Chapter Nine
Teague
Briggs jumps out of his chair and hurries over to me when I exit the elevator. For a man in his sixties, he still moves like the stunt double he once was. “Let me help with that,” he says, taking the largest box out of my hands.
“Thank you.” I’m left with two smaller packages much easier to handle. We set them down beside the security desk for pickup by the shipping company. Gabrielle is sending some of her stationery to Kristen in the Seattle office.
“It’s always a pleasure with you.” He winks and resumes his place behind the desk. I need his niceties right now. Gabrielle’s had a stick up her butt since I stepped into the office on Monday morning. When she ordered me to leave early today because Madison needs help picking bridesmaids gifts, I almost hugged her.
“You need to get something off your chest?” he asks as I stand there quietly thinking about my crappy week. “I’m a good listener if you do.”
“It’s just been a long five days.”
“That happens with tough bosses.”
“You’ve had one?”
He nods. “More than one. Know what helps?”
I shake my head. “Short of buying a voodoo doll, no.”
Briggs laughs. “Picture her wearing a red clown nose. No matter what she says or the tone she uses, if you do that it takes the sting out of her words and reminds you that you hold the power over how others make you feel.”
He’s a smart man, my Briggs. “I am definitely going to try that.”
“Good.” He gives me one of his warm smiles that always make me feel better. Back home, my dad was the one to do that. My crappiest days were made better when he looked at me like I mattered more than anything else that day. Briggs has the same way about him.
“Thanks for looking out for me.”
“You make it easy. You on your way out?”
“Yes, I have a bride to meet at Tiffany’s.” On Rodeo Drive. I’m actually pretty excited about it. My sister gave mini silver heart pendant necklaces to each of her bridesmaids from Tiffany’s, but I have a feeling Madison’s gift will be a little more extravagant.
Briggs whistles. “Have fun.”
I decide to walk to the upscale jewelry store, since it’s only a few blocks away. Plus, it will take me less time than driving and trying to find a parking spot on a Friday afternoon.
After being inside an air-conditioned office, the sun feels good on my cheeks. I lift my face to the sky and just breathe for a minute. The ringing of my phone pulls me away. It’s Harper.
“Hey,” she says. “I’m glad you answered. I was thinking I’d stop by your office and say hi. I’m just leaving the coffee shop.”
“That would have been great, but I’m on my way to Tiffany’s. I’m meeting Madison, the bride I mentioned to you, to help her with bridesmaid gifts.”
“Can I come?”
“Umm…” Of course I want her to join us, but I’m not sure if it’s appropriate, since I’m technically on the job, not meeting a friend.
“Oh, come on. If I get there and Madison is uptight about it, I’ll leave. I haven’t seen you all week, Tea. I miss you.”
“I miss you, too. Okay. Meet me there.”
I’m not sure how Madison will feel, but two helpers are better than one, right? Plus, Harper’s got wicked good taste. She and Madison will probably hit it off.
My best friend is waiting for me outside the store when I get there. We hug like sisters, and when we break apart, Madison is walking up the cobblestoned path toward us.
“Hi,” she says.
“Hi, Madison. This is my best friend, Harper. Would you mind if she joined us?”
“Not at all. I’m the worst at making decisions, as you probably already know, Teague. And since all my close friends are in the wedding, I’m grateful for your help today. The more the merrier.”
“Your mom didn’t want to be here?” I ask.
“She and my dad are on a cruise. A vacation before all the craziness starts. She asked me to take care of this.” Madison and Henry’s wedding is only seven short weeks away now.
“I love this,” Harper says. “Let’s do it.” Besides the piercings in her ears and belly button, she’s really not a jewelry person, so I’m grateful for her enthusiasm.
The three of us enter the store. Gabrielle called ahead, so the salesperson welcomes us with a ready smile and a few things picked out for us to look at.
“These are all so beautiful,” Madison says of the bracelets and necklaces. She studies them for a few minutes then asks, “What do you guys think?”
“I like that one,” Harper and I say at the same time. We’re also pointing to the same bracelet.
