Chapter 3
Three
Remy and I are parked on adjacent sofas in my living room watching the Oakland A’s play the Chicago White Sox.
He and Karin crashed here last night but the she-devil split a couple of hours ago, griping about having to work on a Saturday.
We’re hungover after staying up late snorting too much blow but eating and imbibing some hair-of-the-dog beers have restored me somewhat.
Thankfully, I don’t have shit to do today.
The telephone rings and I heft myself from the comfort of the couch and answer it.
“Hey, it’s Jacqui. Um…I got your number from the phone book. Hope you don’t mind.”
“Hey.”
She plows on. “I was just wondering what you were doing, if you know, you and Remy were hanging out or something, and maybe, uh, I could swing by. I’m totally suffering over here, my parents, you know…it’s just so oppressive…”
My lips twitch.
“I just thought—”
“Yeah, sure. Come on up.”
She blows out a breath. “Oh. Great. Thanks. Great. I said that already, didn’t I?”
I shake my head. She’s nervous, and something about that cracks me up. “See you in a bit, then?”
“Yes! Leaving now. Soon, I mean. Okay…bye.”
“Bye.”
I hang up and open the front door wide then resume my position on the couch. “Jacqui’s coming up.”
“She obviously isn’t immune to my charms. Sweet.” Remy lights a cigarette and sits back with his legs splayed and one arm thrown over the sofa back like he owns the thing.
Jacqui arrives at my doorstep in less than twenty minutes, uttering a tentative, “Hello?” through the door.
“Come on in,” I beckon, not eager to move from this spot again. My eyes lock on hers when she breezes into the room wearing faded cutoffs, a skimpy shirt, and flip-flops, which appear to be her footwear of choice. “Hey, Jacqui.”
Remy flashes her a big grin. “There’s our girl.”
“Can I get you a drink?” I ask, forcing myself to stand.
“Whatcha got?”
She follows me to the kitchen while I rattle off her choices. “Beer, white wine, ginger ale…water.”
“Wine, please.” Guess she’s going to hair-of-the-dog it too.
I fetch a stem glass, fill it halfway with chilled Chablis, and hand it to her. Our fingers graze and my body buzzes from the same jolt as last night at the theater. Jesus, what is it with this chick? I snag two beers from the fridge and pass one to Remy before reclaiming my spot on the sofa.
Jacqui slides into the orange lounge chair. “How you guys doing?” she asks.
“Ready to roll, sports fans,” Remy answers, that perpetual grin plastered on his face.
I shrug. My head’s not too happy but I’ve also felt much worse.
“I hardly slept, thanks to you. You’re both a bad influence.” She takes a sip of her wine.
Remy smirks. “You’re a big girl—even if you are the baby. Mick, I’m not sure we should be corrupting her. She’s not of legal drinking age yet.”
Reaching behind her, she snatches the pillow and throws it at him. Remy deflects it easily.
“We’ve been drinking since we were fourteen,” I drawl. Earlier, actually.
Jacqui settles in and we hang out, casually talking about nothing of importance, watching parts of the game, laughing at times. A new buzz forms by late afternoon, and my mood lightens.
“You guys want to play I Never?” she asks.
“Hell yeah,” Remy answers.
Not really, but I nod anyway.
Jacqui kicks it off. “I’ve never had a threesome.”
I cast a surprised glance her way, admiring how she started off strong.
“Damn, girl. Throwing down the gauntlet first thing,” Remy says. He’s the only one to drink, and Jacqui’s mouth splits into a grin.
Remy goes next. “I’ve never had sex outside.”
All three of us drink.
My turn. “I’ve never gone on a blind date.”
We all stare at each other, and no one moves.
“Cheers to that,” Jacqui says, and we lean in and touch glasses.
She lights a smoke using a match, and the sharp stench of sulfur reaches my nose. It’s one reason I use a Zippo. “I’ve never given someone a fake phone number.”
We all partake again and share a laugh.
Remy’s expression turns devilish, and I brace myself for whatever’s coming. “I’ve never whacked off more than once in a day.”
Jacqui smirks, her eyebrows hiking when she brings the glass to her lips…and takes a very deliberate swallow of wine.
My mouth drops—and so does Remy’s—as my mind does mental gymnastics picturing the golden girl playing with herself. My dick twitches, all too eager to join in this gymnastics routine.
Remy shakes his head. “I call bullshit.”
I want to call bullshit, but I’m too immersed in mentally stripping off her clothes…and this is a thought process I need to halt immediately.
But then Jacqui tucks a bare foot under her other leg, drags on her cigarette, and blows out a stream of smoke, displaying that long neck again, and all bets are off. I’d like to taste that neck and riddle it with hickeys.
“Sorry, loser, but you’re wrong,” she says, interrupting my fantasy. “I have needs.”
Suddenly, I’d like to fulfill her needs. Every fucking one of them. I manage a strangled chuckle but goddamn if I can’t corral my wayward thoughts.
“I read once ninety-eight percent of men whack off daily and sixty-five percent of women. So, you know, it’s a thing,” she quips, like we’re not talking about her fingering her pussy.
Fuck.
We’re both staring at her, probably like prey, as my rapidly growing dick presses uncomfortably against my jeans.
Eventually, Remy breaks the silence. “Girl, you’re a trip. But I dig you.”
Her lips stretch into an unstoppable smile. She knows exactly what she’s doing to us. “Your turn, Mick.”
Time to steer this conversation in another direction. “I’ve never been arrested.”
Remy and I sip our beers.
Her brow furrows and she leans forward in her chair, addressing me first. “What for?”
“DUI. Spent the night with a bunch of smelly assholes. Don’t recommend it.”
She lifts a brow toward Remy in a silent question.
“Busted with marijuana…after urinating in public,” he answers sheepishly.
Now her eyes widen, the hint of a smile on her lips.
“I was wasted, and the cop had a Napoleon complex, so it escalated. Whatever,” he says, blowing it off. “I was underage, got out of it. My record’s sealed for life.”
It’s Jacqui’s turn again. “I’ve never cheated on someone.”
That’s a bullseye for Remy—and she knows it.
He groans, dropping his head back against the sofa.
“Just won’t leave it alone, will you?” After a sideways glance, he tips back his beer.
He’s the only one, and that means she hasn’t cheated on anyone before, unless she’s lying.
I hate that my thoughts immediately go there, but it’s an irrefutable fact that some chicks are deceptive, cheating sleazes.
“Why do you cheat?” she asks.
I light another Marlboro and kick back. Can’t wait to hear him answer this one.
Remy takes another slug but has the good sense to look embarrassed. “I like variety…and there’s a lot of fine tail out there.”
“Why not break up with your girlfriend and sample the smorgasbord to your heart’s content?”
He rakes a hand through his disheveled hair. “Because I love Karin, okay? I don’t expect you to understand, but it’s true.”
“How often do you—”
“Nope. Not answering that.”
Jacqui snorts. “You’re a fucking dog…but I still like you.”
Remy grins, but I don’t.