CHAPTER NINE
WREN
This daytrip idea was all Carter, another ‘how to avoid cabin fever’ spiel following.
But I’m happy to get out, to spend time with him.
I look around, taking in the sights and smells that are already stirring up nostalgia. “Wow, Granville Island.”
“The one and only,” Carter nods.
He leads us on. “We used to come here all the time, remember?”
“When we were twelve,” I laugh. “Please don’t tell me that place selling the deep-fried toffee still exists.”
“Poor bastard had a heart attack. True story. Too much eating his own produce I’d say, but fear not. I’ve got something better lined up.”
Five minutes later Carter is handing me a paper bag. It’s warm. The logo on the bag reads ‘Lee’s Donuts.’
I hold it up. “I hate to tell you this, but we’re not short of donut shops in New York.”
He raises an eyebrow, reaching into his own bag like a magician pulling a rabbit from a hat. “Ah, but you haven’t really lived until you’ve had one of Lee’s famous honey-dipped donuts.”
My heart’s already starting to seize up. Still, I reach in and take the Frankennut out, my fingers sticky. “What I want to know is how you packed stuff like this away and still managed to look like Hercules when you were in the NHL.”
He laughs, donut in hand. “Crunches. Lots and lots of crunches. Now dig in.”
We’ve driven all this way, so I indulge him. I take a bite, and okay. It’s pretty fucking excellent. No, it’s fucking amazing. They should sell these things as cock rings. The entire female population of Vancouver would be go fellatio mad.
You dirty girl, you.
He wipes his mouth of crumbs. “And? Is that not the absolute best thing you’ve put in your mouth?”
I almost choke on the spot, my mind in full-blown filth mode.
I look down to his crotch, flirting hard. “It’s the best, but certainly not the biggest.”
He laughs again, polishing his donut off in two bites while I continue to nibble and avoid turning my fingers into human honeypots.
I lick my forefinger clean when I’m done, drawing it out, teasing Carter as he watches.
What next? Sidewalk striptease, Wren?
“Walking around the markets with an erection is going to be new,” he says, flirting back just as hard.
“Since when do you not have an erection,” I tease. I’m betting that real crusher of his is doing its best to break free of its cotton bonds right now.
“You’re going to get us arrested,” I warn.
“Worth it,” he says.
He spies another stall as we come into the markets, the many and varied smells mind-alteringly good. I’m starting to remember why I loved coming to Granville Island so much as a kid. It has a haphazard, eclectic feel far removed from the city. We saw some great gigs here when we were older, too, David on one side of me, Carter on the other, both of them too scared to make a move at the time.
Not anymore.
Carter’s already leading me over to his next find. “The split-pea soup here is amazing,” he says. “The whole team used to squeeze onto the tables here every Friday after practice for it. There’s thyme in there, slow-cooked spices... I mean, I’m no Gordan Ramsay, but I know good food.
So far I’ve had no complaints on the cooking front at the cabin. The view hasn’t been bad either.
Still, I protest. “Soups aren’t really my thing.”
He looks down at my kitten heels. “Neither was Prada once upon a time.”
*
He has a point. I used to hate fashion labels. My mother would cringe when I dragged her down to Zellers.
What have I become? I ask myself.
I’d ponder on it more, but damn him, this soup is amazing. I can see he’s enjoying playing this role today, the casual tour guide. I don’t mind. Any time spent with Carter is time away from the world and its many, many issues. I’ve still got to talk to the lawyer, find a way to get my things back. My life’s a mess, which is why I’m doubly grateful to have Carter in it providing much-needed respite and relaxation, even if it is to the detriment of my waistline.
The sun has well and truly set by the time we’re in the Jeep again. I watch the moon rise plum-like over the bay as we cruise beside it.
Carter points out the window. “Remember Spanish Banks?”
I look out to the beach. “We all sat on a log down there and smoked our first cigarette together.”
“And last,” laughs Carter. “You were coughing so much I thought we were going to have to call nine-one-one.”
I shake my head. “You guys were such a bad influence.”
“Speak for yourself,” he baulks. “Who was it that shoplifted a certain Justin Timberlake album from Capilano Mall? Was it worth it?”
I continue to shake my head. “It was not, but come on. He was big back then. He was dating Britney, wasn’t he?”
Carter looks across at me. “Your Timberlake file-o-pedia I am not.” He pulls right into the parking lot. “For old time’s sake.”
“You’re not going to make me smoke another cigarette, are you?” I query.
He just continues to smile. “Not at all.”
It’s cold out. The parking lot is deserted, as is the beach, the moonlight revealing only a couple or two walking their dogs down the far end. Ahead, the city of Vancouver twinkles, buildings turned into crystal, a muddled reflection of the scene mirrored in the water.
