Starlight (Peaches Monroe) (Volume 2) Paperback – September 2, 2013 (23 page)

Going out in LA bears absolutely no resemblance to going out partying in Beaverdale.

First of all, nobody in LA wears polar fleece shirts or those fleece-lined jackets Shayla refers to as Canadian Tuxedos.

People have to dress
up
to get into the good clubs, and they line up out front behind velvet ropes. Yes, velvet ropes. That shit you see on TV is real!

In our first line of the night, my three men posed for the lady with the clipboard. I didn’t know what to do, so I smiled really big, like a pageant contestant.

She looked me up and down. “Team Peaches,” she said, nodding. The woman had a little junk in her black-jeans-wearing trunk, so call it my lucky night that I encountered the only plus-sized club promoter in the city. She sent us in to the club, only to get smacked in the face by loud music and a cloud of cologne.

I coughed a few times and gradually acclimatized, like an alien visitor on Planet Swanky. We wandered through the club, which could also be called Planet Hoochie, and I spotted some upper levels separated by staircases and guarded by security staff with headsets. I craned my neck to see who was up there. In amongst some fine-looking ladies were a few men as tall as Washington fir trees. Basketball players. Famous ones.

I got the fame-proximity giggles. The next platform we walked past had a skinny white guy in a ton of jewelry, with two ladies on either side of him. This made me giggle so hard.

Mitchell looped his arm around my waist and asked, “What’s so funny?”

I wiped a tear from the corner of my eye. “I don’t know. It’s like a petting zoo in here, but with famous people instead of zebras.”

The four of us squeezed our way around an empty table and leaned in, elbows on the table.

The blond hottie, Gunnar, asked if I was having fun, and the other guy, Daniel, ordered a bottle of champagne for the table. Mitchell just gave me that look, like,
Do I know how to show you a good time, or what?

I nodded back at him.
Yes, you do, Mitchell. Yes, you do.

Three hours later.

I’d just tinkled on someone’s front lawn, and my whole body was sticky from letting the guys drink champagne from my boobs in the limo. Or did that start at the club? I couldn’t remember, and it didn’t matter.

My feet didn’t hurt at all, which concerned me, because they’d been hurting an hour earlier, after all the dancing. I checked that they were still attached to my body.

I climbed back into the limo, saying, “Achievement unlocked! I just tinkled on someone’s lawn. I’ve never done that before. It’s quite liberating. Now I understand why you men are always widdling everywhere.”

Daniel slid closer to me on the bench seat of the limo and kissed my shoulder. “Let’s go skinny dipping.”

I slid away, keeping a little distance between us. Flirting and dancing was fine, but I wasn’t about to play hide-the-swizzle-stick with my second model of the trip. Besides, after all that booze, I couldn’t even feel my woowoo.

The other guys didn’t say much, because they were making out.

“They’re so cute,” I said, smiling at the two guys, one tall and one short, both blond, kissing in a tender way. “You don’t see that much where I’m from.”

Daniel wiped my hair behind my ear and gazed down at me. “Small town?”

“Not too small. Just the right size. Oh, we do have gay people. We have a big pride weekend in August, but it’s not like in the bigger cities.”

“I grew up in LA. Everything I know about small town life comes from movies or books.”

Interesting.
We were the exact opposite of each other. “There are magazines, if you’re interested.”

He touched my cheek, pulling away when he sensed my discomfort. Folding his hands in his lap, he said, “So, what’s your story? Is it true what they’re saying about you and Dalton Deangelo? Did you break his heart?”

“Hah! More like the other way around.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He got a sly grin, his ultra-white teeth flashing brightly inside the limo’s interior. We were moving, driving somewhere, but I’d forgotten where we were headed. He said, “So, are you looking for a rebound?”

“Hah! Already taken care of. Long story. Doesn’t matter. But you should know, I won’t be doing anything with you tonight. I need to give my lips and heart a break.”

