Brooke & Ben: Before Fate Interrupted Page 3

  “You live here?”

  She responded with a slight nod, disappointed he beat her to the punch. “I do.”

  “Nice place, I love the decorations.”

  She followed his gaze to the quaint two story house behind her with its steeply pitched roof and receding oaks that would bloom again next spring and shield the house from the hot summertime sun. “It’s my friend’s house. Mandy. You know her?”

  Roger considered her while shadows skittered across his face, his lips now bending the other way, a smile in reverse. “I do not.”

  “Anyway, she just bought it a few months ago and this is her first party.”

  “Ah, I gotcha.”

  Brooke found herself wondering what he looked like beneath that soiled shirt and apron, letting her mind draw up an image that made her lick her lips. She noticed he was watching her undress him and quickly looked to the fire, which, thankfully, masked the red blooming in her cheeks.

  He shifted in his stance and looked through the sliding glass door, affording her the sliver of an opportunity to steal a glance at his derrière, but the damn apron blocked her view. Her eyes followed his into the living room, where the conversation level was rising with each passing drink. When his eyes drifted back to her she turned away, unnerved by their heavy weight. Seconds passed with Roger drinking his beer and Brooke avoiding his eyes. She knew she should go back inside and check on Mandy, but wasn’t ready to leave him quite yet.

  “Anything get broken yet?”

  Her eyes thinned.

  He nodded to the house. “Inside, I mean.”

  “Oh.”

  “Because you know what they say - it ain’t a party till somethin gets broken.”

  Brooke snorted. “Just Mandy. She’s already out for the count. Too much punch.”

  “Uh-oh, looks like that puts you in charge.”

  “I don’t mind,” she said coyly. “I like being in charge.”

  He swallowed hard. “I bet you do.”

  Once again, silence wrapped them in its clammy arms as they exchanged cryptic glances over the fire’s dancing light. Brooke shivered as the evening air soaked into her bones.

  “You want my shirt?” Roger asked, loosening his necktie.

  She surveyed the blood and grime coating his button down. “No thanks.”

  “How about my pants?”

  She thumbed inside the house, a light breeze tickling her magic lasso. “I’m going to grab a drink.”

  “Have anymore beer?” His crooked smile fanned the flames of her desire.

  “I’m sure we can find you something.” Brooke smiled back. They stood there like that for a bit, taking each other in with neither making a move to go inside. She wasn’t sure how much time passed but it seemed like more than it should have been.

  The patio door slid open, the music instantly louder as Tasha stumbled out onto the patio. She made a beeline for Roger, holding her bound hands out to him, fear blanketing her soiled face. “You have to help me,” she sobbed, balling his bloody apron into her fists. “Somebody’s trying to kill me.”

  Confusion tightened Roger’s handsome features.

  “Is your cell phone getting a signal?” She glanced over her shoulder like she had just heard something behind her. “Call the police.”

  Roger looked to Brooke for help.

  “She’s a scream queen,” Brooke replied, shutting the door and killing the noise.

  He laughed. “That is so smart!”

  Tasha twisted back and forth, a bashful grin on her lips. “Aw, thank you,” she said sweetly.

  He took a step back and looked her over. “I think we have our winner right here, Brooke.”

  On cue, Tasha screamed loud enough to wake the dead. Roger jumped back, his leg bumping the fire pit and sending a burst of embers spiraling up into the night.

  “Tasha!” Brooke hissed. “Stop doing that or someone is going to call the cops.”

  A wide smile quickly washed the terror from Tasha’s face. “Hi, I’m Tasha,” she said warmly, extending her hand.

  Roger took a second to figure out which one to shake. “Roger.”

  “Hi Roger.” She smiled and lightly slapped his arm. “Oh snap, looks like somebody’s been working out.”

  “Thanks.”

  “How’s Mandy doing?” Brooke asked, interrupting Tasha’s grade-A cock-block.

  “Sleeping like a baby.” Tasha grinned up at Roger. “So how do you know Mandy?”

  He cleared his throat with a cough. “I came with a friend.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  He nodded. “Big guy.”

