A Taste of Spring

Chapter 38



Chapter 38

Summer's voice, tone, and pitch, irritated him. With her sarcasm, it was like claws scratching down a chalkboard. "When is this game of fuckery you and your partner in crime have started, going to end?"

The look Summer gave him was vicious. It was one he saw often enough to know that in her mind, she was filleting him open to fry in boiling oil. Hers was impressive but he wasn't moved to retract his question, the implied accusation he added to it, or the heat he infused it with.

(Fuck her.)

"If by game, you mean the game of love, then my dear sweet BOY, I imagine it will last forever."

"Just stop the shit." Fallon noticed Jeremy, the bartender, so he raised his glass. "What it is isn't anything close to love. It's a total money grab and you know it. What's the plan? Get Dez to fall in love with her then milk him for a few months before moving on? Or, are your goals more long term? Marriage, then take him for all he's got in the divorce settlement?"

"You know what's scary about you?" Summer took hold of his cheek between her fingers and squeezed like one would do a baby. He pulled away so fast that her hand hovered in the air until she shrugged then lowered it. Summer continued, ignoring his move. "It's that you actually believe the mess you dream up in your little ole head. Now, be gone. You're messing with my chi." She flicked her wrist and started to turn, offering him her back.

(This viper did not just dismiss me.)

Fallon leaned back but was still swatted in the face by her long, pleasantly scented curls. He pasted a tight-lipped smile on his face as he tapped her on her shoulder. "Look, this may be just another client to the both of you but Dez is my friend and me-"

Spinning on him, she closed and opened her fingers in the universal "hand talk" motion. "Blah blah blah, I know. He's a good guy. You've watched his back for years. Your Bromance is legendary." Summer rolled her eyes. "Save it for the good girls. Us bad girls don't really give a shit." She faked a gasp and covered her mouth with her manicured hand. Then Summer gave him her back again.

---------

DEZMOND

Watching Fallon as he walked back to their booth, Dez felt a tinge of guilt pass through him. In truth, he didn't even notice his friend leave. Spring had him hook, line, and sinker. It was a feeling that had him wanting to run from the building with his balls in his hand, proclaiming that he didn't lose them yet. But he also wanted nothing more than to go shopping for a leash, get his name embroidered on it, and wrap it all pretty to present to Spring.

An image of him leaning forward with his neck extended, waiting for her to claim him, filtered through his mind.

"I'm gonna head out," Fallon said as he sat his glass on the table.

"It's still early," Dez said.

Fallon saluted him and offered Spring a short wave then turned and walked away.

After a moment, Dez turned to Spring. "I'll be right back." He scooted out of the booth and followed the path Fallon took. Outside, Fallon stood at the edge of the curb with his hand up for a taxi. "Hey, wait."

Fallon dropped his hand and faced Dez just as a cab pulled up. He grabbed the handle.

"What's going on with you?" Dez asked.This content © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

Fallon opened his mouth as if he wanted to say something but closed it. He shook his head and laughed. "Nothing. I'm tired. I'll call you later." He opened the door to the cab and slid inside.

At a loss, Dez watched the cab drive away. In all the years he'd known Fallon, his friend never left Muri's early or threw away a moment of being around beautiful women. Strange, he thought as he slowly made his way back inside and to the booth.

"Everything alright?"

Dez rubbed the back of his head. He looked down then to the exit/entry doors. "I don't know," he looked back to Spring, "but I feel like I need to find out."

"Oh," Spring said as she looked up at him.

"Can I see you home?" he asked. "I have to check on Fallon."


Tip: You can use left, right, A and D keyboard keys to browse between chapters.