Reborn (6 page)

“Where are they?”

Mary pointed to their right, where there was a raised section of the store that had once been separated by thick curtains pulled back with gold tassels. Only one curtain remained. Some classic burlesque costumes had survived the break-in and hung in their enormous shadow boxes on the far walls, along with what looked like costumes from several movies. On shelves nearby, shoes and boots with sparkles, straps, and buckles ruled the scene.

Lille glanced back once to see John grip Mary’s hair and kiss her hungrily.

Lille browsed through the costumes, impressed by the selection and the quantity, though she thought that it was probably wasted on the majority of the customers who came into the store.

While her friend kissed her man, Lille made a lap around the room, taking in shelves with various toys, books, magazines, and a huge statue of a mermaid riding a winged horse, which was certainly different and lent some panache to the place, setting it apart from most cheap porn stores. She picked up a set of handcuffs—she had her own, but they were still packed, and she thought she might have use for them tonight. She also saw a cock ring that caught her eye.
I wonder if Max has ever worn one?
She stuck them both in her bag; she’d pay for them before she left.

All in all, she thought the place was perfect for a place like downtown Miami, LA, New York, or San Francisco.
Way too classy for this dumpy little town,
she thought shrewdly, but she didn’t really see why it should matter. It was likely there was a steady customer base. It could be that some clients came from Ft. Lauderdale or Miami to maintain their supply, but many customers probably went online. Amazon ruled the world—to stand apart, they needed to be unique, interesting, and as present online as in this store.
I wonder if anyone here has computer skills,
she thought as she studied John and Mary, who were holding hands and talking quietly about something.

The scarred ex-soldier was stroking his thumb over Mary’s wrist. Behind them, hanging on the wall between one shelf and another, was a painting that was clearly Mary’s work. It was impressionistic, two people so entwined that it was impossible to tell where one left off and the other began.

She was staring at it intently when the bell over the door behind her jingled. She turned and a gorgeous young man with caramel-colored skin and bright green eyes strolled inside. He was dressed in a tight white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up, skinny jeans, and expensive loafers. Five-hundred-dollar Gucci sunglasses were pushed up on his head.

He paused as his eyes adjusted to the light, the gold Rolex on his wrist sparkling in the light coming from the big picture windows in the front. It was obvious to Lille exactly when he saw her clearly, because his body straightened and his eyes lit up. A reaction she was used to, but one that never failed to secretly delight her.

“He-llo, goddess. What brings you here to this fine establishment?”

Lille raised an eyebrow and gave him a sultry half smile. “Just slumming.”

He laughed. “You must be Mary’s friend, Lille. I’m Carl, Max’s stepbrother.” He leaned in and embraced her in a quick hug and an air kiss on each side of her cheeks, which she responded to automatically—she’d lived in San Fran way too long to miss the signal for an air kiss from a gay man.

He pulled back quickly. “You smell like suntan lotion and Chanel. Fabulous. But why are you wearing a T-shirt from the pub?”

He stepped farther back to take a better look at her outfit. She was wearing a long black T-shirt with a Jobman’s Pub logo embroidered just above her right breast, Wolford black leggings, and black combat boots. Once she’d agreed to tend bar at Jobman’s, she’d asked Mary what she should wear and Mary had found a couple of the pub shirts—the rest of the outfit she considered both comfortable and flattering, though Mary had laughed her ass off when she saw it.

“Not that you look bad,” he continued. “In fact, I think you should recommend it to Max as the new uniform.”

Lille smiled a little evilly. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

Carl rubbed his hands together. “Oooooh, this is going to be fun. I’m so coming to the pub tonight.”

Mary separated herself from John’s arms and wandered over to where Carl and Lille were chatting. Unlike Lille, she’d gone with “entirely comfortable” for her pub attire. She was wearing black yoga pants, black Toms with splatters of paint, and another one of the pub T-shirts. Lille had tried to convince her to wear a pair of Hudson skinny jeans and Hugo Boss boots, but Mary was stubborn as always.

