5. Do Lizards Have Bottoms?
CHAPTER 5
do lizards have bottoms?
MICK
" D idn't you already bang her last night?" Franco asked, beer in hand, as we watched Belle talk animatedly to Madam Cedella.
She was in a white summer dress that was sexy as hell, but it was her sandals that were hot . Beautiful, high, and strappy, that made me want to see them wrapped around my flanks when I fucked her. But that would be a repeat, and I was just as puzzled as Franco that I still wanted her.
"Didn't think you went for seconds," Cato mused.
"That's what I thought. And, you bring her to the races… with you ?" Riri wiped the bar counter, eyebrows raised. "Remember that Spanish girl?"
Cato and Franco nodded.
Yeah, they remember her. She was fiiiiiineeee! And clinically nuts.
"She refused to leave the island," I said uncomfortably.
Cato whistled.
"Yeah, yeah." I took a long swig of my beer. "She's…," I paused when I saw Sam, Riri's bartender, hand over a colorful drink with an umbrella in it to Belle, "Riri, darlin', you tell Sa m not to give her anything to drink. That girl goes loca when she gets a few… any in her."
"She's a grown woman, man; I'm not going to stop her from drinking. And neither should you. Besides, I thought you liked your girl's loca ," RiRi teased.
"No, I didn't like them crazy. I like them easy ," I countered.
Now, one might think that Dr. Isabelle Maria Volnay wasn't so difficult since I got her into bed without too much trouble—but easy she wasn't. She was…unique. Nerdy and beautiful. Geeky and sexy. Intelligent and funny. She was like a gorgeous Frankenstein—everything I could want in one woman.
Then there was the explosive sex. No other way to describe it. I was still reeling from the shock of having had a woman without a condom for the first time in my life. Even when I was engaged, we used a condom because Mia was allergic to birth control pills or some such shit. And it was brutally brought to my attention that she was also allergic to fidelity. She was now married to a cardiac surgeon and had a big house, two and a half kids and a dog—and lived in Connecticut. I smiled whenever I thought about Mia because I was certain I had the better deal. No kids. No house. No job. No dog…though I wouldn't mind a dog. Dogs were cool!
"Next time she throws up, she's your problem," I warned RiRi.
"Nuh-huh. You brought her here; she's all yours, Babycakes ."
"Yeah, what's with the Babycakes?" Cato wanted to know. "Usually, you go with babe 'cause you don't know their name."
"He's smitten.” Franco was incredulous, and he wasn't the only one. I was surprised that I was interested in a fucking scientist.
But she doesn't dress like one, her shoes are not like a nerd's, and she for sure doesn't fuck or talk like one, the devil who straddled my shoulders said. He'd long ago displaced the asshole with the halo who wanted me to be decent. Good riddance!
"Every man's time comes," Cato proselytized and then downed a shot of tequila.
"I'm not smitten," I protested without much conviction.
Was I?
The thing was that she wasn't my type. Even then when I was a productive member of society, my type was sleek, sophisticated, and elegant. Came from the upper crust of society. They were not scientists—had jobs like model, editor of a fashion magazine, socialite…professions like that. They could hold their liquor, didn't throw up, and didn't lie about being engaged to me. They were classy. Like Mia. Well, maybe classy was the wrong word because she'd looked downright un-classy when I'd found her getting nailed from the back by her personal trainer. The cliché of it!
Now, I chose women for their bodies, their style, their ease. Usually, they were like that Victoria's Secret model—self-contained, experienced, and able to handle their fucking liquor. I guess I had a type and mine was vapid society types who were on Reef Harbor to have a good time and were happy to bounce on my dick.
Belle was happy to ride me , I reminded myself. But she wasn't like them , the girls who just wanted to fuck and have a good time. She wasn't vapid. I had looked her up, and she was an accomplished scientist. She was also looking for me , which should've made her persona non grata but I hadn't been able to help myself. Since she walked into the bar in her fuck-me shoes, I wanted her. Lust at first sight was common enough on Reef Harbor but I could usually take it or leave it. I hadn't been able to ignore Belle. She was… fuck me , getting up on a table and dancing to Shake, Shake, Senora .
Belle's arms stretched to the sky, her hips swayed with a reckless abandon that had every eye in the bar glued to her. Her laugh rang out over the music, wild and free, as she spun in a clumsy, intoxicating rhythm, kicking her sexy sandals off one by one like she was shedding the last of her inhibitions.
Dr. Isabelle Volnay with her perfect posture, every hair in place, sharp as a blade in her LinkedIn photograph—was not this woman. This was Belle unleashed. Hair tumbling over her shoulders, cheeks flushed, eyes blazing with a kind of joy I hadn't realized I'd been starved to see. I'd lived her life, but I'd never been this happy. I'd never let my hair down quite like she was.
" Shake, shake, Senora !" she belted out along with the song, pointing down at me, daring me, pulling me into her orbit. The whole place was cheering her on, hooting and clapping, but for a split second, it felt like it was just us, like she was dancing only for me.
And damn if it didn't make my heart pound harder than it had in years. This woman—this crazy, chaotic, impossible woman—was nothing like anyone I'd ever known.
"Get her off my table, Mick," RiRi ordered.
I grinned as I lifted Belle over my shoulder, fireman-style. She let out a squeal, wriggling and smacking my back, her laughter echoing around the bar.
"Hey! I was having fun!" she protested, her face flushed from alcohol and dancing.
