Game on!
Operation Crack the Case of Danielle Cunningham was in full effect, but what was also in full effect was her attack on my mouth.
Danielle’s lips were forcefully pressed to mine, her hand on my arse, her other hand in my hair, and her tongue somewhere between my teeth and my tonsils. It took me a second or two to adjust to the new addition to my body, but once I did, I planned on making that new addition want to take up residence and never leave.
Threading my hand through her hair, the subtle waft of apple shampoo added to the sweet taste of her lips. I groaned, hungrily, adrenaline coursing through my body, setting my nerve endings alight and sprinkling my arms with goosebumps. I’d been cold as fuck all morning, but in mere seconds, Danielle had managed to near incinerate me on the spot.
Placing my hand on her cheek, I held her firmer. If she wanted to kiss me for whatever reason she was kissing me, then I was going to hold her to it. Literally.
She mumbled something into my mouth but I chose to ignore it; now was not the time for talking.
“Et ee o,” she mumbled again.
“Ot?” I let her go just enough to breathe; that was all she was getting.
“Let me go,” she mumble-whispered.
“Soon,” I mumble-whispered back.
She replied with, “Now.”
I didn’t respond. I just loosened my hand. She could be the one to stop what she’d started because I sure as hell wasn’t going to. And she did, seconds later, slowly, leisurely, as if she was somewhat sedated after aesthetic.
Seeing her heavy-lidded, heavy-limbed and kiss-drugged made me smile, big time, and, apparently, I was not the only one.
“I wouldn’t exactly say that’s taking it slow,” Jeanette said, her smile obvious in her tone.
“He gets his kissing ability from me, you know.”
I removed my stare from Danielle’s face and shot my mother an, are-you-serious?’ look.
“Whaaat?” she drawled, defensively, furrowing her brow and then dismissing my concern with the flick of her hand. “Oh, you know what I mean.”
Shaking my head, I looked back down at Danielle, who still hadn’t turned to face our mothers. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared to be silently talking to herself.
It was quite amusing.
I leaned forward, my nose centimetres from hers. “What are you saying?” I whispered.
Her eyelids sprung open. “I’m saying, ‘what the fuck am I doing?’” she whispered back.
“Oh, right.”
She repeated her silent chant.
“So … what the fuck are you doing? Not that I’m complaining.”
Her head shook from side to side at a rapid speed, as if to say ‘I don’t know’. She was adorably red-faced, stunned, sated and confused.
I continued to whisper. “Are you going to turn around?”
She nodded with as much enthusiasm and energy as a sloth.
“When?” I added.
“I don’t know, now, I guess.”
“Good work. You can do this.”
Helping her swivel around, I placed my hands on her shoulders and held her against my chest. “So, there you have it,” I announced. “We’re in love, engaged … and taking things slow. We haven’t set a date and there’s no baby on the way.”
“If any of this changes,” Danielle chimed in, her voice still quiet, “you’ll both be the first to know, okay?”
Mum and Jeanette nodded.
“Good. Right,” she continued, more sprightly. “Let’s get back to work shall we?” She nodded to herself then turned to face me, giving me a friendly and encouraging double-pat on the chest.
I bit the inside of my cheek to suppress my laugh. I also slid my hands into my jean pockets, grinned from ear-to-ear, and rocked back on my heels. “Yes, let’s do that.”
“We need to talk,” Danielle demanded, right before yanking me behind the gum tree by the collar.
I corrected my footing and leaned against the trunk, my arms crossed over my chest, my legs crossed at the ankles. It had been roughly two hours since she kissed me, and I’d been eagerly waiting for her to pull me aside and do it again.
“Don’t give me that cocky attitude.”
I laughed. “What cocky attitude?”
“That!” She pointed at me.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do. You’re acting smug because I kissed you.”
“And why’d you do that exactly?” I asked … tapping my chin with added smugness.
“Because I didn’t want you confessing and ruining the happy vibe we have here at the site. We have a job to do, and I want to get it done in the best way possible.”
My eyebrow rose suspiciously. “That’s it? It wasn’t because you wanted another taste?”
She growled. “No, Elliot, it wasn’t.”
“More lies.”
“I’m not lying.” Danielle gritted her teeth, her eyes boring into mine.
Fed up with her bullshit, I secured her arm, spun her around, and caged her in against the tree trunk with my arms. “Enough of the lies. This isn’t what we do.”
Her eyes searched mine but seemed to want to search anywhere else instead.
“I don’t get it. I don’t understand why you’re continuing to feed me bullshit.”
