The Price of Love

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, places, or people is coincidental.

  Copyright 2015 by Adrienne Perry. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.

  Edited by Meleah Himber.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 1

  “Mmmhmm,” Abby murmured sympathetically into the phone.

  Leah barely paused her rant to acknowledge Abby’s contribution to the conversation, and continued complaining about last night’s bad date. To Leah’s credit, this guy sounded worse than most, what with his showing up smelling of mothballs and his toupee gently askew. His incessant reapplication of Chapstick was just one more nail in the already sealed coffin that earned him a prime spot in the girls’ Bad Date Hall of Fame.

  As Leah continued with the post-mortem, Abby cradled the phone between her ear and her shoulder and began applying a second coat of silver nail polish to her toes. She wiggled them appreciatively as she went along, admiring the sparkles. Sometimes it was the little things that brought her the most pleasure. A home pedicure, along with her soft pajamas, glass of wine, and a sappy movie, and she was ready for a perfect Saturday night at home. One she had been looking forward to all week.

  “..and when I told him how horrible Irene was being, do you know what he said? He said maybe I should take fewer coffee breaks! Can you believe that? As if that would make Irene any less of a bitch to work for. Ugh. I cannot believe I wasted a prime Friday night on a date with that asshole.” Leah paused for a moment, just enough to take a breath, before continuing. Abby felt guilty at only paying partial attention to Leah’s tirade, but Leah’s bad dates and bad boss were frequent topics of conversation, and tonight Abby really just wanted to snuggle into her couch and relax.

  Leah was oblivious to Abby’s wants at the moment, however. “And then, ohmygod, to make it all worse, at the end of the night he just lunged at me and stuck his tongue down my throat, and I swear, it was like he was trying to lick my tonsils or something. So gross. I seriously had to fight down my gag reflex, and that’s not something you should have to do when someone kisses you. It was awful, Abs. So I need to rescue this weekend, and that means I need to go out tonight, and you have to come with me.”

  Abby snapped to attention, her hand holding the silver polish tipped brush hovering above her left pinky toe froze as Abby processed this new turn of events. Leah wanted to go out, wanted Abby to go with her. Abby cast a longing glance at her wine, already poured and waiting patiently on the coffee table in front of her couch. The couch she had planned to melt into for the evening.

  “But I already have my…” Abby began.

  “I know,” Leah cut in. “You already have your PJs on. Of course you do. And that’s exactly why you need to come out with me. Because you need a night out as much as I do. If it wasn’t for me, you’d just go back and forth between work and your couch. You’re young, single, and you need to get out there or you’re never going to meet Mr. Right.”

  “But I like my PJs. And my couch. And I don’t need to meet Mr. Right. I have my home and my work, and my friends. And that’s enough.” Abby argued.

  Even as she said it, she knew that her words weren’t strictly true. Sure, she had her home, which she loved. If you were going to get technical about it, however, the house actually belonged to her parents. But they’d entrusted it to her while they performed their humanitarian work in…she thought they were in Southeast Asia at the moment, though it was hard to keep track of them. They hadn’t been home for more than a long weekend in over two years, so for all practical purposes, the house was hers. She’d even taken over the master bedroom. Never mind it was only because her parents would only sleep in the smallest guest bedroom whenever they were in town since they eschewed the “luxuries of the first world” these days. Even their 1500 square foot Cape Cod home was too much decadence for them, and lately they’d been coming back less and less frequently and for shorter and shorter visits. They had talked about signing the home over to her…they just never had the time to do it during their brief visits back to the state.

  And sure, she had her work. She’d been helping to manage her father’s best friend’s news magazine since she’d graduated from grad school in journalism three years earlier. And even if her day to day duties didn’t include the investigative journalism that she’d always dreamed of doing, she loved her boss, Max Roudden, she loved her coworkers, and she was content with her position with the company. She could be satisfied with the job-well-done feeling she got each month when they put out a new issue of the news magazine.

