Chapter 19: Chapter 19

JAKE

“I wasn’t speeding,” I said.

“Then why did he pull us over?” Evan asked.

“I have no fucking idea,” I muttered. “And why is it taking him so long to get out of his cruiser?”

“It’s a she,” Vada said. “And she’s coming.”

“What the fuck?!” Evan exclaimed when two more cruisers approached from the other direction.

I rolled down the window, smiling at the redheaded siren. She didn’t smile back.

“License and registration,” she ordered briskly.

I handed her the documents, my heart thundering against my ribs as the cops surrounded the van.

“I need you to step out of the vehicle, please.”

“May I ask what this is all about?” Evan inquired.

“We received a tip that this vehicle may be involved in a kidnapping.”

“What?!”

“That’s absurd,” I said. “We went to look at a car, and the crazy bitch was mad we didn’t buy it. I’m guessing she’s the one who called you.”

“We take all human trafficking allegations very seriously, Mr. Edwards.”

“There’s no human trafficking going on. Nobody is here against their will. We own the company. We’re on a business trip.”

“We need everyone to come down to the station until we can verify that the young woman isn’t a victim.”

“I wasn’t kidnapped,” Vada laughed.

“The two deputies are going to take you into the station, honey,” the officer said. “You’re safe now.”

“I wasn’t kidnapped!”

“Everything’s going to be okay, Vada,” Garrett called out as they led her to a cruiser. “We’ll get this sorted out.”

***

I tapped my fingers on the table, wishing I had something to throw at the ticking clock on the wall.

We’d been at the police station in Biloxi for three hours. They separated us as soon as we got there.

I was in an interrogation room by myself. Just like the ones on television. The cold, windowless room with a long table and nothing on the walls.

Except for that annoying fucking clock.

What was taking so long?

Vada was twenty-four. Hardly a minor. And we had a company vehicle. We ~were~ on a business trip, for all intents and purposes.

The door opened, and two guys in suits stepped inside the room. They sat across from me with their arms folded.

“Am I free to go?” I asked. “Because I don’t recall being arrested or having my rights read to me.”

“Your business partner in Miami verified your story,” one of them said.

“Great. Why are we still here?”

“We just want to make absolute sure Miss Collins isn’t being held against her will.”

“She’s not a child. And she ~told~ you she wasn’t kidnapped. And her father verified that she is supposed to be with us. What more do you want?”

“Why would a father send his young daughter off with three men?”

“To learn the family business.”

“It seems like a strange arrangement.”

“Are we breaking any laws?”

“No.”

“Then I think we’re done here,” I said.

The weaselly-looking detective leaned forward, staring me straight in the eye. “One of you guys is banging her.”

“We are coworkers, on a business trip,” I repeated. “There is no crime.”

“Take your weird coffin van and get out of Biloxi,” the older detective barked, pushing back his chair. “We’ve wasted enough time on this.”

***

“Well, wasn’t that a fun adventure?” Vada laughed once we were back on the road.

“No!” we chimed.

“Dad found it amusing.”

“He wasn’t the one being interrogated for hours,” Evan grumbled.

“I should text that bitch and give her a piece of my mind,” I muttered.

“Let it go, man,” Garrett suggested. “Nothing to be gained by doing that.”

“You don’t call the fucking police with false accusations because someone refuses to buy your car. Who does that?”

“She was obviously desperate for the cash to feed all those kids.”

“Perhaps she should’ve kept her legs closed then,” Vada said. “Or used birth control.”

“Or bought food instead of cigarettes,” Garrett added.

“The cigarettes probably keep her from losing her marbles,” Evan said. “We don’t know her story or how she ended up there. Sometimes life kicks you in the ass.”

“I’m sorry,” I snorted, glancing across at Evan. “I don’t know who you are. But the Evan Morgan I know doesn’t say shit like that.”

“I’m a compassionate person.”

“You are not!” Garrett exclaimed.

“Maybe you guys don’t know me as well as you think you do,” he huffed.

“Where are we going?” Vada asked.

“We rented an Airbnb for a couple nights,” Evan replied.

“Where?”

“Gulfport, Mississippi.”

“What are we gonna do in Gulfport, Mississippi?”

“Just chill.”

“When a guy my age says he wants to chill with me, it usually means he wants to fuck me.”

“It means relax to us,” Garrett explained.

“But we definitely wanna fuck you,” I clarified.

“How’s your vagina, by the way?” Evan asked.

“Dude,” I admonished, “don’t use that word.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know. Just say pussy.”

“Why?”

“Because that’s what it is. When Vada is in the delivery room, you can call it a vagina. But when we are referring to it in the context of sex, it’s a pussy.”

“Why do you get to make the rules, Jake? I’m the travel supervisor.”

“I’ve just designated myself as the pussy supervisor,” I announced.

“That’s not a real thing.”

“Neither is a travel supervisor.”

“What am I the supervisor of?” Garrett called out from the backseat.

“Nothing!” Vada yelled. “I’m the supervisor of all my body parts.”

“Good job, guys,” Garrett whined. “You got us in trouble.”

“Seriously?” Vada scoffed, shaking her head. “You guys may be in your forties, but sometimes you act like children.”

“That’s why we need a woman,” I said. “To keep us in line.”

“I’m not gonna be your mother,” she warned.