“That’s the one I like best, too!” Madison picks up the sterling silver bracelet with an Open Heart charm and two round diamonds on either side of it. It’s delicate and beautiful, and I can’t imagine her bridesmaids not loving it. Six bracelets are purchased and wrapped in the iconic blue bag.
“Hey,” Harper says. “I just realized it’s Cinco de Mayo. I think this calls for margaritas and chips and guacamole.”
“I’d love to,” Madison says. She sounds a little, I don’t know, relieved and appreciative of the offer.
“What’s Henry up to tonight?” I ask, curious.
“He’s going out with some friends.” Her tone indicates he does that a lot. “There’s a great little place just a couple of streets over we could go to,” she adds, and I get the feeling she doesn’t want to talk about her fiancé. I hope everything is okay and it’s just pre-wedding jitters.
“I missed lunch, so I’m more than ready to eat,” I say.
Madison asks the salesperson if she can pick up the bracelets over the weekend, and we make our way to the restaurant. We get a table outside, under an awning, next to planter boxes filled with red flowers. I love it.
A little while later we’re each one strawberry margarita and tequila shot in, and starting our second round. We’ve polished off two baskets of chips and almost finished the large bowl of guac. “What are you doing?” Harper asks me. She’s sitting across from Madison and me.
“Nothing.”
“You’re itching your boob.”
I drop my arm. So much for being discreet. “Why did you ask if you already knew, doofus? I think something might have bit me.” It’s been itching all day, and last night I slept with the window open.
“On your perfect tit?”
“Shut up.”
“Perfect tit?” Madison says.
“Teague here has got perfect tits. She could make a career as a tit model. Or stand-in when actresses don’t want to get half naked. I’ve tried telling her this, but she refuses to listen.”
I cover my face with my hands. “Please stop talking about my boobs.”
“They’re perfectly round,” Harper continues. “Like per-fect-lee. And her nipple-to-areola ratio is sick. Show her, Tea.” She leans over the table and goes for my blouse.
“Stop,” I say, batting her arm away, embarrassed. It’s not the first time she’s publicly discussed my boobs, so you think I’d be used to it. “There’s a million better things to talk about.”
“Sorry, it’s just you know how much I love your tits,” she teases. “And you,” she adds more seriously.
“I could use some help with something,” Madison chimes in, saving me from any more body talk.
“Yes. Let’s help the bride-to-be,” I insist, realizing she’s more than that now. She is a friend. “What’s up?”
She tucks a piece of red hair behind her ear and lets out a nervous breath. “I want to do a striptease for Henry and I’m not sure how. I mean, I know what it entails, but I want to drive him crazy with it.” Yep, a friend.
Harper grins at Madison. She lifts her margarita, waits for us to lift ours, and we clink glasses. “To stripper talk.” We all take sips, Madison’s larger than ours.
“You’ve done one?” Madison asks.
“There’s pretty much nothing Harper hasn’t done,” I say lovingly. She’s the best person I know. And the most experienced. She owns it and doesn’t make apologies for who she is.
“This is true,” Harp says. “So, let’s make this easy and tick off the list for a proper striptease.”
“I’m listening,” Madison says, scooting to the edge of her seat.
“First, it’s not a lap dance, so that means no touching. Keep your distance, but stay close enough that he can imagine reaching out and almost touching you.”
“I can do that.”
“Second, you need to wear a dress your mother wouldn’t approve of and lingerie underneath it. A lacy bra and panties, minimum, garter belt and hose if you want the tease to last longer. And you have to go slow. You want to torture him.”
“Get a rise out of him,” I add.
Harper flicks her pointer finger at me. “Yes. You want his dick so hard you can mount it cowgirl style and then reverse it.”
Madison nods, takes a drink of her cocktail.
“Dim lighting is a must,” Harper says next. “Or zero lighting and candles instead, but that takes some prep. You want him to see you, but leave a hint of mystery, too. That’s especially important because you guys have been together for a while, right?”
“Since high school.”
