Chapter 25 #2
“No one reads the paper anymore,” I say distractedly, mulling this over. They’d unmasked him, and now Nora was obsessed with unmasking Pansy. That tracks.
“True enough,” Liam says. “Anyway, I hear he’s working for his dad now, and it doesn’t sound like it’s going too good for him. I made it clear what would happen if he ever went near Hannah and Briar again, and since then, I’ve tried not to run into him. I enjoy not being in jail.”
I nod thoughtfully.
Still, I’m not sure a sentence of nepo baby employment is enough of a punishment for a man who did that to Nora.
“I’m going to think about this.”
“You do that, bud,” he says with a knowing smile. “But make sure you don’t do anything that’ll get you into trouble with the law.”
“You think Jonah might be the reason Nora’s not interested in dating me?”
He shrugs one shoulder. “Could be. It made Briar pledge not to date anyone for a year, but look how long that lasted. I’d say if you’re interested in her, be there for her.
Support her.” There’s a rustling noise from the front of the gym, distracting me, but Liam continues, undaunted.
“Words are cheap. Show her you’re a man who’s not going to run away or fuck around. ”
Mick appears in the doorway, groaning, and rubs the back of his neck as if we’ve caused him physical distress. “Come on. Are you giving relationship advice? What the fuck? This is a boxing gym. You get out of here with that shit.”
Liam laughs it off. “Yeah, man. I’d buy your BS a little more if you hadn’t let me propose to Briar in here.”
“You proposed to her in here?” I ask, wrinkling my nose.
Bell’s isn’t what anyone would call a high-quality establishment.
I don’t feel guilty for thinking so, because Mick would be the first to offer up that assessment.
It’s part of the reason I feel comfortable here, but it would not be a romantic setting for an engagement.
Mick beats his fist against his chest. “Yeah, he did. What better way to find out if your woman really wants to marry you than to ask her in this dump?”
He has a point.
Mick releases a jaw-cracking yawn that makes me flinch. “I’m bored. You want to get drunk? Maybe go get a discount tattoo?”
“Not me, I’m out.”
“Me too,” Liam says. “I told Briar I’d bring home dessert.”
Mick shakes his head sadly. “So it goes.”
“Did Haley ever call you?” I ask.
“Hazel,” he corrects. “I’m never gonna hear from that girl again. Whatever. Good riddance.”
It sounds like there’s a story there, but he seems pretty bitter about it, so I don’t ask.
“Want to play the muscle with Liam and me on Saturday?” I ask, because I sense it will cheer him up. There’s nothing Mick enjoys more than being asked to use his muscles to intimidate assholes.
Sure enough, he perks right up. “Yeah, all right. What are we doing? Is someone bothering one of your lady friends?”
“Something like that,” Liam says, giving me one of his shut-the-fuck-up looks. “This lady’s single, though.” He says this last part with a suggestive wink.
Judging by my past experience with Liam’s sense of humor, I’m sure he thinks it would be hilarious not to share the exact nature of our mission until Saturday. Fine by me. I won’t interrupt his fun.
“All right, guys, I’ll see you later.” I wave as I head for the door. I’ll shower at home, where I can be reasonably certain bacteria has not created colonies in the shower pan.
I’m in the car, just about to drive off, when I decide to check my phone first. A message from Bradley Ruche is sitting on the screen:
Who the fuck are you?
Progress! I know Nora will be thrilled, so I immediately text her—
It took long enough, but first contact has finally been made.
Then I respond to Bradley:
I’m Cormac. My name is attached to this message. I figured you’d be more likely to respond if it wasn’t an anonymous message.
I drive home, feeling a twinge of excitement when my phone buzzes again. We’re actually getting somewhere.
It’s not as if I suddenly care about the Pansy and José ordeal, but Nora is invested in the outcome. I guess I’m far gone enough for her that I’ve decided that’s enough.
After I park in the driveway, I check my phone again. There’s a message from Nora that I immediately respond to:
I hope you’re not talking about aliens…
Aliens would be cool. But I was referring to Bradley Ruche. The one with the gym videos.
Oh, I remember.
Don’t text him back yet.
I’ll be right there.
While I was texting with Nora, a follow-up message from Bradley arrived—a string of question marks.
Can a question mark look pissed off? Because these do.
Nora asked me not to respond, but the damage has already been done, so I figure I should at least clarify the situation for him.
