The Science of Loving (19 page)

Feminine giggles tripped down the steps of the RV. The three women were sitting in the built-in kitchen nook with a bottle of
—hell yeah, I'll take a shot
—Patrón. I let Brett slide in next to my Mom since I really didn't fit inside those things, and I sat facing them on the bench seat that doubled as a sofa.

“I could really use a shot.” I shuddered looking at Angie. “How could you leave us at the fem-bots’ mercy?”

She reddened, looking down. “Sorry.” Shit, I was just teasing.

“Ignore him,
mija
.” Mom glared at me, as if I didn't feel like a heel already. “If he can’t handle those
butah’s
then I didn’t raise him right.”
Uh oh, she was swearing in Spanish, how many shots had they done?

“C’mere, sweetness. I was just teasing.” I lifted her onto my lap, nuzzling her. Mmmmm… Freshly washed hair. “By the way D.D. you may want to watch your back, I told Tori and Mandi you’d kick their asses if they didn’t keep their hands to themselves.”

Steam was just about coming out of Danny’s ears as she looked at Brett. “They laid their hands on you?” He shook his head, lifting his chin at me and Angie cringed. Shit. “See what happens when you talk to strangers,” Danny scolded Mom, handing me a shot. “So what did the Douche want?”

“Nothing much, just a wingman to make it with Mandi, so he could try—emphasis on try—to make it with Tori. What’s even sadder, Miles and Joe have a better chance tapping that than he does,” I said, tossing back the tequila, motioning for another as I enjoyed the burn going down. “He’s so fired.”

“Yeah, I was wondering about that,” Mom mused. “He’s not behaving like much of an employee. Why did you hire him?”

“I didn’t,” I grumbled. “Max felt we needed sales representation and hired him while Tom and I were at that conference in Germany. Supposedly, he had connections, the wrong kind, unfortunately. I’ve rejected just about every client he’s brought us.”

“Why?” Angie asked, trying to squirm off my lap
—not happening, sweetheart
—and I told her so with a look. She rolled her eyes, pretending to be exasperated. I smooched her forehead, snuggling her closer
—you’re not fooling anyone, sweetness.

“He keeps bringing in these big real estate developers that want to build cookie cutter neighborhoods; and franchise businesses, golden arches stuff. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but we’ve built our company to fill a niche market. Everything we do is original and one of a kind. Our clients pay a high premium to ensure the uniqueness and bragging rights of their projects: Whether it’s a home, a business or some other space. And, other than our philanthropic works, we can’t allow our designs to be mass-produced. It would devalue our brand too much, calling into question the value of not only our future projects, but our past work as well.”

“If he knows this, why is he wasting his time developing an unsuitable market?”

“It’s partly Max’s doing, I think. Since all our reputations are tied to the firm, we all have to agree on which projects we take, regardless of who does the actual design. Max wants to broaden our customer base, and Tom and I are resisting. Some of the projects Avery’s brought in, are one’s he knows we’ve turned down in the past: Big money that wants to trade on our reputation to raise the prestige and price of their developments.”

Angie looked uncertain. “This may be a dumb idea, but why couldn’t you create a separate division for a generic product line? You could brand it separately; give it its own name and designers, and let Max run it while you and Tom continue to with the niche business. If Avery’s already got the clients lined up, it might be extremely profitable.”

Hmmm… Angie might be onto something.
“
Mami,
what do you think?”

“It would have to be a completely separate entity, and you’d have to be very careful in how you present its products. Do you think Avery’s contacts would stick around without you or Tom?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care… Even if they would, I want to fire Avery more. His current behavior notwithstanding, he projects an image I don’t want to be associated with, even indirectly. Not to mention, he’s a sexual harassment suit just waiting to happen.”

I set Angie next to me and poured two more shots, handing them to her before rummaging in the fridge for snacks… Mmmm… Tamales… “Tamales?” Three hands went up.

“I guess I should check on our guests,” Mom said getting up.

“Your guests, not our guests. Angie’s my only guest, and the only one I’m obliged to keep entertained,” I retorted, pushing the start button on the microwave.

Obliged? Great, I was an obligation.
That stupid little voice in my head jumped all over that word, and I internally debated the sagacity of downing both shots to shut it up as the smell of chilies and roasted corn filled the camper. Thankfully, Mat saved me from myself by putting a tamale filled platter on the table and rescuing his shot before I did something stupid. They smelled delicious.

“It’s cozy in here with just the four of us," I said, moving to the table to eat.

Steam rose as I peeled back the cornhusk wrapping; my fingertips getting dangerously hot as I blew on the spicy filling. I considered the bottle of Patrón
—perhaps another shot while it cools… or maybe not
—I was already feeling the ones I'd consumed earlier, so unless I wanted Mat romantically holding my hair while I barfed, I needed to slow down.

“Bet it’s even cozier in the tent,” Danny said, nudging Brett.

“I wonder where Avery’s going to sleep.” I could just imagine him sneaking in, in the middle of the night, or hanging outside listening. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to relax with him around.”

“No worries babe, I know how to relax you.” Mat said, lowering his voice. “We’ll just have to be very, very quiet.”

“Well, if last night was any indication, quiets not on the menu.” Danny smirked. “Brett you should’ve heard them. They were hot…hot…hot!”

“Shut it Danny.” Mat growled. I knew I’d gone beet red as I picked apart my tamale. “Don’t fret, sweetness, I got you.” He leaned forward like he was going to kiss me then reached over and cuffed Danny on the back the head.

“Hey! I’m just saying.” Danny pouted, unrepentant.

