Starlight (Peaches Monroe) (Volume 2) Paperback – September 2, 2013 (10 page)

“Do what?”

Keith explained that punishment for swearing in the house was holding cayenne pepper on your tongue for thirty seconds. The rule was for everyone, all ages.

“Oh, please. Twat isn’t a swear word. In England, I hear it’s as common as toast, but heaven help you if you say fanny.”

Ken said, “That’s two and a half now.”

“Hit me,” I said, and I stuck my tongue out to be seasoned.
What a ridiculous punishment.

Keith’s mother administered the cayenne to both me and Katy, as kindly and lovingly as if she was giving cold medicine.

As I held the cayenne on my tongue, I had the following thoughts:

I wonder what’s for dinner.

Keith’s parents look exactly like the wholesome types who buy books about kinky BDSM.

Fuck me three times and never call, but this pepper is hot as fuck.

Twat, twat, twat!

I wonder what Dalton’s doing. Not that I care.

Did I ever finish reading the final Harry Potter book?

Ow, pepper is hot.

Keith’s dad is a fox.

Is something burning?

I will not cry. I will not cry. Oh, shit, my eyes are leaking.

“Time,” said Ken.

I didn’t move, didn’t close my mouth.

A dish of sour cream and nachos was placed on the table, between me and Katy. Cooling, soothing sour cream.

Katy didn’t move. Tears of pain were also streaming down her cheeks.

Still refusing to swallow first, I gestured with a jerk of my chin for Katy to go ahead and take the first cooling bite.

She returned the gesture, not budging.

No, you.

She glared back at me. What was up her fanny, anyway? Was she just born pretty and never had to develop a personality like the rest of us? Keith was gorgeous, and he still had tons of character and goodness, but maybe it was different for girls.

The burning of the pepper didn’t bother me anymore. I was floating, my emotions free and ecstatic. The discomfort was there, but solely in my mouth, and it was only temporary, because all things are transient. I’d transcended the sensation, distracting myself with higher thoughts, and—

Oh, fuck it.

I grabbed a fist full of chips, scooped a wide swath through the sour cream, and gobbled it down. Never before have I had such delicious sour cream. My whole body tingled, the endorphins flowing from the pepper. Keith took a seat next to me and squeezed my knee casually, and I melted from his touch.

Everything around me came into focus, sharper and brighter. The silverware picked up light from the chandelier overhead, the tines of my fork tipped in diamonds.

His mother brought in some covered dishes, wearing oven mitts, and then a green salad in a giant wood bowl.

“We’re a little odd,” she said apologetically. “We like to eat our salad alongside the dinner instead of before.”

Right. Having salad with dinner is odd, but the cayenne punishment isn’t. Interesting family you have here, Keith.

“That’s a beautiful dress,” his mother said to me, admiring the purple dress with the leopard print accents. “I’d like my Katy to wear something pretty like that, instead of those little shorts that show her bum cheeks for the whole world to see.”

“Mom!” Katy howled, sounding fifteen, though she looked about my age.

We passed the wood bowl around the table, all helping ourselves. The greenery looked suspiciously like either kale or the plastic stuff Christmas wreaths are made of, so I didn’t take much, obviously.

Keith leaned over and rubbed his chin on my shoulder affectionately. “You doing okay?” he whispered.

I nodded, yes. I hadn’t called anyone a twat or a bag of hair for several minutes, so things were going better than expected.

Keith’s mother started to tell us about the farmer’s market where she bought the greenery, but Keith cut her off, sternly saying to his sister, “All right, Katy. That’s more than enough.”

Katy smirked and widened her eyes, trying to look innocent, but failing. “What was I doing?”

“Stop glaring at Peaches like you’re a nasty little female dog and she just took your Milk Bones.”

“Dad!” she wailed like a brat.

“He’s right,” Keith’s father said. “You do resemble a member of the canine family when you scowl like that. An ill-tempered Chihuahua. I love you, kiddo, but if your mother and I can respect Keith’s choice to show his genitals to the public for money, you can be nice to his girlfriend, who—” he turned to me “—does seem like a nice girl, despite her chosen profession of removing clothes. No offense.”

“We’re not strippers,” Keith said, rolling his eyes.

“Modeling is hard work,” I chimed in. “There are great opportunities, though. I’m actually the designer for the line with my name on it. That part is intense, because you have to consider the fabric weights and think about the colors two seasons ahead, because of manufacturing times.” (Okay, I was pulling that last part completely out of my ass, thanks to a few things I’d overheard during the shoot, but who doesn’t fudge their credentials when meeting a guy’s parents?)

Katy stared at me, her pretty brown eyes almost dazed.

“What?” I said to her.

“That sounds so cool,” she said, and with that one compliment, my desire to punch her in the throat greatly diminished.

Ken asked me, “Have you always been a fashion designer, or was there something else before all this?”

“I used to, and still do, manage a bookstore in my hometown.”

“That sounds respectable,” Ken said. “Will you look for another bookstore here in LA? We’ve lost some of the bigger ones, but there are places, if you know where to look.”

I looked to Keith for assistance.

“One day at a time, Dad,” Keith said, and then he gave me a look that scared me.

It was one of those looks that lasts forever and communicates so much.