I send a few innocuous texts:
Oh, you’re probably wondering how I know Pansy.
She’s engaged to a friend.
Well, a friend of a friend.
I head inside and am not surprised when Nora knocks two minutes later. She’s a fighter. Once she’s got an idea in her head, she won’t let go.
It’s something we have in common.
The moment I open the door, Cookie darts up and starts pawing at Nora until Nora takes pity on her and rubs her ears.
My dog, God love her, starts barking so loudly, it would try the patience of Dottie, who is the closest person to a saint I’ve ever met. Cookie only stops when Nora squats down and lets her sniff her face—presumably to verify that she is indeed Nora and not someone in a similar skin suit.
“This is a major development,” Nora says, looking up at me with shining eyes.
My gaze snags on her low-cut shirt, which reveals a hint of cleavage. “It is.”
“Cormac?”
“Huh?”
She rolls her eyes and pulls down her top and bra, flashing me.
“Jesus.” I look up sharply, making sure the blinds, which I closed before heading to the boxing gym, have not magically opened.
My dick comes to attention.
She lets her bra and shirt spring back into place and stands up. “Now that you’ve gotten your fill, tell me everything.”
“I think you’re underestimating what it would take for me to get my fill,” I mutter, adjusting my glasses.
I could never get my fill of her. Nora has always captured my imagination, but now she’s taken over the rest of me. She might as well have planted a flag in the center of my chest with her name on it.
She grins, her gaze full of mischief. “Later.”
It sounds like a promise, which is good news. I mentally reset, reciting the decimal places of pi in my head, then sit down and pat the couch. “Let’s take a look.”
She settles in next to me, her thigh overlapping mine, and I have to swallow a sigh of contentment.
She’s not yours, you idiot. She doesn’t want to be.
I show her the text messages, and she puckers her lips. “We should just call Bradley.”
“Call him?” I ask in horror.
I spend most of my life avoiding phone calls, so to intentionally call a complete stranger is unthinkable.
She flashes me a knowing smile and nudges my knee with hers. “I’ll give you a blow job if you do.”
Christ.
“So we’re exchanging sexual favors for services now?”
She slowly shakes her head. “No. I’m going to give you a blow job anyway, but if you call him, I’ll swallow.”
“Nora.”
Her gaze holds a challenge I can’t refuse, so I pull up Bradley Ruche’s information and tap call on the app.
To my horror, a video window pops up, and before I can instantly close it, Bradley Ruche answers. He’s wearing a sweaty tank top, and he looks like he could probably crush me as easily as an empty soda can. Racks of weights are visible behind him.
“What the fuck, yo?” he asks.
A reasonable question. I realize my camera is reversed, and it is currently broadcasting the crotch of my workout shorts. Worse, there’s a noticeable bulge, thanks to Nora, who just told me she was going to give me a blow job. Of course I have a partial hard-on.
I flinch and immediately reverse the camera, giving him a view of me and Nora, who is silently laughing, her hand pressed over her mouth.
“Sorry. I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I wasn’t trying to—”
“Are you some kind of pervert?”
“I don’t think so. I didn’t know it would be a video call, and the camera…” Nothing can make this better, so I change course. “I’m Cormac, and this is Nora. She’s the one whose friend is marrying Pansy.”
A few seconds ago, he looked like he wanted to soda-can crush me, but he gives Nora an admiring smile that makes me want to soda-can crush him. Obviously, I could not. But the caveman brain knows no logic.
“Well, hello, Nora,” he says, flashing his teeth, which are unnaturally square and white.
She waves. “Hi, Bradley. Sorry to contact you out of the blue, but we’re concerned my friend might be making a mistake with Pansy. We were hoping you could give us more information.”
I’m prepared for him to ask how we found out about him—any logical person would. But he just heaves a long, deep sigh and shakes his head. “So you’re friends with that Micah guy?”
“Who’s Micah?” I ask.
He frowns. “He’s the guy she ditched me for.”
I exchange a glance with Nora, whose lips have parted.
“No,” I say. “She’s engaged to a guy named José Cruz now. Do you know him?”
He swears, shaking his head. “Never heard of him. But nothing that woman could do would surprise me. You know, my therapist warned me. He said I should be prepared to lose her the same way I got her. Wasn’t that the truth. She was engaged when we met.”
“To Dean Whitaker?” I ask.
