Chapter 13
MICK pulled the rugged iron handle and held the Clubhouse door open for me, but instead of just letting us through, he played doorman to a stream of people flowing in behind us. And, of course, one of those hangers-on was my pain in the ass brother, Will.
“Yo, Flowbee,” Will said with a laugh, bumping up against me in the crowd. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”
“Don’t even start,” I muttered. “Buzz off.” Right away, I knew what Will was up to. My parents must have begged him, or coerced him, or maybe even paid him to spy on me. And I wasn’t having it. I mean, even if I had to have Mick remove him from the Clubhouse by force, my brother was absolutely not going to tail me like a puppy-dog all night. “Get lost,” I ordered again.
Predictably, Will didn’t budge. “It’s a free country.”
“Yeah, well…” I started, but I was stumped for a convincing argument or a motivating threat.
And before I could dig anything useful out of my addled brain, Mick was back at my side. “Who’s this,” he asked, with a slight edge to his voice. I guess maybe he’d assumed Will was a rival for my affection, the idea of which sent my stomach lurching.
I sighed. “Mick, this is my brother—Will,” I admitted reluctantly. “Will, this is my boyfriend—Mick.” While I made the obligatory introductions, I tried to shoot Will an evil, menacing glare, but it just didn’t take.
“Oh, hi. Nice to meet you,” Mick said, relaxing and shaking my brother’s hand in this macho, man-to-man way. “I didn’t know Flora had a brother.”
“Well, I didn’t know she had a boyfriend,” Will claimed. “So I guess we’re even.”
What a liar. Golden Boy knew very well that I was madly in love. “All right. See ya later,” I said abruptly to Will. Then I grabbed Mick’s hand for a quick getaway, but unfortunately my sweet, polite boyfriend wasn’t blessed with a heart of stone like I was.
“Are you here alone?” Mick asked Will, not responding in the least to my urgent tugging. “Because you can hang with us if you want—if Flora doesn’t mind, that is.”
Will just blinked away in disbelief. I guess he must’ve figured I had already poisoned Mick against him. “Um, no…that’s okay,” he finally said. “I’m not gonna stay too long, so I’m gonna mingle.”
Yeah, right. I didn’t believe that lame excuse for a second. The truth is, it’s a lot harder to spy on people in plain sight, since they’re usually on their best behavior. If you stalk your prey from afar, however, you’re much more likely to get the juicy, salacious dirt you’re after.
“Bye-bye, then,” I said, shooing Will off with a flick of my wrist.
Amazingly, my dirtball brother actually took off. But Mick gave me a confused, disappointed look, which, of course, made me feel like a meanie.
“Wow, this is…nice,” I said, stuck for just the right adjective as I surveyed the Clubhouse, which reminded me of a gigantic Swiss ski chalet, complete with log cabin walls, a massive stone fireplace, and wrought iron chandeliers that lent the huge open space an enchanted, romantic feel.
“It’s beautiful. Very impressive,” Mick agreed, as he nestled his muscular arm around my waist and settled his big, rough hand on my hip.
Just then, I had a disturbing flashback to a Punxsutawney High dance, where I played the third dorky wheel to my madly-in-love best friend and her man of the moment. Thank God, though, an unexpected sight interrupted my memory of the shudder-worthy experience.
“Hey, isn’t that your cousin over there?” I asked, poking Mick gently in the…liver?
He squinted. “What? Where?”
“Over by the snack table,” I said, dipping my head toward my shoulder. “His name’s Cal, right?”
Mick still looked confused. “What does he have on?”
“Like for clothes, you mean?” I asked like a retard.
“Yeah. What’s he wearing?”
“Well, if it’s him, he’s wearing a sleeveless black T-shirt, jeans, and construction boots.”
Mick’s expression morphed from skeptical to dead sure. “That’s Cal, all right,” he said. “And Donny’s over there too.”
“Donny?”
“I told you about him, didn’t I?” he asked. “He’s another one of my cousins.”
Maybe it was just me, but Mick’s family seemed really hard to keep track of. I mean, I was used to the nuclear family: a mom, a dad, one point five kids. You know, normal.