With his big, brown eyes and that handsome boyish face, he looked at me like he
loved
me, and that everything was going to
work out
. I’d move to LA, and we’d be together, and tonight was just the first of many colorful dinners we’d have with his family.

Were we still pretending?

The rest of dinner was actually enjoyable. Keith’s family had a different dynamic than the Monroes, but what they did have in common was that they seemed to like each other. You have to love your family, of course, but
liking
the family you were born or otherwise brought into is both rare and precious.

For dessert, we had fresh brownies with a raspberry compote plus ice cream. Any two of these items on their own would have been good, but the trio was perfection.

Keith’s family howled with laughter as he picked up his plate and actually licked the pink raspberry and ice cream soup off his plate. Did I then follow suit and lick my plate? You bet I did, and I’d do it again, because I am classy like that.

After all the plates were cleared and after-dinner coffee was served, Katy asked if I wanted to “see her room.”

I stared at her in disbelief. “Why? Do you have poisonous spiders?”

“I’m
trying
to be nice,” she said.

Everyone else was quiet, and I felt the pressure to try to be nice as well. “Sure, I’d love to see your room. I guess you just moved back home after living with Keith?”

She got up and nodded for me to follow her.

We went to the back of the house, then down a set of stairs, to a lower floor that was so cool, it was practically chilly. The decorating style was nice and modern, and the ceilings were a good nine feet high, but it still had the faintest musty basement smell.

Katy’s room was an L-shape, with a gas fireplace, sofa, and TV at one end—more of a bachelor apartment than a bedroom.

“Swanky,” I said as I admired the framed prints of flowers and hummingbirds on the wall. “You have your own apartment, practically.”

She flopped back on her double-sized bed, sprawling on the white comforter. “What’s the deal with you and my brother?”

I looked closer at the prints on the wall, all tastefully framed in white frames. “Did you take these photos yourself?”

“Yes. How did you meet my brother?”

Switching into Ursula mode, I quipped, “I clean house. He see me bent over toilet, scrubbing with brush. He like what he see, you know? Grab me by hips. Say be girlfriend with me!”

“What I really want to know is, do you love him?”

“That’s between me and your brother.”

I turned back to see a disgusted look on her face. “So, no, you don’t. Great. Well, give me a call when you’re done using him, so I can pick up the pieces.”

So much for being nice.

I didn’t have to take any more of her attitude, so I turned around and left. Katy didn’t follow me upstairs, which was fine by me.

I joined Keith and his parents, and we went for a tour of the back garden, which was full of not just flowers, but more butterflies than I’d ever seen outside of a conservatory. One came and landed on the back of my hand. It was orange, black and cream. I nearly died when I realized how much its long freaky body resembled a dragonfly, but I managed to grimace through the horror.

Keith’s father pulled his reading glasses from his shirt pocket and examined the butterfly. “You have a friend,” he said.

My voice squeaky, I said, “Monarch?”

“Painted Lady. They’re smaller than the Monarchs.”

I thought the creepy butterfly would take to the air again, but it didn’t. Finally, I yelped and shook my hand like a crazy person, which made them laugh.

Kendra squeezed my shoulder and said, “I hate it when they land on me, too.”

After the garden tour, Keith took my hand and we said goodbye to his parents. They stood together as we walked away, like they were posing for a photo.

The sun was low on the horizon, the whole city of LA orange and glowing as we drove back to Keith’s apartment. I was now so used to the dirt smell in the van, I wondered if any air freshener companies made a dirt option.

At the apartment building, we walked through the courtyard in comfortable silence. The apartment was still and quiet, as though not one dust mote could be bothered to float around if nobody was there to see it. My own house never had this time capsule feeling, because my roommate was usually coming or going during the time I was out. For a moment, I felt a pang of sadness for Keith, that he had no roommate, nobody to stir the air and toss all his shoes into the closet in annoyance.

He had me, but that was only temporary. Just a short-term arrangement between two wild animals with emotional wounds that needed licking.

I scarcely had my sandals off and he swept me off my feet, up into his arms.

“Careful,” I said.

“Don’t worry. I won’t drop you.”

“I meant your back.”

He carried me through the apartment, toward the bedroom door. “Nonsense. You weigh less than a tree.”

I laughed. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said about my weight!”

We got into the bedroom, and he didn’t set me down right away. “You feel good in my arms.”

“I sure do.”

He gently set me down on the soft bed. “Let’s light some candles and meditate.”

I laughed, then abruptly stopped. He was serious.

“For how long?” I asked.

“Does it matter? Have you got somewhere to go?”

I started to get a twitchy feeling all over, especially in my fingers. “I really need to check my messages.”

“Right now?”

“Sure. You get started meditating, and I’ll just go check my messages in the other room.”

He frowned, clearly disapproving, but still waved me away.

I retrieved my phone from my purse and went into the other bedroom and closed the door. A minute later, some new age music started to play. I tried not to think of Keith sulking because I didn’t want to meditate with him.

He’ll get over it.
I fluffed up the pillows on the spare bed and got comfortable.

Soon enough, I was completely distracted by my messages.

My friend Golden had sent me a half-dozen texts asking questions about Adrian. She asked, what did I think it meant that he had asked her to hang out a few times, but nothing physical had happened? Was it the height difference? Was she just too short for him to kiss? Everyone's the same height lying in bed, she said.