Thirteen
Lola
We’d actually done it.
The minister closed her book and smiled. “Congratulations.”
Justice held both of my hands tightly and let out a whoop. “Let’s celebrate!”
He threw his hands up in the air. “We did it!” He grinned. “We’re doing it! Wanna try a tandem lift right here?”
“No. We did what we came here to do. Let’s go.”
“Whatever you say, Mrs. Hamilton.”
When we reached the motorcycle, Justice dug into the pocket of his leather jacket and pulled out a folded piece of construction paper. “No wedding is complete without this.” In bright blue marker he had written: “Just Married.”
“You’re insane.”
“Humor me, will you? I’ve been wanting to marry you ever since we were twelve. I get to have my wedding day even if this marriage isn’t going to last.”
He extracted a small roll of duct tape from the other pocket. “No mechanic would be caught dead without this.” He affixed the sign to the back of the motorcycle.
We settled ourselves on the Triumph and Justice placed a warm hand on my thigh. “All set?” The way he took possession of me almost made me feel safe. But this was nothing more than an arranged marriage. I murmured, “yes,” and he kick-started the motorcycle. Dang. The bike was one giant vibrator. Mixed with my hunky fake husband, this was a dangerous combination.
I took a deep breath and let it out. We were off to start our phony married life. It’d be over in a few weeks.
When we reached La Fortuna’s main drag, all eyes turned to stare at the newlyweds.
As we idled at a red light I saw none other than Devin freaking Stonebreaker standing at the corner. Our eyes made contact, and then, his hard stare went right to the Just Married sign.
Who cared that I worked for Devin? I had my own life thank you very much. A life that included the fifty grand prize money—my ticket out of the bank and Devin’s controlling ways.
The light turned green, and Justice caught Devin’s eye just long enough to give him the finger.
I think Devin’s jaw actually hit the pavement.
* * *
“So … you inviting your husband up for a drink or not?” Justice said.
This whole marriage was totally bizarre, and now that I’d done it I was having trouble controlling my breathing.
Calm down, Lola. This is Justice. We’re old friends who dated. This marriage is not real.
I twisted the toy ring on my finger. “Why not?” I swung one leg over the bike, removed the helmet and shook my hair out. “But no action.”
We walked into my home, and I strode into the kitchen. “Coffee, tea or—”
“Me?”
“Ha ha. You are so original, Mr. Hamilton.”
“And you’re so beautiful, Mrs. Hamilton.”
Heat rose to my cheeks. I busied myself at the sink, refusing to meet his eyes. “You think just because we went and did that phony—”
“Just one itty bitty kiss?” He stood behind me, so close that I felt his breath on my neck. I whirled around to give him what for and he caught me in his embrace. Our eyes met. His blue eyes held such a playful fire that I was powerless to look away.
My heart thundered in my chest as his warm lips touched mine. I did nothing to stop him as my body took over, leaning into his hard chest, my arms flying around his neck and pulling him close. His tongue was warm, wet and possessive, his hand moving to grip the back of my head. He tasted sweet, and my body remembered all the times we’d made love.
He broke our kiss, and his tongue moved along the hollows of my throat, his rough mechanic’s hands gently moving to my breasts and squeezing through the flimsy fabric. He pulled on my hardening nipples, and I let out a yelp, my panties wet. His mouth covered mine again, his kiss soft, his movements slow. I let out a low moan. I couldn’t kiss Justice without my knees going wobbly. I wound my fingers through his silky hair, pulling him closer. I ground into his pelvis and felt his delicious hard-on pressing against me. Hell, yes! His lips moved as he kissed a soft trail along my jaw. Then his mouth moved down to my breasts.
My breathing became uneven, and damn if I didn’t want Justice to rip my clothes off and fuck me right there in the kitchen.
We needed to stop.
Justice may’ve thought we were an item. My body begged for more. Jesus, Justice fuck me. Now.
“No.” I pulled his head away and looked into his sultry eyes. “We can’t do this.”
His face looked crestfallen, like a little boy who’d been denied his favorite toy. “But you’re my wife.”
“No, I’m not.” I pushed him away and braced myself against the sink. “This is just a business arrangement. We’ll win the contest, and then things will go back to normal. You’ll go back on the road; I’ll start my new life.”
His breathing was ragged, and he took several long, deep breaths seemingly to return to some semblance of normalcy. His blue eyes gazed at me with intensity. “This isn’t over, Lola. This is just the beginning.”
I laughed. “Beginning of what? If you loved me, you never would’ve left.”
“Come on Lola, let’s get along and have some fun with this thing.”
“Cut the crap, Justice. I know who you are. You think just because we signed some phony papers we’re an item? You can’t make a commitment. Don’t even try to joke.”
“But we’re married.”
I jerked my head up. “Don’t go there. I told you from the beginning we wouldn’t be consummating this marriage.”
“Come on, honey. Remember how good we were? All we needed was a blanket at the beach and each other.”
A strong image flashed into my mind of Justice showing up at my front door every day for a month with a single rose in his hand. He’d been intent on making me his girlfriend, and we were only twelve. I could still remember how my heart beat hard and my stomach felt all fluttery when I heard his knock.
