Chapter 8

“You’re doing what?” Jordy’s eyes are as wide as saucers, which is in complete contrast to the thunderous look on Max’s face. 

“You’re the one who suggested it,” I point out nonchalantly, but none of the fury leaks from Max’s eyes as he stands over me, clenching and unclenching his meaty hands. “It’s just shopping Maxime, je n’essaie pas de voler ton petite amie.” I expect him to say that she isn’t his girlfriend, but he surprises me by not arguing the point.

“And you swear she asked you?” he asks instead, and I cross my heart in response.

“What are you going to do, put on each other’s make-up and try on panties together?” Leave it to Jordan to fall back on his favorite topics, completely ignoring the fact that there’s obviously something serious going down between me and Max. 

“You did tell him to take her shopping for clothes,” Sid reminds Max, without even looking up from spinning his stick as he tapes it. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed but the first thing you say about her, every time you talk about her, is how cheap she looks.” 

“I don’t,” Max grumbles, but the guilt is written clearly on his face. 

“It’s just shopping,” Flower points out as he tightens the buckles on his pads. “It’s not like he’s asking permission to take her to a hotel and fuck her.” That does it. The entire room falls silent and it’s like no one knows where to look, but none of them are looking at me or Max. “What?” Flower finally breaks the silence and looks up to find all eyes on him. “Guys and girls can be friends. I trust Kris around Vero.” 

“And I trust you around Tabby, sometimes,” Crosby adds with a smirk towards Max who sticks his tongue out at him. “C’mon man, it’s just shopping.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Max shrugs and then turns back to look at me. “It is just shopping…right? Like just coffee and shopping and nothing else, right?” 

“Fuck, what are you jealous?” TK laughs, giving Max a shove as he walks by. “You just don’t want Tanger hanging out with anyone but you, you fag,” he adds maliciously, ignoring the exasperated glare I aim at him.

“I swear,” I reply, holding my hand up in my best version of a Boy Scout pledge, even though we beat up Boy Scouts where I come from. “Give me your fucking credit card and I’ll even make sure she buys something you’ll like.” 

“What the fuck are you doing here?” 

I wish I’d brought my phone with me when I walked down the stairs to find my sister unraveling the cord for the vacuum cleaner. The look on her face was precious.  

“I live here now,” I reply, walking past her into the kitchen and grabbing the coffee pot and a mug. I can feel her eyes on me, burning into my back and I don’t need to see her expression to know it isn’t pleasant. “That’s right,” I add, turning around once my mug is full and leaning against the counter, “I thought it was about time you took your turn looking after mom.” 

“You mean you saw this place and decided you could fuck your way into some money,” she snaps back. I wish I was surprised but I’m not. 

“Yeah because there’s no chance he could have just found me attractive and liked me,” I snap back, fighting the urge to hurl the mug of steaming hot coffee at her, except I remind myself of the sensitive red welt on my chest that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. 

“Does he have any idea how white trash you are and how many times you’ve been around the block?” she barks back at me, this holier than thou look on her face that makes me want to smack it off of her. 

“At least I don’t already have three kids and a husband that shoots beer cans in the back yard,” I sigh, using the argument I’ve used against her since she started popping out kids when she was sixteen and it works, just like it always has. 

“Fuck you, you little bitch. You can’t just leave mom, she’s sick.” And there it is, the real object of her immediate resentment. It’s not that I’m standing in Max Talbot’s kitchen wearing nothing but a robe, with sex hair and a hickey the size of a silver dollar on my neck. It’s that I’m not allowed to escape the trailer park if she can’t, and I’m definitely not allowed to drop our dear, sweet mother on her. 

“Yeah, well, now your sweet darlings can fetch her Johnny Walker and her smokes for her cuz I’m done,” I shrug, going to the fridge for some milk, only to have my head snapped back when my sister grabs a handful of my hair and tugs, hard. 

“She can’t be around my kids,” she growls and with her face only an centimeter from mine, I remember how she used to be able to scare me when I was a kid and that was before she was a mama bear. 

“Yeah well I can’t be around her anymore and I’ve been looking after her since I was thirteen Jen and I’m done,” I hiss back at her, pushing past the scared little girl inside of me. 

“She’s sick Rebecca,” my sister reminds me, letting go of my hair and doing that ‘I’m in control’ little spin, like she wasn’t just threatening to pull all of my hair out of my head. “You can’t just leave her on her own.”

“Then you look after her,” I hurl back at her, slamming the fridge door shut, “because if I go back there I am going to fucking kill her with my bare hands.”

“She’s your mother Rebecca,” my sister says in that superior condescending, superior, mother knows best tone that she’s been using on me since I was learning to walk. 

