Blue Colla Make Ya Holla (49 page)

During her junior year in high school, Meredith was going through the lamest version of a wild period I’d ever witnessed. I was the cherry on top of her rebellion. She flirted with me then ran away when I flirted back. The chick was funny. I still remember what she said before I took her virginity in the woods near our houses.

“Don’t give me herpes or my dad will sue you.”

A week later, my mom pulled up roots and moved us to another town. I sometimes wondered what happened to Meredith after her wild streak ended and she returned to her natural good girl ways.

“I’m looking for a rebound!” she announces to the bar. “Nice guys need not apply.”

I recognize her friends. One is her slutty little sister. The other is her nerdy bilingual friend who screamed at people in Spanish when they crowded her in the lunchroom.
Hell if I’m not having a high school reunion at Pete’s Stinky Dive.

I’m all smiles until a fucker named Roddy makes a move for Meredith. I step in front of him.

“Sit down.”

“You sit down,” Roddy mutters, his gaze on Meredith’s long bare legs.

“I’m going to shove a screwdriver down your throat if you don’t sit down.”

Roddy thinks I’m kidding until he spots the screwdriver I pull from my pocket. “You’re nuts.”

“Just horny. Now go sit down.”

Roddy returns to his chair while I slide the screwdriver back into my pocket. I have no intention of going to prison over a chick, but I don’t mind throwing a few punches if necessary.

“Oooh,” Meredith coos when I step next to her and say her name. “I’m Meredith.”

“I know,” I chuckle, tapping the bar to get a fresh beer. “Don’t you remember me?”

Her big blue eyes haven’t changed much since we were teens. Bright and way too expressive for her own good, they shine as she pats my face.

“I do remember. You were the stripper at Zulma’s bachelorette party.” I laugh as she feels me up and tugs at my blue tee. “Woody. I remember you.”

“Woody, huh?” I say, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Zulma took the plunge into matrimony, but what about you?”

Meredith sighs. “I married a schmuck.”

Nearby, Bethany laughs and drinks her soda.

Ignoring her sister, Meredith whispers, “He left me for no one.”

“Well, isn’t that better than cheating?” I ask, slowing her down as she chugs a beer.

“He would rather be alone than be with me. I’m not sure that’s better. I mean, I’m good in bed. I’m a giving lover,” she says then laughs along with her sister and Zulma.

“Who cares?” I whisper in her ear. “The schmuck is gone. Fuck him.”

Caressing my face with both hands, Meredith gives me a naughty smile. I remember how gentle she was in the woods. Even nervous, she touched me with care.

“I’m looking for a rebound guy. I know you strip for lots of women and they all want you, but I only need a rebound. You could be that guy.”

“I bet I could be a lot of things,” I murmur, tugging her closer. “Wanna dance?”

“Hey, fucker,” Bethany says, shoving us apart. “I remember you too.”

Meredith stands behind her sister, swaying to the music. After focusing on a clearly sober Bethany who narrows her eyes at me, I glance at Zulma jumping around on the dance floor.

“How did you end up as the designated driver?” I ask Bethany. “I remember you being a wannabe lush in high school.”

“Shut up, Jamie.”

“It’s Winston now.”

“Don’t care.”

“Are you going to tell me I can’t dance with your sister?”

“No, I’m cool with you dancing with her. Fucking her too. All fun shit, but if you hurt her or give her a STD or God forbid post a porno of you two on the Internet, I will kill you. This threat isn’t some bullshit little girl hitting you with her fists kind of crap. I’m a fucking pharmacist. I have access to drugs to snuff you out in ways that the cops will never figure out.”

“Still protecting your big sister. I love that about you Gordon girls.”

Bethany’s angry face softens. “Meredith needs to party. You’re hot, so have at it.”

Stepping out of my way, Bethany slaps her sister on the ass then walks toward her friend on the dance floor. “I’ll lead, Zulma.”