Carter pops open his door. “Come on. Let’s check it out, real quick.”
I follow Carter down to the sand, the wind blowing my hair around behind my back, my arms crossed in front of myself.
Carter stands beside me. He takes off his shoes and socks, gesturing for me to do the same.
Reluctantly, I follow suit, letting my toes run deep into the sand. It does feel nice. I can’t remember the last time I was at a beach. David hated the sand, the seagulls. Now I think about it, besides money and power, there really wasn’t much he enjoyed at all.
“You told me earlier,” says Carter, continuing to stare ahead, “you always play it safe”.
“It’s true,” I nod, thinking he’s attempting to get deep and meaningful here. “I’ve built my whole life around pleasing others, doing what they think I should do, and for what?”
Carter’s shaking his head, but he’s still smiling. “It’s a damn shame.”
“Why are you smiling?”
He unzips his jacket, taking it off and letting it fall to the sand.
“Um, what are you doing?”
He looks ahead, pulling his shirt free and reaching for his belt.
“Whoa!” I exclaim. “We’re in public here.”
“You said it yourself. You always play it safe. I think you should live, little bird. I think it’s time you started your new life, started to fly.”
Fuck me. “By getting picked up for public indecency?”
“Don’t you remember?” he says, his belt buckle coming free, his fingers undoing the buttons on his jeans. His skin’s glowing in the moonlight. He looks metallic, the hard, cut lines of his body beautifully sculpted—an action figure come to life.
“Remember what?” I query, growing increasingly apprehensive.
He points to a log behind us. “We sat there on that log and dared one another to go running out into that water naked, but all of us chickened out.”
“We were stupid teenagers.”
“It’s time,” he says, “to do something stupid.” And with that he takes hold of his jeans and jocks in one motion and drags them down to his ankles, his anaconda of a cock flopping out for all the world to see.
Warning! Warning! Avert eyes, but I can’t. Why the hell can’t I?!
For a scary moment I imagine it erect right now, out in the water there like some kind of penis periscope. The whole of Vancouver would see it. The International Space Station would be able to see it.
He stands there proudly with his hands on his hips. “Fuck that feels good.”
He turns to me. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
“I am not stripping down right now.”
Which is why even I don’t believe it when five minutes later I’m standing there freezing to death in my bra and panties, frantically looking around for the police or a fellow public bystander with smartphone in hand ready to send out the next viral video.
“This is insane,” I whisper, my words curt.
“The panties and bra,” he whispers. “Lose them.”
I’m shaking my head, shivering. “You just want to see me naked.”
“Perhaps.”
I shake my head. “What the hell am I doing? That pea soup’s made me lose my mind.”
“You’re living. Doesn’t it feel good?”
“It feels cold,” I reply. “My nipples are acorns right now.”
“Really?” he purrs, his eyes dropping.
I release my hands and reach behind myself, unable to believe I’m doing this. “We get wet and then we get out. Got it?”
He laughs. “That’s just how I like it, emphasis on the ‘wet.’”
Jesus H.
My bra falls free into my hands.
I strip off my panties as quick I can, covering myself with my hands.
Carter’s smiling. He’s ink blue under the moonlight, like somebody’s lit him up in ultraviolet. He starts to jog towards the water. “Woo!” he shouts. “Let’s fucking do this.”
Still shaking my head, still looking around, I follow after him.
I think his grand plan was to hit the water and go diving in, pulling me into his arms and potentially a kiss that would make Julia Roberts blush, but the moment we hit the water, it becomes clear he’s miscalculated.
The water’s no more than ankle deep. “Shit,” he laughs. “The tide’s low. Run further out!”
I’m running along now, all my girly bits jiggling, my naked pussy baring itself to the city of Vancouver.
This. Is. Insanity.
About a hundred yards from the shore, I’m starting to run out of breath, can barely see my breasts are bouncing so high. “How far does the tide go out?”
“I have no idea,” he laughs.
I give a little yelp as my foot hits something and I go face first into the water-slash-mud. I’m covered in it when I pick myself up, a veritable creature from the fucked-up lagoon.
Carter stops, absolutely wetting himself with laughter. I throw mud at him, trying to stand but falling again.
But the weird thing is, I’m smiling as well, because this is simply too ridiculous to be true. I mean, who the hell does this?
Carter White. That’s who.
That’s it.
I run forward, tackling Carter around the midsection. He’s a big guy, but it’s enough to get him off balance and take him down, his cock jabbing into my throat, so that half-choking, half-laughing, I tumble into the water and mud with him, the both of us rolling around like a couple of pale pigs.