“She’s your mother too, Jennifer,” I remind her, digging my nails into the palms of my hands until I can see blood welling between my fingers, “and you have someone to help you, I don’t. So you look after her for a change because you know what? I like it here and Max likes me and I’ve put up with her shit for long enough. I need a fucking break or I’m fucking serious, I’m going to fucking kill her.” 

‘Kill who?” 

I whirl around, wiping the malevolent expression off of my face and replacing it with something that I hope looks neutral only to find Kris standing where I expect to see Max and the overwhelming feeling of relief makes my knees get weak. 

“Just someone I know,” I grin at him, wrapping him up in my arms because I feel like he deserves it just for being him at that moment. “I didn’t know you’d be back already,” I explain as I finally unwind myself from him and straighten my robe. 

“Where’s Max?” 

“He wanted to hit the weights after practice,” Kris replies, giving me a quizzical look but hooking his arm in mine and leading me back towards the stairs. “So get dressed girlfriend because I have his credit card.” 

I can feel my sister’s disbelieving gaze on our backs and it takes everything ounce of self control I have not to turn around and stick my tongue out at her like I’m five and getting away with something. Instead I just smile to myself and allow myself to relax against Kris and listen to his stories about what happened at practice and look forward to not having to be anyone or live up to anyone’s expectations for the rest of the day. 

Enfouaré!

Calisse de tabernack! 

I’m sitting on my decorative stool, in Victoria’s Secret, surrounded by lacey, frilly things and I know that she’s in the dressing room, probably naked and I just sit here. 

She’s Max’s girl, I remind myself, and I’m not the guy who hits on his friend’s girl.

“What do you think?” Her voice makes me wince and makes my heart rate double all at the same time. Closing my eyes I count to ten and tell myself to breathe before turning around. 

“He’ll like that,” I tell her, forcing myself to smile and not to stare at the way the deep purple velvet corset pushes her breasts up like an offering to the gods or the way the black leather hot shorts hug her hips, or how well both of them go with the knee high boots she’s wearing. 

“Of course he will,” she grins back at me, hands on hips, looking like something out of Hustler, like something out of a teenage wet dream. “But do you think it’s too much?” I can’t imagine Max thinking that anything’s too much and I don’t really want to imagine much more about it than that. 

“And these?” she asks, turning her toe out, making her leg look longer, the black satin pulling taught around her calf and my brain provides images of those legs wrapped around me, still in those boots and I decide to turn away before she sees it on my face. 

“Très jolie,” I tell her, staring at the floor between my feet instead. “You should get them.”

“I don’t know,” she sighs, turning back to look at her reflection in the mirror, and I glance over my shoulder at her, admiring the view from this angle, the way those shorts hug across her ass. “They’re too expensive,” she adds with a sigh that’s pure disappointment and then, with one last, admiring look at them, she comes over and sits beside me on the stool so that her hip and the length of her thigh is touching mine and starts to tug the zipper down. 

“Let me buy them for you.” I blurt out, my mouth motoring ahead of my brain again.

“I mean, if you think Max would disapprove of the price,” I add, knowing full well that he wouldn’t, especially not after seeing them. Becky turns and peers at me like she’s trying to decide what to think of my offer. “You should have them, if you want them,” I add more quietly and am rewarded with a shy smile that makes my stomach hurt. 

“Are you sure?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper. I nod, because I don’t trust my voice. I think if I open my mouth that I might tell her that right this moment I’m thinking about her lips and what they’d taste like. Her smile grows into a full grin and then she’s got her arms around me and her lips on my cheek and I’m surrounded by her fresh, flowery scent and feel the boning in the corset and the soft swell of her breasts pressed into my side and I bite down, hard on the inside of my cheek until I taste the coppery tang of blood in my mouth. 

“Really?” I stand in front of the mirror in a plain black dress that goes all the way down to my knees, ties at my waist and has this sort of old fashioned sweetheart neckline. “It’s kind of…boring don’t you think?” I look back at Kris and he nods, smiling. 

“It’s classic,” he tells me firmly, “and it looks smart on you.”  

“Smart?” I look back at myself and make a face. “I think the last time I wore a dress this long I was seven or something.” 

“You should get it,” he insists, going back to reading one of the magazines that the store leaves sitting around for the men women drag along into the store, “and the yellow one. That one would be good for the wedding.” 

“He hasn’t asked me, yet,” I tell him turning to the side and peering skeptically at my reflection. 

“He will,” Kris replies confidently without even looking up. “Now go try on that suit.” 

“Where am I gonna wear a suit?” I ask, reaching for the zipper and making a face when I don’t get it the first time.

