Courted by Karma (The Adventures of Anabel Axelrod) (39 page)

Boyfriend’s smile was
slow and warm. Any glint in his eyes I’d interpreted as disappointment a few minutes ago was nowhere to be seen. Of course, my eyesight needed to be checked and he was six feet or more away, so this could be wishful thinking. In the meantime, it wouldn’t hurt my cause to blow him a little kiss.

S
o I did.

His smil
ed slowly faded while we stood staring at each other, and it brought back memories of the first time I saw Luke in my store last spring. I couldn’t look away from him then, either. Right now, I saw a powerful man before me that while in reality wasn’t taller than average, in my eyes stood out head and shoulders above anyone around him.

B
eholding the dark visage of Luke’s harsh face and glittering eyes holding me with their knowing gaze, I acknowledged the electrifying sensation coursing throughout me has only increased over time. I sensed it last spring and I was convinced now. At his fingertips to command, Luke Drake has a dangerous power to consume me. This consuming power was persuasively turning the key to unlock my inner soul and possess me.

I
was experiencing the kind of horror this minute that I felt when reading the book “The Entity”. That was one of the scariest books I have ever read in my life. It’s based on a supposedly true story in the mid-seventies of a woman being constantly raped and beaten by an insatiable evil spirit called an incubus. The story itself was scary, but what made the book terrifying was the setting. It took place not in a haunted mansion on a cliff, but in a lower-middle class tract home in sunny California. The sheer banality of the setting invoked fright in a way no showy special effects ever could.

It only dr
ove home the terror of my vulnerability to be standing in the well-lit, public setting of a small airport on a bustling, holiday weekend when this truth of Luke’s power over my deepest, innermost being bursts to the surface of my consciousness. My soul had chosen this moment to demand I accepted Luke’s power as an essential missing part of me that I needed for completion, and to stop fucking around.

Confused, scared, miserable and pissed,
I wrenched my eyes away and the sounds of the two groups noisily separating penetrated my brain. My inherent manners kicked in and squaring my shoulders, I rejoined the fracas to add my warm promises to see the others tomorrow. Before following his group as they walked away, Luke came and touched my cheek with a finger.

“
Everything okay, Sweetheart?”

Considering I
’d just found out that I have a soul he has possessed, it should be understandable if I sounded a little bitter when spitting out, “Nothing’s okay, but thanks for asking.”

The bastard grinned. “
Call me tonight, Anabel. Don’t forget.”

“Okay, but call me if I do
. Promise?”

“
I promise you’d better not forget.”

‘It figures
that I’d have the one fake, soul-sucking boyfriend that’s demanding!’

“I’m not used to having to report in and I may forget
,” I warned, already anxious at the additional pressure.

“You won’t,” Luke stated firmly.
He bent his head near my ear. “Starve me in a corner, but I’m not forgetting those splits.”

Telling my soul to back off and give me some space,
I called after Luke while the tingles from his deep voice still chased up and down my body, “Don’t forget to check your calendar for December fourth through the sixth, either. It’s really important!”

Flashing that
dimple, Luke strode off through the whooshing double doors to exit the terminal. Every female’s head within a ten foot radius turned to watch my Hero when he passed them by. One woman had to be eighty, if she’s a day. Our eyes met and she patted her palpitating heart. Out of respect for her venerable age I didn’t give the slut the Viggo V, but only sighed heavily and nodded in resigned agreement.

“Radar Love” By Golden Earring

Wednesday, 11/21/12

9
:07 PM

The Florida women were in raptures over the Barbie limo. In the mass confusion at the curb while everyone was talking and Boyd’s stowed the luggage, I lightly touched Tre’s arm. I didn’t need to say anything.

She
smiled and bent down to whisper, “James Byrd.”

I
swore softly on an intake of breath. That name hadn’t even popped up in my brain as a possible candidate. I was confused and pissed, but didn’t shoot the messenger.

Tre J sniggered, her broad face struggling
not to grin. “Jazy said you wouldn’t be thrilled. There’s only one other woman that wouldn’t be wetting their pants right now if they found out James Byrd is trying to get into them, and that’s me.” She lost the struggle and let loose her smile. “Jazy says he’s got a reputation for being a super stud in the sack.” She put her arm around my shoulder in camaraderie, her voice full of laughing admiration at my wrinkled nose. “I’m sure that doesn’t impress you, either. I bet you could show him a thing or two, right, Bel?”

I
sighed a little at her words and replied softly, “Oh yeah, I could show him some fancy moves, alright.”

Tre’s
sensitive brow creased at my sigh, but I deflected her curiosity by asking her, “James didn’t want me to know, though? What’s up with that? This limo has to cost a fortune to put at our disposal for a weekend!”

“Yeah, Jazy said he didn’t want you to know
quite yet
,” Tre emphasized the last two words, but hurried to assure me, “although, she’s going to tell you.” She went on with a slight frown, “I don’t know James Byrd very well, but is it possible he’s a limo driver and they get access to limos as an employee benefit? This could be his mapped out seduction plan that he uses on all the lucky ladies.”

Convinced Tre J didn’t
know more; I patted her arm absently in thanks and muttered, “Yeah, I’m sure Admiral Byrd’s a regular ol’ booty pirate.”

Aside from being a
fearsome competitor in any athletics, six-foot-tall Tre was a Dean’s List student. Her laughter was infectiously rollicking and drew everyone’s smiling attention, ending our private chat. We entered into the Limo of Lust with the others.

Thinking on
Jazy’s hint she had some brilliant plan to tell me, inside I was reeling. Aside from the laughable concept I’d ever want, need, or accept any help getting a hook-up, how could Jazy think I’d be interested, thrilled, or anything but offended at the idea of taking up with some man she’d been with recently? I don’t care if he’s supercalifragilisticexpialidocious in bed; this was bent even for Jazy. Hoping that I was missing some important piece of this puzzle, I shook it off until later when Jazy and I could talk alone.

