Ginny Blue's Boyfriends (25 page)

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Authors: Nancy Kelly

BOOK: Ginny Blue's Boyfriends
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I worried for a moment, then shut my brain down hard, like a trap door. Too late for that now.
The idea of mixing a drink sounded too hard, and let’s face it, I wasn’t all that eager to swill down more vodka after last night. Though I hadn’t suffered the expected hangover, I was more interested in keeping a clear head tonight. But I didn’t want to appear to be a sudden teetotaler. It might jar the mood. So, thinking, I examined the array of wine. Mostly unrecognizable to my untutored eye. I searched for something I knew wasn’t going to break the bank and found a bottle of Merlot with a California label I recognized from Sav-On. I uncorked it, waited a good three seconds for it to breathe, then poured myself a balloon goblet nearly to the brim. Uncool. I hadn’t meant to look like an amateur. I quickly grabbed another goblet and sloshed half my Merlot into a glass for Will. I accidently rained red drops on a snow globe which sat on the bar. It was one of those promotional ones from the film
Fargo
, with a dead body, blood, and a police car in its snowy little tableau. I quickly wiped off the wine.
Sex
, I thought.
I’m going to have sex tonight!
“Thank you, God,” I said, squelching a thought of Don.
Will returned in black terrycloth robe. I’d been thinking of nicknaming him Will Power, but it looked like we were ready to rock and roll, so I was thinking Willing and Able might be more apt.
He went out to the back deck. His house was on a hillside and he had a hot tub built right into the back deck. Through a glass partition, the lights of the city winked and undulated against an inky black sky. Will removed the tub’s cover and I heard, saw, and smelled the chlorinated water bubbling and frothing. For a moment my Seinfeld-ish self lifted its head and worried about the bacteria that live in warm water. If the hot tub isn’t hot enough, or chlorinated enough, or
something
enough, the pesky pseudomonas bacteria attacks with a vengeance. I’ve seen torso skin covered in huge red bumps, the product of poorly attended hot tubs. Ug–ly. Not good. Scary. A huge, seething rash.
I shuddered. However, fear of bacteria is not a turn-on by anyone’s standards. Gritting my teeth into a smile, I handed Will his balloon of Merlot. He took a healthy swallow then set the glass on the deck beside the tub, slipped out of his robe and stepped into the turgid water.
I got a good clear view of his equipment. Not as impressive as Black Mark’s had been, but hey, it’s not what you’ve got, it’s how you use it, right? Besides, I’ve never been one of those who swooned over the length and breadth of the male member. It seems so ... wrong, somehow. Like guys who pass over a woman because her breasts aren’t big enough.
This thought made me look down at my own chest. Adequate. Just.
“Come on in,” Will invited.
Deliberately I removed my shoes and socks, worrying that my body wouldn’t measure up. And what if I crashed and burned during sex? What if he remembered me in the same way I remembered Charlie?
Fear coursed through my veins. I’m rarely plagued by serious doubts about my sexual ability, but apart from Nate and what had become a kind of rote lovemaking, it had been awhile. Will was someone I really didn’t want to disappoint.
I managed to take off my tee-shirt and cargo pants, but I had an attack of shyness I couldn’t quite get over, so I slipped into the water wearing a matching black bra and panties, glad I had purged from my closet all manner of holey underwear about two weeks earlier. That would have been too embarrassing. If I happen to throw on some holey underwear and catch a glimpse of myself in a mirror, I even embarrass myself.
Will didn’t waste a lot of time. He drew me to him. We began kissing and I have to say it was really nice. I don’t know about other people but a hot tub, even if chlorinated correctly, is really not a venue for me to get all worked up and lusting for sex. Too much noise and heat and worry. Water’s great, but sorry, I’m a traditionalist: I like a bed. Still, I relaxed enough to enjoy the foreplay. And somewhere in our make-out session I managed, with Will’s help, to slip out of bra and panties. Unfortunately, both pieces kept bobbing around just outside my peripheral vision and for the life of me I couldn’t get in the mood. My mouth kept curving into a smile. Again, Will didn’t seem to mind even though he was sort of all business.