He shrugged. “Can’t blame a guy for holding out hope, though.”

“Why bother? I mean, why me? You could have picked up a dozen girls at the club. You could have taken two, on account of how small and flimsy they are.”

“Like those skinny sticks of gum.”

“Exactly. So, why are you attracted to me? Is it because you thought I was a sure thing? That you wouldn’t have to try as hard, like with a pretty girl?”

“You
are
a pretty girl.”

“You know what I mean. I’m not exactly Los Angeles material.”

He used his finger to tap me on the tip of my nose, once, like pressing a reset button. “Exactly.”

With that, I felt my whole brain shift.
I’m not exactly Los Angeles material.
Ah, it all made sense. I was the alternative option. The flip-side. The special kosher meal on the long flight. The road not taken.

Everything about my life made sense, the way it only can after a night of drinking, dancing with hot guys, and illegal lawn watering.

The car came to a stop, and Mitchell and Gunnar stopped kissing long enough to open the door and get out.

“I should go back to the apartment,” I said. “My friend’s place, not yours, Daniel. No offense. I’m sure you’re as tender and sensitive a lover as you are a good dancer, and you are a very good dancer.”

“This isn’t my place,” Daniel said. “It’s a friend’s and there’s the most amazing pool. We can watch the sun rise. Look how the horizon is pink. Won’t be long.”

“Come on,” Mitchell said, holding out his hand.

I grabbed the unopened champagne bottle from the ice bucket as I climbed out of the car. “I guess we’ll need refreshments.”

Daniel followed me out of the car, and we made our way along a path, past a gardening shed, to the back of a mansion. We passed a half-dozen security signs that everyone ignored. We were in another ritzy neighborhood—Malibu, Daniel told me as we walked through an unlocked garden gate. The houses here were quite far apart, but the two or three I could make out the shapes of in the dark looked impressive.

I got the hiccups, plus the giggles, which made for loud hiccups.

We located the pool, which was set on the edge of a hill, and had an infinity edge—the wall was glass, and the water line met the top of the glass. The guys all stripped down to their underwear and splashed into the pool.

My head was woozy. Time had been passing in jumps, but I felt good.

I popped open the champagne bottle and took a seat on a lounge chair next to the pool. A spot on the inside of my hip bone felt sore, like I’d bruised myself. I wanted to rinse off my sticky body, but I also wanted to put my feet up and rest. Just for a minute. Just to catch my breath.

I took a long, refreshing drink from the champagne bottle, and lay back with my head on the padded headrest. The horizon glowed a vibrant shade of orange-pink, and soon the sun would be coming up.

The guys splashed each other in the pool, laughing and horsing around. I didn’t know who lived in the main house, but it was so far away from the pool, they’d never hear us, nor would the distant neighbors.

“Not bad, Malibu,” I said to myself.

I thought about how a pair of sunglasses would make everything perfect, then I glanced over to my left and saw a pair of sunglasses on the table next to me. I hiccuped again as I donned the sunglasses.

The boys kept splashing in the pool, having a great time.

“This is more like it,” I said as I settled back into the chair to watch the sun come up.

I woke up to a woman in mirrored, aviator-style sunglasses gently shaking me.

“Tell me right now, ma'am, do you have any needles or sharps on your person?”

“What?” I tried to sit up, but she pressed me down with one hand. The woman was strong, and she was wearing a shiny badge on her shirt. My grogginess evaporated instantly.

“Do you have any drug paraphernalia on you?” she asked.

“No, ma’am.” I took a closer look at her badge, noting the name of a security company. She wasn’t a cop, but that still didn’t mean I wasn’t going to get arrested and be made someone’s jail wife. I wanted to have some fun in LA, but not as a jail wife.

“If you’re not on drugs, why are you here?”

“We came here with Daniel,” I said.

“Daniel who?”

“Daniel… um. Big teeth. Really nice. Tall. I think he’s a model.”

“Are you sure you aren’t on drugs? Because your friend over there is not very tall.”

