I realized I hadn’t made those introductions. “Blake, that’s John. He’s here with his friend Ryan. Ryan went off to find an available woman. Lorelei is single and ready to mingle; therefore, John’s been around all day. They’ll probably have mediocre sex tonight and not call each other again after.” And cheeky Gloria was back.
“Hey!” Lorelei pushed me. “I’ll have you know I’ll rock his world.” Then she looked over at John. “Be prepared to have your world rocked.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he replied.
“Great,” Blake said, pushing up off the ground. He pulled me up into his arms. “Now that we have that figured out, if you’re ready to rock his world, then we’ll be off.” He grabbed up my bag, slinging it over his shoulder, then bent down to shake the sand off my bath sheet. “Have fun, kids.” As we were walking away, he stopped to throw a, “Don’t forget: wrap it before you tap it” over his shoulder.
I slapped his chest.
“I can’t believe you did that,” I said, pointing back toward the beach, as he helped buckle me in the front seat of his car.
He shot me the eyes , then let his gaze drop to his shorts. Okay, I could believe he’d done that. Right. My unfinished handy work. As he turned out of the park, I casually walked my fingers over to his lap.
“Glory, baby… what are you doing?”
“Nothing.” Nothing but finish what I started. He hissed at the first contact of my palm to his hardening cock, jerking the wheel, skidding us onto the shoulder of the road. The gravel cracked and popped under the tires until he righted us. I tried to pull my hand away but his firm grip kept me right there.
“Just surprised me, is all. You started this, Glory. Don’t chicken out on me now.”
Chicken out? I just wasn’t prepared to die, but if he thought he could handle it, I’d show him Gloria Parker was no chicken. Closing my fingers around his shaft, I started to squeeze gently as I pumped.
“ Fuck ,” he murmured, tightening his grip on the steering wheel. With every stroke I used more pressure. His chest started rising faster and his nostrils flared to let in more air. He grunted and I noticed his very white knuckles. Gloria Kowalski would’ve never been this brazen. Blake made it safe for me to be this woman. His grunts turned to growls. “You have no idea what you’re in for when we get home,” he threatened me. I welcomed it. “Massage my balls or I’m going to cum.”
When I hesitated, he barked, “Glory, do it .”
As other cars sped by us, I moved my hand from his shaft to massage his balls. The change cooled him down just enough to push down harder on the gas pedal, hastening our return home.
I’d never been so happy to turn into our driveway. Once we reached the house, he threw the car in park, cranked off the engine and hopped out of the car, storming around the hood to get to my door. He wrenched it open, yanked me free only to fling me over his shoulder caveman-style and I couldn’t help but giggle stupidly again. When Blake got playful, magic happened. I slapped and kicked my legs, putting up a fake fight.
As he raced up the stairs, Dee called from the kitchen, “Dinner is waiting when you’re done.” Later, I’d remember to be embarrassed. For now, I had a husband to satisfy.
The moment we reached the bedroom, Blake threw me onto the bed. “On your knees,” he ordered. I scrambled to comply. “Hold onto the headboard and don’t let go.”
Never. I’d never let go. But oh my God, the moment he touched my skin my body ignited, a blazing inferno of desire. He rolled my bikini bottoms halfway down my legs, twisting the fabric at my thighs rendering me immobile.
“You’re dripping, baby.” He slapped my ass, kneading away the sting. And the next thing I knew he’d suction-cupped his mouth to my sex, tongue-kissing my very, very happy spot. My body started trembling. My head spun. There was nothing I could do to slow the momentum of this orgasm. But as I reached the pinnacle he pulled his tongue away— no ! Replacing it with his rock-hard erection— yes !
With my legs trapped, the friction stung. I reveled in the pain, because this kind of pain always led to pleasure. “Tilt your ass.” He gave my derriere another firm slap and I tipped it up for him without question. He thrust at an angle, battering my inner walls, exactly as I loved it. My tummy started to dip and I squeezed my eyes shut whimpering. The whimpers built to cries until I completely let go, collapsing onto my pillow with Blake still gripping my cheeks to keep himself planted. When his dam burst, he flooded my valley, and his whole body shuddered.
We cleaned up together in the shower and dressed, stumbling downstairs to the kitchen for bowls of Dee’s beef bourguignon.
A Modelo for Blake and a crisp, hard cider for me, we staggered back into the living room, each of us taking one end of the sofa. With our tangled legs under the throw he pulled from the back of the couch, we vegged out watching National Geographic. Incidentally, this was the best stew I’d eaten since the b?uf bourguignon in France.
As I watched an archeologist unearth a new ancient Egyptian sarcophagus, I thought about hanging out with Lorelei today and Blake showing up to play.
I thought about how stupidly, stupidly , in love I’d fallen with my husband.
And I realized that despite my in-laws, I loved my life.