For several moments afterward, they lay panting against each other. When Neal finally pulled away from her, she sat up, shoved her hair out of her eyes, and investigated the teeth marks on her breast. “You son of a bitch.”
Chuckling, he restored his clothing, moved to the sink and washed his hands, then smoothed back his hair. At the door, he looked back at her. She was still sprawled on the chaise in disarray. “You’d better wash before going back to the party,” he said, nodding toward her pelvic region. “You reek to high heaven of come.”
When he unlocked the door and opened it, he was met with an unpleasant shock. Ivan was standing on the threshold, his expression murderous.
* * *
“You stupid little cocksucker!” Ivan thundered.
Ever since they’d left the rehearsal dinner, Ivan had been berating Neal for his indiscretion. It had been a wild and crazy thing to do, but it had also been a hell of a lot of fun. He was a groom, but he wasn’t dead. No red-blooded man under the age of ninety-five could have resisted such freely given snatch.
No one other than Ivan had discovered them. Nobody else had even missed him. Neal had returned to the party and taken his bride in his arms and kissed her while her friends and family smiled indulgently. The maid of honor wasn’t going to tell. What harm had been done? His old man’s anger was unwarranted, and the temper tantrum was beginning to grate on Neal’s nerves.
“Actually, Daddy, she was the cocksucker,” he said blandly.
Ivan let go of the car’s steering wheel and backhanded him across th
e mouth. The blow caught Neal completely off guard. “What the hell!” he shouted. “Don’t ever do that again.”
“Don’t you ever do anything that stupid again. Banging the bridesmaid while the bride and her family are in the next room,” he muttered. “What the hell were you thinking of? You could have blown this whole thing wide open by pulling that damn fool stunt.”
“But I didn’t,” Neal shouted. “So just shut up about it.”
“I’ve hired three whores for your bachelor party. You couldn’t have waited an hour longer for one of them?”
“I intend for you to get your money’s worth, but I’ll bet nothing your hired whores do is as exciting as fucking your bride’s maid of honor the night before the wedding.”
Ivan looked like he might strike him again. Instead, he gripped the steering wheel and pressed down hard on the accelerator. They were headed to the hotel where Neal’s groomsmen had been invited to meet them and celebrate his last night as a single man.
“I didn’t decide for you to get married on a whim, you know,” Ivan growled. “If all I wanted was a breeder for grandkids, we could have found you a decent enough girl in Palmetto. We picked this girl ’cause her daddy’s pockets are lined with hundred-dollar bills. She’s due to come into a lot of money when she turns twenty-five, and most of it will come your way. But if you go screwing her friends in bathrooms, do you think she’ll entrust you with a nickel?”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Neal said heatedly. “You don’t expect me to change my lifestyle just because I get married, do you? If you do, you’ve got another think coming.”
Ivan cut his eyes toward his son, though he didn’t decrease his speed. “I don’t care if you diddle every belle from Charleston to Miami and back again. Just exercise some good sense. Treat your wife like a piece of bone china you only use on special occasions. Bring her little presents now and then. Give her babies to keep her occupied. Then you can screw whoever you want to, and she won’t raise a stink about it. But for God’s sake don’t flaunt your infidelities in her face.”
Neal resented the lecture. If he knew about anything, he knew about women. “Listen, old man, I know how to treat a woman, okay?”
“You don’t know near as much as you think you do.”
“I don’t need you telling me—Daddy!”
But Ivan didn’t have a chance. He never saw the freight train.
Chapter Seventeen
Los Angeles, 1991
“Graham? It’s me.”
“Hi, Mom! Have you seen any movie stars yet?”
Jade, sitting with her feet tucked beneath her, grinned into the telephone receiver. She could envision Graham’s fourteen-year-old face. A shock of wavy, dark hair would be dipping over his brows. Beneath them, his blue eyes would be sparkling.
“None so far, but I bought you a souvenir today.” She glanced at the Los Angeles Rams sweatshirt she had purchased earlier.
“What is it?”
“You’ll have to wait and see.”