She swallowed, arched her head back, and looked toward the sky, taking a moment to answer. “I don’t know either.”
“Then stop,” I pleaded, my voice low.
Sighing, she closed her eyes. “Fine.”
“Good. Let’s start with the bullshit that is Chris?”
She shook her head.
“Danielle …” I warned.
“Okay, he’s not my boyfriend.”
A smile formed on my face, and I traced my finger down the side of her cheek. “There. Was that so hard?”
Her eyes shot open, and I swear that for a split second she morphed into the Terminator — her eyes red, beady, and murderous — right before her hands found my chest and she shoved me with the force of a boxing kangaroo. “Don’t patronize me.”
“I wasn’t,” I protested, stumbling back and nearly falling on my arse.
“Yes, you were.” She took a step closer, pointing at me. “Listen, I’m only keeping up this engagement charade for the duration of the garden rebuild, okay? After that, we will end ‘us’ amicably so that no one is hurt and our mothers are none the wiser. Agreed?”
More lies, although I decided to let this one go. I’d successfully cracked her shell, and now all I had to do was watch as those cracks spread. Eventually, her shell would fall away and my Danielle, the one I’d fallen in love with the first and second time, would be standing there waiting for me to fall in love with her again.
I shrugged and smiled. “Agreed.” And just like when we were kids, I crossed my fingers behind my back. Agreed my arse.
After she’d shrugged the Terminator persona, I’d agreed to play we-are-getting-married — in the presence of our mothers — for the next few weeks, which was how long we anticipated it would take to rebuild the garden. Her suggested false pretense was better than nothing, but I planned on playing with Danielle for longer than the next few weeks. My plan was to play inevitably, with my hands, tongue, mind and body. I wanted her in my bed — in my life — more than I’d ever wanted anyone, and that would require more cracking of her shell — more unveiling of what she seemed too afraid to admit. It was obvious that something wasn’t adding up; she was lying and holding back for no good reason, or a reason she didn’t want me to know about. Fortunately for us both, I was a human calculator with the intent to tally her up. I was going to add together every number she possessed until our problem was solved.
I was going to figure this shit out.
It was now Wednesday, and I had another problem currently placed on hold by my secretary.
“Mr Parker, your mother is on line three. She says it’s urgent.”
“Thanks, Rebecca, but my mother thinks everything is urgent, including a fifteen percent off lamb sale at Coles.” I huffed and closed my current case file, glad to remove from my head the horrific images of a battered woman who my client was accused of assaulting.
Rebecca giggled. “Oh. Do you want me to tell her you’re in a meeting?”
“No. It’s fine. I’ll take her call.” I pressed line three and answered. “Good afternoon, Mum, how can I help you today?”
“Good afternoon, Elliot. Firstly, you can help me by reassessing the audio advertisement that plays when you put callers on hold. It’s awful. The woman sounds as if she’s speaking with a mouthful of marbles.”
I chuckled. “She does not.”
“Have you ever been put on hold long enough to hear her?”
I thought about it for a moment and realised I hadn’t. “No. But the firm’s multimedia liaison knows what she’s doing, Mum. I’m sure it’s fine.”
“It’s not.”
Leaning back in my chair, I rubbed my forehead. “What else did you ring for?”
“Oh, yes. I wanted to remind you about Laura’s appreciation gala dinner this coming Friday. You’ve been so busy lately and I didn’t want you to forget.”
“I haven’t forgotten. I’ll be there.”
“But what about Danielle? You forgot to add her as your plus one.”
Shit!
I hadn’t forgotten to add her at all. I’d forgotten that I’d be expected to add her, considering she was my non-fake fiancée now.
“Um …” Stalling, I needed to come up with an excuse as to why Danielle would be absent. “That’s … because … she can’t make it.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s busy.”
“No, she’s not.”
How the hell would you know?
“Yeah, she is,” I corrected her.
She corrected me right back. “No, she’s not. Not according to Jeanette.”
Fuck! Mothers. It was moments like these that I wished my mother were more like a harp seal. Those furry fuckers were AWOL only twelve days after giving birth, abandoning their pups in search of a new mate.
“Well, when Danielle and I last spoke about it (which was never), she’d had a work function on.”
“Oh. Welllllllll,” Mum drawled, all gossipy-like, “according to Jeanette, Danielle was due to spend the evening with her to discuss landscaping designs for the garden.”
Scrunching my eyes together, I pressed my palm against my head. “Maybe her function was recently cancelled. I don’t know.”
“You should know, Elliot. It’s important to talk about these things with one another, to keep each other in the loop. Anyway, I’ve added her to our table, and Jeanette was going to call her now and let her know.”
