Reveal (A Wild Nights Novel) (5 page)

Brad, Dimps, Noah and Chief all burst into laughter.

“Elmer, a shame this is. Your pie, on the list, it should be.”

Elmer? Who the hell is Elmer?

Josh glared at Noah in warning. “Slick.”

“Not that I want to eat it,” Noah said, his hands rising in defence.

“Fuckin’ oath you won’t.”

Josh was more than pissed off, emphasising that Cori’s pie was off-limits with fury.

Suddenly, all eyes fell on Brad, and the atmosphere turned tense.
Uh oh.

“That’s enough!” Cori said, standing up, her cheeks perfectly pink. “Stop talking about my pie. My pie is not a topic for discussion.” She walked away in the direction of the bar.

Crap. That was my fault.

Josh stood and went to follow her, so I quickly pushed my chair back and rose to my feet. “I’ll go,” I said, all playfulness gone.

He nodded, so I took off after her, stopping when I reached the bar. “Want to tell me what that was all about? And why did Noah call you Elmer?”

She huffed but didn’t look at me. “Elmer is my stupid ‘Wild Nights’ nickname.”

“Why Elmer?” My lips were pursed, hysterical outburst pending.

“Because Josh’s nickname is Bugs,” she answered, as if it were all the clarification I’d need.

It wasn’t.

“What? Why?” I was thoroughly confused.
And why do guys always feel the need to nickname each other?

Cori raised her finger to the barman to indicate we wished to order drinks.

“What can I get you?” he asked.

“Malibu and Coke.” Cori turned to face me. “Do you want another beer?”

“Hell no. That was like drinking hair of the dog, and I wasn’t even hungover.”

She laughed mildly, and I could tell something was still on her mind, so I ordered my drink quickly. “I’ll have a Vodka, Red Bull and OJ, thanks.”

“Sure. Coming right up.” The barman winked and turned his back to prepare our drinks.

I took a moment to appreciate his arse but then resumed my
probing
… of the question-asking kind. “Okay, back to why Josh is called Bugs.”

Amusement danced across her face as her eyebrow lifted. “Have you never noticed his teeth?”

I thought about it for a second, and I could honestly say I hadn’t. And that was probably because my eyes struggled to look past his Atlas-like shoulder porn. I mean sheesh … those shoulders were mountains in their own right.

“Nope. Never noticed them.”

“Well, do me a favour. Next time he speaks, look at his teeth and you’ll have your answer.”

I was suddenly intrigued. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Nothing,” she said with a laugh.

The barman slid our drinks toward us and added the bill to our room account. He then wiped the bar top and moved to serve his next customer.

“So … what happened back at the table?” I asked, sipping my drink.

She shrugged. “Nothing. I just don’t want everyone talking about my pie.”

“Why not? It’s a good pie, right? Unless it’s not. Oh my God, Cori!” I slammed my drink down, purposefully over-dramatising my actions. “What’s wrong with your pie?”

“Shh … stop it. Not so loud. Nothing is wrong with my pie. My pie is perfectly fine.”

“Warm and soft inside? Smooth and—”

“Em! Really?” she interrupted.

I draped my arm around her shoulder. “Cor, it’s just a pie. Talk of eating it is nothing. You need to relax. Why are you so up tight?”

“Because Brad ate my pie last night, Em. And everyone knows it. That’s why I’m so uptight. I don’t want my pie or the eating of it to be discussed any further. Okay?”

My arm fell to my side.
Well … that sure as hell shut me up. Last night? He ate her pie only last night?
“Okay. Pie is blacklisted. Wow!”

An awkward silence descended upon us, a silence I wished wasn’t called Brad-the-Cori-pie-eater. When she’d told me earlier on that she’d fucked him to get back at Josh, I’d just assumed it had been longer than twenty-fours ago.

I’d assumed wrong.

“Em, why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like I’m a whore.”

“Hey! I’m not.”

Cori placed her elbow on the bar and covered her face with her hand. “I shouldn’t have done it. It was wrong.”