An air of melancholy surrounds Harper, but it vanishes almost immediately. I’m sure Madison didn’t even notice, but I know better. “Is he the only guy you’ve slept with?” Harper asks.
“Yes. But I’m not…” She trails off.
“Not what?” I ask.
The waiter stops at our table and switches out the empty chip basket for a full one. “Can I get you ladies anything else?”
“Chicken quesadilla?” Harper says, looking at Madison and me.
“Yes,” I say as Madison says, “Sure.”
“Make it two, please,” Harper tells the waiter. She loves to share food rather than order individual meals. “And three more shots.” She’s also on a mission to get us drunk, apparently.
“Not what?” I repeat once the waiter turns his back.
“She’s not the only girl he’s slept with,” Harper says confidently. There’s no pity or judgment, she’s simply stating a fact.
“That’s right. So…”
“You’re going to blow his mind,” I say reassuringly. I put my hand on her arm and squeeze.
A couple walking by on the sidewalk catches my eye. The guy is wearing a Dodgers baseball hat, and my mind instantly goes to Mateo. I’ve fantasized about him daily since our “date” last weekend. I can’t get him out of my head. The Dodgers monkey he gave me sleeps on the pillow beside mine. His voice is constantly in my ear. I’m curious about him in a way that isn’t good, considering nothing will come of it.
What has come of it are some great posts for my travel blog. I’m finding them easier to write and gaining followers. I had ten comments on my taco truck post, double that on my Dodgers post where I included a picture Mateo had taken of me with the field in the background.
“Exactly,” Harper says, bringing my attention back to the table. “So next on the list is music. It has to be slow and sensual, like some old-school R&B. And not just one song, but a few that you can move to in a way to make him wonder how long you plan on teasing him.
“But the most important thing is attitude. You need to push him in a chair, hit the music and lights, and do your thing. And by that, I mean stand in front of him face-to-face and start to move super slowly. Peel off your clothes slowly. Play with your tits before you slowly slip off your bra. The key word here is ‘slowly.’”
“I got that,” Madison says with a shy smile.
I wonder if anyone’s ever done a striptease for Mateo. Probably. He’s probably been to strip clubs where they do all the things to a guy with money to burn. In Mateo’s case, the strippers would probably forgo payment for a chance to touch him. I mean, if he even looks at a piece of bread, I bet it turns to toast. He’s that hot.
“When you’re ready to take your panties off,” Harp says, “spin around, but keep eye contact over your shoulder. Then very slowly bend at the waist and slide the lingerie down your legs and over the fuck-me pumps you’ll be wearing.”
Our waiter clears his throat. “Ladies, your shots,” he says, dropping off our drinks. “Your food will be right up.” He looks at Harper like he’d enjoy making a meal out of her. She flirts back with her eyes, slides her tongue over her bottom lip. He smiles.
“To sexy stripteases,” Harper says, lifting her shot glass. We drink them quickly. This one goes down extra smoothly given all the alcohol already in my system. I’m relaxed. Pleasantly buzzed.
“The last thing on the list,” Harper says, “is your finale. And if you forget everything else but this, you can still count the dance as a win. Now that you’re naked, you need to slowly step close enough to whisper in his ear. Ghost your lips over his skin and say, ‘I want you to fuck me,’ then lead him to wherever you want him to fuck you.”
Madison lets out a breath. “Okay, thank you. That’s pretty much how I envisioned it.”
“It’s crucial that you say ‘fuck me’ at the end.”
Madison giggles. “Got it. Thanks, you guys. I can’t really talk about this stuff with my other friends.”
“Why not?” I ask.
“They’re…” She looks around the patio.
“Prudes?” Harper supplies.
“Yes. That’s it exactly. We’ve been close friends since junior high school and were in National Charity League together, so our moms are all friends, too, and it’s difficult to keep things private sometimes.”
“Is Isabel part of that group?” I ask, wondering how close Madison is to Mateo’s sister.
“Isabel?” Harper asks.
Madison looks at me with inquisitive eyes. “You know Izzy?”
