Marie Harte - Raising the Bar

“Easy, Freddy. It’s me.”

“Brian, get a life, would you?” Ironic, coming from her. “It’s eight o’clock on a Saturday morning. Please tell me you’re not working.”

Her brother needed to get a life even more than she did. Though he’d invested in the club to help get her business started, he remained a silent partner, making his money doing corporate investments and logistical development for big businesses. He’d recently moved back to Augusta and she couldn’t have been happier. She’d missed him when he’d left ten years ago, but she’d understood his need to escape from their father and find himself. She was still trying to figure life out after twenty-nine years and was no closer to finding the answers than Brian.

“Hey. I have things to do. A house to decorate.” He sounded way too cheerful over so menial a task. “Come over and help me.”

She moaned.

“Oh please. What are you doing right now?”

“Besides lying in bed and praying for your early demise?”

He sneered. “You have no life. Get your ass out of bed and come help me decorate my house. I’m doing a Christmas party this year, and you’re good at crap like that.”

She was. But she was even better at sleeping in and loafing—what she’d planned to do today. Though she loved her job, a girl needed her downtime.

Pouring drinks and listening to people gave her a connection to others she’d been trying to establish forever, thanks to an unavailable father. She knew her shortcomings because she’d always prided herself on being honest—especially with herself. Of course, she didn’t have to admit her issues to anyone out loud. Her secrets stayed secret.

“What do I get if I help you?” Her brother was a notorious cheapskate. At least around her.

“Breakfast?”

“That’s it?”

“Well, what else do you want?”

I want some hot, sweaty sex with men who have stars in their eyes for me. Not something she could share with her brother. “How about a really good breakfast? You have to make me French toast.”

He sighed. “Fine. Then pick up eggs and bread on the way over.” He paused. “How about some coffee and milk too? And cinnamon.”

Two hours and fifty dollars worth of groceries later, she sat with her brother at his new kitchen counter and ate the French toast she’d made. At least he’d paid for the groceries.

“You suck,” she said around a mouthful of calories she’d burn off just breathing. Some women had to worry about losing weight. She usually worried about not gaining enough.

“Yeah yeah. You’re eating, aren’t you?” He sipped his coffee. “You know, I’m still surprised I love this house. After living in condos and shitty apartments over the years, I didn’t think I’d ever want grass. But I have a yard and a pool. I like this.”

“You’re getting old.”

He laughed. “Probably.” Just five years her senior, Brian had spent the majority of his life doing what their father wanted. Then he’d seen the light and left Brian Senior behind. Freddy could have told him their father would never find anything Brian did good enough, but then, she was the bad daughter who’d chosen to live with her mother after the divorce, so what did she know?

At least she had her mother and brother in her corner. “Talked to Mom lately?” she asked.

“Yeah. She’s living it up in Paris until spring. I think Aunt Selma’s been a good influence.”

“Good. Mom gets too down in the winter. She can’t do Christmas without thinking about him.” Their father put Scrooge to shame.

“True. I still don’t understand how she can consider them friends. I’m his son, and I can’t stand the guy.”

She snorted. “Hangin’ Judge Goode. What a bastard.”

They laughed together. She almost wished she’d kept her father’s last name, so she could flaunt that a Goode owned a sex club in the judge’s own hometown. But she didn’t relish opening that can of worms. The more distance between her father and her, the better.

“You seeing anyone?” Brian asked out of the blue.

Her thoughts immediately went to Harper and Dylan. “No.”

“Me either.” He sighed. “I was hoping Sydney might… But she’s head over heels for her boyfriend. Bad timing on my part, I guess. I should have moved back earlier, before they started dating.”

“Sydney?”

“The beautiful redhead who sold me the house. Sydney Fields. She’s been a good friend and a real help since I moved here. Her boyfriend lives down the street. Nice guy, actually.”

She shrugged. “In my experience, timing is everything. If I’d been just five minutes earlier coming home last December, Lou might not have met Sarah Ann and realized how much better a girlfriend she’d make than me.” She sighed. “Is it wrong I’m happier without him, and that I still remain friends with him? Maybe I’m just a loner.”

“I guess we both are.” They stared at one another and made sad faces.

Then Brian cracked up, and she snorted and said, “We don’t do pathetic well, do we?”

Brian shook his head. “No. And though I probably shouldn’t admit this, I’m not exactly a loner. I’ve had my share of dates since being here. Just no one steady.”

“Right. Dates. That’s a euphemism for sex. Nice.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re such a guy.”

“Hey, I have needs. And too many people would talk if I introduced them to my blow-up doll girlfriend.”

She laughed. She’d been pestered too many times at the club, so for the last April Fool’s Day, she’d shown up with an inflatable man and introduced him as her true love—a joke people still talked about to this day. “Mr. Freddy was a gag.”

“For you, sure. How many women turn to plastic men for fun? But guys actually do buy dolls for sex. Ech.”

She had her trusty vibrator at home, for all the good it was doing her lately. She just hadn’t been feeling sexual in a long time. Although, seeing Harper and his new boy toy had certainly given her some dreams to think about.

“So these decorations,” she said to change the subject. No point in lusting after gay men. “What were you thinking, and am I invited to this party or what?”

He pointedly glanced from the dishes in front of her to the sink.

She frowned. “Don’t think I’m washing up after I had to make my own breakfast.”

“But I paid…”

“Brian.”