“The WAGs have charity events to attend,” he explains, his hand on the zipper, his breath on the back of my neck. I look at him in the mirror and feel my heart clench in my chest. He’s so handsome, it’s unfair. 

“WAGs?” I ask, doing my best not to shiver when the back of his hand brushes my spine. 

“Wives and girlfriends,” he explains with a shy smile before stepping back and returning to his chair. “We do a lot of fundraising,” he continues from his chair, “the WAGs help.” 

“And you think I’m a…a WAG?” I ask, holding the dress up as I slip into the changing room, my stomach doing a foxtrot at the idea of actually being included in such an official sounding group. For a moment there’s only silence and then I realize that the sound I hear is a sort of laugh, more like a chuffing sort of sound.

“You don’t?” he asks at last and I stand there, looking at my reflection in the mirror, with the livid, purple love bite on my neck. 

“I don’t know…. I don’t know what Max thinks about me,” I admit quietly, turning away from the insecure girl I see before me and reaching for the dark charcoal gray and lilac pin striped suit. 

“He’s crazy about you,” a voice says from the other side of the door. “Honestly, I’ve never seen him like this about anyone,” Kris adds in this warm, sincere tone and suddenly I feel bubbles rising in my stomach and there’s a grin on my face that reaches from ear to ear.

“What about boyfriends?” I ask, partly to change the subject before he tells me anything else that will turn me into a grinning, giggling idiot. Silence greets my question and my heart sinks, realizing that I’m probably not supposed to know. “I’m sorry,” I call. “You don’t have to answer that. That’s none of my business.”

“I just…I can’t think of anyone that applies to,” he answers, sounding like he means it and as I slip into the slim fitting, hip hugging pants I realize that I feel bad about his answer. I can’t imagine anyone as nice and as devastatingly handsome as Kris is going without, just because he has to stay in the closet. 

“That sucks,” I call back to him, pulling the jacket on and doing up the three buttons, surveying my new sexy corporate look as I do. “You have great taste in clothes,” I add, opening the door and stepping out, doing a tight pirouette as I do. “I bet you’d have great taste in a…,” I glance around the shop and see one of the sales girls watching us. “I bet you’d have great taste in a significant other,” I add in a stage whisper, giving him a wink as I do. 

He blushes and I have to stop myself from reaching out and grabbing his cheeks, the urge to squeeze him like Charmin is that strong. 

“Put on that black satin number and hand that over to me. I’ll get this stuff paid for and then I said we’d meet some of the gang for dinner,” he says, ducking his head so that his long hair falls over his eyes as he marches right past me into the changing room to grab the dresses he’s chosen before he turns on his heel and heads for the cash desk. I watch him go and heave a sigh. A hot specimen like that…it’s just not fair. 

  

“You know what it is,” GoGo says, reaching over to ruffle Sid’s newly shorn hair, “we’re losing because you keep cutting your hair.” 

“Tabs likes it short,” our captain replies defensively, looking to his unofficial fiancée for support and she leans over and kisses him softly, a contented smile on her face. 

“That way he doesn’t look so much like a degenerate pirate the way Tanger does,” she purrs, smoothing her hand along the nearly shorn sides of his head while she looks at him with that look in her eyes that should be reserved for the bedroom. I gag and she turns to blow me a raspberry. 

“You know, pirate is one of the top ten women’s fantasies and that was even before Johnny Depp became Captain Sparrow.” I turn to see Becks and Tanger walking into the restaurant weighed down by at least a dozen bags each. Becky is wearing a wide, happy grin. Tanger isn’t. He’s looking at her and then at Tabby with a hesitant look on his face. “And I like Kris’s hair, it’s soft,” she adds, dumping her bags on the floor behind my chair before reaching back to run her fingers through his hair like an esthetician would. His cheeks flame crimson and we all watch while he pleads silently with wide dark eyes to stop. 

“That’s just because most women think they like bad boys,” Mel pipes up, turning to her man and giving Johnny this big appreciative grin and not because she thinks he is one. She doesn’t. She thinks he’s got the whole white knight thing going on, which makes me turn to look at GoGo who’s watching the two of them with clenched teeth. In their little threesome, he definitely fits the role of the black knight.

“Everyone likes bad boys.” I look up to see Becks looking down at me, fierce desire written all over her face, smoldering grin and bedroom eyes as she straddles my lap and plants her lips directly on mine in a long, heated kiss. “Guess who’s not wearing any panties?” she adds, whispering in my ear and grinding against my sudden and painful erection. 

I feel a grin spread across my face that wasn’t there a few minutes ago while I’d sat beside an empty chair between GoGo and Sid. Now, as she wraps her arms around my neck and settles onto my lap like she has no intention of using the chair, I feel myself grinning from ear to ear. 