He lifts his head and crushes his lips against mine, the kiss deepening. The muddy mess around us is forgotten. Need fans throughout my body.
I sit up, straddling him. “It’s f-f-freezing out here.”
He lifts his head up and pulls one of my nipples into his mouth. “I can tell,” he says around it, his breath hot.
Holy shit. This is happening.
I push him back down into the mud.
He lifts me up. “Much more of this physical contact and Wilson here is going to be in really good spirits.”
I stop. “Wait. You call your penis Wilson?”
“It’s a new nickname.”
“How’s that?”
“Because he’s lost without you.”
If I rolled my eyes any more they’d spin right out of my head, even though I am super turned on right now, oddly buzzed. It’s a sensation I’m not used to, living on the edge like this.
Carter lifts up fully, looking past me. “Hey!” he shouts.
I spin and follow his gaze.
Back on the beach a group of shadowy figures looks to be hanging around our clothes. I can hear their laughter and sniggering.
Teenagers.
Carter pushes me up by the backside. “Go!”
He sprints past me at full speed, but by the time we make it back to the beach, ‘Wilson’ looking deflated, the mystery teenagers are nowhere to be found.
And neither are our clothes.
A man with his dog watches on curiously down the beach.
It’s a good thing it’s dark so no one can see how freakin’ hard I’m blushing right now.
I look to Carter in panic. I definitely left my cell and wallet in the car, but as for Carter. “Tell me the car’s unlocked.”
Carter stands there scratching his head. “The car’s unlocked?”
Panic. Panic everywhere.
Yep. You’re going to jail.
“What do we do?” I question, voice shaky, body not much better. I can’t tell if it’s from the cold or the fact I’m standing here buck-ass naked in public.
Carter’s laughing.
I punch him in the arm. “This is so not the time to be laughing. This was your idea, remember?”
He looks me over. “Damn, you look hot when you’re angry.”
He nods his head towards a convenience store on the down the road. “There.”
“What are we going to do? Hide in the storeroom? Rob the joint?”
If my nipples get any harder they’re going to pop right off my chest.
“They might have something I can use to break into the Jeep.”
I look up to the sky for divine intervention. “Lord, help us.”
“Let’s go.” Carter heads off jogging, his giant penis swinging comically between his legs.
I have no choice but to follow. Halfway across the road a car going in the other direction honks, people cat-calling out the window while the headlights suddenly show every pore on my body.
I’m beyond mortified.
The lighting in the convenience store isn’t much better. It’s like being on the set of a porno. Even the lube’s here as Carter scouts the aisles.
So far the Pakistani shop keeper hasn’t batted an eyelid, sitting at the front counter reading through a paper, head in hand.
Carter plucks a packet of zip ties off the shelf. “This will do it.”
“Are you sure?” I stammer, trying to cover myself behind the microwave noodle shelf and keep my face out of camera sight less we become the main event in tomorrow’s Vancouver Sun.
I let Carter approach the counter first while I cower near the slushie machine.
The shopkeeper lifts his head, doesn’t seem to realize we’re both naked. “May I help you, sir?” he says, his eyes not dropping.
I actually look down to check I am naked, that I’m not hallucinating this madness.
Yep, that’s a vagina, Wren.
Carter places the packet of zip ties on the counter. “As you can see, we’re in a bit of a bind here, my friend. My wallet’s in the Jeep across the road there, but I need this to break into it, so if you could... you know... help a brother out.”
‘Help a brother out.’ I have to laugh at that. I doubt that’s endearing Carter, and Wilson, to his guy.
The shopkeeper remains stony-faced.
A bing signals another shopper entering the store. It’s a middle-aged woman, the kind who looks as though she has an army of cats ready to do her bidding. She selects a container of milk and stands dutifully behind Carter while he continues to plead our case.
It’s surreal. What the actual fuck is going on right now?
In monotone, the shopkeeper refuses to budge. “I’m sorry, sir. I cannot allow unpurchased goods to be removed from the store.”
“Our car is right there!” Carter exclaims. “I’ll be five minutes, tops.”
Our salvation comes from Cat Lady. She steps past Carter and plants a ten-dollar bill on the counter. “As much as I like staring at this young man’s well-toned tushie, I really need to get home.”
The shopkeeper rings up the purchase and hands the packet of zip ties over.
Carter swings around to thank the woman, almost taking her out with his appendage.
She looks down. “That’s all the thanks I need, sunshine. God bless.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, as I blitz pass with Carter, the two of us fleeing the store like a couple of career criminals.