“Right. Thanks.” Fuck! Danielle was definitely going to kill me this time. Then again, if we were to properly keep this engagement ruse going, technically, she should accompany me to the gala.
“Don’t be sad, dear. She probably just assumed there were no spaces left and that’s why she never told you she was available to go,” Mum added.
“Um … yeah, probably. Okay. I better get going. Thanks for the reminder.”
“Anytime.” She blew a couple of kisses down the phone. “Love you. See you both on Friday night.”
“You too.”
Just as I ended the call, Rebecca’s voice filled the room once again “Err, Mr Parker, there’s a woman on the phone claiming to be your fiancée? She’s quite aggressive.”
“Ahhhh, yes,” I sighed, preparing myself to go to war. “That would be Danielle. Thanks, Rebecca, patch her through.”
“Oh. Sure. Okay. I’ll do it now.”
I sucked in a deep breath before answering. “Mr Splinter-Removalist, King of Kissing, Lots Parker speaking, how may I assist you today?”
There was silence for a second before she replied.
“This is Ms Danielle What the Fuck is a Hume GoSafe Gala and What the Fuck am I Supposed to Wear Cunningham. May I speak to Lots of Pain in my Arse Parker please?”
I chuckled. “I think you have the wrong number, sorry.”
“Oh no. I definitely have the correct number.”
“Hmm … that’s strange indeed, because the only Lots Parker here is Lots of Orgasms Parker. Would you like to speak to him?”
“Only if he can answer my questions.”
“He can.”
“Good. Put him on then.”
“Lucky for you, you’re already speaking to him.”
“That’s funny, because he hasn’t answered my questions yet.”
“Well, Hume GoSafe Gala is an event held to recognise the efforts of particular citizens living in the Hume region who are part of a program designed to keep children safe as they travel to and from school. As for what a beautiful woman such as yourself should wear to such an event, hmm … I’d say something that can easily be removed at the end of the evening.”
I waited for her response, my chair rocking as I pushed my feet against the ground.
“I’m not laughing, Elliot.”
“You will be.”
“Oh, yeah? And why’s that?”
“Studies have shown that a sure way to laugh is when you try not to because it’s inappropriate to do so.”
She laughed.
“I rest my case.”
“Cliché much?”
“What? Resting my case? No. It’s actually more applicable, don’t you think?”
“I think you’re a smartarse that set this entire gala event up just to torture me further.”
“I’m truly offended and equally flattered that you think I’m capable of manipulating my mother into manipulating your mother into backing you into a corner with nowhere to go other than to an event in honour of my sister’s selflessness. I mean, wow, that’s quite an achievement in exploitation.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?”
There was more silence, this time longer.
“Oh, I don’t know,” she sighed. “I’m sorry. I just hate lying.”
I felt like telling her that was a good thing because she sucked at it, but I decided to let sleeping dogs lie for now. I didn’t want to argue with her beside it being quite an amusing activity. “I know you hate it,” I said, sympathetic to our plight. “Look, just think of it as two friends going to a dinner event together.”
“Pfft. Yeah, two friends who are required to perform public displays of affection.”
I smiled. “Minor detail.”
“Ha,” she retorted.
“You’re worrying yourself more than you need to.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“You are!”
“So does your sister know the truth? Does she know this is all just pretend?”
“No. I haven’t spoken to her. And to be honest, I’m a little surprised she hasn’t contacted me. I’ve no doubt Mum has already broken our engagement news to her.”
“Elliot, I’m really uncomfortable about all of this. Pretending in the presence of just our mums at the garden is one thing, but extending that act of deceit to more family, and friends … ugh, I just don’t know that I’m capable of it.”
“You’ll be fine. We’ll keep things simple and quick, I promise. And we’ll leave as soon as we are able to.”
She sighed again. “Okay. I guess I have no choice.”
“Not really.”
She did, but I wasn’t going to highlight that fact.
“So what time should I meet you, and where?”
I glanced at my calendar. “It starts at 6:00 p.m. And don’t worry, I’ll pick you up.”
“Isn’t it somewhere in the city?”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t matter.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll come to you. Text me your address.”
“I’m happy to pick you up, Danielle.”
“What’s wrong with your apartment?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“It seems like you don’t want me to see it? Are you a slob?”
“NO! There’s absolutely nothing wrong with my apartment. It’s tidier than yours.”
“So I’m a slob?”
“No. I didn’t say that.”
“Just text me your address. I’ll meet you there at 5:30 p.m.”
She hung up. And all I could do was shake my head.