Four Play: A Collection of Novellas (27 page)

“No,” I shot back, embarrassed. “
He
doesn’t.”

“That’s a lie,” Dunc protested, acting just as awkward as he always had around women. “Mike’s the player in our group. A different chick every weekend. No, every night, I mean! Sometimes even two or three chicks a night. Watch out for this one, ladies. And whatever you do, don’t go falling in love with him,” he said seriously. “A heartbreaker, this one is.”

I cringed, and laughed into the crook of my elbow, keeping my head down. If I had any chance at winning this stupid thing, Duncan had just blown it for me.

“A sensible woman doesn’t believe in insta-love, no matter how well the story is told. If she falls in love in less than a weekend, then she’s desperate,” Monica stated with complete conviction. “So if Mike is the manwhore, and the one in the yellow tennis shoes over there is Silent Bob, what does that make you?” she asked Duncan. “Or are you just Mike’s pimp?”

Jack walked through the bar entrance and gave me a nod, stopping to order a drink while Duncan squirmed.

“I’m uh… I guess I’d be… Well, I’m Duncan.”

“Just Duncan. No title? Are you Duncan the knight? Duncan the biker guy? Duncan the cowboy? Duncan the detective? Duncan the domineering millionaire?” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Or are you
just
Duncan, the comic relief?”

Jack put his money on the bar, walked toward us, and sat next to Lauren at their table.

I kept my eye on him, almost forgetting that I should’ve been listening to the conversation at hand, but I didn’t trust Jack. Lauren seemed like too nice of a person to get tangled in his grisly pickup lines.

Lauren didn’t look comfortable with the seating arrangement. She fidgeted and avoided eye contact while Jack scooted his chair closer to her. He really was a sleaze.

All the while, Monica and Duncan continued their embarrassing dialogue.

Beads of sweat gathered on Dunc’s forehead and he wiped them away in annoyance. Monica ate it up, enjoying his discomfort. She seemed like the man-eater sort.

I could tell that she had the game nailed. I wouldn’t doubt that she’d made Duncan pitch a tent just by looking at him.

Poor guy.

“So what did he mean by
domineering
, Michael?” Monica asked, directing the conversation back toward me again.

I had to think back to what Duncan said a few minutes earlier.

I raised an eyebrow. “Yes, I’m the player.” I let the words drip from my lips, honey on my tongue.  “A dominating master between the sheets.” I continued, seeing how far I could stretch it before she slapped me. It was also important to save Duncan from a fate worse than humiliating death. “So if you’re asking if you can find out, the answer is yes. But you’ll have to be a good girl tonight and obey me. Otherwise you’ll get a flogging.”

I had no idea where my sudden courage came from, but I had a feeling there was only one kind of guy who would get an instant reaction from her.

And I nailed it.

Monica tried to hide her shock by smoothing her features and chewing the inside of her cheek. Swinging her legs to the side, slowly crossing them and shifting her body to face me, she then leaned in and whispered, “I don’t fuck men I don’t know.”

Riiiiight.
I rolled my eyes and shrugged. “So be it then. ‘Sometimes a loss is the best thing that can happen. It teaches you what you should do the next time.’”

In my heated conversation, I hadn’t seen how far Jack had taken the whole creepy vibe thing with Lauren at the other end of Monica’s table. Lauren tried finding Monica’s foot to kick under their table and I spotted her nonverbal cry for help. But Lauren was shit out of luck: Monica ignored her. No one was saving her.

Monica’s eyes bored into mine, and her knuckles turned white gripping the edge of the table. “I know that quote,” she said seductively. “Hemmingway? Eliot?” She shook her head. “No! Vonnegut?”

I couldn’t focus on Monica, and kept my eye on Jack just over her shoulder. He smoothed back his black hair, and a small dribble gathered on his bottom lip. His stare was intense, giving me the willies, and I immediately stood and walked over.

