Power Play

“Buddy’s getting on my last nerve. All he’s interested in is money. Who cares about his Mercedes Coupe? There’s more to life.”

Leanne sighed. “He’s trying to impress you. I bet he’s a really nice guy once you get to know him.”

“But not my type.”

“I only want to see you as happy as I am with Derek.” She gave Emily a quick hug. “We all do.”

“I know. And please don’t remind me I’m not getting any younger because your mom and mine already tag-teamed me on that one. Thirty-one is not exactly ancient. I’m picky, that’s all.”

“I know.”

Unfortunately, Buddy hadn’t listened when she’d tried to tell him that Uncle Bill’s homemade wine was about four hundred percent pure alcohol. Leanne had made her feel a little bad so she went and got him a coffee to go with his tiramisu. He ignored both and downed more of the red hooch, moving his chair closer to hers and slurring in her ear. Buddy was becoming an annoying drunk. The sooner he passed out the happier she’d be.

But he didn’t pass out. He got…amorous.

He moved his chair even closer so their knees butted against each other. She moved hers farther away so Kirsten could be forgiven for thinking she was making a pass.

He put an arm around her, big and overwarm. She was sure she could feel his sweat through the wool of his jacket.

She shifted so the arm fell off her and next thing his hand was on her thigh, making her thankful her temporary wardrobe was all wash and wear.

Finally, obviously realizing he was being too subtle, he said to her, “Let’s you and me get out of here.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t want to see it.”

He giggled. “You’re cute. Mature, I like that in a woman.”

She glanced around with “help me” blazing from her eyes. No one seemed to notice or thought about rescuing her. No one. Leanne was too busy being in love with Derek, Kirsten was on her cell phone, presumably tracking down the whereabouts of her loser boyfriend, and everybody else was busy with their own affairs. Everyone except for her mother and father, who were watching Buddy hit on her with hope shining in their faces.

“I really have to go now,” she said at last to Buddy. “I’ve got a headache.” Maybe it was rude to leave so early, but she had had enough. Perhaps because she was inherently polite, or maybe because her parents were watching, she added, “It was nice meeting y—”

Her words were cut off by his mouth. His big, sloppy, wet, bad-red-wine-tasting mouth. He kissed her as though she were an air mattress he was trying to blow up in a hurry. He fastened his mouth on to hers, creating an air lock. When she grabbed his shoulders and yanked her face away she was sure she heard a pop.

Outraged, she looked around for her protective family to come and deal with this drunken moron. She caught her parents exchanging a high five, and her aunt smiling broadly, already taking credit for the match.

She jumped to her feet and headed for the exit, too fast for anyone to catch up with her. On the way she pulled a tissue from her bag and wiped her mouth. Yuck.

4

“HI, HONEY. YOU’RE HOME EARLY,” a gravelly voice said when she threw open the door to 318 a short time later. “Did you have a good time?”

“Don’t even get me started.”

Jonah glanced up from the hockey game he was watching on television. “Wow, you look mad. What happened?”

“Cousin Buddy happened. He got drunk and hit on me and—” Unable to adequately describe how gross the entire escapade had been, she said, “Eeew.”

“Got it. Want a beer?”

“Desperately.”

He popped the top of one and handed her a cold can.

“Thanks.” She took a grateful swig, hoping it would erase Buddy’s taste. “Why are you here? I thought you were boozing with the boys tonight.”

He pointed to his leg and she now saw the ice pack wrapped around his thigh.

“Uh-oh.”

“Yeah. I pulled something. Hurts like a bitch.”

“How long have you had the ice pack on?”

“I don’t know.” He squinted at the clock. “Forty minutes or so?”

“Take it off. Give it a rest.”

“Can you do anything for me? In a professional capacity?”

“Depends. If you’ve torn the muscle, then no. If it’s in spasm, then yes. You want me to have a look?”

He nodded.

The room phone rang. Jonah leaned over and answered it. “Yeah?” A pause. Then he glanced up at her, looking sheepish. “No, you got the right room. She’s right here.”

He passed her the phone.

“Hello?”

“Who was that?” Leanne asked her.

Damn. “Why didn’t you call my cell? You always call my cell.”

“I had to lend Derek my phone since his died. I’m at my mom’s and I couldn’t remember your cell number so I called the hotel.” Her voice grew low and intimate. “I guess you’re busted. Was that Buddy? Did I interrupt something?”

“No! It’s not Buddy. He is a disgusting drunk, only interested in his fabulous cars and amazing stock picks. Did I tell you what he told me about his portfolio?” She thought if she babbled on enough about Buddy she could get Leanne to forget about the man who had answered the phone in her hotel room.

Her plan didn’t work.

“If that’s not Buddy in your room, then who is it?”

“It’s…well, it’s kind of complicated,” she started, trying to think of something fast, words that would explain a strange man answering her phone, while at the same time not including the word bedbugs or making her seem like a skank. Seconds passed.

“I’m listening.”