The New Rule: (The Casual Rule 2) (12 page)

I laugh. “Yes, he did.”

“Well,” he murmurs, raising a brow.

“You mean now?”

“Oh, yes. Get on your knees and start groveling.”

Chapter 7

After fearing I might come down with a serious case of lockjaw due to Ben’s enthusiastic insistence that I abide by Marcello’s groveling suggestion, Ben and I are back on track. It’s Memorial Day weekend. We’re splitting our three-day holiday between our families.

This is the only time in my life I wish a car ride could go on forever. I’m dreading today. Not only do I have to deal with an afternoon of Ben’s family, but it’s of all places at “The Club”. His family’s second home in the Hamptons where they hobnob with their filthy-rich snooty friends, golf, and talk money. I have zero in common with these people.

Yup, it’s going to be a blast!

Ben pulls up to the entrance where there’s a valet waiting. Taking my hand in his, he presses a delicate kiss on the back. “Wait here.”

Now I can go all “I’m a modern woman, I can open my own damn door”, but the truth is I like the gentleman side of Ben. I love that he does little things for me, like open my car door.

Chivalry is not dead, it’s alive, well, and has dimples. A few seconds later, he opens the door and helps me out of the SUV. “I’ll get our bags in the back.”

The entire drive up I have been picturing what the infamous “Club” looks like, the place Ben spent his summers growing up. Ugh, the place he probably banged a slew of entitled debutantes. Damn, I didn’t think this through before I agreed to it. I haven’t stepped foot inside and I already feel out of place.

“Is your sister going to be here?” I ask.

“Yes, Elizabeth and Stuart stayed at my parents’ summer home in Amagansett last night. They brought my grandmother along.”

Crap, his sister, the Stealth Bitch is here. I know Elizabitch doesn’t approve of me. I’m not pedigree enough for her brother, I suppose. Besides, I’m certain her goal in life is to get Ben permanently hooked-up with her best friend and my arch enemy, Cam-eel. The woman-hating girl who slithers around him like an eel waiting to catch her prey, had a casual fling with Ben years ago, and still not-so-secretly pines for him. He’s completely oblivious to this fact.

I’m not.

“Oh, I’m glad your grandmother was well enough to make the trip.”

“Me too. It was a last minute decision. It’ll be good for her to get out for a day or two.”

At least seeing Elizabitch’s husband, Stuart, won’t be so bad. He’s a little quirky, but he was friendly enough to me when I met him last Christmas. Too bad neither he nor the rest of Ben’s family realizes that Stuart is a GIND, A Gay IN Denial. It’s a safe bet he’ll be hanging out with the cabana boys when we find them.

I’m looking forward to seeing Ben’s grandmother again. She’s extremely protective of Ben when his parents rag on him about quitting his job at his father’s brokerage firm to write. Definitely the matriarch of the Martin family. Even his dad bows to her. She’s awesome.

The only thing that I’m not too crazy about is she insists on calling Ben by his legal first name, Leonard, named after his grandfather.

Ben screams sexy—Leonard… not so much.

“They’re probably at the cabana by the pool. We’ll cut through the clubhouse and find them,” he tells me.

As we walk through the doors of the clubhouse, I’m amazed at what I see. I was envisioning crystal chandeliers and other fancy-schmancy decor, but this is a pretty basic room… and it’s really dated—a throwback to the early sixties in the Catskills. It even has that musty old carpet, old furniture, old people smell.

I’m half-expecting the cast of Dirty Dancing to pop into the room doing the mambo to “I’ve had the Time of My Life”. I better keep my eyes open and make sure Baby’s not in any corners.

We walk through a set of French doors in the back of the building. The overpowering smell of chlorine hits you immediately. Well, that cleared out my sinuses. And most likely burned them.

There’s an Olympic size pool with what looks like little powder blue and gray shacks lined around the perimeter and lounge chairs set in front of those. The pool is nothing fancy, just a rectangle with a diving board. I don’t know why I was expecting more, like one of those lavish, meandering pools you see at vacation resorts in the Caribbean. I thought with all the money rolling around this place; it would look… elaborate, sophisticated… from this decade, at the very least.

“The cabana is this way.” Ben takes hold of my hand and directs me to a line of shacks.