“Snoop Dogg,” I muttered back to Monica, barely looking over my shoulder. “Lauren, may I speak with you for a moment?” I interrupted Jack.

He narrowed his eyes, sucking in through his teeth. But Lauren was happy to oblige; she stood quickly and grabbed her purse, tucking the chair in, and then marched into the lobby. Monica sat stunned in her chair, and I chalked up another point for the win. First rule in playing the asshole: ignore the girl.

“You okay?” I asked once Lauren stopped. The lobby was empty except for the desk clerk.

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “How are you friends with that guy?”

I raked my hand through my hair. “I’m not, really. We all graduated from Virginia Tech last month, and this weekend was sort of a going away present from our professor.”

She shivered and rubbed her arms. “I don’t understand guys like that. I mean, what about the word ‘no’—and the obvious repellent body language—did he not understand?”

“Jesus, he works fast. You already had to tell him no? He had only been there for like four minutes. What did he do, just walk up to you and ask you to have sex with him?”

“Pretty much.” She scratched her forehead and dropped her hands to her sides. “Thanks for your help.” She turned away slowly and walked toward the front door.

“Wait, Lauren!” I jogged to her. “Are you okay? I mean, really?”

“I’m fine,” she laughed. “It’s not like he tried to have sex with me under the table or anything. Although that probably would’ve been next.”

A glance back at the table in the bar told me they were all awaiting our return. But I was in no hurry to get back. In fact, the thought made me dry heave a bit. “Where are you going?” I asked urgently. “I mean, may I walk with you a while?”

“Sure. I’m going to the pier. I wanted to do a little sightseeing while I was in the States.”

“The States?” I asked, following her out the door. “Where are you from?”

“Well, I’m originally from Winnipeg, but my family vacationed in British Columbia when I was a kid, and I’ve always wanted to return. I just graduated from Trinity Western in Vancouver.” Fighting off a shiver, she wrapped herself in her tiny arms, lost in a hazy smile. In her heavy daze, I saw the mountains and ocean of Vancouver as she daydreamed of them.

“I’ve never been there. I applied for a job here in Seattle, but I haven’t heard back yet. I’m not holding my breath, either. But Vancouver is within driving distance. If I get the job, maybe we could meet up sometime?”

She nodded, giving me a small smile and keeping her eyes down on the path beneath our feet.

We walked through the park, and the night closed in on us. The grass, bright yellow and green in the daylight, had faded to a deep forest green, and the blue-black water shimmered in the cool night air.

“What kind of job?” she asked, continuing the conversation we had minutes ago.

“For a large copywriting firm. It’s not the end goal, but it would be a foot in the right door and open up other opportunities.”

We fell into an easy silence, casually meandering over the walkway. The park was empty and quiet, a stark contrast to the bar inside. The first signs of stars flickered, and the faint odor of fresh rain could be smelled in the distance.

We crossed a small bridge to get to the shore, and several wooden piers lined the docking area. Each dock had a railing, and I gathered that the area was mostly for tourists. Riverboats, yachts, jet boats, and fishing boats surrounded us.

A large Ferris wheel lit up across the bay, and we watched as sightseers filed off and on the attraction.

She stopped, leaning against the railing at the end of the dock. “What’s the end goal?”

“Huh?”

“You said that the end goal wasn’t Seattle. What’s the end goal?”

Staring up at the full moon partially covered by dark clouds, I contemplated my answer. After a chuckle, I said, “I guess I haven’t gotten that far yet. I want to write fiction, like horror, action, mystery, suspense… But I know that doesn’t pay the bills unless you’re a big name. I guess I don’t really care what I write, so long as I’m writing
something
.”

She nodded and remained silent as we resumed a casual pace, and I kept my hands in my pockets while Lauren folded her arms loosely across her chest.

“You don’t talk much, do you?”

I laughed when she shrugged her reply.

“What about you?” I asked. “What do you plan to be when you grow up?”

