The Crazy Rich Davenports Box Set, page 8
There’s no fucking way I’m helping with those party bags. “I tried to find the stuff, Bets, but couldn’t. You’ll have to wait for Yaya.”
She pouts at me.
“Go play with Roscoe.”
Her eyes light up. “Okay. Come on, Frankie!” She runs across the yard, and before I can stop her, she drops to her knees and starts rolling around on the ground.
“No! Bets! You just had a bath. You’re not a dog!” I yell after her, but she’s literally rolling around with Roscoe, and they’re heading toward a flower bed (or the garden, or the compost. Whatever).
“Bets, look—” My phone vibrates in my pocket. I dig it out, and it’s Daisy’s number. “Hey, babe. You okay?”
“Murder.”
“What?”
“My sister is in jail for murder.”
Chapter 12
Daisy/Tommy/Slutty Pepper
“DAISY, WHY DID you tell him?” Pepper demands inside my head.
The three of us all sit around and chat even when I’m not in the mood. Like right now. I just shared a difficult part of me with a man I’m falling in love with, and Pepper and Tommy are eager to get their opinions in. I don’t want their opinions this time. I just want to go with the flow and see what happens. My shaking hands tell me otherwise. These two understand me and what’s at stake. They’re only looking out for me.
“Now he’s going to look at us differently. Like criminals.” Pepper pouts.
Well, Tommy is looking out for me. Pepper’s sulking because she plans on trying to seduce Ford tonight. I can feel her preying on him like a wild animal. I wish I had that inner tigress; then maybe Ford would’ve resisted Pepper without Tommy’s interference.
“We didn’t murder anyone,” I tell them, feeling Tommy pacing around, anxious to get his say in.
“Maybe we should. I can take him out.”
“No!” I shout at Tommy. I’m feeling around for another presence, the one that will go to any lengths to keep me—us safe. When I don’t sense that personality lingering, I come back to the topic at hand. “We will not be taking anyone out.”
“I could beat that conversation right out of his memory.” Tommy always goes fists blazing first.
“No beating anyone up.”
“What if we feed him to the zombies?” I don’t have the heart to tell Tommy that zombies aren’t real, and I hope maybe one day he’ll discover this on his own. “I have to go out hunting tonight before Pepper leaves and make sure the grounds are safe.”
“Pepper’s not going out tonight,” I say, holding my breath in preparation to what I know will be a full-fledged Pepper episode.
“Why not?” Pepper’s not whining like five minutes ago, but instead, she’s angry and bitter. “Saturday evenings are mine to go out and play. We agreed.”
I want to tell Pepper that I can sense her determination and rebellion to screw my boyfriend, but I don’t want to cause conflict. I don’t like conflict, and sometimes it’s better when Pepper isn’t trying to prove a point, and I can’t sense what her plans are. There’s a fine line between what is shared among us. I can sense it—like today—and Pepper’s sexual desire purring inside me, electrifying, dying to come out and play. While other times, I don’t have a clue what these two are doing when they surface.
“This party is important to Gemma. I have to stick around when I get home from the jail and make sure everything goes smoothly.”
“This is my night to escape your strict rules, and I refuse to stay locked up.” Pepper is pouting again.
“I’m sorry, Pepper, but you’ll have to wait until after the guests have left.”
“So I can come out and play?”
“It depends how the night goes.” I’m being selfish because I want to spend the night with Ford and fall asleep in his arms. But if I don’t let Pepper go play, she might wake up before me and trick Ford into a morning rendezvous.
“Nothing is going to go smoothly if I don’t do perimeter rounds, check my traps, and eliminate any stray zombies that may have broken through the barriers.” Tommy is pounding his fists. “I should also give Ford a scare—at the least. After you hung up and left him with nothing more than being related to a murderer, he’s going to corner you and demand answers. Do you have any?”
“No.” I have absolutely no way of explaining my sister to Ford. I don’t even want to. I only gave him a piece of my life outside these walls so he wouldn’t always feel like I was hiding something from him.