Carl hugged her, squeezing her tight and giving her actual kisses on the cheek.

“Hey, sweetie, I sold two more of your pieces.”

“Which ones?” Mary looked both pleased and anxious, as if the pieces were her children.

“
Beneath the Naked Gods
and
Entwined.
”

“Oh,” she said, and bit her lower lip.

“I know.” Carl reached over and rubbed her shoulder. “Artists hate it when you sell something,” he said in an aside to Lille.

Lille nodded. Mary had never liked selling her things. Even on the day they’d met at the craft fair on their college campus, Mary had seemed reluctant to sell the scarves and hats that she’d knitted for extra money. Lille understood. Mary’s scarves were amazing, cool, complicated knits with beautiful blends of color. Some had been dreamy greens and blues, others reds. They seemed almost saturated with color, as if they glowed. Lille just had to have them for the boutique she managed. They’d worked out an agreement, and every month Mary delivered a gorgeous selection of scarves, hats, and eventually purses and jewelry. They’d become friends. She’d tried to look out for Mary, knowing that the younger woman was almost as alone in the world as Lille was.

But now Mary had someone else looking out for her. Lille watched as Mary turned to meet John’s eyes; he didn’t smile, just held out his arms. She ran and jumped into them, raining kisses on his face, including his scarred cheek.

Carl and Lille looked on indulgently, as if they were grandparents studying a pair of young lovers.

“I suppose you’ll be taking over the running of the Box,” he ventured, continuing to watch John and Mary.

Lille eyed him for signs of discontent, but she couldn’t quite get a read on him. “Perhaps not in charge”—she edged around the truth—“but with Mary busy painting, it seems like a logical choice.”

Carl nodded. “I have some ideas I’d like to share with you, if you’re interested . . .”

Lille eyed him; he seemed perfectly sincere. “You’re aware that Max disapproves of my being here?”

“Please”—he waved a languid hand—“Max is not a big fan of change in general. He’s just like our uncle.”

“How did that work exactly?” She indicated his obviously dark skin color and lack of accent with a nod.

“Well”—he pursed his lips—“it’s kind of a long story, but the short version is that his father married my mother and they both disappeared. Max and I lived with his uncle together since we were around ten or so.”

“What happened to Max’s mother?”

Carl’s lips flattened. “Whatever you do, don’t ask him about that.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Lille pouted. “It’s not like we’re close.”

“Uh-huh.” Carl eyed her. “She killed herself. Took a bottle of sleeping pills and walked into the sea.”

Lille felt her fingers tingle in shock. “Dramatic,” she remarked finally, trying not to pity the man for the boy’s sake.

“Yes,” Carl agreed, “but that’s why he doesn’t find women all that trustworthy. They’re always letting him down in one way or another.”

Lille shrugged. She didn’t find people all that trustworthy, so she wasn’t about to judge Max for his prejudices.

The bell over the door jingled again and Atticus barked happily, dashing past Lille and Carl to greet the visitor, jumping up on a young man wearing mustard-yellow skinny jeans, a black shirt that read “Keep Calm and Carry Lube,” and red wing tips. Gauges hung from both ears and a bar pierced one eyebrow.

“I’m here,” he announced, pushing his Brad-Pitt-in-
Fight-Club
sunglasses onto his head with one hand and bending down to lift Atticus with the other.

“You’re early,” John called, but he didn’t sound surprised.

“I’m a man who loves my work,” Jordan told Atticus, leaning down for a kiss from the white dog.

Carl snorted. “Not to mention reading porn between customers.”

“Like I said,” Jordan said, grinning. “Am I right in guessing that the gorgeous lady next to you is not a customer?”

“Have you been watching Cary Grant movies again?” Carl folded his arms over his chest.

Jordan came forward like a kid approaching a play set, at full tilt and bursting with enthusiasm, one hand outstretched.