“Then why did you?”

“Because I wanted Josh to feel the pain I felt when he did it to me.”

I gave her shoulder a quick rub and pulled her body next to mine, resting my head against hers. “What’s done is done. You can’t change it. All you can do is move forward. And anyway, all three of you seem fine with one another … as if nothing even happened. It’s actually quite weird.”

She lifted her head, and the look of regret she wore hit me right in the chest. “Please don’t be angry with me, Em.”

“Angry? Why would I be angry?” I asked, sipping my drink again. “It’s not like I’m a perfect celibate angel.”

“Oh, I know that. But that’s not what I meant. I just don’t want you to be angry that I’ve shoved Brad in your face … and practically into your panties.”

I swallowed my disappointment and stared at my drink. “I’m not angry, Cor. I get why you did it. But in future, a little heads up wouldn’t go astray, yeah? That way I won’t get excited nor get the wrong impression.”

She swivelled in her stool to face me. “What? No, Em. What are you talking about?”

“Brad wanted you. He had you. He probably still wants you. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to be his consolation prize. I love you, and I know you want the spotlight taken away from what happened, but I refuse to be a pawn, Cor.”

“No! No, no, no,
no
. Em!” She grabbed my hand “That’s not what this is. God no. I would never do that to you. Ever!”

I studied the dismay on her face and fought back my own hurt reaction. “Then what is it?”

“Fuck! I’m such a fucking idiot. I should’ve seen it earlier. I would never have slept with Brad had I picked up on it back then.” She turned back to face the bar and sucked hard on her straw.

“Seen what?”

“That you and Brad would make a great couple. Honestly, the two of you are perfect for each other.”

I rolled my eyes. “Cori, you couldn’t possibly know that.”

“You’re wrong. I’ve spent eleven years of my life with you in it, and every day of a month with Brad. Trust me, the two of you are two peas in a kinky-fun pod.”

A laugh escaped my throat. “He likes you, hon. Not me.”

“Wrong again,” she said loudly and with her typical know-it-all cockiness. “He likes
you
. Couldn’t wait to meet
you
. And ever since he’s laid eyes on you, he hasn’t been able to take them back. Honestly, babe, Brad and I are just friends, friends who fucked up for all the wrong reasons.”

I went to argue her point once more but was interrupted when Josh and the others approached, Brad carrying my Tim Tam Cheesecake.

“They’re closing the restaurant, so I ordered this for you,” he said, his timid expression super-cute.
Aw … what a sweetie.

Brad’s eyes flicked toward Cori, his uncertainty obvious when they shifted back to me at the speed of light. It was clear from his apologetic demeanour that he cared for her feelings, cared that she struggled with the situation. It was also nice to know that she had a good guy looking out for her—as well as her boyfriend—even if that good guy was a guy I could’ve seen myself having some fun with.

“Thanks,” I said, somewhat reserved, accepting the plate of chocolate euphoria.

He nodded, and I could tell he sensed my demeanour had changed.

“And she’s fine, you know.” I nodded in Cori’s direction while giving him a sincere smile. “She just doesn’t want you all thinking about her pie.”

“I don’t want to think about her pie,” he said abruptly. “I’m over her pie. I mean, I don’t like her pie. I mean … fuck!”

He stood back and ran his hands through his hair, gripping it with frustration, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Men were serious word-wankers.

“It’s okay. I get your drift, Brad.” I picked up my dessert fork, and scooping a massive piece of cheesecake into my mouth, moaned my delight as the chocolate, biscuity flavour caressed my tastebuds. “O y od! iss is o ood!” I mumbled, closing my eyes and practically swaying.

He laughed, and I could tell by the tone that he was no longer angry with himself, that my dismissing of his word-vomit had put him at ease.

I smiled to myself. “Yes! Oh my God, yes!”

“Do you need a moment?”

I nodded.

“Do you and the cheesecake need a room?”

I nodded, but tried to suppress a giggle.