“I haven’t met her, no. I’m friendly with Mateo.” I turn to Harp. “Isabel is Mateo’s younger sister.”
Harper leans forward with her elbows on the table, her interest piqued even more than with the striptease. “And Madison knows the hot-as-fuck, wants-in-your-pants Mateo?”
“Harper!” She’s convinced after everything I’ve told her about Mateo and me that he wants to do the horizontal hoochie. I’m not saying he doesn’t. But it would just be onetime sex to him and it wouldn’t to me, so it’s not happening. Besides, Gabrielle would probably poison the ends of my pens—I tend to put them in my mouth—if she found out we were even hanging out, and I’m not ready to die yet.
“He’s in my wedding,” Madison says, obviously used to the description Harper used.
“Shut the fucking door. You didn’t tell me this, Tea.”
“It never occurred to me until now.”
“Gabrielle is my godmother,” Madison adds. “Mateo, Izzy, and I have been friends our whole lives.” She turns her head to me. “He’s something, right?”
“Yes, he is.” Something smart, kind, sexy, and too friendly.
“We need details,” Harper says as our quesadillas arrive. Cute Waiter puts them down in the middle of the table with one eye on Harper’s cleavage. “Thanks,” she tells him.
“What do you want to know?” Madison asks with reluctance. She’s loyal to him, and I like her even more.
I pick up a triangle of flour tortilla and cheese yumminess. “Does he work? Or go to school?” I realize I’ve never asked him any basic questions about himself. And I don’t want to put Madison on the spot by asking something too personal.
“I think grad school is in his future. His dad would like him to do that, anyway. But right now he’s working for a charity that does soccer camps for at-risk and troubled kids.”
My heart melts at that surprising bit of information. I got the sense Mateo was a caring person, but I certainly hadn’t given him that much credit. Solely based on his God’s-gift-to-women vibe, which wasn’t fair of me.
“Is he the man-whore he appears to be?” Harper asks in a friendly tone.
Leave it to my best friend to cut right to the chase.
Madison chuckles. “Yes and no, I guess. He definitely doesn’t want a girlfriend, but he does date a lot.”
“Did you guys ever?” Harper pulls a string of cheese oozing out of her tortilla.
“Nooooo. We’re like siblings. Growing up, the three of us fought as often as we got along.”
I finish off my margarita, wipe my napkin across my mouth. I debate asking the question sitting on the tip of my tongue for all of two seconds before it tumbles out of my mouth, the words strung together like they’re one word. “Do you know why Mateo doesn’t want a girlfriend?”
Madison eyes me like she’s been asked that question numerous times a day. Oh, hey Madison, you’re friends with Mateo, right? Think I could win the coveted spot as his girlfriend?
“Hold up,” Harper says. “That’s a rhetorical question, Madison. Teague here is on a boyfriend break since her last one was a complete jackdouche who cheated on her, then very publicly broke up with her in front of their friends, claiming she was a second-rate screw compared to his other girlfriend. So, the question should be, how do we get these two sexy singles into the sack together, because it’s my mission to get my girl laid, not committed.”
“I, uh, don’t think Mateo would have an issue with that.”
“I’m not drunk enough for this conversation,” I say.
Harper waves to our waiter, and when she has his attention holds up three fingers and then points to an empty shot glass.
“I agree,” Harper says to Madison. “Mateo won’t mind. Which means the dilemma is yours, TW, and you know how I love to help you with your problems.”
“And I appreciate it, but not this time. Mateo isn’t a problem.” He kinda is. “He’s an acquaintance, and I probably won’t even see him again.” I hope I do. “Let’s talk about the wedding instead!”
I silently beg Harp to drop it, and being that she knows me so well, she gets my mental plea and steers the conversation to wedding stuff. When Madison brings up their honeymoon plans, I soak it in. They’re going to Bali. We drink some more, eat some more, and when we stand to leave, all of us are a little too foggy to drive. We order Ubers to pick us up and get us home safely.
On the short drive, Harper and I are quiet. Which gives me plenty of opportunity to be inside my head and picture Mateo naked, touching me while I touch him.