The next thing I knew he’d grabbed a condom and we were engaged in actual sex. One moment we were making out, the next he was feeling around between my legs and attempting entry. I could feel the jets of water rushing around the outside of my thighs. God help me, I suddenly heard this imaginary air traffic controller’s litany inside my head. “Approaching for landing ... runway clear ... you’re right on target. . . no, veer to the left ... left ...
left!
... That’s right ... easy, easy ... touchdown!”
Okay, maybe that’s not exactly how they talk, but it worked for me. Next thing we were bumping and grinding and I was worried I might scrape my back against one of the jets or the rough tile edge of the hot tub. I certainly was going to have a bruise somewhere around my shoulder blades as the upper part of my body kept flinging upward, half out of the water, only to be hauled back down.
My discomfort didn’t last long. We were about to launch skyward again when Will gave a shudder and a short, bitten off howl, then collapsed against me. “Sorry,” he gasped softly. “It just came over me.”
“No problem,” I answered lightly. Actually, there was a niggling worry running around inside my brain. This encounter had shades of Charlie’s wham, bam, thank you, ma’am. On the other hand, I try very hard not to let my own high expectations run amok and ruin something before it’s got a chance to start.
But ... but ...
I snatched up my gaily bobbing undergarments and dragged them on, wet, which wasn’t exactly an exercise in grace itself. Will managed to climb out of the water, shrug into his bathrobe and head inside, dripping water, undoubtedly to peel off the used condom and dispose of it. This left me to scramble into my clothes. Of course my wet underwear soaked through immediately but I didn’t care. I was just glad to be covered and have my armor on. I wasn’t sure how to feel. It might have been a first union of body but it sure wasn’t a union of spirit. I sometimes wonder if there’s something wrong with me. I worry too much. I know I do. Something to take up with Dr. Dick, I guess.
“Hey,” Will called from somewhere inside the depths of his house. “Come in here and listen to this.”
I carried my shoes and socks and found him in the recesses of a den that was through an archway off the initial living room. The walls and ceiling were formed from wood. It looked like fir. Having come from Oregon I know a thing or two about wood. Not much. Just enough to impress guys. I mentioned the fir but Will wasn’t one of those types who pay any attention to anything that isn’t in their immediate vision. And in his immediate vision was a music system to end all music systems: amps, speakers, tuners, etc. He hit a few switches and we were blasted with sound. I feigned an interested expression. Now, I like a good rock song, but that’s about where my taste begins and ends. This was something jazzy and cool, I guess. The only thing about it I liked was that it reminded me of martinis.
“How’s that?” he screamed above the noise.
“Wow,” I yelled back.
What is it about guys and electronics? I swear, ninety percent of them have a hard-on for anything that sends radio, television, or cyber messages across space. Ear-bleeding, penetrating volume is the mark of a good sound system.
Because of the noise we didn’t hear anything else. But I must have felt a change in the air pressure, because I turned from inspection of the knobs, dials, and pulsating lines of light to see Rhianna standing in the archway. Her face was white with shock.
“You fucker!” she screamed, but because she was a few paces away it came out small, tinny, and fake. But the fury exploding across her face was real enough.
She suddenly turned and bolted. I looked at Will, whose head was cocked as if he were waiting to hear an explosion. His hand reached for a dial on his system and the volume decreased slightly.
Then Rhianna was back in the archway. In her fist was the
Fargo
snow globe. Her hand was cocked back, ready to throw.
I stood there in disbelief. I thought,
She won’t do it.