“But you’re gonna be the mother of our children,” Evan said, ducking when she threw an empty water bottle at him.

I never expected Evan and Vada to bury the hatchet so quickly. That was a significant accomplishment in itself.

We were definitely ahead of where I thought we would be at that point in the trip. We’d all slept with her. And we were progressing toward group activities sooner than I anticipated.

There were a lot of potential roadblocks ahead. Things that threatened the viability of a long-term relationship with Vada.

She was wild and unpredictable. And young. She wanted to party and have fun. We wanted to make babies.

Mandy was a threat. She and Vada were involved in some kind of open relationship. I had no idea how strong the bond was between them.

Was Mandy bisexual as well?

Or was she a lesbian, hoping for a committed relationship with Vada?

Was she waiting patiently for Vada to sow her wild oats and give up the cock?

And there was the situation back home. I had a sinking feeling that could be the final nail in the coffin.

No matter how well things went over the next month, it could all unravel in a heartbeat the minute we returned to Miami.

***

We arrived in Gulfport midafternoon. The drive along the Gulf Coast was great. I loved the ocean. I was grateful every day for the opportunity to live on an oceanfront property.

“Can we go to the beach while we’re here?” Vada asked, staring longingly out the window at the long stretch of white sand that followed the highway from Biloxi to Gulfport.

“You’re from Miami,” Garrett said, “home of some of the best beaches in the world. And you’re excited about a beach in Mississippi?”

“I love the beach. If there’s sand and water, then I wanna go.” She pursed her lips, throwing Garrett a curious look. “Aren’t you a surfer?”

“Yes.”

“So don’t you get a woody whenever you’re near the ocean?”

“I wouldn’t attempt to surf here.”

“Why not?”

“The waves are too fickle.”

“Oh.”

“We can spend some time at the beach,” I said.

“Thank you, Jake.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.”

She leaned forward, caressing my shoulder while she ran her tongue up my neck. “I see a blow job in your near future,” she whispered.

“I see a trip to the hospital in all of our futures,” Evan grumbled. “No making out with the driver.”

“Oh, Evan,” she sighed. “Always the wet blanket.”

“Oh, Vada,” he mimicked. “Always the disobedient troublemaker.”

“Where is the Airbnb?” she asked when I turned into the marina. “I don’t see any houses around here. Is it a beach house?!”

“Sort of,” I chuckled. “We’re staying on a yacht.”

“Get out of town!” she shrieked.

“It’s ’eighties themed,” Garrett shared.

“’Eighties?” Vada repeated, wrinkling her brow. “As in the decade?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okey dokey then,” she laughed. “This should be interesting.”

***

“It’s a beauty,” I said. “Looks exactly like the pictures.”

“Yeah,” the property management guy chuckled. “People don’t take too kindly to fake photos of Airbnbs.”

“The owners really put a lot of effort into capturing the ’eighties,” Evan observed.

“They sure did,” he agreed. “Every detail, right down to the fake fruit and the board games.”

“This is gonna be awesome,” Garrett said.

“Why are there mirrors everywhere?” Vada asked, turning in a slow circle.

“That was the style, young lady,” the man informed her. “A bit before your time, I’d say.”

“Just a little bit,” she agreed.

“Let’s just go over a few rules,” he said. “Then I’ll be on my way.”

“Do you have a printed list?” Evan inquired.

“I do,” he said, pulling a sheet of paper from the file folder in his hand.

“They’re pretty straightforward, folks. The yacht must remain at the dock. You can’t drive it, and there’s no staff on board. No parties. No guests.

“You must clean up after yourselves and leave the yacht how you found it. Please wash any linens you use.

“The fridge and cupboards are fully stocked as per your requested list of foods. There’s a list of emergency numbers on the back.”

“It’s colorful,” Vada chuckled. “The pastels are really pretty.”

“That was the style,” I said.

“Oh. My. God!” Vada squealed, holding up the receiver of a pink phone shaped like a set of lips.

“You folks enjoy your stay,” the manager said before exiting through the salon door and disappearing down the dock.

“Who looks after the fish when nobody’s renting the boat?” Vada wondered, studying the massive aquarium.

“Probably the same person who waters all these plants,” Evan said.

“Did people really have giant houseplants in the ’eighties?” she asked.

“Yep,” I said. “You should’ve seen my grandparents’ living room. It was a jungle.”

“You should’ve seen the jungle in my first girlfriend’s pants,” Evan muttered.

“Ew,” Vada cringed. “She didn’t groom herself?”

“No. Brazilians didn’t become common until the late nineties. Most chicks kept it trimmed neatly, but not this girl.”

“Gross.”

“We’re very appreciative of your grooming habits,” I said, rubbing her sexy ass.

“Oh yeah?” she whispered, turning around with a seductive grin. “You like my bald pussycat?”

“Very much,” I murmured and caught her lips with a deep, passionate kiss, my palms cupping her face while I devoured her mouth. “What do you say we check out the bedroom?”

“There’s supposed to be a giant bathtub,” Evan said, coming up behind Vada, his hands encircling her waist before he brought his lips to her neck.

“C’mon, Garrett,” she called, crooking her finger.

“Are you sure?” he asked, hovering awkwardly on the far side of the kitchen island.

“Yes,” she declared. “I want all three of you at the same time.”