  And sure, she had her friends, but aside from Leah, all her friends seemed to be paired off in couples these days, and more and more wedding invitations arrived in the mail every month. It wasn’t that Abby was desperate to get married. She wasn’t opposed to it, but she had never felt like she’d met the right person, and one thing she absolutely refused to do was to settle. Of course, living in a small coastal New England town didn’t provide much opportunity to meet new men, and even Abby would admit that with each engagement and wedding, her pool of available men was shrinking.

  “It’s never enough, Abs,” Leah was saying. “I know you think having George around to keep you company during the long lonely nights is enough,” Leah continued, making reference to Abby’s vibrator, “but you and I both know it’s no substitute for a real man.”

  “Hey, at least George doesn’t snore all night or expect me to watch, like, golf on TV like ‘real men’ do. He just gives me what I want and then goes back into the drawer. No drama.” Abby countered.

  “Still no substitute. I’ll take some snoring if it also gives me access to some mind blowing orgasms. George may provide you some satisfaction, but he’s no match for the real thing. And please, real men don’t watch golf.”

  Abby laughed. She’d known since Leah had first asked her to go out tonight that her quiet night in was gone. Her friend was in need, and that meant she would be there for her. Just as she knew Leah would be there for her. Had, in fact, been there for her after all her own disastrous first dates, and last dates, and the non-existent dates in between. It was just what friends did. So Abby sighed internally, and began the mental shift from solo evening in to girls’ night out.

  “Give me half an hour. Meet me out front?” Abby asked.

  “K. See you soon.”

  As she hung up the phone, Abby swiped one last flash of silver onto her little toe and admired her sparkly feet. Done.

  A few minutes later Abby was standing in front of her closet trying to decide what to wear. Really, it wasn’t that hard. It boiled down to which black shirt and which black skirt, her standard going out uniform. Tonight she chose a slinky black satin tank top and a short, breezy mini skirt. Skimpy black thong and strappy high heeled sandals completed the look. She drew the line at wearing a bra. The one good thing about her smallish breasts was that they were tight and firm, and she could get away without wearing a bra when she felt like it. And dammit, if she was going to give up her evening in so
ft fleece pajamas for a night of drunk men trying to grope her, she was at least going to let the girls hang free.

  Outfit complete, she gave a critical eye to her shoulder-length wavy hair, its color somewhere between blond and golden brown. It looked a bit flat, so she added some sea salt spray and scrunched it up a bit. She knew from countless summer days swimming in the frigid East Coast Atlantic Ocean that the sea salt would dry her hair into a carefree, relaxed style that suited her personality. And it also meant she could skip blow drying her hair, always a bonus. A brush of smoky eye shadow, a few swipes of mascara and some shiny lip gloss and she was good to go.

  She paused in front of her full length mirror to examine the results. Not bad, she thought. Her hair looked styled-to-look-messy instead of just messy tonight. Small miracles, she mused with a pleased smile. Her brown, almond shaped eyes, what she considered her best feature, looked large and luminous with the smoky eye shadow. All in all, she felt good about the way she looked.

  God knows, she wasn’t perfect—she wasn’t tall or skinny enough to be model material, and her face was more exotic looking than classically beautiful. But her wide and genuine smile could brighten her face into something that was stunning to look at, and her comfort in her own body gave her movements a confidence and grace that were more appealing than if she were perfectly proportioned but self-conscious in her skin. Knowing she was wearing a barely-there thong and no bra added a little boost of wantonness and sexiness.

  One last wistful glance at her couch, and Abby raced down the stairs, just five minutes after the half hour she promised to Leah. She knew she’d have to wait on the front stoop for at least ten minutes before her friend finally showed anyway.

  Chapter 2

  A blast of heat and sweat and smoke, mixed with the distinct smell of sweat-drenched, perfumed bodies assaulted Abby and Leah as the door to Bare opened and the girls were ushered into the crowded club by Leah’s friend Mitch, the bouncer.