I feel Tommy rapidly making his way to the surface, and I’m letting him because I can’t face Ford.
What do I say?
How do I say it?
My fears run deeper too.
What does he think of me now that I’ve exposed this dirty secret? I can’t face him turning me away. It’s one thing when he has sex with Pepper who is technically my body, but to just break it off with me will be too hard.
Tommy’s inching closer to emerging.
Ford is the only person who has ever understood me, accepted me, and the last time someone rejected me it didn’t end well. My heart can’t handle it again.
I won’t.
“Ha, ha, ha,” I say, stomping my feet and looking down at my—dress.
Aww shit.
I hate it when Daisy dresses me like a doll. I can feel the cotton material of her underwear on my rear end, her small flats are too tight around my toes, and I just want the weight of my military vest on my shoulders.
A shudder rolls through me, and I start a small jog toward our room. I hate jogging in slip-on shoes, and the breeze between my legs is disrupting to my manly ego. At least I’m not wearing that nasty undergarment Slutty Pepper wears when she’s clubbing with the intention of picking up a man for a quick screw in the bathroom or his vehicle, or wherever they land. But I’ll tell you, when things go array—which they often do with Slutty Pepper—it’s fucking hard to wrangle her bad choice of men when I have a string up my ass.
Ten minutes later, I’ve changed into my zombie hunting uniform. Cargo pants, long-sleeved shirt with a vest full of my ammo, and my weapons tucked inside, out of sight. I’ve gotten into trouble—once jailed—when my weapons weren’t concealed.
My boots march across the thick grass, and I send Rye a threatening look when he waves at me from the garden he’s supposedly weeding. Isn’t that a flower he has dangling upside down with a mound of dirt that he’s just pulled from the flower bed?
Rye is as slutty as Slutty Pepper. Now I have to keep a double eye on him that he’s not planting his seeds in Gemma. Thankfully, today she’s too preoccupied, giving me time to check my traps. I hide my homemade ambushes in the bush—again out of sight to avoid trouble with any Davenports. I’m protecting this whole family for Christ’s sake, and they treat me like I’m crazy.
Bastards.
I check my multiple spike traps. They consist of two large logs that I’ve sharpened to a point on the ends and buried them into the ground, propped against each other and pointing opposite directions. This is what I like to call, “Pass at your own risk.” When the zombies approach—being brainless and stuff—they walk right into the stake itself and kill themselves. It’s brilliant really.
I’m hoping to catch a live one today and torture the crap out of it. Since Daisy cut me off from tormenting Ford, this is the next best thing.
I find all the traps empty, and I’m totally bummed. There are no signs of intruders and nothing left for me to do but find Ford—and behave.
On the way through the bush, I hear unfamiliar voices coming from the guesthouse. I stop at the edge of the trees, glad I wear camouflage to remain unseen until I’m ready to be seen. I move the branches aside and peer at the yard, assessing the perimeter.
I get out my binoculars for a better look and zoom in on a man and woman in their midtwenties or late twenties is my guess.
I feel Slutty Pepper trying to check out the guy, and I push her down. “We don’t have time for this,” I tell her. She’s getting awfully pushy lately, trying to surface on my time—and Daisy’s. Daisy needs to put her foot down, but that thought is for another time.
I examine these two the way I examine everyone: Male, six feet tall, thick build, brown hair slicked back and—I wait for him to remove the reflective sunglasses—brown eyes. He stands with an arrogant attitude and by the way a firm arm stays around the female, I can tell he’s possessive.
Female, five-six, skinny and curvy with a rack that makes me double-check.
Damn.
Double D’s, and fuck, she’s not afraid to show them off. They practically bounce out the crest of her halter top. A white halter top and no bra. I can see her nipples through that shirt.
Fuck. I’m hard, and she’s hot.
“Concentrate,” I tell myself, giving my head a shake. Slutty Pepper’s going to be extra horny tonight with all my sexual build-up.