  “Big guy, huh? Bigger than you?”

  Roger laughed and stole a glance at Brooke. “A lot.”

  Tasha studied his gruesome outfit in the pale orange light, her face brightening. “Can I ask you a favor?”

  He couldn’t resist trading another look with Brooke before answering. “Sure.”

  “Can you put your mask on and drag me around the house by this rope? Pretend I’m your captured victim.”

  Brooke raised her eyebrows in quiet anticipation, resisting the chill in the air and anxious to hear his reply.

  “Seriously?”

  “Come on, it’ll be fun. I’ll say stuff like: He’s going to kill me. Where’s your car? My family is looking for me. Stuff like that.”

  Roger frowned. “I’m not sure....”

  “Yay!” Tasha squealed, doing a walrus clap. “This will be so much fun!”

  The patio door slid open and then slid back shut. “There you are, Dragon!”

  Brooke stared up at the large man standing just outside the glass door, her brow creasing.

  The behemoth came closer, wearing a patched leather vest and towering above them like a skyscraper. His enormous hand made the can of beer he was holding look like a doll house accessory.

  “This is my friend, Todd,” Roger said.

  Todd’s eyes thinned.

  “He’s Todd and I’m Roger.”

  “You already said that part,” Brooke said.

  Tasha craned her neck and looked up at Todd. “Who are you supposed to be? The thing from Cloverfield?”

  Todd’s broad shoulders slumped. “I’m Opie from Sons of Anarchy.”

  “Are those real?” Tasha admired the colorful sleeves of tattoos wrapping his massive arms.

  “Damn straight, girlie.”

  “They’re nice.” She turned back to Roger and held up her hands. “Untie a little of my rope so you can tow me around the house.”

  “Oh shit,” Todd laughed, winking at Brooke. “This party’s about to get started.”

  “Now, don’t be afraid to jerk me around a little if I start falling behind,” Tasha said, watching Roger loosen the rope.

  “Hey, where is…”

  “The bathroom?” Roger blurted, cutting Todd off in mid-sentence. “It’s down the hall on the right.”

  Todd frowned, his leather vest flapping with the breeze. “Okaaaay.”

  Brooke pinched her eyes together, chilled to the bone and not sure why she was still standing there.

  “Okay, let’s go,” Tasha said.

  Roger diffidently slipped his mask back on and took Tasha by the rope before turning to Brooke. They held each other’s gaze in the crackling light. “It was nice meeting you,” he said, the mask muffling his words but not the look in his eyes.

  She smiled weakly. “You too.”

  He turned to Todd and shrugged. “I’ll see you soon, Todd.”

  “Have fun…Roger!” He slapped him on the back with Tasha trailing close behind.

  She hunched her shoulders and brought the terror back to her face. “Why are you doing this?” she cried.

  Roger stopped and turned. “Because you told me to.”

  “No, I know. Just keep going,” she whispered. “I’m getting in to character. There’s a fifty dollar Target card up for grabs here so don’t blow it. We’ll split it.”

  He stole one last look at Broo
ke before dragging Tasha inside the house. The door slid shut, quieting the music once again.

  Todd turned to Brooke with a wide smile. “Alcohol sure does make people do some weird stuff.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “One time, I drank an entire case of beer and killed a man.”

  Brooke blinked at him in the thunderstruck silence that followed, his words ringing hollow in her ears.

  Todd burst into laughter. “I’m just kidding!” He drew in a heavy breath and turned serious. “It was only a twelve pack.”

  Brooke shook her head and laughed. “Is everyone drinking the punch tonight?”

  “Not me,” he said, taking a long drink of beer.

  “Man, you’re tall.”

  Todd swallowed. “Thank you. I’ve been working out.”

  “How…”

  “Six-eight,” he replied, answering her question before she could finish asking it. He shook his beer belly with his free hand. “Two hundred and ninety-five pounds of pure muscle.”

  “Wow.”

  “Well, maybe two hundred and forty-five pounds of pure muscle.”