“Fine,” he huffed and walked to the fireplace, staring at the mantel.

She frowned and walked over to him to see him better. “Have you been working out? You look huge.”

He pushed up the sleeve of his henley and flexed a few times. As she’d done as a child, she grabbed on to his bicep and hung, bending her knees so as not to touch the floor.

“You sure you’re not shrinking?” he teased.

They looked enough alike to be twins. Both blond and blue-eyed, but where Brian had inherited their father’s large stature, she’d taken after their mother’s petite frame.

“Funny. Ha ha.” She let go of him and they stared at the fireplace. “How many people are you talking about for this party of yours? Because you have plenty of space to work with.”

“I was thinking local clients and friends, but more friends than business. I mean, I’ll still write it off but have fun at the same time.”

“My brother, the scourge of the IRS.”

“It’s legitimate,” he defended.

“Whatever. So you think I should buy a bunch of blow-up dolls and butt plugs—”

“For my party?” He looked horrified.

“—and throw a shindig at the club, I was going to say before you interrupted.”

He made a face. “Don’t say butt plug around me. It makes me uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, they don’t feel right, do they?”

“TMI. Seriously.”

She laughed and smacked him on the arm. “I’m just kidding. You’re such a prude. You know, you should come to the club. Expand your horizons.”

“Why don’t you?”

“I work there. I don’t mix business and pleasure. Ever.”

“Smart girl.” He tousled her hair. “Okay, squirt.” She hated that nickname. “So I’m thinking a big tree, tinsel, some lights…”

“No. Big tree, yes. No tinsel. White lights, garland. The works. I have a plan in mind.” She poked him the chest. “But don’t cheap out.”

“Shut up. Just because I refused to let you spend an extra twenty grand on fancy faucets for the club, you throw cheap in my face once a month.”

“But they were the cool curvy ones.” And she still wanted them.

He blew out a breath. “Focus, squirt. My party? I want to have it in three weeks. Well?”

They spent the weekend shopping and decorating, and Freddy had a blast. She genuinely loved her brother, and they were close enough in age and temperament to like spending time with one another. Sunday night came to a close as they stood in his driveway talking about his food budget.

“Shrimp? But if they get too warm, ew.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Don’t be silly. Have a few chilled bowls and the shrimp will be fine. Geez. I—” She watched as a silver car paused in front of his driveway.

The window rolled down, and she stared in surprise at Harper’s friend, Dylan.

“Hey man, what’s going on?” Brian moved to talk to him and his passenger. After some talk about Charleston and some B&B Brian had once stayed in, he pointed to her. “Oh, sorry. This is my sister, Freddy. Freddy, I was telling you about Sydney and her boyfriend.”

She approached, still startled to see Dylan sitting in the driver’s seat. She’d studied him and Harper together and knew she hadn’t been mistaken about their connection. Maybe they had a kink for threesomes?

“I’m Derrick.” He stuck out his hand, pretending he didn’t know her. The jerk. Some of the club members had secret lives apart from their families. She had no room to judge, but she’d thought better of Dylan, being a friend of Harper’s. She was disappointed to see him so like the many men living in the closet. “Nice to meet you,” he added with a smile.

She nodded. “You too” came out cooler than she’d liked, but she couldn’t help it. Then the thought hit. Did Harper know his new boyfriend had a girlfriend? For that matter, had Harper and Dylan hooked up? Maybe theirs was a new relationship, not yet consummated. Perhaps they hadn’t acted on their attraction and had no hold on each other. Not her business. Yet she couldn’t help wondering if she should say something to Harper when she saw him next.

After a few more words with Brian, they waved and drove a few houses down the street, then pulled into the driveway.

She stuck her hands in her pockets and said to her brother, “So that’s Derrick and Sydney, huh? They close?”

“Inseparable. You should have seen how jealous he was when he thought Sydney and I had a thing.”

“So no kinky stuff for you three at the club,” she said, half teasing. “Just neighbors and nothing more.”

“Hell no. He’d kill anyone even thinking of touching her. And, well, I’m not in to guys, but if I were, I doubt Sydney would share. She doesn’t seem the type.” He glanced at Freddy and grimaced. “I try hard not to think about other people’s sex lives. Can we talk about something else?”

She inwardly fumed. Dylan was a skunk. She’d mention this to Harper when she saw him again. And if Harper knew and didn’t care about fidelity either, she’d mentally cross him off her fantasy list too. She might be unconventional, but Freddy had some standards.

Dylan had parted from Harper not knowing how to feel. They hadn’t committed to seeing each other again, but they’d spent the entire weekend together. Having sex, laughing, taking pleasure in one another’s company.

He hadn’t thought it possible, but he’d genuinely enjoyed Harper so much that he’d successfully ignored the situation with his mother and James.

Monday morning came and went as it always did. He concentrated on work and decided not to answer any of Derrick’s calls, letting his brother stew about the Friday meeting Dylan had been late to.

The days passed, during which Dylan couldn’t stop thinking about Harper and that club. He was more than curious about Freddy too. He thought he’d seen a spark between her and Harper and wanted to know if they had a history. Thoughts of Harper also prevented him from dwelling too much on his mother and James, both of whom kept surprisingly distant.

By Thursday evening, he’d ignored the family long enough that they’d finally come to him.

He let himself in to his condo, turned on the lights, and saw Derrick sitting on his couch looking annoyed. Well, tough shit.