Another image flashed of Justice sitting around my family’s dinner table eating one of my grandmother’s Brazilian soups. We’d all laugh and share the antics of our days—my papai going on about his big wave surfing, Justice singing praises about the spelling bee I’d won. “Lola’s the best speller in the whole school!”
From the time I was twelve, I would go to bed at night and dream about marrying Justice. We would have a beach wedding. My papai and stepmother would be there. My daddy would walk me down the shell-strewn aisle and Justice and I would stare into each other’s eyes and proclaim our undying love for each other. We would have a honeymoon in someplace tropical where we’d surf all day and make love all night. Justice would fill me with his seed, and I’d become pregnant with his babies. They would be beautiful. They’d have his dark hair and blue eyes, and my Latin spunk. I’d teach them to speak Portuguese, and Justice would patiently teach them to surf. We’d all splash about in the water, laughing, falling, taking off on party waves together until the sun set.
And when we got older, more images of Justice and I hanging around the surf shop and sneaking kisses when his uncle was in the back room, and there were no customers around.
My jaw felt tight, and I held up my hand. “Stop playing dirty pool.”
“You know I’m right. Come on Lola, we were good together.”
I pursed my lips. “Then why’d you leave me?”
He shrugged. “Because … Aww dammit, you know why. Do we really have to rehash this?”
I pointed to the door. “Get the hell out. Now.”
We stared at each other for long seconds, and finally, he picked up his helmet. “Have it your way.” He gave a little salute. “Congrats on your wedding Mrs. Hamilton.” And then he was gone.
Dexter raced to the door, his tail held high, and hissed at the closed door.
My heart was beating so hard I could hear it in my ears. “You tell him, Dex.”
* * *
When I was getting ready for bed that night, the phone rang.
“Hey Lola, it’s Charlene over at Mystic Seaweed. You ready for this? I talked to the design staff, and they want to look at your patterns.”
My hand flew to my cold-cream-covered face. “Oh! That’s great news.”
“But don’t get too excited yet. One of the in-house designers has some new designs that are hot, but I’ve convinced them to look at your curvy women Boho look. I personally love your stuff.”
I nearly jumped up and down with glee. “So, what do you need? When can I start? Should I send over more samples?”
“Send me some designs by the end of the week. I’ll do my best to push them through.”
“I’ll get them to you tonight.”
“Great!” She paused for a moment. “Good luck, kiddo. This is a tough biz. I’m rooting for you.”
I hopped out of bed and nearly tripped over my own feet on the way to my laptop. This was my chance. I assembled my best designs and with a prayer to the fashion gods; I sent them to Charlene.
When I lay in bed that night, I shoved the thought of Justice’s heated kiss to the back of my mind.
What a bizarre day. I lifted my hand, looked at the penny ring and laughed. Justice Hamilton, you are a class act.
As much as I was still annoyed with him, I loved the ring.
It reminded me of simpler days.
Justice and I spent our childhood walking to school together, waiting for the bell to ring, racing through homework, running down to the surf, and catching gnarly waves.
Justice was my first love.
Then, when our teenage hormones kicked in, we learned the delights of sex. Sometimes we’d meet at his house when his parents were at work. Justice would lay me spread eagle on the soft sheet of his twin bed, my hair flowing over the pillow. He’d kiss my body starting at my feet and work his way up, his fingers teasing my pussy, his warm lips caressing my breasts, his hot mouth on mine. I’d be wet and panting, my body shuddering with an intensity of passion as he entered me.
Sometimes we’d find a quiet spot on the beach at night as the waves pummeled the shore. Justice would face me, his strong arms around me, his blue eyes glittering in the moonlight. “You inhale, and I’ll exhale. That way we can pretend like we’re one person.”
He was my best friend.
He was my lover.
I’d always thought of love as friendship plus passion.
That’s what we shared.
Justice and I were soul mates.
So, what went wrong?
After Justice reached his nineteenth birthday, he’d grown restless. We’d had numerous conversations about his desire to see the world. As though “the world” meant northern California or wherever the hell he’d been.
The conversations always ended the same.
I was happy with the way things were in our quaint town; Justice wanted a change of scenery. A change that didn’t include me. Just until he worked the restlessness out of his system.
Yeah, right. I knew a Dear Jane speech when I heard it.
My ears felt impossibly hot when I thought about the way I had screamed at Justice when he made plans to leave our little town. I didn’t want to remember the way I’d thrown my stepmother’s crystal vase—flowers and everything—across the room. Justice had ducked just in time, and I was left cleaning up the remnants of the vase and our relationship.
“I’ll be back next summer,” was the note he’d slipped under our welcome mat the day he left. He’d drawn a huge heart that said, “Justice loves Lola.”
But he didn’t come back.
Oh, he kept in touch the first few months. Our conversations were stilted, and I got super tired of the whiny sound of my voice.
Screw him.
I took the ring off, held it in my hands and ran my fingers over the rough texture of the cheap plastic.
I pressed my lips together, and a calm, focused determination took over.
Justice and I would go on the road together, win the contest, and I’d have the money I needed to get my bathing suit business off the ground.
I lifted my chin. I didn’t need him.
I had my own goals, and they didn’t include Justice.