Both of them shriek with laughter. A middle-aged lady comes out of the stall to wash her hands. She darts them a murderous glare.
“Hey, free country, lady,” Cassie barks.
The woman hurriedly scoots out of the restroom.
“You’re so mean.”
“I know.”
“If he turns out to be the one, I’m glad for you, Cassie,” Sam says warmly.
“It’s just one fuck. He may never want to see me again.”
“He’s not Brian, so cut yourself some slack, OK?”
Yeah, Brian. It’s a sobering thought.
“So, let’s talk about Brian,” Cassie says, handing her the lipstick, “is he still flashing his genitals in your face?”
“Cassie!”
“Well, is he?”
“Kind of.” She doesn’t feel too comfortable talking about Brian to her best friend for some reason. It’s as if what she and Brian had together was too personal.
“You both were really hot together last night. Like, really, really hot.”
“I know.”
“You should see Lori’s face. You were her party pooper.”
“Well, she was the one who insisted I lead the dance.”
“She wanted you to fall flat on your face. She doesn’t know you’ve been taking Zumba classes. Watch out for her. She’s an evil one.”
“You shouldn’t say that about my sister.”
“But she is. Maybe you should get Brian to teach her a lesson.”
Sam sighs. “I can’t even get Brian to roll over and play dead, let alone fetch.”
*
After lunch, they pack up to check out. Brian lugs both Sam’s suitcase and his overnight bag down to the reception, and realizes he has forgotten his phone.
“Be right back. Don’t miss me too much,” he tells Sam.
“You wish.”
He takes the elevator up and re-enters their old guestroom. His cellphone is on the bedside table where he left it. He seizes it and slips it into his pocket.
He turns to go to the door but stops short.
“Fancy meeting you here,” says Lori at the doorway. She’s wearing a halter top with a copious amount of cleavage over tight, tight jeans.
“The sibling object of your affection is downstairs, in case you’re asking.”
“I know.” She slinks into the room. “But it’s you I wanted to see.”
Brian’s antenna pricks.
“Oh? Because you think you’ll miss my spectacular dancing?”
“You got it.” She’s standing very close to him. She puts her hands on his shoulders. “I’ve been thinking about you last night. All night.”
Brian stills. Her strong perfume wafts into his nostrils – dangerous and predatory. “Why? Lance Buchner doesn’t get it up for you anymore?”
Lori slides her hands down his chest. “Let’s just say he wouldn’t be averse to me getting a little on the side.”
“You sure about that? Or he wouldn’t be averse to not knowing?”
“So what do you see in her anyway? She’s clumsy, less pretty and interesting than I am … and she’s certainly not the type of material who snares a billionaire boyfriend overnight.”
“I’m not a billionaire, sorry to disappoint you. My uncle is. I’m just a wage worker on the factory grindstone. I grew up eating baked potatoes and living in a hovel.”
“Nonsense. You’re a Morton and Mortons take care of their own. You own a hundred percent share of Vanguard Advertising, and like the rest of the family, you have shares in every single company in Morton Enterprises Ltd.”
“Someone’s been doing their homework. Did you Google Lance Buchner before you dated him too? Or did you hire a P.I?”
“Let’s just say I’d make you a better partner than my sister will.” Her hand dips down to his crotch. “I’m ambitious enough for the two of us. I’m fantastic in bed and I’ll make a great hostess, the kind who will do anything to advance her significant other in any world.”
“I don’t want a hostess.” His hand goes down to her groping one and seizes it. “I want someone who doesn’t have a reptilian quotient of a backstabbing snake.”
He can see her wince. Poor Sam. If this is the type of sister she has, no wonder she’s insecure and angsty.
He says pityingly, “Go back to your fiancé, Lori Fox, and learn how to love him. For Sammie’s sake, I won’t tell her about this. She deserves to think you’re a better person than you really are.”
With that, he strides out of the room without a second look, leaving Lori open-mouthed.
12
Cassie, Caleb and Sam spend most of the time sleeping in the car on the journey back home. Figures. He’s the only one who can hold his booze, fuck all night and still appear bright and coffee perky in the morning. That’s only what he has been doing for the last ten years.