“I think I remember you saying something,” I lied. “But the details are a little fuzzy.”
He chuckled. “That’s all right. It’s not that important. I just thought I may have mentioned that Donny and Cal work together. They have an internet business.”
I nodded.
“They buy things—antiques mostly—at garage sales, flea markets, pawn shops…wherever. Then they re-sell the stuff on eBay. It’s very profitable, if you can get your hands on the right items.”
Quick cash for minimal effort? I was intrigued. “How do they know what to buy?” I asked. Heck, maybe I’d start an eBay business if it was really that easy to make a killing.
“I’m not sure,” Mick said, shaking his head. “Nobody knows, really. They just developed a knack for it and, well, they must know what they’re doing, because they’ve always got loads of cash in their pockets,” he reported, obviously impressed by—and maybe even the teeniest bit jealous of— his cousins’ business smarts.
“I like what you do,” I said. “You have so many talents. You’re a great mechanic. And an amazing artist. And let’s not forget your sensational singing voice,” I kidded him.
He sighed. “I know. I know,” he said, dismissing the compliments. “But Cal and Donny are already so successful.”
Geez, his cousins were starting to get on my nerves, and I didn’t even know them yet. “Good for them,” I said. “But you’re only sixteen. I’m sure you’ll be even more successful than them someday.”
“You think?”
“Absolutely,” I said again, dying to change the subject. “Now let’s dance.”
I clutched Mick’s hand and dragged him to the middle of the dance floor. Because at least if we were surrounded by people, any embarrassing moves we might make could go unnoticed. Not that Mick had to worry. Good-looking people always come across better on a dance floor. It’s a rule. And my magnificent boyfriend did not disappoint. His smooth moves and superior rhythm put me to shame. But of course he still acted like my hand-on-my-hip, pointing-at-the-stars disco moves were top notch. The best part of our first dance, though, was that neither of us could look away. We were locked onto each other like we were alone in the eye of a hurricane and everything else had dissolved in a chaotic, whirling blur.
“Wanna get a drink?” I asked—breathless and sweaty—after only fifteen minutes on the dance floor.
“Huh?” Mick said, apparently unable to hear me over the music, which for some unknown reason had started blaring at an ear-splitting volume three songs back.
“Drink?” I repeated, tipping my hand to my mouth.
We emerged from the sea of dancers, only to find Cal and Donny still loitering next to the punch bowl. And the odd thing was, I had an inexplicable urge to avoid them. An urge that spiked to a new high when my traitor brother stepped into view and handed Cal a plastic-wrapped, baked goodie.
“Isn’t that your brother over there with my cousins?” Mick asked, surprised. I, on the other hand, was just plain livid.
“Not for long,” I fumed, tugging my hand from his grasp to crack my knuckles.
I guess my evil tone must have scared him a little, because he went straight into calm-Flora-down mode. “Whoa, hold on there, bulldog,” he said with a little chuckle. “What’s the problem?”
“The problem is, my brother sucks and he needs to butt out of my life,” I huffed.
“Okay…”
“Listen, I’ll explain later. Just back me up on this, okay?” I pleaded.
&n
bsp; We were within ten feet of my slimeball sibling, and I was transitioning into attack mode. Unfortunately, though, Mick objected by seizing my shoulders and spinning me away from my target. And he didn’t let go. He held me there at arm’s length, like he was prepared to shake some sense into me if it should come down to that.
“What I think you should do,” he instructed in a soothing tone suitable for a small child, “is take a deep breath.”
Duh. If I wanted to calm down, a deep breath might help. But I wanted to kill someone. Specifically, the pipsqueak spy who shared my DNA.
“Thanks for the suggestion,” I said. “But Will deserves this. Trust me.”
Mick wouldn’t budge. “Whatever he’s done to upset you, I guarantee it’s not worth the trouble,” he argued. “If you let him get to you, then he’s already won.”
Damn it. Why did my sweet, sexy boyfriend have to make so much sense?
I sighed. “I suppose you might be right,” I admitted. “But I’m still going to get back at Will for this, just not right now.”