He gives me a suspicious look. “How do you know that?”
“I did a search to see if she’d taken out any previous marriage licenses. Both of your names popped up.”
He nods, clenching his jaw. “I’m not proud of it, but she came on to me. She asked if I could bench-press her, and one thing led to another. I thought I was in love, man. We even got matching tattoos.”
Nora’s eyes light up. “Are you a big fan of Bon Jovi?”
“So she still has the tattoo, huh?” he asks, his gaze suddenly far off. “I’ve wondered.”
“She left you before the wedding?” I press.
“She left me the day of the wedding, bro. The gym was full, decorated exactly to her specifications, but she didn’t show.
Most of her friends were no-shows too, and she didn’t answer her phone.
Not even for my meemaw. I worried she’d been hit by a big rig.
My daddy drove me around to all the hospitals within an hour’s drive.
When I finally got home, I found a Post-it note she’d left me on the fridge.
I’ll never forget what it said: I’m sorry.
I can’t. Don’t hate me. You can imagine how I felt. ”
Nora gasps.
I ask, “You were planning to get married at a gym?”
Just as I’m realizing I should probably have latched on to a different part of the story, he says. “I own this place. Well…technically my family owns it, but I’m the one who operates it. I came up with the name too.”
He points the camera toward a logo painted onto the wall—Palace of Pain—with a frowning stick figure holding up a set of barbells. It looks like it was created by a depressed first grader.
“Huh, wow,” I say.
Nora nudges me.
“It’s…” I try to think of something nice to say and settle on, “Did you draw that yourself?”
His glow dims. “Pansy did. That’s how we met. I commissioned her to paint this mural. She’s so damn talented. She’s, like, one of those bright lights, you know? Nothing can compare.”
He seems like he means it, so he must have really loved her.
“I think of her every time I see it,” Bradley continues.
I rub the back of my neck. “Do you know anything about Micah? Something that might help us track him down?”
He’s already shaking his head. “No. But I’d tell your friend to be careful, man. Pansy’s heartless. She didn’t even return the ring I gave her. It was Meemaw’s. That ring’s worth more than my whole gym.”
Nora and I exchange a look. “Is there anything else you can tell us?” I ask. “Anything that would help us convince him she has bad intentions?”
“Bro, she broke up with me on our wedding day with a Post-it note. Isn’t that enough?”
Actually, yes. I nod, going for a sympathetic expression.
“Thank you,” Nora says. “Sounds like you have a good therapist.”
“Hey,” he says, his sullen expression lifting into another square-toothed smile. “How about you and I—”
I thump the red button to end the call.
Nora grins at me. “Really? You thought I was going to give him my number?”
“It wasn’t worth the risk.” I set the phone down on the coffee table, but not before I notice a text from my dad.
Son, can we have a private word at your earliest convenience? There’s something we need to discuss.
Nope. Not right now.
“Can you believe this?” Nora asks. “Pansy used the exact same message that Berger used to break up with Carrie on a Post-it note—just like in Sex and the City. Do you think she’s an actual psychopath?”
“Carrie dated a burger?”
She tosses a throw pillow at me. “The significance is lost on you.”
“You’re right. Should we make another video call so we can tell your friends? Maybe I can accidentally flash more people.”
She starts laughing, and I grin back at her, feeling a deep sense of contentment.
“Sorry,” she says through her laughter. “It’s just…wow, that guy is really a douche.” Her eyebrows shoot up, and suddenly she’s laughing harder.
I can’t keep my hands to myself anymore, so I pull her onto my lap. “Let me in on the joke, Nora.”
She smiles at me, her lips inches from mine. “Bradley Ruche is a douche.”
“So now you’re writing poetry for me?”
She laughs again, and I kiss her midlaugh. I half expect her to push me away. We’re in the middle of a mission, after all—her mission. But she grabs a fistful of my shirt and pulls me closer, deepening the kiss.
My dick, which responded unenthusiastically to the phone call with Bradley Douche, er, Ruche, is seriously fond of having Nora in my lap.
She rocks against me, making me forget nearly everything I’ve ever learned except for her. But then she leans back, with a flirtatious look on her face.
Inclining her head toward my lap, she says, “You made the call.”
That look she’s giving me is a serious distraction, so it takes me a moment to process what she’s saying. Oh shit.
“Yes,” I say, breathlessly. “I made the call.”