Boyd swept us away
. We glided west on 494 and then south on Cedar. Anna took drink orders and Jazy tended one of the disco bars. Stella played tour guide and pointed out IKEA and the Mall of America to an excited Celeste and Misty. They were glued to the tinted windows and talking shopping strategies.

My strategy
was to be peacefully working on Friday at Bel’s. The rest of the women, including Anna, planned on spending Black Friday up here at the MOA, along with a trillion others. Why these shopping malls evoke such excitement, much less vacations planned around visiting them, would always bewilder the living bejesus out of me. Unless you’re severely shopping deprived because you live in the wilds of Canada or have no internet service, there was no valid excuse for this behavior.

Mac
passed around a tray of finger foods that Trent whipped up for us. Anna told everyone Trent wanted us all to get some food in our bellies to soak up the alcohol, so that we weren’t too trashed before he could meet up with us. Trent also called dibs on Misty, sight unseen, because she sounded like the meanest girl of the bunch, next to me. They all laughed at that while I shook my head as Misty preened and bowed.

Layla sat next to me
. She gratefully accepted the glass of red wine from our server Anna.

She dimpled and
said, “So Cuz, anything new since I last talked to anybody a week ago?”

Her question fell into a momentary lull in the chatter of the women around us
. All of us Northfield women looked at each other with identical blank expressions.

I think we all
realized then that the Florida girls knew nothing of the events of the past weekend. Layla and I have only communicated through texts about her travel details. If I’d given it any thought, I would have guessed Mac, Jazy, or Stella had told our cousin the gruesome details. They all tended to have longer phone conversations together and trade more regular emails.

“
Oh my god, I know those looks. What have you been up to?” Layla asked. She teased, “Giving Chief Jack more gray hair?”

Misty
put in with a raised brow and a small smile, “Ooh! I can’t wait to meet this Chief Jack. Layla has talked about him for years. He’s still single, right?”

Celeste agreed
enthusiastically, “Me, too. I want to meet him.” She nudged Misty with a boot across the spacious aisle, “Hey, you have this Trent. I get dibs on Chief Jack. Does he go out with younger women?” She hugged herself, saying dreamily, “I love the idea of big, strong cop types with big penises.” Celeste smiled happily around the group. “Tell us more about Bob Crookston, too. He sounds very cute and geeky. Isn’t Bob staying with us at Anabel’s? Does anybody know if he has a big penis?”

Stella
recovered first, and in tones of the deepest disgust proclaimed Jack was much too old and too much of a grumpy asshole for the girls. Her face still twisted at the thought, she supported Celeste for Team Crookie, although she admitted to not having any penis information to share. Misty informed CeCe that Trent was not a done deal, so she needed to keep her options open. No dibs on men were allowed until they both get an opportunity to check out dick sizes.

I didn’t
add to the conversation, other than to share a laugh with Anna and Jazy at the look on Mac’s face. My sister’s a little shocked over the blunt penis talk, not used to CeCe and Misty’s practical approach to their weekend’s entertainment.

If you
truly liked and enjoyed Layla’s longtime girlfriends like I do, the description of their behavior was that of a couple carefree, single girls out to have fun and new experiences. If you do not know them, disliked them, or were enviously judgmental of their casual attitudes, you could more crudely call them a couple of hot and slutty fuck-monsters.

Observing Layla’s blank, straight face and
pink cheeks at the comments about Jack Banner, it confirmed my belief that my cousin’s still majorly crushing on Jack Banner. Layla quickly held out her empty glass for a wine refill was also a clue.

She’s been lusting over Jack since she was sixteen.
She got tongue-tied around Jack, but my cousin usually couldn’t take her infatuated eyes off him. Jack thinks Layla’s a great ‘kid” because she was quiet and respectful.

Layla
was a mature and serious twenty-three, especially when compared to her partying girlfriends. I could easily see Layla finding an older and more mature man attractive. Now that I know Jack “dates” women way too young for him, maybe I’ll drop a hint in Layla’s ear. I was doubtful about the more mature part, but Jack does have impressive muscles for an old guy. It was my unspoken opinion that his penile proportions would not disappoint.

Stella
rolled her eyes at the three older girls and declared, “Enough with the men, for cripe’s sake. I am going to blow your freaking minds when you hear what’s been going on!”

This
was not the sort of statement that grabbed most women’s attention, since we all loved nothing more than discussing men. Layla smiled at me conspiratorially, and not knowing what she was asking, encouraged Stella to tell all.

Celeste
and Misty politely seconded Layla, as they toasted shot glasses together with Mac and Jazy. They drank to a “Fucked Up Weekend!” and all threw back shots of Don Julio Blanco. I winced at the sacrilege and glanced over at the quiet Tre J.

My bodyguard
was staring at the pretty butterfly CeCe with a frown that did not bode well. Another confirmation bell dinged off in my head.

‘
The virgin Tre J was sweet on Crookie
!’

I
saw a glimmer of this interest last Sunday at dinner. That frowning look meant Tre saws the flirting Florida girl as a possible rival. The problem I see brewing on the horizon was that Tre’s absolutely right. Crookie’s bashful ways were right up Celeste’s alley. Unlike Tre J, whose knowledge of Crookie’s history was a constraining factor, Celeste won’t let a little detail like his dead wife not even being buried stop her from putting the moves on the man. Celeste’s time was limited, she doesn’t remember how to spell virgin, and she’s tall.

I
smiled back serenely at Layla. Inside my head, all the voices were chuckling at everything going on, except for the mean mommy voice. This voice was still ominously silent. It was starting to make me a little nervous, especially with this soul business going on.