While the other women square dance, I take Meredith’s hand and guide her to the dance floor. Like another sign from above,
Cherokee Fiddle
begins to play. I’ve always loved the song and my mom still hums it while she cooks dinner. Now I have Meredith Gordon in my arms and my favorite song on the jukebox.

“You really don’t remember me,” I say, swaying.

“You’re not Woody?”

“No, baby, I’m not.”

Meredith stares hard into my eyes and I can’t look away. Not when I see those puffy lips puckered like she’s waiting for a kiss. I haven’t thought about those lips in years, but the memories come back to me now. The way she gnaws on the bottom one when nervous. I even remember how they felt on my skin.

Meredith is the girl I never figured I’d have a shot with, but here we are again.

“Woody,” she whispers. “Will you be my rebound guy?”

“Sure, baby, but only on one condition.”

“What’s that?” she asks, nuzzling my neck with her sweet lips.

“Stop calling me Woody.”

“Is that just your stage name?”

“Jamie Winston,” I say, pressing my lips to hers. “Back in the camping tent in Harbor Hills, you and I got to know each other pretty well.”

“Jamie?” Her eyes study my face. “You were so sweet to me until you went away.”

“I’m back now.”

“Yes, you are,” she says, tugging up my shirt and eyeing my hard stomach “You still look great. I’ve gained twelve pounds since high school.”

“I don’t see the extra pounds. Maybe I will once I get you naked.”

Meredith giggles in a way I doubt she giggles when sober. We sway to the music until I lean forward and kiss her long neck. A sigh from her is all I need to feel like a fucking prince.

Bethany gestures a finger across her throat when I announce I’ll drive Meredith home. I love how the sisters remain protective after so long. I once watched Meredith push a kid into the bushes for badmouthing her little sister. Of course, Meredith then sobbed at the thought of being expelled from school. She wasn’t, but I remember how important staying out of trouble was for her. Now she’s leaving with me.

Meredith babbles the entire drive home. She tells me about her schmuck husband, psychiatry practice, and even how much she hates waxing. Once I get her home and rest her back on the bed, she stops talking and smiles up at me.

“I’ve never brought a man home before,” she whispers while kicking off her heels. “I’m on birth control. I never forget either. I’m conscientious that way. Do you have condoms? Lots and lots of condoms.”

“After all my cheating girlfriends, I get tested a lot and I’m as clean as they come.”

“I’m ready to be plowed,” she says, giggling and wiggling on the bed.

Grinning, I shake my head. “No worries, Meredith. I like my girls sober enough to say yes.”

“Yes,” she murmurs as my fingers graze her bare thigh. “I can say yes in Spanish too, if it helps.”

“Close, but not enough.”

Meredith slides her fingers through my hair. Her gaze is soft, yet barely conscious. I feel her fading away as the liquor catches up to her.

“Don’t leave,” she whines, wrapping her legs around my hips.

Resting next to her on the bed, I explore her face with my fingers. “Oh, I’ll be here in the morning.”

What I don’t say is how tomorrow night, she’ll be sober and her yes will make us both very happy.

Meredith

Sunday Smiles

‡

I
wake up
to find a sexy half-naked man in my bed. Giving my buzzed brain a chance to reset, I stare at his tattooed and muscular back.

Too much tequila. Loud music. Zulma singing
Womanizer
on repeat. Too much beer. Bethany whining how being the designated driver wasn’t a good look on her. A stinky bar where I drank more beer and danced with this sexy man.

Jamie Winston.

His skin is still golden. Back in high school, he often worked on cars in his driveway. I pretended not to notice, but Jamie saw through my lies. He knew I had a crush on him much like every girl in school. He usually dated rocker chicks sporting thick black eyeliner and bright red lips. Those girls dismissed a nerd like me, but Jamie noticed.

We were together for one week during my wild phase. He was about to move, so I took the plunge and lost my virginity in a camping tent in the woods near our houses. Over the years, I wondered about him. Now he is in my bed.

More than once over the years, I’ve imagined Jamie during sex with Sandy. I often assumed I’d romanticized my first boyfriend, making him more delicious than he truly was.