“Every chance I get,” he told Carl without taking his eyes off Lille. “Hi. I’m Jordan.”

“I’m Lille,” she said seriously, letting him catch her hand in his, “and I enjoy conjugating irregular verbs.”

Jordan grinned. “
To Catch a Thief.
One of my favorites. You even have a little bit of Grace Kelly about you.”

“I try,” she told him with a smile, which was something of an understatement. When she’d first been out on her own, pretending to be Grace Kelly had been the only thing keeping her from freaking out from loneliness and fear.

“Well”—Carl rubbed his hands together—“I say we meet in Mary’s office and go over the ideas we have for the place. We’ll call it a staff meeting—it’ll be great.”

“Sounds filthy. I’m in,” Jordan said.

“What about you, Mary?” Carl called over to her.

“Sounds great,” she replied, but it didn’t really seem like she was paying attention. She moved out of John’s arms and started helping him stock the shelves with the new vibrators. “I’d like to try some, so I can honestly say which I’d recommend,” she teased John, holding up a massager as big as her forearm.

“That one, definitely,” Lille told her, which had everyone turning to look in her direction.

After a moment, she shrugged and preened a little, not even pretending to be ashamed. “I was engaged to a dentist,” she explained, to which Jordan nodded his head in agreement.

“I don’t know,” Carl argued. “I dated a dentist and he was one kinky bitch.”

Lille looked at Mary, who had turned the vibrator on and was holding it against her forearm.

“I guess you never know who’ll turn out to be kinky,” Lille said with a small, proud smile.

Several hours
later, John ordered in pizza while
Jordan helped customers and Lille, Carl, and Mary talked about the business. Mary and Lille had about an hour till five, when they planned to head over to the pub to help Max out for the evening.

“I’m telling you, an online presence is the way to go,” Lille said to John, who shook his head.

“I’m not disagreeing, but I don’t think that recording our days here and putting them online is the answer, especially not after what happened to Mary.”

“That was an aberration,” Mary argued, “and not likely to happen again. I don’t have any enemies.”

“Yeah, but maybe Lille does”—John nodded in her direction—“or me, or Max. I don’t see any reason to call attention to ourselves.”

Lille had no intention of calling attention to herself, but to the store, absolutely. She thought that the unique mix of class, scandal, and small-town life was the perfect way to get a little attention. They’d record some of what went on in the store, post some videos on YouTube; it would be a hit.

Carl seemed to agree with her.

“I have a friend who makes documentary films,” he explained. “More tasteful, less trashy, but we’ll still have that online presence.”

Mary looked torn, John doubtful, but Lille knew what they needed. “Listen, the store is doing fine, but to stay afloat in the future, we need more. From what it sounds like, Mandy provided marketing through her contacts and her parties; she clearly knew people. I saw a corset over there that I’m pretty certain Nicole Kidman wore in
Moulin Rouge.
There are stories here.”

“You’re right—it was Nicole’s costume. Mandy bought it from a friend in LA.” Carl nodded. “I know those people and Lille is willing to reach out to them. Why not take a chance?”

Mary frowned at him. “Carl, you don’t have a stake in this. You have your gallery.”

“Mandy financed my gallery, honey. I want to keep this place alive for her.”

Mary started to tear up and then she and Carl were hugging. John and Lille looked at each other, both stubbornly determined to have their way.

“We’ll increase the surveillance?” He laid his bet on the table.

“Of course.” She nodded.

“And Mary won’t be any more involved than she is now.”

“Only as involved as she wants.”

John looked as if he was about to say “Over my dead body,” but Mary put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a warning look.

“Fine. Fine,” he said, caving. “We’ll need to have a website designer to post the videos unless you know how to do it.”

“I know someone,” both Lille and Carl said at once, and looked at each other curiously.

“Give me their names and I’ll check both of them out,” John ordered, and neither Carl nor Lille even thought about arguing.

CHAPTER
Five