  Mitch was heart-stoppingly handsome, with the chiseled face and body of a Greek God. Unfortunately, he was also taken, not to mention gay. Abby had met his equally gorgeous boyfriend at a party Leah had thrown a few months back. Now, Mitch greeted the girls with a warm hug and a flirty smile, telling them both to have fun before he put back on the impassive blank stare he bestowed on the rest of the hopeful club-goers still stuck in the line.

  During the fall, winter, and spring months, Bare was just a restaurant called Shells, catering to the local residents by serving fresh seafood and other simple, but elegant and tasty dishes. In the summer months, however, when the tourists began flooding the quaint Cape Cod town of Staunton, MA, Shells became more than just a restaurant. At ten pm every Friday and Saturday night from Memorial Day to Labor Day, the dining tables were pushed aside and the lights were turned down low and DJ Salty Slug from Club Absinthe in Boston was called in.

  Though Slug was one of Boston’s hottest spinners and the star of a new reality show called “Beatz & Beerz”, to the locals, Slug would always remain Eddie Turner: high school band geek made good in the city. Despite his fame, his mother still expected him home every summer, and no one said “no” to Mama Turner. Thus, every season Eddie returned, giving Shells the boost it needed to transform into Bare, a fun and funky nightclub that gave the high society summer residents an entertainment option that rivaled, if not the most exclusive clubs of New York or Boston, at least some of the clubs the bigger cities had to offer. With top shelf liquor and a VIP lounge section, the night club succeeded in attracting a fair number of the celebrities who retreated to the Cape for the summer.

  To Abby and Leah, Staunton wasn’t an upscale summer destination, though. Staunton was just home. Both year-round residents, they had grown up here together. Each had moved away for college, and then returned after graduation, though for different reasons. Leah had returned to her childhood home to recover from a devastating break-up, surrounding herself with the familiar and healing in the comfort of her friends and family. Abby had come home to help her boss, friend, and surrogate father, Max, with his magazine, which was struggling to stay relevant in the changing climate of internet news and the slow death of print journalism. Overall, Abby preferred the quieter off-season months when the locals eased back into their more laid back routines, but even she could get caught up in the excitement that came with the summer rush.

  Tonight was a night during the height of the summer season, which meant that the streets and beaches were bustling with the summer residents. It also meant that Bare was full with the influx of part-timers, and that meant fresh meat for Leah. With that in mind, and clearly her intention, Leah fluffed her hair and checked her lipstick in the mirror hanging by the club entrance, then straightened her shoulders in preparation of her entrance. She hooked her arm into Abby’s and gave Abby a grateful look.

  “Thanks for coming out with me tonight.” Leah said into Abby’s ear. “I know you’d rather be at home, but I need this tonight. And you need this too, even if you won’t admit it.”

  Abby, who was thinking she might be feeling the beginning stirrings of a headache, mentally shook herself, and only had to half-fake the smile she gave Leah. Leah knew her better than anyone. She could practically read Abby’s mind, something that was not always a positive thing. Now, she gave Abby a direct stare before shaking a few Advil out of a bottle in her purse into Abby’s hand.

  “Don’t even think about telling me in half and hour that you want to leave because you have a headache,” Leah warned.

  Now Abby’s smile wasn’t even half fake. She swallowed down the pills, and allowed Leah to pull her further into the club.

  “It’ll be fun,” she declared. “And I’m glad I have you to pull me out of my house every once in a while. I need that. And I also need a drink. What can I get you?”

  “Double shot of Absolut. On the rocks, with a twist.” Leah replied. “I’ll meet you on the dance floor.”