It looks like Yaya has finally rented out the guesthouse. I need to make sure these people are trustworthy and not serial killers if they’re going to be living on Davenport property. Those who aren’t honorable get buried underground. The grounds of this estate are full of bodies like a cemetery, but nobody knows it. Nobody alive anyway. Mr. Davenport knew all about the history here, and I know.
I know a lot.
The couple seems normal…so far. Looks can be deceiving. I know that better than anyone else.
Chapter 13
Yaya
I HAVE FIVE minutes to spare before I meet the couple renting the house. My hand tops all the mannequin heads. “Which one do I want to wear today? An old woman has to look good for a meeting.” One never knows what type of business might come out of making new acquaintances.
Vincent Giovanni sounds like a good Italian name. Maybe he’s part of the old mafia. He wasn’t real clear on his application as to what he does for a living. He may be someone I could easily partner up with, or blackmail, whichever works in my favor.
“Blue is the flavor of the day.” I take the long blue wig off its resting place and pull it over my gray mob of short hair. I love the way it feels brushing the top of my full, round behind. This is Pop’s favorite of all my wigs. He loves when I wear nothing but it in bed. His old hands can still yank so hard my wig goes flying across the room. For the love of God, the man still does it for me. Too bad it’s just not often enough for my liking.
Standing naked in front of the mirror with only my blue wig on, all traces of my youth are gone except for in my blue eyes. That sparkle is still there after all this time, but this old body used to be hot. Now wrinkles and boobs that used to sit high, sag in places that frighten me.
“This I can fix.” Reaching in my drawer, I pull out my expensive lingerie. It’s the one thing I don’t mind spending a lot of money on. A woman has to lure a man in falsely. Once it all comes off, well by then he’s so horny it really doesn’t matter. He’ll take what he can get.
I strap on my blue lacy bra that matches my hair, and I hike the girls up into place. “There, much better.” I slip on my cotton panties and throw on a floral summer dress, with a bright yellow handbag that matches the flowers in the material. A little pair of summer heels, red lipstick, and I’m ready to meet the potential renters.
Bets is curled up on the couch in the playroom when I walk by. “Yaya, Frankie says you look pretty.”
I look at my watch and sit beside her. “Are you feeling any better?”
“My tummy still hurts. Yaya, when are we going to do the loot bags? Ford said something about the color purple not matching the party colors.” I laugh at her comment, knowing good and well Ford found my party favors. My fingers get tangled in her knotted hair as I brush it out of her face.
“How about I take you for ice cream later?”
“Can Frankie come too?”
“As long as Frankie thinks I’m pretty, the answer is yes.” I kiss the top of her head and almost hurl. “You need a shower, little one, to wash the smell out of your hair. You and Frankie march yourselves into the bathroom and wash off the stink.” I point my crooked finger at her.
She grabs her blanket and slowly walks toward the bathroom. “Come on, Frankie. Yaya says we stink.”
Of all the rug rats around here, that one gets to me. I glance at my watch and head down the stairs and out the front door to grab one of the golf carts.
“Hey, where are you going all dressed up?” My dear hubby’s voice bellows out from an open garage door.
“I’m meeting the potential renters for the cottage.” I throw my yellow bag on the bench seat of the golf cart.
“Come here. I have something for you.”
“I’m late. Can’t it wait?”
“It will only take a minute.” He waves for me to come into the garage.
I’ve not slipped him any Viagra this morning, so it can’t be sex he’s wanting. I relent and head into the garage.
“I know your Lincoln has been acting up and you’d never spend the money for a new car, so I bought you this.” He points.
“What is it?”
“It’s a moped. It will be perfect for driving around the town. Good on fuel and I think it even matches one of your lime-green wigs.” He’s got a full grin covering his handsome face. “Look, there’s even a green helmet.” He reaches on a shelf and pulls it down. “I think you would look awful pretty in it.”