“Do you and the cheesecake like threesomes?”

This time I burst into laughter, choking on the remnants in my mouth and opening my eyes to find him studying my face. He’d crept closer while I was in cheesecake heaven, close enough for me to see the freckle on his nose and the scar on his chin. He smiled, the warmth in his eyes heating me instantly, and I could tell by their illumination and expanded pupils that his interest in me was genuine. Eyes didn’t lie.

What was also apparent was just how beautiful the man really was. No doubt about it. Except his beauty didn’t diminish the virility that dripped from his body. It complemented it. Amplified it tenfold.

Leaning in closer again, his warm breath caressed my neck. “I’m extremely jealous of that cheesecake right now.”

I gulped, swallowing the bit I’d choked on. “You are?”

“You have no idea.”

All I could focus on was the scent of coconut on his skin, and at first, I thought it was a little feminine … until his aftershave and a slight hint of beer hit me as well
. Holy delicious smell, where am I?

I was lost in the whiff that was Brad, his aroma so unique. Unique and delicious.

“You smell like a coconut Tim Tam dipped in beer,” I whispered, barely able to talk for fear of actually licking him.

Brad pressed the rim of his beer bottle to his mouth, and before taking a swig, stared at my lips. “Is that a good combo?”

I licked them for him slowly, then I moved so close to his ear they almost touched it. “The very best.”

I woke up the next morning with a vagina buzz—tingles, humming … a pelvic-floor disco. The party in my panties was a fitting tribute to the dream I’d just experienced, together with the memory of Brad’s searing eyes on my body the night before. When Cori had mentioned Brad having been buried headfirst in her pie not too long ago, I’d been momentarily put off any further flirtatious fun with him. I mean she was my best friend after all, and I didn’t want her pie tainting my own. Nor did I want to be his consolation prize.
Fair call, right?

Brad hadn’t allowed my subtle attempts at retraction though, because every time I’d stepped back, he’d step forward. Every time I’d put up a reflective screen, he’d knocked it down with his sexy but cheeky charm. And when I’d come right out and said “Are you in love with my best friend?” he’d practically spat his beer and said “no.”

I believed him, and I was pretty good lie detector—liars always were.

“Wow!” I sighed, my face drenched with a satisfied smile.

Cori groaned from the bed beside me. Actually, what emanated from her throat sounded more like a donkey being fucked up the arse.
What? Why do you think they’re called an ass?

“Great night. Great dream. Great dreamgasm.”

“Shut up and go back to sleep,” she grumbled.

I kicked off my blankets. “Can’t. Too wired. And anyway, it’s just gone seven a.m. The sun is up and so should we be. The beach awaits us. Come on, let’s go for a run.”

“I’m allergic.”

“To what?”

“Running or you. Come to think of it, both.”

My arms reached toward the ceiling, stretching my entire body and waking it up. “I’m allergic to your bullshit.”

“Good. Shoo. Quick, before you get sick,” she continued, her eyes still closed.
Little smartarse.

Performing a quick touch of the toes to complete my stretch, I leapt onto her bed and began bouncing, elevating her body from the mattress with each jump. “Up, up, up we go.”

She squealed. “Em, stop it!”

I bounced some more.

So did she.

“St … op. I m … ean it!” Cori started laughing uncontrollably, until she bounced right off the bed.
Oops.

I quickly kicked my feet out from underneath me, landing on my bum on the mattress, and peeked over the edge, spying her body lying flat on the ground. “Are you dead?” I whispered.

“Yes.”

“That’s not an excuse. Get up.”

“You’re so mean,” she grouched.

“Fair enough, but that will change after I’ve made you breakfast.”

Cori lifted her head from her arms and squinted at me. “Make me breakfast? With what? There’s no kitchen in this room.”

“Right you are, but fear not, Miss Grouch of Mornings, for we have this!” I sprung up from the bed and headed toward the mini bar, my fingers finding a packet of Nobby’s Nuts and frisbeeing them at her. “That covers the second tier on the nutritional food pyramid. Now … what else do we have?” I continued to search for food, opening the bar fridge and taking out a small bottle of apple juice. “Ahh … this covers another tier. Breakfast is served.”

