Knot a Liar (Knotted Up Book 1) (12 page)

“Why?”

“Oh, I’m dropping you off, but I’m not moving until that ass gets back in the car.”

Sam is thinking about my butt? Oh, this is rich. Might as well taunt him while I can. I could imagine he has an attraction for my body which causes him to point out specific areas. “My ass? It’s not hanging out too much, right?”

“Jodi, say one more word about your ass and you’re not leaving the house!”

Ooh, bossy Sam is sexy Sam. And he is awesome. “You do know I’m a grown woman right and this is my house?”

“Like I give a damn. As long as that ring sits on your finger and a piece of paper joins us together, that ass and everything else belongs to me.”

“I’m not a thing!”

Like a ravening wolf, Sam stalks over to me, grabs my waist with one hand and my left butt cheek with the other. Sam rams me into his pelvis, letting me feel every inch of his arousal. “No, but you are mine.”

Sam doesn’t pause before his lips capture mine, owning them, possessing them. Grinding his hips into me, Sam keeps my body steady with his hands moving from my waist to splay over my lower back, while massaging my butt cheek.

Deciding to join the fun, I wrap my arms around his neck as he moves us from the centre of the bedroom to the wall beside the bathroom. Taking a necessary break for air, Sam moves to my neck, nipping and sucking and biting before moving to the other side. He again moves his hand from my back to slide up my body, landing on my right breast teasing a very erect nipple. Sam moves lower from my neck to chest to breast, kisses trailing his path. Sam tugs my barely there shirt over my head sliding down my bra, freeing my breasts. Using both hands to hold the two, he kisses me once more before descending on my left breast.

Every nerve ending in my body comes alive as Sam takes the nipple in his mouth, his warmth quickly spreading down to my centre, inciting a bigger flame dancing between my legs. His tongue swirls and sucks and…

Ring.

… a lick, a nip…

Ring.

… a bite, a suck…

Ring.

“You better get that.”

“Hmmm?”

The muscles and nerves of my aroused body were coiling for action. Any action. The immediate loss of pleasure has my mind reeling, struggling to catch up with the here and now.

“The phone. It’s probably one of your friends calling. Good timing too or this would get too far. I don’t want you to have any regrets with what happens between us.”

Not again. I can’t keep doing this with Sam. I’ll go insane. I don’t even look up from the promise of pleasure his body was visually giving me.

Ring.

I adjust my clothes and move to the bed and empty my purse to get to the phone. “Hey, Grace. I’m coming, got caught up in something. I’ll be over in ten.”

“Good. I thought you bailed on us again. Wait, why are you breathing so hard?”

“Um… uh, I just got out of the shower. I’ll see you in a bit sweetie.”

“Here I was thinking you were finally getting some. Wishful thinking. How long has it been –a year, two years? Are you still a virgin by now– one of those reclaimed ones?”

“Savannah, I’ll see you. Bye.”

“Tell Sam it’s time to tap that as–”

I hang up and turn to see Sam stepping out of the bathroom, looking like ‘Mr Cool, Calm and Collected’. Ugh. He sickens me. I just want to feel him, touch him, hear him when he com–

“That was Grace. We need to leave.”

“Right behind you.”

Crap! Now I’m committing adultery with my own gay, uh... half-gay husband.

If that doesn’t reek of desperation, what does?

[
12
]

Twelve Dooms Days Ago

“I need to get laid. And soon!” Leaning against the door with my hand still on the knob behind me, I inhale, expanding my lungs before releasing a sharp breath.

“In the kitchen! Grace is out getting liquor!”

Stopping by the coat closet to rid my feet of shoes, I stand a second longer to embrace the beauty and welcoming feeling of the open city skyline. From here, the view of downtown framed by large, unadorned windows seems unpolluted and unimposing. Relaxing even.

The dominant character of the cityscape is haste. Hurried by questionable business meetings, impossible schedules, the unhinged desire to make money and broker deals. The concrete jungle views juxtaposed with blackened roadways and sparse greenery sprouted here and there looks deliberate and designed as a part of a grand painting.

“Sorry I’m late,” I say, setting my purse on a wooden barstool next to the kitchen peninsula.

My steps falter as I examine the kitchen. Plates crusted with last night’s lasagne sit in a dwindling stack next to the sink. A teabag left out on a spoon, spilled sugar and juice on the light granite counter, cereal dissolving in a bowl from breakfast, toast crumbs and the sickly sweet and tainted smell of overripe bananas and other fruits.

I groan. Again? Grace needs to starts cleaning up the kitchen herself. Even only for the entertainment of company. The kitchen is hers after all. Alex faces the sink, humming. Elbow deep in rubber gloves and sudsy water, her neck stiff and the force of her scrubbing conveys her mood. I’ve always wondered why she prefers hand-washing dishes to using the dishwasher.