  She smiled at him and they grew quiet, the flames jumping between them. Something scurried into the bushes bordering the back of the rectangular yard.

  “I didn’t get your name.”

  “Brooke.” She watched her hand disappear inside of his when she shook it.

  “Nice party.”

  “Yeah, I love Halloween.”

  “Me, too.” Todd tipped the can back and drained it, glancing at her magic lasso. “Soooo…you want me to tie you up and drag you around?”

  Brooke pretended to mull it over. “Mmm, I guess not.”

  “You wanna tie me up?”

  “Not so much.”

  “Sonofagun,” the big man grumbled, crumpling the can in his hand.

  Chapter Three

  Brooke brushed wet strands of hair from Mandy’s face, watching her friend draw in deep breaths of slumber, relieved to see she hadn’t choked to death on her own vomit. After she was certain Mandy was okay, she glanced at the alarm clock next to the bed and decided it wasn’t too late to have some fun - with or without her girls. She had put a lot of work into this party and now it was time for a little return on her investment.

  The bedroom door locked softly behind her. She stuffed the key down her corset, turned and jumped when Tasha sprang from Mandy’s room across the hall. “God, you scared me to death,” Brooke said, clutching her chest. “Will you stop doing that?”

  Tasha shut the door behind her. “Thank God you’re here,” she whispered, taking Brooke’s hand in hers. “I need a huge, huge favor.”

  “What are you doing in there?”

  “I’ve got Roger in there and I’m going to jump his sexy ass bones, but I need you to stand guard and make sure no one comes in.”

  A short laugh fluttered Brooke’s lips. “What?”

  “Please.”

  “No way!”

  “You have to. There isn’t a lock on the door.”

  “I know there isn’t a lock on the door.”

  “Brooke, please! I’m begging you.”

  “Are you insane? You just met him! He’s probably got bed bugs or something.”

  Tasha lowered her voice to a throaty growl. “Listen, I haven’t been laid since Craig dumped me. Four. Months. Ago.”

  “What about the guy with the ponytail?” Brooke asked over the music. “You said he went three times in one night.”

  Tasha sighed. “I lied, okay? He couldn’t get it up and I was too embarrassed to tell anyone.”

  Brooke went slack jawed.

  “That’s right. Are you happy now? You have publicly shamed me on one of my favorite holidays.”

  “Maybe he was drunk, or gay and trying to fight it.”

  “I tried everything, Brooke! I mean, I went to work on him like a paramedic on a heart attack victim and nothing.” Tasha’s eyes welled up with tears and Brooke wasn’t sure if it was real or not. They had taken drama together in ninth grade and Tasha had been a natural from the moment she had first donned that frilly, white dress and played Juliet to a tee.

  “He was just drunk.”

  Tasha squeezed Brooke’s hand hard enough to leave white imprints. “Brooke, I really need to get laid. I get cranky when the wind blows these days, and I’m not sure how much longer I can go on.”

  “I think you’ll survive.”

  “Do you have any idea how much money I’m spending on batteries?”

  “Why don’t you come and get a drink with me and we’ll talk about it some more?”

  Tasha pulled Brooke back to her. “Please?”

  Brooke stared back with a blank expression.

  “Brooke, this guy is hotter than a goat’s butt in a pepper patch and I’m about to cream my pants.”

  Brooke let out a breath that made her chest fall. “That makes no sense.”

  “Sorry, I’m just nervous.” Tasha took a deep breath and released it. “I mean, what if he can’t get it up either? What if it’s me? What if I’ve been cursed by some crazy old cat lady to turn every guy’s boner into Jell-o Pudding?”

  “It’s not you; you’re beautiful and you know it.”

  Tasha didn’t look so certain.

  “You look like Rachel Bilson’s sexy blond sister!”

  Tasha looked down to examine her costume. “Not in this mess I don’t.” She shut her eyes and cringed. “Why didn’t I go with the hot Batgirl outfit? Stupid!”

  “Tash, he’s dressed up as Leatherface, for God’s sake. You two go together like bad endings and M. Night Shyamalan movies.”

  Tasha’s eyes jerked back up to her. “So you’ll do it?”