She nodded toward Mitchell, who was sitting on a lounger across the pool from me. He was doing nothing but looking helpless, with a plastic strap around his wrists.

This time, I sat up, shoving her hand away. “Oh, no. You need to untie him immediately. This is kidnapping. You can’t tie him up.”

The woman put one hand on her hip, delivering me a whole lot of attitude with a side dish of oh-no-you-didn’t.

“We’ll see about that,” she said.

As far as I could tell, she was the only person there besides me and Mitchell. I looked closely at her, but the dark sunglasses weren’t giving away much. She wore a necklace with a locket that had popped open, showing a photo of two little kids.

“Are you arresting us?” I asked.

“You will be charged with trespassing,” she said. “As well as theft.”

“Theft!”

“Those sunglasses are worth over three hundred dollars. I know that because my no-good sister spent the money I gave her for food, buying a pair of those same ones.”

I looked over at Mitchell for some sign. He sat frozen. My purse was at his feet, but looked unopened.

Trespassing and theft.

Shitfuck.

Before I tell you what I did next, please bear in mind I was desperate, and I was scared.

Sure, we were still in America, and I was pretty sure we had rights, but I wasn’t totally sure what they were. The phrase
jail wife
kept flashing through my head.

I gasped. “Where’s Ricky?”

The mean security woman put both hands on her hips. “Ricky who?”

I started crying. It wasn’t difficult to pull off, because I actually was scared. Also, the hangover was making itself known by now, with its blistering brain-pain, made worse by the hot sun overhead.

“Ricky is my son. He’s five. He went over by those bushes over there to pee, and I just laid down for a minute to rest my eyes.”

“Ma’am, you brought your son with you to trespass on a Malibu property?”

I sniffed. “We’re supposed to go to Disneyland today.” I looked over her shoulder. “Ricky! Get over here!”

“You just stay right here for a minute.” She lowered her sunglasses just enough to give me the Mother of the Year Award, then she ambled off toward the bushes.

I was pretty sure she didn’t believe me, but then again, as a security guard, she’d probably seen a lot of bad life choices in action.

I didn’t take long to consider my options. I tore off the stolen sunglasses and tossed them on the lounge chair. I hustled over to Mitchell, only to find his ankles were also bound with another thick, plastic strap.

“This is insane,” he whispered. “How did we even get here?”

I unzipped my purse, grabbed my trusty nail clippers, and tried to clip through the plastic band. “Fuckshit,” I growled.

“Use the nail file,” he whispered.

“There is no file. I took this on the airplane.” I stared up at his angelic face. “I’ll have to carry you,” I said.

His eyes widened. “No.”

I shouldered in and grabbed him before he could protest too loudly. I stood up with him on my shoulder, glad for all the practice I’d had hauling Kyle around this way.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” I groaned as I hauled Mitchell along the pathway, toward the side of the mansion.

He wheezed, “You’re so strong. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m a little turned on right now.”

I slapped his butt.

We reached the side of the mansion, and Mitchell was slipping around due to all the sweat coming off of me.

“Gardening shed,” he said.

I groaned, still moving forward with him on my shoulder, albeit slower.

“Gardening tools,” he said.

“Right.” I set him down and ran over to the shed, feeling feather-light without Mitchell on my shoulder. I quickly located a pair of pruning sheers, ran back, and used them to cut Mitchell’s restraints.

The security lady had figured out my little ruse and was now yelling for us to return immediately. Yeah, right.

We hit the end of the driveway and kept running, down the adjoining road.

A vehicle pulled up behind us and followed us slowly. I peeked back to make sure it wasn’t a security vehicle, ready to dive off into some bushes if necessary. The car was black, with tinted windows.

The passenger-side window rolled down, and a male voice called out. “You folks need a ride somewhere?”

Mitchell stopped, his hands on his hips as he bent forward gasping. “Yes, please. You’re a lifesaver.”