Chapter Five

5

Evelyn Malkin

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I pulled myself out of bed, hardly able to open my eyes at all. Did I really have that much to drink the night before? If it wasn't for the feel of silk sheets against my naked body I wouldn't have realized I was home. When was the last time I'd left Badge's without a man to take me back to his place? I couldn't remember and didn't want to remember. I wasn't even sure if I'd gone to Badge's. What the hell did I drink the night before?

I sat up in bed and ground my palms against my eyes, hoping to shake the fog from my brain. The night before came back in still flashes. The girls all came together over drinks. Tiffy smuggled a bottle of Cristal from one of her prep school boyfriends and popped the top in the kitchen, going on and on about her credit cards being denied right in front of her life-size-Barbie friends. It must have been a night of complaining because Rae was pissed off about something going on with her boyfriend; well, I guess he isn't her boyfriend but she was at least getting her some action. I was proud of her for that. Of course she'd stuck with some imported beer she'd found, then switched to shots of Jack or Jim when I broke out my stash. Then there was Darcy, Ms. Prim and Proper, who kept telling us we were drinking to excess as she sipped her Fiji water. 

The only damn reason anyone drinks the stuff is the shape of the bottle, like a rectangular bottle somehow made them impressive. Jerks. 

I remembered telling her I was going to bed with my toys. I told them it was time for me to break Spam out of my drawer and see if I still had what it takes to get me off.

"Spam that you eat? Jesus Christ, Evie, you're even kinkier than I thought!" Tiffy squealed, tucking her knees under her chin as she tried focusing on the television. Of course it was one of those dumb reality shows on MTV that had her attention.

"What planet are you from? We've all heard Evie talking about her toys. That's what she named the purple one." Rae tried to stand but fell back against the wall and laughed at her own drunkenness.

"Oh," Tiffy said, half paying attention, "so why'd ya name it Spam? That's a dumb name." 

"Because it's fake meat. What else do you name fake meat?" I winked at her, grabbed the last bottle of Jack Daniels and stumbled my way to my room. 

That was all I remember of last night. I stood up and pulled a pair of panties from the drawer. No Spam in there. I checked the sheets and didn't find it there either.

"Damn you Darcy!" I shouted, hoping she could hear me in her disinfected bedroom. Sometimes she could step over the line so far I wanted to smack her right out of her cashmere cardigans. Braless, not caring who was awake or who might have guests over, I stormed out of my bedroom and into the kitchen. I flung the dishwasher open and peered inside. Just as I'd thought. My purple Spam was on the top rack, along with Darcy's infamous yellow rubber gloves.

I pulled Spam out of the dishwasher and checked for any damage. Everything still seemed to be intact. If there was anything wrong with Spam when I tested him out later, I'd kill Darcy for it. Purple Spam in hand, I opened the fridge to find someone had gone shopping. Must have been Darcy. The other two girls probably had no idea what was even in a grocery store. I reached for an apple and one of the bottled waters. The girls had all submitted their articles for various magazines. We always kept a hardcopy in the binders. It was probably the only thing we could agree on. Spam on the table, apple in hand, I opened the binder to the last few pages and scanned through them.

It surprised the hell out of me that Tiffy could write complete sentences when I first met her. The girl was not firing on all cylinders. Somewhere along the line she'd got the warped idea that men wanted a girl in dental floss and stilettos with cotton candy in their brains. I had no problem dressing down for a guy, but I didn't dumb myself to zero. But looking at her articles, you'd think she graduated from Yale. The chick could put a story together like a genius. Usually it was fluff pieces about fashion or some horror story about another failed relationship with her credit card companies. 

I flipped the pages again and found Darcy's last article. Boring. She could write, but Jesus Christ, did her sterile little life transfer over to her writings? Ten Ways to Survive Sloppy Roommates. I shook my Spam at the article and thought better about screaming. Only crazy people scream to themselves and it was obvious the house was empty. 

Rae's newest project was some travel magazine from her last trip to god knows where. It was brilliantly written, but what chick wants to spend her time hanging with the guys instead of fucking them? Didn't make sense to me. Probably why I always bullied her a bit.

I closed the binder and finished my apple. I needed to print out my articles too. I'd submitted them, right? That glossy white paper on the front of the binder glared back at me, sunlight hitting it just so. Black embossed letters spelled out her name and I ran my fingertips over each one. Isabella Woods. God, how I missed her. We had two things to remember her by; the binder that was our sort of homage to her, and the degree that hung on the wall in the dining room. Memories of that day came flooding back to me, making my eyes water as I remembered. Poor Isabella. She was the only one of us who was actually talented enough to help people. Prada versus Gucci did little to enhance the world. Spain versus Australia was exciting, but still nothing compared to what Isabella could do. Even my own life felt paltry in comparison to what she'd done.

Brushing the painful memories away, I decided to shower and get ready for the day. I promised Badge I'd help him do inventory. I had a feeling he was trying to play matchmaker; and I liked the idea of being stuck in the stock room with Detective D.

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How in the hell did Tiffy fit into those jeans? I thought we were the same size but I couldn't breathe every time I took a step forward. Still, they were the best jeans to show off my ass. The blue sweater was mine, falling into a seductive cut of cleavage I was more than happy to show off. When Badge left me alone in the stockroom, I knew it was only a matter of time before Detective D. showed up. At least, that's how the fantasy in my mind played it out.

I pulled a crate of whiskeys from the back shelf and ran through the list on the clipboard. All accounted for.

"You've been hiding from Badge's for a few weeks. You wouldn't be hiding from me, would you?" His voice resonated through the small space, dancing on the scent of his cologne. Instantly my body reacted to him, my mind racing with witty comebacks.

"I hide from no one. Believe it or not, my life isn't all about karaoke and Jack Daniels," I hoisted the crate back up to the shelf and moved on to the next one. He came forward, his long arms stretching on either side of me as he pulled the crate down. I could feel him pressed against me, the heat of his breath on my neck, could hear the way he inhaled as his chin slid through my hair.

"I'm pretty sure I can do this myself," I said with a bit of venom on my tongue. I didn't want him to leave, but he didn't have to know that.

"Evie, the moment you stop playing these games, we can start some games of our own," he growled. He sat the crate down on the table and turned me around in a single motion, his fingertips powerful yet somehow gentle at the same time. Long fingers tickled down my arms, stopping at my waist so he could pull me tight against him.

If he kept this up, I wouldn't be able to resist him. Damn it! I wanted to seduce him. No one seduced Evelyn Malkin.

"Only Badge calls me Evie. My name is Evelyn." It was a little white lie but I didn't want him to think he'd picked up any ground with me. 

"Only you call me Detective D.." He laughed, the smell of Aquafresh still lingering on his tongue as he swept the tip across my bottom lip. When he walked away, I knew the next time I saw him, it'd be too fucking difficult to say no. If he kissed me like that again, I wouldn't care who seduced who. All I wanted was to rip his shirt off, climb on top, and give him the best performance of my life