  Brooke tucked a long strand of brown hair behind an ear. “No, I’m about to get my drink on.”

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Tasha squealed, hugging her tightly and kissing her on the cheek. “I’ll make it super quick. I promise.” She grabbed the doorknob to Mandy’s room and twisted before Brooke could stop her.

  “Evenin, ladies.”

  Tasha released the knob and slowly turned to the cowboy standing in the hallway. He tipped his big black hat to them, a toothpick wiggling in the corner of his mouth.

  “Looks like I rode into town just in time for the show,” he said in a bad southern drawl. He rested a hand on the butt of a six-shooter tucked into an old leather holster and shot Tasha a devilish wink.

  “Craig! W-What’re you doing here?”

  “Why, I’ve come to win back the love of my life.”

  Tasha laughed sharply and tried folding her arms across her chest only to realize they were still tied together. “Well, you’re shit out of luck. Lisa isn’t here.”

  He shifted in his black cowboy boots and pushed his hat up. “I know she’s not here. I told her to hit the cow trail last week.”

  Tasha’s face crumbled in slow motion and Brooke didn’t like it one bit. “Why?” Tasha asked.

  Craig came closer. The smell of his cologne made Brooke’s eyes sting. “Because she made me realize how big a dad-gum fool I’ve been.”

  Brooke tilted her head to the side. “And was that because you dumped my best friend or because of your last haircut?”

  Craig turned to her and spread a cocky grin. “Touche, little lady. Reckon I had that comin.”

  “You reckon?”

  Craig exhaled a sour breath that reeked of alcohol. He turned back to Tasha and dropped the phony drawl. “Listen, can buy you a drink?” He hesitated, eyes flickering over to Brooke. “In private?”

  Tasha almost glanced at the bedroom door behind her but stopped short. “Ummm…”

  “One drink and if you don’t like what I have to say I will never bother you again. I swear to God.”

  Tasha scratched at her wrists, the thick rope beginning to leave a rash. She traded an uneasy look with Brooke before hitting Craig with a cold glare. “One - drink.”

  His grin made a comeback along
with his southern drawl. “Hot diggity, darlin! You just made me happier than a pig in slop.” He held his arm out and Tasha reluctantly let him wrap it around her shoulders and escort her down the hallway.

  “Ya got the pig part right,” Brooke muttered, watching them disappear. She inhaled a deep breath and turned to Mandy’s door, her mind reeling. After a few seconds, she started down the hall, heading for a cold beer in the kitchen. She stopped in her tracks and looked back over her shoulder. A slow grin stretched her lips. Brooke went back to Mandy’s room and gently twisted the knob. She held her breath as the door clicked open. The hallway light slipped inside the dark room first, cutting a white stripe across the floor. Sinuously, she followed the stripe and shut the door behind her, driving the light from the room.

  A voice startled her from across the room. “Look, I should get back out there. My buddy is probably wondering where I’m at.”

  Brooke cleared her throat and tried on her best impersonation of Tasha. “Sometimes the best things come from bad ideas,” she whispered.

  Roger responded with a resounding silence, his figure blending into the shadows. “Say what now?”

  She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Don’t you like it when good things…come?”

  His silhouette rose from a chair by the far wall, barely noticeable against the thick curtain. “I’m just not into…”

  “What? Don’t you like me?” she asked in a sultry voice, wishing she could see the look on his face.

  “I do, Tasha, but…”

  “I’ll let you do whatever you want to me.” She covered her mouth to keep the giggles at bay, her eyes watering. His throat clicked when he swallowed and she almost lost it.

  “I’m just not big on taking advantage of drunk girls. Not my style.”

  “Oh, I’m not drunk, sweetie.” Brooke smothered another snort. “Just horny. Now come on, what’s your favorite position?”

  An uneasy laugh somersaulted from Roger’s lips and planted itself in the darkness between them. “I don’t really have a favorite…”

  “Aw come on, Roger, don’t get shy on me now. You can tell me.” She leaned forward and lowered her voice. “It’ll be our dirty little secret.”