She took a deep breath and pushed it out. “I always thought I wanted to be a journalist, but I’m not too sure anymore. There’s a lot of politics involved. They say blogging is the next big thing, but whenever people hear something like that, they all jump on the bandwagon and it becomes
too
big of a thing. Then the trend quickly washes away. I don’t want to be a trend.”

She shivered again, and without thinking I removed my coat and wrapped it around her. “So still undecided then?”

She nuzzled her face against my jacket, taking a deep sigh. “I guess I’m a hopeless romantic. I’d love to write something that becomes a classic someday.”

“I’ve always wondered how they did it. The Classics, I mean. Some of those stories are so real, they had to have been mirroring a situation that happened to them in real life. There’s no amount of research that someone can do to write something like that. They have to
feel
it.”

She nodded and stared back into the water. “Agreed.” With what little light reflected off the water, Lauren’s eyes sparkled. She brushed her hair behind her shoulder, exposing her neck, and her profile instantly put me at ease.

She was stunning.

“So have you met him yet?”

“Who?” she asked, glancing back at me.

“The fact that you have to ask tells me you haven’t.” I laughed. “I guess you’re going to have to meet your Prince Charming, princess. Then you’ll have your classic romance to write about.”

“Nah. It’s a different time and place. If Prince Charming ever existed, he certainly doesn’t in 2006. His breed died sometime in the nineteenth or twentieth centuries,” she laughed.

“Truth,” I agreed. “Come on, let’s get you back to your room. It’s freezing out here. We can come back tomorrow if you want.” I offered her my arm and she accepted.

The night was shaping up better than I’d expected, after my idiotic display earlier in the day. I’d relaxed a little, and had forgotten all about my clumsiness.

“So that’s what you got your degree in? Journalism?” I asked, steering her clear from the muddy puddles on the bridge.

“Yes. With an emphasis in—”

A flash of light followed by a loud crack shook the dock, startling us both and causing us to flinch. She grabbed at her chest with her free hand while I tightly clutched her other. We stood laughing, and the only light around us emanated from the lamppost above.

It was seconds later that the downpour came.

“Come on!” I yelled, tugging her along behind me as we were both pounded by pellets of rain. Once we got off the pier, I headed in the direction of our hotel at full speed, trying to get us both out of the sudden summer storm. The trees in the park offered some reprieve, but by the time we’d arrived at the walkway, we were already soaked.

The splashes from our feet, the rain hitting the pavement, and Lauren’s quiet giggles were all that could be heard.

I leaped over a large puddle, guiding her hand behind me to keep her away from it, but as I jumped, my grip slipped and I halted as soon as our connection broke. “Lauren!” I laughed again, turning to find her.

She sat in the large puddle, laughing, with her pantyhose ripped from her knee to her thigh. Her glasses had fallen off, and she was soaked from head to toe in muddy water.

Bent over from laughter, I admired Lauren as she sat playfully pouting in her drenched blue dress. Another wave of hard rain and wind washed over us, preceded by another crack of lightning and thunder. We both ducked, and I scurried over and scooped her from the mess.

She was easy to carry—even soaking wet and her body wracking with giggles. With her arms snaked around my neck and shoulders, I moved quickly, bringing her to a small building with an awning over the front door. I set her down, but at some point she’d lost one of her shoes, and in my haste I’d forgotten to look for her glasses.

Her hair tangled, several strands stuck to her pale cheeks. Dark runny water clung to her hands and fingernails, her legs were covered in goose bumps, and she still had a ridiculously gorgeous smile plastered across her face.

She was the sweetest hot mess I’d ever laid my eyes on.

But her roommate was my wager with Jack. I knew at that moment that I should’ve just forgotten the whole thing. But Monica seemed like a pretty easy win—no offense to Monica—and I wasn’t about to let three years of rivalry slip through my fingers if I could claim a victory over Jack once and for all.