I know their cabana immediately. Ben’s mom, Beverly, is standing guard in front. Just like the last time I met her, she’s still channeling Jacqueline Kennedy… this time it’s from the Onassis years. Her perfectly coifed ‘60’s retro-bob is hidden under a white babushka, huge sunglasses that cover half her face and a pair of white linen trousers with a baby blue pullover cotton top.

“Ben,” his mom says, stiffly offering him her cheek.
Ah yes, I forgot how warm and cuddly she is.

“Mother.” He leans in and kisses her. “You remember, Julia.”

I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do in this situation. If this were my family, I’d hug her or kiss her cheek. But Ben’s family is from the Land of “Stick up Your Ass”... affection isn’t in their vocabulary.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mrs. Martin.” I hold out my hand to shake hers. She doesn’t reciprocate.
Lovely woman.

“Likewise, Julia dear,” she says. She twists her neck from side to side and whispers to Ben. “Look at our new cabana neighbors. Nouveau riche social climbers. The committee needs to be more selective about who they allow to join The Club.”

The way she says “The Club” sounds like nails down a chalkboard.

I casually peek at the couple who are lying out in lounge chairs in front of the next cabana over. The woman is reading the gossip magazine, Hollywood Chatter. That’s perfectly acceptable reading material in my book. The guy is listening to his iPod. I don’t know what Bev’s beef is… they look normal to me. Maybe that’s her gripe… they’re from this decade.

“Mother, don’t be so judgmental. They look like nice people,” Ben reprimands, frowning.

“I’m on my way to Miriam Wilson’s cabana to play Mahjong with the ladies. Ben, you must drop by and say hello. Miriam was asking about you.”

“Of course, Mother. A little later,” he says.

“Fine. I expect to see you there. Your father is on the golf course. Elizabeth and Stuart took your grandmother to watch a croquet tournament on the field near the tennis courts. I’ll tell the ladies you’re dropping by. Make sure you’re there,” his mother reminds him.

Does she think he’s not capable of retaining the information she just spit out five seconds earlier? She walks away before Ben can respond.

“You have no intention of seeing those women, do you?” I ask.

“Not a fucking chance in hell. How did you know?”

“Your lips twitch when you lie.”

“Do they?”

“They do.”

“Remind me not to play poker with you.”

“I will. Why are you avoiding them?”

“When I turned seventeen, Miriam Wilson offered herself to me as a birthday gift.” He shakes his head. “I turned her down. She hits on all the young guys. I don’t want to go anywhere near that pathetic woman.”

“Your mother’s friend hit on you? When you were just a teenager? I guess your mother doesn’t know this information.”

“I sure as hell didn’t tell her.”

“That’s pretty gross.”

He laughs. “Yeah, I screwed her daughter instead.”

I stick my fingers in my ears and hum. “La, la, la. I don’t want to hear about your past conquests.”

Some people have this need to know every detail of their significant other’s sexual past. I’m not wired that way. Just thinking of him touching anyone else drives me crazy.

He shakes his head and smiles. “Let’s relax before the rest of my family finds us.”

I have a better idea… how about we leave before the rest of your family finds us.

Ben grabs two lounge chairs and moves them next to each other. I remove my cover-up, and he takes off his T-shirt. Then I stare.

And stare.

And stare.

No matter how many times I’ve seen Ben sans shirt, I still swoon. His six-pack abs, that oh-so-fucking sexy “V”, the tiny patch of chest hair that I’m dying to rake my fingernails through… every steely contour of his muscles I want to touch… with the tip of my tongue. I’d think after a few months of having him, the lust would wear off… but honestly, every time I see him like this, it’s hard to keep myself from straddling him.

One thing I know for sure... I will never fall out of lust for Ben Martin. Even if he were old and flabby, there’s something about him—an energy, an invisible magnetism—something special that will always weaken me.

“Damn, you look good,” he whispers to me. “Next time we’re alone, I want you to wear that bikini for me.”

“Why? You’re just going to take it off.”

“Julia, I’m going to rip it off you. You look so fucking hot right now. I wish we were alone.”

I look back to the cabana/shack, then back at Ben with an arched brow. “What do you say? Cabana quickie?”

“I like the way you think.” His index finger traces small circles down my arm. His touch sets me on fire and my nipples stand at attention. He leans across to kiss me.

“Ben! Ben!” A distant shrill kills the mood.