She screwed up her nose and threw the packet of nuts back at me. “You suck. Remind me why I invited you here again?”

“Because Brad ate your pie,” I answered, my tone of voice stern. I opened the bottle of juice and took a sip. “And because Josh broke your heart.”

She sighed. “Right.”

“And because you missed me.”

Cori elevated to her knees and pulled herself up onto the bed. “Maybe.”

“Pfft … maybe. You missed me and you know it.”

She flipped me the bird.

I kissed my fingers and slapped my arse in response. “Soooo, are you actually going to tell me how the Brad, Josh and Cori fuck-fiasco started, or are we going for a run?”

Cori dropped her head to her hands. “Fine. We’re going for a run.”

Excellent!
Little did she know, we would be doing both.

***

Forty-five minutes later, we were back in our room, refreshed but slightly exhausted from our beach run. As the waves had crashed into the shore and the sand sunk underneath our footsteps, Cori had filled me in on all the details of her time spent on tour with the revue.

Two words …
holy shit!

Talk about throwing two stubborn, headstrong, stupid people into a blender and pressing start, because what had materialised from that concoction was glass of head-fuck—a bitter, stubborn, stupid, hurtful mixture of miscommunication.
Yeah, both of them had royally fucked things up, and I mean royally.
Apparently they’d started off as enemies after Josh threw Cori’s camera in the rubbish due to mistaking her for paparazzi at one of the revue shows. She’d then married her foot to his balls as payback, and honestly, I couldn’t have been prouder
.
Cori was feisty at the best of times, but never
that
feisty. And from what she’d had told me while we jogged up and down the beach, avoiding the water as it washed against the shore, Josh had been a mega arsehole in the beginning of their relationship, therefore the foot-and-testicle marriage was more than deserved.

I seconded the notion.

What had then transpired was the two of them being thrust together on tour, and according to Cori, Josh had refused to leave her alone. She’d tried to convince me that his advances hadn’t been wanted nor appreciated, but I could tell otherwise. I could tell by the way she’d blushed from head to toe, and by the way she’d avoided eye contact when mentioning things he’d said or done, like the applelingus incident.

Note to self: offer Josh an apple at some stage.

Anyway, she’d been a marshmallow and had succumbed to Josh’s lure, jumping into bed with him only for Josh to then screw some other girl because of one measly little argument with Cori.
Typical.

Normally, that would’ve been the icing on the cake for my best friend. The Cori of old would’ve decorated said cake herself with giant piped letters spelling FUCK YOU and then eaten it in front of the bastard. But she hadn’t. Instead, she’d done quite the opposite, and that was what had surprised me the most. She’d retaliated, giving him a taste of his own betrayal by revenge-fucking Brad, all the while knowing that Josh was sorry and wanted her back. She’d also been aware that Brad had a soft spot for her, yet she’d gone ahead and fucked him anyway. She’d admitted to using him to make her feel what Josh had felt, and to make Josh feel what she had felt when he’d screwed around on her. And that for once, just once, she hadn’t wanted to be the victim—instead, she’d wanted to be the villain. 

Admittedly, I was little worried about her state of mind, but only because what she’d revealed was completely out of character. However, I was also impressed with her taking control of a situation for once and not conforming or running away.

I was intrigued by her newfound, unorthodox strength.

“I need proper healthy food. I’m not going shopping with you until I’ve had breakfast,” Cori whined as she towel-dried her hair.

We’d both showered after returning from our run and were now getting ready to go out for the day.

“We’ll grab something at Pacific Fair, and then I need a new bikini.”

“Didn’t you buy one after Christmas, during the Boxing Day sales?” The corners of her eyes were pinched with confusion.

“Yes.”

“So why do you need a new one?”

I shook my head at her and all but said ‘duh’.
Why do I need a new one?
“Why is the sky blue?”