“So nice of you to join us.” Alex starts inspecting my neck following a quick hug and kiss on the cheek which I return by routine. I move to start scraping food from plates into the trash to get the place cleaned quicker.

The gurgle of the coffee pot alerts me to the much needed beverage.

“Whoa, hold on. What’s up with your neck, girlie? Do you have a mosquito problem?”

Midway in Alex’s statement, I hear the door slamming.

Rounding the kitchen, Grace joins the inspection. Putting down the grocery bag on the counter, Grace turns to us. “Those would have to be some big ass mosquitos to leave those kinds of marks.”

“I have marks? What kind of marks?” I hurry to the half bath off the living room and stop at the sink to examine my neck in the mirror. Grace switches on the light I forgot in haste. Chrome shines and the mirror sparkles –many tiny smiles welcoming its visitors. If only the kitchen could be shown this much love.

Beautifully decorated in Sam’s handiwork, my skin looks blotchy and exquisitely patterned in both small and large red spots. “No wonder he gladly drove off grinning.”

“Is that why you’re late?”

“Must be. You said she was out of breath.”

“All I’m thinking is that if Sam’s mouth isn’t allergic to your skin, just steer him a new direction. One in the southern hemisphere. That should help. A lot. Obviously the north pole isn’t working out for you.”

Narrowing my eyes at Grace, I return to the kitchen to grab my cellphone from the purse and dial his number.

“Sam, what did you do?!”

“Something happened, honey?”

“Don’t play with me. Husband or not, I’ll get Grace to beat your ass. My skin has hickeys all over!”

“Yes, I will.”

“Savannah, have manners, she’s on the phone!”

“Oh, that. That’s just insurance.”

“Insurance? What are you a caveman? What is this, a case of me put ring on woman, me own woman now? Why didn’t you just piss on me and get it over with?”

“
I thought about it, but that seemed disgusting and repulsive. You shouldn’t be too keen on that idea either. So… hickeys were the next best choice. You said you wouldn’t leave and if you did no one will come near with you wearing my marks. Have a good night, honey. I’ll see you later.”

“Like hell you will! I’ll get home by myself.”

“Alex is taking you home?”

“No, but it’s dark. When I get someone to take me home, they won’t notice the hickeys if the lights aren’t on. I need to unwind anyway. Someone else will finish what you started.”

A low groaning growl echoes through the line.
“Let me talk to Alex a second, please.”

“Hello?” Listening to Sam, Alex scrunches her eyebrows before they smooth over. “No, of course I won’t.” Nodding, she looks at me before walking to the living room. “Yes, okay. I’ll see you.” Alex hangs up and hands over the phone.

“What did he say?”

“He just wanted someone to stop you from acting crazy. The idiot knows Grace would probably make it worse.”

Savannah shrugs returning to the kitchen with Alex and me on her heels.

Pointing to my neck, I say, “Here I was thinking you’d chew his ass off for doing this to me. Alex we’re friends, why didn’t you say something and stand up for me? Where’s that girl?”

Slipping on the gloves to return to the dishes, Alex says, “While he was wrong, I can’t fault Sam for looking out for you. What you’re wearing is a bit revealing, Jodi. A man’s original setting is pig-dog-wolf-snake mode. Most are just nasty and gross.”

“Who the hell cares what Sam thinks? Jodi’s not going on the street spreading legs for any that shimmies her way. If that were the case, she would be lavished and ravished by now. Beside, this is her body. Dress how you feel, honey.” Grace spins the wine bottles in the freezer, wanting them to cool quicker, before putting the two warmer ones in the fridge to leave the coolest.

“That’s not the point, Grace. Sam’s her husband. It matters not if the marriage is real. Who wants to see their wife being groped by other men or talked about in that way? Both of you have a certain public face to uphold. He’s a successful business man, you’re an author. A well-known, successful author, who needs to finish a book by the way. What if he takes you to a business dinner only to realize that half the men there have a certain image of you?”

“That’s why I’m not getting married. Too much pressure to be a certain way.” Reopening the fridge Grace removes the hot fudge sundae ice cream, strawberries and blackberries before moving to collect three bowls and spoons.

“Yeah, Grace, that’s why. Jodi, you signed on the dotted line. This is what comes with your marriage. Now grow up and deal.”

Not wanting to admit how right Alex is, I pout and cross my arms instead. “Stupid husband. Alex, I can’t do this much longer. I feel like a damn Jack in the box who never pops. Sam keeps winding, and winding and just when I’m on the edge, the verge of finding release, the bastard stops. Gosh, I hope he keels over one of these days when does that. Then I can get to do what I want with him first before thinking about resuscitation.”

Gathering three wine glasses from the cupboard, Grace turns to me after cleaning the counters. “What happened to BOB?”

“I threw him out when I met Peter. Time for a replacement, huh?”