This is brilliant. Who would suspect a little old woman on a moped of selling drugs. I walk around it and inspect it. The seat pops up for storage underneath it. It’s the perfect place for my stash.
“I love it.” I walk into his open arms and give him a big wet kiss, then wipe the lipstick off him. “Thank you.”
“How about you give me one of those little blue pills for later and thank me properly?”
“I’ll give you the whole damn bottle, but right now, I’m late. I’ll take this for a spin later.” I smack his cheek and head for the golf cart.
When I park in the driveway of the cottage, there is an old beat-up blue pickup truck that I recognize as the realtor from yesterday, and a sleek-looking BMW parked out front. “I think my realtor friend needs to up his game with either a sports car or a Hummer, if he’s going to run with this crowd,” I mumble to myself.
There is a skinny woman with a huge rack pacing on the front porch and a man with slicked-back brown hair with his face pushed up against the front window, looking inside.
The buxom woman stops pacing when she sees me and waves. Her perky breasts bounce as she walks up to me. Good God, Tommy better not be spying around anywhere; he’d be all over those girls. Freaky little bastard.
A gust of wind blows out of nowhere, and I have to hold my blue wig, tugging it close to my body. It’s a sign. I know the bastard is lurking around here somewhere. I gaze over the property but don’t see any sign of the freak.
“I love your hair,” Double D says, walking toward me.
I look past her where the Italian mafia-looking man is strolling in my direction. He whips off his aviator glasses and his gaze scrolls my body.
Hmmm…I still got it. Must be the blue bra and panties. Placing my hands under my breast, I give them a little shove upward. “You must be Vincent.”
“Vinny.” He kisses the back of my hand.
“Ya…Eleanor.” This man reeks of sex appeal. He’s a little thick around the middle, but it’s that much more for me to sink my nails into. More cushion for the pushing. I smile to myself. He has pheromones dripping off him. Even his clothes are screaming to be next to him. All thoughts of blackmailing this man are gone. There is only one thing I want from him, and I’m sure he doesn’t need a little pill to give me what I want. Meow. Come to Yaya.
“I’m Roxy.” Double D breaks my drooling over her man. “I love this place. Seems very private back here.”
“We’ll take it.” Vinny’s eyes are not on her boobs. “We will need a year lease.”
“Don’t you want to see inside first?”
“We’ve seen enough. I need to make sure that you are okay with people coming and going at odd hours of the night. Our work has no time schedule.”
Tommy is going to shit his pants having people come and go on the property. “Not a problem at all.” Maybe Double D will keep him distracted enough to keep Ford out of Pepper’s panties and away from my drunk-ass daughter.
I pull the lease from my purse. “We can step inside and sign the lease.”
“No need to go inside. We can sign the papers right here.” He pulls his black luggage out of the trunk of his BMW and unzips a small compartment on the front, taking out a pen.
He signs, and I hand him the keys. “What is it you do for a living, Vinny?”
“Let’s just say, I’m in the entertainment industry and we will be filming here.”
Money, money, money. I see dollars signs bouncing around in my head. I should have upped the rent. He didn’t balk at five grand a month.
He hands me a check covering the entire amount of the twelve-month lease. “Don’t spend it all in one place.”
Chapter 14
Daisy/Tommy/Slutty Pepper
I WATCH YAYA standing at the end of a rusty blue truck that looks like it should be in a junkyard.
That woman is crazy, wearing a different wig each day of the week. Today a long blue wig touches her ass—a nice round one, I might add. She’s old, but damn, I like them rear ends round and the ladies experienced. I would bet my military vest that she’s gained way more experience than her daughter—and Lucy’s been fun on more than one occasion. The problem with Lucy is she only finds me desirable after she’s had too many drinks and doesn’t look at me as Daisy anymore.
But Yaya…Yaya knows I’m my own man.
Yaya laughs and shakes the hand of the two people I’ve seen but haven’t met.
What’s their story?
After a brief chat with Yaya that I can’t hear, she heads back toward the house, holding her wig down as the breeze catches the long locks.