“Because when the sunlight hits the Earth’s atmosphere, it scatters—”

“Ugh! You’re supposed to say I don’t know, and then I’m supposed to say ‘exactly’.”

Her confused expression remained. “But I do know why the sky is blue.”

“Yeah, because you’re a geek.”

“Noooo, because I’m a photographer, and light dispersion is important.”

I threw my towel at her. “And because you’re a geek.”

“Whatever. I’m a geek,” she surrendered, picking it up and walking toward me. “And anyway, what were we talking about again?”

I smiled to myself—
never you mind—
and continued to redirect the conversation away from my need for more bikinis.
“We were talking about you and Josh, and what happened when you both disappeared last night after dinner.”

Her cheeks grew a pinkish glow. “Huh?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. You were just about to explain why the sky is freakin’ blue. Clearly, you’re not dumb. So ’fess up … where’d you both go?”

Cori grabbed her Chucks and proceeded to put them on her feet. “Just to the beach to talk.”

“Aaaaaand?”

“And we talked.”

I rolled my eyes at her stubbornness and spoke in a sweetly sarcastic voice. “That’s nice, dear. And what did you talk about?”

She laughed. “Fine. We talked about the two of us, about putting everything we’d done up until that point behind us. We talked about moving forward.”

“And can you both do that?” I slipped my feet into my favourite pair of Ipanema flip-flops and grabbed my sunglasses, placing them on my head.

“What? Move forward?” She too grabbed her sunglasses, and we both headed for the door.

“Yeah, but more importantly, the putting of everything behind you. That’s a lot of stuff to turn your back on.”

Cori stopped in the doorway of our room, and looking down, she sighed, “I know.” Her eyes met mine again, and the uncertainty in her stare was near palpable. “But what choice do we have?”

Sadly, she was right. To move forward, you couldn’t keep looking back.

Something I knew all too well.

***

“What about this one?” Cori asked, shoving a bathing suit between the curtains of my change-room cubicle.

I took it from her hands and held it at arm’s length. “Meh.”

“Just try it on. It’s hot.”

“But I like bikinis.”

“Stop whining and humour me. Put it on.”

The black mesh one-piece with geometric shapes of material that I held up and screwing my face at would barely cover my breasts and lady pie. “Okay, okay, but I’m going to look like Lady Gaga meets The Little Mermaid. You do realise this, right?”

“I can’t hear you,” she called out, her voice sounding much farther away than what it had been only seconds ago. “I’m just gonna wait out in the shop. Call me when it’s on. I want to see what it looks like.”

Of course she does.

Huffing, I hung the one-piece on the hook and turned to face the mirror before peeling off the funky, bright green bikini I was currently trying on. I liked green, especially this shade of green. It worked to bring out the mild emerald in my eyes.

Swapping the swimsuits around, I removed the one-piece from its hanger and prepared for the world’s best one-legged balance act, meticulous yet far from graceful while threading my legs through the holes. My body shimmied the suit into position, my reflection in the mirror resembling a decent “Time Warp” audition number. Thoughts of jumping to the left and then stepping to the right played in my head, and I smiled. The bathing suit was getting more interesting by the second.

Now humming the tune of
The Rocky Horror Picture Show
song, I adjusted my shoulder straps and turned, doing what all women do when first trying on clothing … we checked out our arses.
Looking good!

I liked my arse. It was a good arse. And so it should be—one hundred squats a day needed to count for something.

“Okay. It’s on. Come and have a look,” I called out, continuing to assess my rear end.

She didn’t answer, so I poked my head through the curtains then stepped out of the cubicle completely, spotting my reflection on the extra-large change-room wall mirror.
Hmm … not bad!
Surprisingly, the bathing suit actually looked hot. In fact, it reminded me of one of the costumes I wore in my current production,
Chicago
. I played the role of Liz, one of the six married murderesses in the Cook County Jail. She was the first woman in the “Cell Block Tango” scene that killed her husband because he made a popping sound with his gum.