In reality, the man in bed with me is a million times better than my memories.

A ridiculous blushing fit comes over me as I scoot up against the headboard. Covering my face, I struggle to be the adult woman I know still exists. I’m not a teenager and Jamie isn’t my first boyfriend.
I’m a professional woman, dammit!
Unfortunately before I regain my composure, he rolls over and smiles at me. I’m fairly certain my face is tomato red as I smile back.

“Morning, Meredith Gordon,” he says, taking my hand and kissing the palm. “How’s your head?”

I’m unsure how to do the morning-after sexy chat. Bethany tried teaching me in college, but I never honed the skill. With Sandy, seduction wasn’t necessary.

Unable to find my inner temptress, I blurt out, “Did we?”

A smile brightens his sleepy face. “You’d still feel me inside you if we had. Don’t you remember what you felt like in high school?”

I fight a smile. “I was a virgin.”

Jamie nuzzles my arm. “After what you told me about your schmuck husband, you’re not that far off from a virgin now.”

“I was drunk and likely exaggerating.”

“People get honest when they’re drunk, baby,” he says, sitting up next to me and kissing my neck. “I think you’re lying now.”

Before I can answer, he kisses me on the mouth. My body instantly awakes from a decade of boredom. Jamie pulls away slowly then glances at the clock.

“Crap. I need to get to my mom’s for brunch. It’s a weekly thing on Sundays.”

“Okay. It was nice seeing you again, Jamie,” I say, slipping out of bed.

Following me, Jamie wraps his arms around my waist. “One, it’s not Jamie anymore. I go by Winston.”

“Why?”

“That brings me to number two. Tonight, I’ll pick you up for dinner. We’ll catch up and I’ll tell you all sorts of fun shit about me.”

“Okay.”

Winston smiles before disappearing into the bathroom. I wait awkwardly for him, unsure what to do with my hands or how to stand. I’ve regressed to my lame teenage self.

The bathroom door opens and Winston hurries out. “I hate to wake and run, but Mom will have a fit if I don’t get to brunch on time.”

I only nod and follow him to the door. Opening it, he flinches at the bright Sunday sun then smiles at me.

“I’ll pick you up at five. We’ll go somewhere nice. I’m a burger and pizza guy except on Sundays. Let’s do steak. Does that sound good, Meredith?”

Hearing my name shakes me loose from the silly feeling I’m wallowing in. “I’d like that.”

“Tonight then.”

Winston kisses me again. No worries about morning breath or public displays of affection. His kiss is warm and inviting.
New, yet comfortable.
As his lips leave mine, I shiver at the way he makes me feel.

“Five,” Winston says, giving my neck a quick kiss.

He hurries to his truck parked at the curb. The sound of the rumbling engine is loud in the otherwise quiet morning.

Watching Winston’s truck disappear around the corner, my gaze catches a neighbor spying on me from her front porch. Even without seeing her eyes, I feel her judgment. Sandy’s only been gone for a few months and I’m already shacking up with guys.

Bethany flips people off for minor things like smiling at her. She nearly got her ass kicked for being so quick to raise her middle finger. Yet I consider sending a message to my judgmental neighbor. Sandy left
me
. I’m the victim. The good one who was dumped. I deserve to move on.

I never flip off people, especially old ladies wearing big hats. Instead, I wave at her then head back inside.

Restless now, I decide to shower. Except I feel worse afterwards since I no longer smell like Winston’s heavenly cologne. Too restless to do anything else, I walk into the third bedroom of the small house. Despite our plans for kids, the room is a gym while bedroom two is my office.

I only have two obsessions and they’re both pathetic. No one should be obsessed with a Stairmaster and Skittles.

I’m still working out when Bethany lets herself into my house. She speaks loudly while making a pot of coffee. I hear her imitating my drunken voice. I also hear her call me a secret slut. Through her babble, I keep stepping while shoving handfuls of Skittles into my mouth.

“Oh, boy,” Bethany says, appearing at the door. “He fucked you into a Skittle rage.”