He sighs, straightens himself out and waves politely. Elizabitch is making her way to us, flailing her arms like a lunatic.
Relax honey, we’re not blind. We see you just fine.
Stuart is pushing their grandmother in a wheelchair. And right next to him is my least favorite person in the galaxy, Cam-eel.

Great, I get to spend the day with the Bitch Twins.

We stand and greet the Welcoming Committee.

“Julia, so pleasant to see you again,” Stuart exclaims. I’ve met Stuart once before. I think I have a good feeling for his fashion sense. Rainbows, glitter, and unicorns. He’s wearing bright yellow too-short swim trunks with one of those novelty T-shirts imprinted with a muscular male torso. It’s pretty funny, seeing that the image of the body is the polar opposite of Stuart’s real physique.

It’s probably the closest he can get to another male’s torso pressing against his. I’m shocked Elizabitch allowed it. That’s almost for certain his allotment of fun for the year.

Cam-eel is standing in four-inch high-heeled white sandals in a red, white, and blue bikini. There’s a shiny gold star on each triangle barely covering her tits.

I bet Betsy Ross is turning in her grave right now.

Seriously, that’s the outfit you choose? In front of families you grew up with? All she needs are singles tucked in her barely-covers-her-ass bikini bottom to complete the stripper look she’s evidently aiming for. She bats her eyelashes while her over-bleached toothy white smile beams at Ben.

“Ben!” She rushes over to him, hugs him and kisses his cheek. “So good to see you,” she says, her voice low and breathy.

“Camille, I didn’t know you were coming to the Hamptons this weekend,” he says, unfazed by her
outfit
and seductive tone.

I love my boyfriend.

“Last minute decision,” she explains.

Last minute… my ass. She had this planned from the minute Elizabitch told her Ben was coming here. She turns to me. Her expression immediately transforms into her woman-hating puss face.

You’re not happy I’m here? That makes two of us.

“Oh,” she says flatly, her lips pursed. “Hello, Julia.”

Yeah, fuck you too.

“Camille.” I nod in her direction. That’s all this shrew-who-wants-my man is getting out of me. I exchange polite hellos with Elizabitch and the GIND then walk over to Ben’s grandmother.

Over the past few months, I’ve joined Ben a few times when he visited his grandmother, Kitty, at her apartment in Manhattan. She’s the only person in Ben’s family who I like. Kitty Martin is strong-willed, warm and has a wonderful dry wit. Most importantly, she adores Ben, which makes me adore her.

She looks so tiny and frail, sitting in the wheelchair with her big-brimmed straw hat and dark sunglasses. I peek over at Ben and see a hint of sadness hidden behind his smile as he talks to her.

Her health has been slowly declining. I know he worries about her. She’s been the only real constant in his life. The rest of his family members are self-absorbed. They’re wrapped up in their own lives and what the world could do for them, and let him slide through the cracks. His father buried himself in his company. His mother was looking for ways to improve her stature in her social circles. Elizabitch was so wrapped up in her agenda.

Except for his grandparents. From everything he’s told me about them, they were wonderful to him. With his grandfather gone, his grandmother is all he has left. I pray she stays around a long, long time… for Ben’s sake as much as hers.

“Hi, Mrs. Martin. It’s so good to see you again.” I lean down and kiss her cheek.

She grabs hold of my hand. “Julia, I’m so happy you and Leonard made it. Sit by me. We’ll catch up.” I cringe a little. I hate when she calls Ben Leonard, it’s sucking all his sexy away.

I quickly glance at his six-pack abs… okay, sexy restored.

“Sure, Mrs. Martin.” I roll her wheelchair next to my lounger. We catch up on the few things we found we have in common while sitting on a park bench in Central Park: making stories up about random people as they walk by.

Ben is busying himself; catching up with Elizabitch, Stuart, and the Star Spangled Psycho.

As we’re making up stories about the hairiest man I’ve ever seen jumping in the pool, I catch Ben, pretending he’s listening to Cam-eel yammering on and on. His head’s cocked to the side, and he’s smiling at me.

Our gazes meet, and he winks.

I look down and smile. I look back up toward him, holding my free hand up to my heart, and wink back.

I direct my attention back to Ben’s grandmother. She smiles knowingly and squeezes my hand tighter.