“I blame Mom,” Mat told Brett, shaking his head. “There’s no such thing as off limits to her.”

“Even after you gave her your list?” he asked.

“Especially after the list.” Mat groaned.

The door to the RV slammed open.

“Quick, hide us!” Joe dashed in, dragging Miles behind him. “Lock the door!”

“Tequila and tamales, oh my.” Miles grinned. “You’ve been holding out on us.”

“I so need a shot.” Joe upended the Patrón; not bothering with the glasses Mat brought then took a bite of lemon, passing the bottle to a more civilized Miles who began pouring neat shots all around.

“And from whom are we hiding?” Brett inquired. Although, I was sure we had a pretty good idea.

“It was awful,” Miles said
sotto voce
. “They were relentless, and my Joe, so brave facing the carnage.”

“We waited for them to go to the bathrooms then executed a strategic retreat.” Joe said, knocking back another shot.

“We ran for our lives in other words. The only thing more dangerous than a strumpet on a mission, is four strumpets on a mission.” Oh no…

“For some reason, they think they can change our religion,” Joe said dryly, reaching for a tamale, saying in falsetto while batting his eyes. “Well, you don’t look gay.”

Danny reached over, patting Joe’s hand. “Well you don’t. Maybe you just haven’t met the right woman”

“That’s what Suzi said.” Joe shuddered, looking from Mat to Brett. “How could you abandon us to them?”

“Hey, it’s a dog eat dog world.” Brett shrugged.

“Yeah, and them bitches are hungry.” Danny laughed.

“Besides,” Mat added. “I was upping Avery’s advantage by removing the competition.” His sarcasm not lost on anyone.

“Yes, well I think Grandpa Garrison has a better shot at getting some that puntang than Avery has.” Miles shook his head. “It’s disheartening really, watching as his hopes are slowly crushed beneath their indifference.”

“Yeah, because he’s such a catch,” I muttered. “I wonder how late they’re going to stay.”

“Maybe we could lure them into the RV with jello shots and a rumor of a Girls Gone Wild audition then bolt the door,” Joe said around a mouthful of tamale.

“And once they’re trapped, we’ll catch the fucker on fire.” We all looked at Danny. “Just saying.”

Stewart banged on the door, laughing. “You can come out now. The girls didn’t stick around after they were informed you guys took off while they were gone.”

“You lied for us, bless you.” Miles grinned.

“It wasn’t really a lie; I didn’t say how far you’d gone, only that you left. Barney’s theme song helped; drove the Garrisons away as well. Now, can we please listen to something else?”

“I’m on it.” Danny raced out as the rest of us followed at a more sedate pace joining Mat’s parents and Avery under the canopy.

“That purple dinosaur can clear a room almost as fast as my fruit flies.” Mat reached out a steadying hand as I wobbled slightly. I was such a lightweight. Miles gave me a confused look. “You don’t want to know."

CHAPTER NINE

Blindfolds and Zipties, Oh My

Shit… Avery was still here.
I settled Angie against me, joining my folks at the table as he glared miserably. The soulful notes of Stevie Ray’s guitar, let me know Danny’d found the blues playlist.

“I’m really sorry, you guys, I had no idea.” Mom apologized. “I just met Baily, and she seemed so nice.”

“Yeah, they’re like locusts,” Angie said. “Individually, they’re just simple grasshoppers, it’s when they start congregating they turn evil.”

“Come on sweetness, let’s dance.” I didn't really give her a choice, tugging her close while Stevie sang about crying skies above a wailing guitar.

Soon Avery was alone at the table while the rest of us spun slow circles in our lovers’ arms. Miles whispered something in Joe’s ear making him laugh, and Mom and Dad were doing some fancy footwork to “Chitlins Con Carne.”
God, Angie’s hair smelled good—
she shivered as my hands roamed all over her back—
would it be rude if we went ahead and bolted? Aw, fuck rude, they’d understand.

“Let’s turn in babe. Seems like I’ve been waiting forever to get you all to myself.”
That’s right sweetness; it’s time.
“We’re turning in people. We’ll see you in the morning,” I announced, tossing a squirming, laughing Angie over my shoulder caveman style. I grabbed a couple of beers on the way and took the small lantern from the picnic table. I was definitely seeing the color of her panties tonight.

Angie sat on the end of the air mattress fidgeting shyly as the lantern cast crazy shadows—
don’t worry sweetness; I’m going to help you with that
—we were in that awkward phase: Still too uncertain and self-conscious to just relax and enjoy the moment. I peeled back the sleeping bag, debating whether to wait or strip now. We were definitely getting naked before morning; I just didn't want to scare her prematurely. Oh, I’d scare her all right, but in a good way.

“Why don’t you strip out of those jeans. Lose the bra too. I won’t turn around until you’re under the covers.” I’d pitched my voice low using the tone she had a problem saying no. I held my breath as Muddy Waters Chicago style blues battled distant boom boxes and raucous laughter, knowing the bra was pushing it. I let it out, after I heard a soft ‘Okay.’ I busied myself opening our beers as the mattress shifted and clothing rustled behind me. I turned when the sleeping bag whacked me on the back.

“Sorry,” she muttered taking the beer I handed her.

“That’s all right, I’m sure you’ll make it up to me.”

Her eyes flew around the tent as she anxiously sipped her beer; sitting cross-legged in nothing but a thin tee with the sleeping bag tucked securely over her lap. She grew increasingly flustered as I openly studied her—
that’s right little girl, you have all my attention
—the cold LED light stole the warmth from her lips tinging them blue, and her pale skin stood out starkly next to her ebony curls.