  Abby watched her friend glide onto the dance floor and begin moving in a sexy, slinky rhythm that drew the eye of every male surrounding her. Abby felt just the briefest of pangs, wishing she had the confidence to move like that and enjoy being watched. She might be comfortable with her body, but not enough that she wouldn’t feel silly trying to do that. Sure, she’d get serious stares if she tried Leah’s moves, but she doubted it would be because of how sexy she looked. More likely, people would wonder if she was having a seizure, and whether she needed urgent medical attention.

  Still, trying to channel her friend, Abby paid attention to the movement of her hips as she walked, and exaggerated their normal movement with an extra sway. She felt a little like she was acting out a part, but also sexy. The added bounce to her step caused her unfettered breasts to slide against the silkiness of her black satin tank top, and as the slick fabric wisped over her nipples, she felt them pucker and harden. A quick glance down at her chest confirmed that they were on full display. She grinned to herself and thought that she might have to schedule a date with George later that night, since she had no intention of going home with any of the guys here.

  At the bar, Abby resisted the urge to cross her arms across her chest, and instead willed her shoulders to stay back, and her arms at her sides. Be confident, be sexy, she told herself. Have fun. The bar was packed, but she managed to edge her way in between two guys who both glanced appreciatively at the chest. Ignoring them and their lecherous stares, she managed to catch the bartender’s eye quickly and got her drinks in record time, the vodka for Leah and a glass of white wine for herself.

  As Abby turned away from the bar and back to the dance floor, she saw Leah heading over. Leah took the glass from Abby with a smile of thanks and took a big swig, grimacing a bit as the alcohol stung her throat. Then Leah smiled and took a second drink.

  “Whew, down the hatch! The first one is always the hardest to get down.” She smiled and took another large gulp. “After that, it’s smooth sailing. You ready to dance?” Leah was already moving again to
the music and edging slightly back to the dance floor.

  “You go,” Abby replied. “I’m going to hang here for a bit.”

  “Are you sure?” Leah replied. “Do you want me to stay here with you? I don’t mind.”

  “No, go ahead and dance. Really, I’m fine here just people watching. I’ll join you when I’m ready.”

  “Ok, but let me know if you need company. I’ve got lots over there, and I can share.” Leah cut her glance to a group of guys on the dance floor looking awkward and anxious for her to return so they weren’t just dancing with each other. “There’s a cute, clean-cut preppy guy who’s just your style. Or there’s Snake Tattoo if you want to branch out a little. The snake wraps all the way around his…you know…at least that’s what he told me.” Leah grinned and wagged her eyebrows lasciviously as she said that. “I wonder if its tongue comes out when he gets excited.”

  Abby smiled. “No thanks, it’s more fun to watch you juggle them. It’s like I’m at my own personal circus! I think I need a drink or two before I get into the middle of all that.”

  Leah danced her way backward to the guys, and two immediately swarmed her, one rubbing up against her front, the other at her back. Abby noticed one of the men was Snake Tattoo. Abby smiled at her friend and gave her a thumbs-up before making her way towards the edge of the room, where she could lean up against the wall and observe the crowd swirling around her. She enjoyed watching other people and seeing their drama while remaining safely outside of the spectacle. Nearly invisible in her dark corner of the room, she the guys angle for Leah’s attention, and saw Leah give them all their own look or touch…just enough to make them each feel special while not being overly slutty or encouraging.

  Abby relaxed and let her reporter’s eyes capture the details that make the room come alive. She saw women in the room simper and draw attention to themselves, vying for the best looking men to come to them. She smiled a little to herself as she watched two “friends” trying to capture the attention of the same guy, while he was busy noticing the handsome bartender instead of the girls. Abby waited so see if they’d notice his interest lay elsewhere, and wondered if they’d break up their friendship over him. She hoped instead they’d have a good laugh over the situation later, when they were trying to sober up with late-night greasy diner food. She watched different couples rubbing up and grinding on each other on the dance floor, pairs forming and splitting and reforming anew in an elaborate choreography of preening and one-upmanship and hierarchy. She was most content to sip her wine and be an observer.