Chapter 42 Menagerie of Vibrators
menagerie of vibrators
Lorien
Mom and Dad, and Sam and Billy show up after the first bowl of tots has been devoured and the first two drinks for me have been consumed. Sometime around the middle of the second, I mentioned to my brother in a conspiratorial whisper that I might have a crush on the boy next door.
I omit that the boy is all man and made me scream more times in twelve hours than I had in the five years prior.
I avoid any conversation at all about sex or my growing feelings for the man who plans to devastate me for the rest of my life.
The girth is one thing. The piercing is another, but the clencher—no pun intended—is how wholly cherished I feel in his presence.
His care, his possessive nature, and his out-and-out refusal to leave me unsatisfied in bed will spoil any experience I have after him.
A wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am would make my head explode.
I guess I could always take up the idea that it’s about me.
Get on, get off, and get gone. Men do it all the time.
I could be that person. But even as I think it, I know better.
If I were to collect a menagerie of vibrators, I could be good alone, right?
Fighting to get my head out of the bedroom and off sex toys is easy when Dad plops down next to me. Yep, any horny left disappears like our waitress after I schooled her manners.
“Well, we did it.” Sam looks at her husband and smiles quietly. A thin gold band sits firmly on her ring finger.
Billy’s slightly thicker one rounds out the set.
“Congratulations, Sam,” I offer. “I’m so happy for you. I’m glad you have Billy.” I turn to him. “Welcome to the family. You’re stuck with us now.” It falls flatter than the humor I’d intended.
“Thanks, Lorien,” he replies, though it feels a bit forced, and very direct, as if he’s speaking to me but things are tense with my parents.
From the feel of the table, I’m not far off.
Our new waitress, the one who came with the second round of drinks, is bubbly and kind, if not a bit shy. “Hey and welcome in. What’re we drinking today?”
“Diet Coke for me,” I put in as Strider lifts his empty beer glass.
“I’ll have what he’s having.” Dad points Strider’s way and leans back in his chair.
“Water for us.” Billy moves a finger between himself and Sam. Why does that feel less like love and care and more like control?
Mom releases a quiet sigh and orders a margarita on the rocks with extra salt.
I look over at my brother and mouth the word salt. He gives me a wry smile in return. I may be a science nerd, but I’m an educational one. That has to count for something.
“So tell us everything,” I say to Sam.
She must want to share if only because she planned this on my brother’s birthday and in our hometown.
Had she wanted solitude or it to be solely about the two of them, they could have eloped at any other time.
They had the opportunity to show up here already married and skip the whole partner conversation.
Or she could’ve made an intro and married Billy on the beach in the Keys with the waves and the kettle drums as their background after they got home. There was a point to this.
Sam looks to Billy who gives a solemn nod.
“Billy—” she starts but stops to suck in a huge breath.
“Billy is terminal. We want the opportunity to give him a fighting chance. A lot of the clinical trials tend to have invisible weight on married versus unmarried. As if leaving someone behind legally has more intrinsic value than if you were single.”
Dad, who is already pushed all the way back in his seat, lifts his chin and nearly topples the chair. Mom reaches for him and I do the same, just in time to catch him awkwardly. Though Mom’s cry of pain is what draws all of our attention.
“Diane,” Dad yells in a huff, busily rearranging his clothes and getting his feet underneath him. “Diane, what is it?”
The whole table stares at Mom with tears streaming down her cheeks… and her forearm with a bone protruding where it shouldn’t naturally be.
“Go, Dad. Get Mom to the hospital. We’ll be right behind you.”
“Oh, Jimmy,” Mom sobs.
Dad acknowledges the table but is clearly distracted. He slings Mom’s purse over his shoulder and walks, protecting her injured side. “Come on, Honey. I’ve got you.”
The wide-eyed waitress arrives with the drinks. “Is everything okay?”
“Can I pay out please?” Strider says as I lift Mom’s margarita and lick the salt from the rim, downing too much tequila.
This day isn’t getting better. In fact, everything that happens feels like a storm cloud is brewing. And it’s sitting right on top of me.
My brother pays the tab and stands, but I give him a look and he retakes his seat.
“Sam, I admire you.” I extend a hand.
She looks at it as if it’s a trap to ensnare her but eventually puts hers in mind. I squeeze.
I turn to her husband. “I’m sorry. Do you want to tell us about it? Or have you had enough for one day?”
Liam
Half a tank of gas was enough to get me within a mile of the golf course clubhouse. It was also enough to avoid me being shot again.
Turning my phone on, I verify I’m on the right course to meet the guys but am later than I estimated. I risk what battery I have left to make a call.
“Liam?” Christian’s voice is wary.
“Yeah. Half a mile out. How fast can we get out of this valley?” I flip to speaker phone and send a pin with my location in case the phone dies. One percent battery life is all that remains.
“As soon as I know you’re okay, we can make the flight plan.”
“Make the plan. I’m slow but—”
One percent? A phone call, map, and texting mean no percent, and I look to the brick in my hand that may have saved my life. That and obscure literature reminding me being left to rot inside a wall is a fate I cannot accept.
I slide the phone into my pocket realizing my tablet is gone. It should’ve hard wiped upon the second failed login attempt but I’ll need to ensure that as soon as my phone can hold a charge.
“Poe, you’re in for the ride of your life. I have a feeling you’ll tell me all about it.”
I glance down at the feline furball with his nose tucked into his chin, one ear aloft, appearing sound asleep.
The club house comes into view the moment I crest the hill. So do the two men with Armalite rifles holding Christian at gunpoint.
Dropping to my belly, I grunt and fight to keep a scream inside. I managed to avoid crushing Poe but that means I also hit the side with the bullet still lodged.
Two men, dressed in all black with ski masks, gesticulate wildly with the barrels of their rifles far too fucking near my brother-in-law’s head. I will not watch my sister become a widow. I will not have my goddaughter grow up without her overprotective dad.
I could circle around to come at them from the back, but that would take two miles and fifteen minutes at full strength.
I’m not at full strength, not even close.
So my only choice if time is of the essence, is to walk straight down the hill.
It will draw attention. Attention I do not want.
But maybe, just maybe, it’ll give Ren or Fitz a chance to save the man who’s repeatedly stepped up for our family.
I’m not looking to die, but if I have to, doing it to protect Ayla and Sophia would be a good enough reason. Popping up, I holler down the hill, “What the fuck is going on?”
Shots are fired, my brother-in-law drops, and a burning I’ve never known hits me until darkness overtakes my mind.