Page 64 of Badd Ass
“Mama? What’s a dick?” The little girl said.
Her mother didn’t miss a beat. “Your father. And you can tell him I said so, next time you see him, assuming he shows up for his visitation.”
I backed away. “If things don’t work out for me, maybe I’ll be back.”
The woman sighed wistfully, hiking the baby higher on her hip. “I’ll be here, dreaming of it.”
I left, phone-less, Mara-less, and hopeless. Brock had said he’d be back in three days, which gave me three days alone in San Francisco. Would have been fun at one point, but now?
All I wanted was to see Mara. Which, clearly, wasn’t going to happen.
I booked a one-way trip back to Ketchikan. Row 16D, window seat, alone.
Flying commercial sucked.
Chapter 12
Mara
Istaggeredthrough the front door of the Seattle apartment I shared with Claire, barely standing on my feet. It was just past eleven in the morning on a Friday, and I’d just left work. I’d been battling bouts of extreme nausea all week, and then this morning I’d barely made it to the bathroom before spewing all over a toilet—on, more thanin, unfortunately, and I considered myself fortunate that I’d even made it to the bathroom. I fought it as best I could for another few hours, but my new boss had finally sent me home. I caught a cab, even though Claire and I only lived three blocks from work, because I’d known I wouldn’t be able to make the walk.
I made it through the door, crashing back against it, sweating, gasping, and moaning in pain. My whole body was screaming at me to lie down, sit down, anything. Sleep. I dropped my purse on the floor at my feet and staggered toward my bedroom.
Slowly, exhaustedly, I swiveled my head on my neck to peer blearily at my best friend. I blinked through the dizziness, and then blinked some more, because I wasn’t sure what I was seeing; I was feverish, after all, so maybe it was a fever dream?
Claire, home from work early, or, considering the scene in front of me, not having gone in at all.
Claire was on the couch.
Completely naked.
Sitting reverse cowgirl on top of a man. His hands were on her breasts, his thighs on either side of hers. Claire’s hands were on his thighs, and she was leaning forward, staring at me like a deer caught in headlights.
“Hi, Mara,” she said, feigning a pretense of casualness.
“Claire. What—um. What are you doing home?”
“Having sex with my boyfriend, obviously.” She eyed me. “What are you doing home?”
“Sick,” I said, clutching at the wall to stay upright.
The guy Claire was riding had stayed silent so far, and being hidden behind Claire from this angle, I couldn’t see his face. But then he tilted to one side, and I slumped fully against the wall.
It was Brock.
As in, Zane’s brother.
“Hi, Brock.”
He lifted his chin at me. “Hey, Mara.”
I stared for another moment, because I was sick enough and heartbroken enough and confused enough that it hadn’t fully registered yet. “So…you’re the guy? Claire’s mysterious local from Ketchikan? Sex six times in one night guy? The pilot?”
Claire blinked at me. “You two know each other?”
I nodded heavily. “He’s—Brock is Zane’s brother.”
Claire blinked owlishly. “He…what?” She twisted to glance at Brock. “You are? You’re Zane’s brother? As in…the guy Mara spent a week with? The reason she’s been moping around for the last two months?”