“Looks like you two had a successful shopping trip,” Mel says, turning as much as her growing girth will allow to peer into some of the bags that Tanger has set down behind their chairs before he settles into one beside Vero and Flower. “You never told me you were available for pack mule duty Tanger,” she adds, sending a perplexed glance his way while he picks the paper napkin off of his plate and begins to shred it. 

“He has amazing taste,” Becky grins, leaning around GoGo to talk to Mel further down the table. “I bought some stuff I would have never even looked at if he hadn’t been with me. If hockey doesn’t work babe,” she adds, turning to send a warm smile at Kris who is now reaching for Flower’s napkin, “you could definitely be a personal shopper. People pay big money for that kind of help you know.” Tanger looks up and gives her a brief smile and then goes back to shredding the napkin in his hand, adding to the pile already on his plate. “I have to pee,” Becks announces suddenly, giving me this look that clearly says I should take a hint and then she’s up and gone and I’m watching her walk away in this black satin mock neck dress with cap sleeves that hugs her every curve but could pass as office wear if not for the matching knee high black satin boots that just scream sex. My dick twitches in my jeans and I push back from the table, intending to follow her, not caring if the whole restaurant knows I’m going to fuck her. 

“Did you tell her I’m gay?” 

The table falls silent and I freeze, my chair pushed back from the table, my hands still on the edge of it, my ass half off of my chair as I turn to look down towards where Kris is still shredding and I notice that Vero’s napkin is gone now. 

“Pardonez moi?” 

“Avez-vous lui dire que je suis une tapette?”  He looks up from his hands and stares at me, fury colouring his face, his lips drawn in a thin line, his eyes full of contempt. “Ainsi?” 

“I guess, maybe,” I reply, shrugging and then I complete the act of removing myself from the table and stand up. “Not that it matters if you’re not after my girl.” 

“Je ne suis pas après votre fille,” he growls and then reaches for Mel’s napkin, only to have his hand smacked away. 

I don’t wait for the rest of the conversation, though I can hear Tabby’s mother hen clucking behind me as I stride away from the table. 

“Did you miss me?” I ask as the door to the bathroom bounces off of the wall with a loud crack and Max strides towards me with purpose, his fingers already working on his fly. 

“What does it look like?” he asks, pulling his thick, angry looking erection out of his pants and aiming it towards me as I slip up onto the counter, wiggling as I pull my new dress up over my hips. 

“I missed you,” I grin at him as his beefy fingers dig into the white flesh of my thighs, half pulling me off of the counter as his hips move forward in a smooth, deliberate motion, shoving his cock deep into my pussy. We both groan but most of the sound is lost as his lips cover mine, our tongues meeting and wrapping around one another’s. Wrapping my legs around his hips, I let him lift me from the counter so that he can slide me down over his cock while he thrusts it up inside of me.

“Fuck, ma petite fille, you’re so fucking wet. Tell me you were thinking about me,” he demands, whirling me around and pressing me against a stall door. I gasp, the feeling of him planted so deep inside me steals the breath from my lungs so that all I can do is nod. “Were you thinking about ma graine dans ta plotte?” he asks hoarsely, slamming his rod into me, over and over again, hard enough that it almost hurts and making the door to the stall creak ominously. 

“Do you like my new outfit? Do you think it’s sexy?” I ask breathlessly, my fingers laced around his neck, using his neck and shoulders as leverage so I can move my hips up and down, feeling the head of his cock pressing near to that spot that will spill me over the edge. 

“I think you’re sexy, mon chéri,” he replies hoarsely, his lips reaching for mine, our tongues meeting in the middle. The ability to speak is lost as I feel the head of his cock press up against that spot and my entire body shudders and I dig my nails into the back of his neck and bite down hard on his shoulder to stop from screaming. 

With a grunt Max’s body falls against mine as I feel his cock spasm inside of me, shooting jets of cum into me as he mutters in French and digs his fingers into my ass, making me wince as he presses into the bruises he’s already marked me with. After a moment we both sort of slide apart and Max leans his head against the stall door, his eyes closed as he recovers while I go to my purse and pull out a pair of panties and begin to slide them carefully over my boots. 

“Max?” I glance over my shoulder while I shimmy the black lace up over my knees. 

“Mmm?” is his only answer, his eyes still closed though he’s stuffing his package back in his pants carefully. 

“Am I…I mean…do you think of me as…am I your girlfriend?” I ask quietly, turning to the mirror and reaching for a tissue from the dispenser on the counter to wipe away the smudged lipstick from around my lips. At first only silence greets my bumbled question, but then I feel his arms slide around my waist and his lips press against the nape of my neck.

“Oui ma petite, tu es la meilleure…you’re the best girlfriend I’ve ever had.”