“Even I know that.” Alex dries her hands and shrugs when Grace and I start laughing.

Savannah pulls the half chilled wine from the freezer. “But seriously Jodi, gay or not, you need to get some. He’s your husband, girl. Give him some dirty boy magazines and get on with it.”

Alex splashes Grace with the dishwater and unplugs the drain. “You’re gross.”

“Sam is not so much gay as he is bi–sexu–”

“Even better! He knows where everything goes.”

“I can’t do that, Grace.”

Savannah pours into the wine glasses and hands two to me and Alex. “That should be his line, not yours. What’s wrong with you? Don’t you find him attractive? Afraid he won’t do a good job? I could do the selfless thing and test him out for you. See what he’s working with. I’ll make the sacrifice this one time.”

Alex scrunches up her face, then smooths over the wrinkles, trying to regain composure. “Savannah. No. What happened to your pledge to stay away from co-workers after that dalliance with Roberto.”

“I’m going through a dry spell. Can you blame me? I haven’t had any in over a week! A week, Alex! Am I losing my touch, my game? What’s going on?” An exaggerated sigh punctuates Grace’s question.

Alex rubs her brow as if to keep a headache at bay. “Savannah, a week– seven days– isn’t a long time.”

“Yes, Mother Theresa. You and Jodi can be born again virgins for all I care. I’m not into that. My womanhood needs attention.”

Alex narrows her eyes at Grace, then turns to the stove and mumbles, “Your dang brain needs more attention than anywhere else.”

Savannah and I finish cleaning the kitchen as Alex finishes our meal while sipping wines.

About two hours later on full stomachs and well liquored up, we start to devise a plan on how to deal with Patricia.

“At the rate she’s going might as well kill her and get it over with.”

“I’m not ready to get involved in a murder and I’m sure Alex isn’t either.”

“Then get cracking,” Grace says moving from the stove to fill the kettle, “because you’re already involved. How do you think we’ll get rid of her?”

“Alex and I will be very busy that day. We have to postpone. Sorry.”

Pouting, Grace continues her assessment. “It’s not murder if no one knows about it.”

Alex and I become echoes of each other with a single word. “What?!”

“No, really. Only in the courts can a person be charged with murder and it sticks. Everything else is just supposition and theories. Do you know how many homicides go unchecked and unknown last month or even last year?”

“How many?” Alex sends a sharp elbow in my side. Wincing, I say, “What? That question is for educational purposes. Nothing more.” With a side glance at me, Alex refocuses on Grace and that brand of trouble also called stupidity.

“I don’t know the figure. Do you Alex? They always say to watch the silent ones. Besides, if we kill Patricia and say nothing then it’s not murder.”

Alex grabs the back of her head and sighs. “Savannah. Understand this simple, single point for me, please. If I’m going to be involved in any murder at all, it’ll be yours. And maybe Jodi’s too. With Sam.”

Jamming her finger in Alex’s direction, Grace says, “See? See what I mean, Jodi? Look out for the silent ones.”

Alex, shaking her head, laughs at Grace. “Yup! You’d be the first. But seriously, most people don’t think about the choices and consequences of confrontational behaviour, until they’re faced with them. Escape from the consequences is possible but may be unpleasant. We need to think this through. No rash decisions.” Glaring at me and Grace, Alex moves to dish up the left overs.

“Come on, Alex. You know me better than that. I wasn’t even contemplating it.” Not really. I think.

“I have a much better plan than that. Jodi, remember in sophomore year at college when Patricia threatened Bryce to leave you? Remember what he did to get rid of her? We’ll just take that up a notch.”

A slow, lazy grin creeps up my cheeks, eventually eclipsing my lips. Yup, that’s checkmate Patricia.

Savannah huffs. “I still say we kill her.”

*****

“Sam? Is that you?”

“Yes, Jodi. I’m still the one driving you for five minutes now. How much did you drink?”

“I had one glass! And then one more, but that’s it! No more than the six… and the beers… and the vodka. Vood- ka. Ka. That’s a pretty word.”

“You’re wasted. Why did you drink so much if you’re a lightweight? Grace and Alex looked much better than you.”

“I’m just tipsy. Hold on! I need to take my pill!”

“What pill?”

“I don’t know. Don’t I take one? Oh no, that’s Grace. Grace takes pills.”

“You need an overdose of caffeine.”

“Yeah, I think so too. I called Sam to come for me. But don’t tell Sam I’m drunk, I’m just tipsy.”

“I won’t tell Sam.”

“Sam? Is that you?”

“Yes, Jodi. We’re going home. Another five minutes and we’re there.”

“Five. How much is that.”

“Five is five. Always has been.”

“Oh. You learn something every day. I’m buzzzzzzed. Sam, there’s a bee in here! There’s a bee, Sam! I’m allergic, Sam! I can’t eat the bee. Kill the bee Sam, kill the bee!”