Ten minutes and every curse word under the sun, maybe seven horn blasts and a ‘You should be ashamed of yourselves!’ later, Carter manages to get the door open with his intricate zip-tie slim jim.
I’ve never been so happy to step into a Jeep in all my life.
It’s a curious drive home, the both of us seated there nude, the heater on full blast, my nipples chaffing against the seatbelt, but I’m laughing and smiling and, just like Carter said, alive.
We pass through Oatville, barely a soul on the streets.
I take Carter’s hand, so much bigger than my own. “What does this mean? Us.”
“Why don’t we find out?”
“I don’t know. I feel like I’m betraying…” But I know how silly it sounds, especially considering everything David put me through. Carter is right. I owe him nothing.
I squeeze his hand. “You still haven’t told me what happened that night. Tell me, Carter. I want to know. We need to be open with one another if this is going to work.”
He exhales before breathing deep. He looks across at me. “Did you know David was a gambler?”
I shrug. “I know he liked to visit the casino every now and then, but he wasn’t what I’d call a big gambler.”
Carter laughs at that, eyes returning to the road. “You’re wrong.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean he pulled funds from the White Group to directly feed his addiction. Those nights he was late at the office? He was either fucking somebody else or at a table somewhere playing cards.”
“Cards?” I’m struggling to take in this new information. The infidelity was one thing, but gambling now too?
“It runs in the family,” continues Carter. “Hell, Dad blew half our fortune at a roulette wheel before Mom threw down an ultimatum. Bet you didn’t know that, and David? He was out of control.”
“How do you know this?”
Now it’s his turn to shrug. “I was gambling myself. I had money to burn from the Canucks contract, and booze and girls weren’t enough. But I wasn’t a high roller like David. No, he was at a whole different level.”
“I don’t understand what this has to do with you ending up prison.”
He takes another breath, speaking down to our joined hands. “I haven’t told you this, but David came to me that night. He was in trouble.”
My face is knotted. “Trouble? Like police trouble?”
He shakes his head. “Not cops. Trouble with the kind of people you never want to mess with, to owe.”
“Oh, Jesus.”
“He wanted money, said he was over a hundred grand in debt to these guys. He’d sucked the White Group dry, couldn’t funnel any more cash from the business without raising suspicion.”
“And did you give him any?”
“Money? No. I told him to fuck off… and that’s when they arrived.”
“Who?”
“Enforcers, looking for payment. They must have followed him to my place.”
“One of them laid into him while the other two held me back. They fucked him up real good.”
It’s coming back to me now. “He said he fell down a flight of stairs.”
Carter looks to the roof laughing. “He never was creative, was he?”
“What happened?”
“They told him to pay up or…” He stops.
“Carter…” I press.
“…They were going to hurt you, Wren. They had a picture of you on one of their cells. You were inside your place in New York, doing the dishes or something. It was taken inside the house.”
I go cold. I remember that day. I had this feeling then, like someone was watching me.
Carter brings my hands up onto his thigh. “When they left, David was freaking the fuck out. He said he was going to leave, right then, head to LA and stay low.”
“He was going to leave me?”
A slow nod confirms it. “I got angry, told him he was putting you in danger, but he wouldn’t hear it. He was only worried about himself. He left, but I couldn’t let it go, couldn’t allow you to get tied up in his fucking mess. The building I was staying in had a CCTV camera mounted outside. I was friends with the security guard. He found me the plates on the car these guys came in, had a contact at the DMV track it to a house in Downtown Eastside.”
I’m filling in the blanks. “Oh, Carter.”
“I didn’t want the cops involved, still trying out of some warped sense of family pride to protect him. I didn’t even know what the hell I was going to do when I got there. This guy came out, somebody important. I told him they better back off, that you were off limits. Long story short, it turned ugly fast. I can barely remember it. One moment this guy was coming for me, the next I was taking out my gun, pulling the trigger. I meant to kill him, you know. I would have killed them all to protect you. He went down and I got the fuck out of there, came straight back to the cabin and waited. I knew I was fucked. The next thing the cops arrive, take me away.”
I’m trembling. “Carter, I had no idea. David said you were the one in trouble with them.”
“Figures. Question is, why did he come home? Why didn’t he run?”
I try to think back. “He said he fell down the stairs, that he’d had a long day at work, he was tired, a little aggressive perhaps, but nothing unusual.”
Carter’s shaking his head. “I bet it was our fucking father, bailing him out. He’d keep it quiet, of course, know exactly where to find these guys, how to get them their money. He’s as balls deep in the scum of that city as David was, perhaps more.”
I’m still trying to wrap my head around it. “You’re saying you spent two years in prison because of me?”
He doesn’t reply, but I know the answer.