I gave her a sharp smack on her ass. "I know, Babycakes. But I've got something even better lined up. Time to show you the finest entertainment Reef Harbor has to offer. Ever watched lizards race?"
I felt her go still for a second, then I heard the skepticism in her voice. "You're kidding."
I set her down and winked at her. "Franco, Cato, comin' to the races? "
They lazily rose, and we walked together to the track .
Maybe calling it a track was an exaggeration. What we had was a little setup with pebbles, branches, and some makeshift tunnels that looked like they'd been borrowed from an old plumbing job, which they had.
People were making bets and the bookie, Pablo, was taking money and making notes without missing a beat.
"You playin', man ?" he asked in fake island accent. Pablo was originally from New Jersey but had embraced dreadlocks and a Bob Marley attitude.
"Sure, put me down for twenty on Baby Blue Eyes." I handed him the money.
Belle arched an eyebrow at me. "You're actually serious?"
"Of course," Cato declared. "Lizard races are sacred in Reef Harbor."
"Yeah," Franco agreed. "Put me down for ten for Green Geiko." He then turned to me. "Can you spot me, man? I got no cash."
Franco never had cash, neither on him nor in the bank. But he knew I was good for it. I had more money than I could use in a couple of lifetimes.
"You're not betting?" Belle asked Cato.
"I don't bet," he said enigmatically.
The locals gathered around, waited with bated breath, the air buzzing with the weird, contagious excitement that came with a Reef Harbor lizard race. I pointed out a scrappy green gecko in lane two, stretching like a tiny prizefighter getting ready to defend his title. "That's my Baby Blue Eyes."
"The yellow guy, that's mine," Franco informed Belle.
"But he's called Green Geiko?" she wondered.
" Well , it's not like Baby Blue Eyes actually has blue eyes, ya know?" Franco replied.
"This is… real ?" Belle was still baffled. She was also tucked into my side, not drunk but this side of tipsy and in a good mood but still within her senses. I wanted to keep her this way so I could fuck her tonight. She'd be gone the day after tomorrow—and I'd never see her again so I needed to get her out from under my skin by getting inside her before she disappeared on me.
The thought of her leaving the island didn't sit well with me but I ignored that feeling. I was damn good at denial. One could say I had a PhD in it!
"Real and dead serious." I narrowed my eyes dramatically to convey how serious I was. "These guys are the underdog athletes of the animal kingdom. Short, wild bursts of speed—blink, and you'll miss it."
She rolled her eyes at me, but I caught the spark of curiosity, flickering beneath her half-smirk.
Just as Pablo gave a hearty blast on the whistle, the lizards sprang from their starting line like tiny, scaly rockets, each one darting toward the finish. It was chaos. The crowd erupted into a frenzied roar as people yelled out bets and cheers, the little geckos tearing over pebbles, scuttling under makeshift arches, and slithering through the PVC pipe tunnels like they were seasoned Olympians.
I glanced over to find Belle leaning in, her fists clenched, eyes fixed on the track. It only took her a few seconds to start shouting along with the rest of us.
"That's yours?" she screamed, pointing to Baby Blue Eyes, the feisty little green guy in lane two who was known for his last-minute sprints.
"Yeah."
"I like that one." She'd locked eyes on Speedy, the underdog with a stubby tail in lane four, hollering his name like she was at a championship match.
"He doesn't win nothin'," Cato told her.
"C'mon, Speedy! You've got this!" she cried out, not paying much attention to Cato, her voice lost in the cacophony of locals slapping backs and spilling beer, all hollering for their chosen lizard.
Franco, three beers deep, waved a crumpled betting slip in the air. He was yelling so loudly that he was nearly in tears.
"Let's go, Green Geiko!" he roared, pumping his fist as the little yellow racer stumbled over a pebble only to recover with a burst of speed.
Cato, cool as ever with a cigarette hanging from his lips, was leaning over the rail like he was above all of us, which, frankly, he was.
"Go, go, go, Speedy! Move your bloomin' ass!" Belle hollered.
I cocked an eyebrow. A My Fair Lady fan.
Beside me, two old-timers who'd been watching these races since Reef Harbor was nothing but a dusty dive were cackling, waving their hats in the air as the lizards scrambled down the track.
Belle's eyes were locked on the track. She laughed with wild abandon every time Speedy tripped over a rock or veered off-course, only to bolt back into the lead. She was completely swept up in it. She was just another voice in the crowd, shouting herself hoarse. And hell, it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
Finally, Baby Blue Eyes and Speedy came neck-and-neck toward the finish line, and the whole crowd sucked in a breath. Belle grabbed my arm, squeezing so hard I thought I might lose circulation. And then—with a final, desperate burst—Speedy, her stubby-tailed underdog, crossed the finish line a split second ahead.
The place erupted. Belle threw her arms around me, laughing so hard she was practically breathless. For a second, she just stayed there, holding onto me, eyes bright. Right then, with the noise, heat, and laughter all around us, I realized that maybe this was a little piece of her I'd just unlocked—a part she'd buried so deep she didn't even know it was there. And damn if I didn't want to be the one to bring it out of her again.
She kissed me. "My guy won."
"You didn't have any money on him," I reminded her, my mouth chasing hers for another taste.
"Don't care." She stepped away from me, her arms in the air. "My guy won," she announced to the world.
"My guy lost," Franco declared just as loudly.
"You guys are all batshit crazy," Cato proclaimed sardonically.