Mick slid his hands around my back and pulled me in for an intimate hug. “Now doesn’t that feel better,” he cooed, stroking my hair. “Let’s forget about all of this and have some fun. It’s still your birthday, remember? And I have one last surprise for you.”
“I surrender. I surrender,” I cried. “You win.”
I planted my hands on his muscular chest and craned my neck back for a hot, delicious kiss. And when we finally untwirled our tongues, he reminded me, “You wanted a drink, didn’t you?”
It was suffocatingly hot in the Clubhouse, and I was parched beyond belief. “Uh-huh,” I agreed, still unsure if I’d be able to keep my cool with Golden Boy, who was blocking the punch bowl.
With our arms looped around each other’s waists, my hunky boyfriend and I sauntered over to the snack table. And Mick had just finished pouring me a drink, when Cal the Creeper spoke up. “Eh, Mick. We didn’t know you could dance,” he said with a sneer.
On cue, Cal, Donny, and Will cracked up.
“Of course he can,” I jumped in. “He’s gifted.” Mick shot me a warning glance, like I shouldn’t be starting trouble with his family either. “I’m Flora, by the way,” I said to Cal, extending my hand. “Mick’s girlfriend.”
With the limp clamminess of a sea slug, Cal gave my hand two quick pumps. Then the elusive Donny stuck out his meaty paw for me to sample. I must say, it was still hard to believe that either of these guys could be related to my perfect Mick Donovan. I mean, Cal looked the same as before: greasy hair, zit-riddled pizza face, missing spine. And Donny…well, he reminded me of a cross between the Pillsbury Doughboy and Forrest Gump: well-meaning dimwit swallowed by a suit of blubber.
“Eh,” Cal grunted.
“Hey,” Donny clarified.
That was it. The two mastermind entrepreneurs couldn’t even muster a proper greeting. How lame.
Out of nowhere, a question struck me. “Which one of you is older?” I asked, probably coming off as rude.
Of course, neither of Mick’s dopey cousins responded. Maybe they thought I was wondering whether my own brother was older than the love of my life, or vice versa. I guess I couldn’t blame them for their ignorance, though, since you’d probably have to stick lit matches in their ears to spark a thought.
“Cal’s older than Donny by around nine months,” Mick finally explained. “Cal’s mom used to say Donny’s mom decided to have another kid once she saw how beautiful Cal came out.”
Ugh. Now I had this sick vision cemented in my brain of the Goofball Goons’ oversized heads on tiny baby bodies, which was disturbing, to say the least.
“That’s funny, because Donny actually looks older to me,” I said. I guess the size difference made me assume Donny was the senior Goofball Goon, since he was about six inches taller and a hundred pounds heavier than Cal.
“Nope,” Donny said.
“Other way around,” Cal added.
On that genius note, I’d had just about enough of the Goofball Goons for one day. And for all I cared, my brother could just rot where he stood. Because honestly, I was beginning to think an hour alone with Cal and Donny was enough punishment for any crime Will had committed against me anyway.
I squeezed Mick’s hand as an escape signal, which thankfully he recognized. “This is our song,” he suddenly said with a grin. “We’ll see you guys later.”
We sprinted back to the middle of the dance floor, where we slipped easily into a slow dance. “You’re brilliant,” I said, hoping Mick could hear me over the music. “What song is this anyway? I want to remember it forever.”
He screwed up his face in contemplation, but he still couldn’t come up with the title. And neither could I. “Can we pick another one?” he asked, disappointed. “One we both like?”
“I know!” I squeaked. “We can have the karaoke song. It’s already special.”
I could tell by Mick’s physical reaction that he agreed, because even though we were already dancing pretty close, he pressed his hot body even tighter into me. So tight, in fact, I could literally feel the blood pumping through his veins.
“You’re special,” he breathed in my ear.
I wanted to say something back, to explain that nobody on earth could compare to him. But the intoxicating blend of his warm flesh, velvet voice, and raw animal magnetism was so overpowering I slipped into a state of speechless nirvana, I swear.