Then,
She’s probably a terrible shot
. And all of a sudden, she wound up and hurled the damn thing at ME! I ducked instinctively, self-preservation taking over in the nick of time. The snow globe smashed into the wall of electronic equipment behind me. Metal and glass and water and fake snow and tiny plastic figures and a teensy police car scattered and splashed. Will roared in fury and went for her in a rush. I pressed myself to the wall, heart accelerating madly. He grabbed Rhianna’s arms. She glared at him, unrepentant. I felt like I was witnessing a scene from a movie. I could only see the back of his head, but her face was illuminated. Her eyes snapped with fury.
“Bitch.”
“Fucker.”
“Whore.”
“Asshole.”
Suddenly her face crumpled, her lips turning into an ugly crying mess. If I’d had any idea how I would have turned down the noise some more, but there were too many buttons. Besides, I didn’t dare take my eyes off Will and the Rocket. Another missile could sail my way.
Note to self: Remember to ask about girlfriend status before lovemaking next time.
Now she was pointing at me and wailing. I would have eased out of the room but she blocked my exit.
Will, apparently realizing my dilemma, led her away. I took the cue and scurried through the archway across the living room and out the front door. I wanted to run, run, run. As soon as I jumped in the Explorer and jabbed the key in the ignition I was revving the engine. My wheels cried out a little
eech
as I tore away.
Good ... God.
There was a lot of traffic on the road and I was only about halfway home when my cell phone sang. I glanced at the caller ID. Will.
Coward that I am, I almost didn’t answer it. Swearing softly beneath my breath, I pressed the green button. “Hello?”
“Sorry about that. Rhianna and I are long over, but she knows the code to get into my house. I’m changing it tonight.”
“Good idea.”
“Can I see you tomorrow?”
“We’re still on the job. Our last day together,” I reminded.
“Not if you don’t want it to be.”
This sort of warmed me inside. I glanced out at the sea of red taillights ahead of me. LA. The Lonely City. I did want to see him, didn’t I? I did want to be with him.
“Okay,” I said.
He sounded relieved. “See you tomorrow.”
 
 
I dressed with extra care the next day: good jeans, fresh red T-shirt. I even worked on my hair some. I actually used hair products and blew it dry into some kind of style. Barb remarked on my appearance.
“You look ... different.”
“Better?” I asked, pushing the envelope.
“Yeah ...”
Her affirmation, reluctantly given as it was, buoyed my spirits. It was a good start, and the day actually kept going pretty well. Will was in good humor, too, which both baffled and touched me, as I credited his mood to myself. It was over with Rhianna. The girlfriend was now an ex-girlfriend—a necessary distinction. And though I didn’t appreciate having anything tossed at me, I did like moving into first place. Maybe, from this shaky beginning, something good could develop.
“Where’s Holly?” I asked Barb. She’d been on the job when I arrived but I’d hardly seen her.
“Hiding from Will, I suppose,” Barb answered with a sniff.
“Will?” My antennae lifted.
“He really tore into her yesterday. It was gruesome. Someone forgot to put the cream out with the coffee and he ripped into Holly as if she’d personally attacked him. In front of everybody. I mean, it was ugly.”
“You saw this?” A cold feeling developed in the pit of my stomach.
“I
heard
it,” she said, dropping the file she was looking at and turning toward me, all resentment toward me vanishing in this moment of supreme gossiping. “Ug—ly.”
I recalled Holly’s quiet yesterday. I also recalled how she’d mentioned Will’s temper. And the way she’d mouthed, “Careful.”
I wanted to defend Will. We’d slept together. He was my guy. Before I had a chance to, Holly entered the trailer, all business. I didn’t have a chance to get to personal business as we all dug in to finish the job. We did manage to wrap the shoot around six P.M.—a triumph of sorts—but it was pitch-black outside. Will breezed into the trailer. Holly was absent, but Barb came to spine-straight attention, smiling like an idiot, ingratiating rat that she is. I just sort of waited for whatever would happen next.
“Let’s get out of here,” he said to me. I nodded. Barb’s brows lifted so high they nearly soared right off her forehead. Luckily, Will added, “We need to take Agency out to dinner. Most of them are flying out tomorrow. Let’s meet at Shutters.”

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