I wake Saturday morning with a pirate in my bed. A naked pirate who’s looking at me as though he’s thirsty, and I’m the rum punch.
“Oh, no. Not more pillaging.”
“I thought you liked the pillaging part,” he murmurs, kissing my ear, then running a hand up my bare back.
“I like every part.”
We make love, the slow, leisurely morning kind of lovemaking, then just lie in bed and watch the lake come alive.
After a while I turn to him. “How is this going to work? You know, once we get back to Chicago?”
He brushes the hair back from my forehead. “You’re going to start a business and force me to go to galas and soirees, and I’m going to take you to basketball games and dingy bars, and when you get too high-maintenance, I’m going to throw you in a vat of pudding.”
“Promises, promises. Come on. Get up. Rory and Hunter will be here pretty soon.”
A half-hour later, I’m regretting dragging Dave out of bed. I ask him one question about business, and he gets all huffy.
“Okay, Dave, forget it. I have a marketing plan anyway.”
He runs a hand through his hair. He’s in the kitchen making waffles and fresh orange juice. “Giving away a day at the spa is not a marketing plan,” he says through clenched teeth. “It’s a gimmick.”
I pull two plates from the cupboard and set them down with a thump. “If it gets people to choose my firm over someone else’s, it’s a marketing plan.”
“No. It’s temporary, and it’s a gimmick.” He checks the waffles. “You need a brand, something that’ll last.” He glances at me. “Something that reflects you—sophisticated, elegant, classy.”
I beam at him. “Really? You think so?”
He mumbles something, but I kiss him before he can get too grouchy. I take down some glasses and say, “I’m not even wearing makeup.”
There’s a clatter at the stove behind me. “Yes, you are. You spent like ten minutes in the bathroom this morning putting on makeup so you wouldn’t look like you were wearing makeup.”
“Okay, but I’m not wearing nail polish.”
Outside a horn sounds, and I stand on tiptoes to look through the front window. “Rory!”
Dave grabs my shoulder before I can race to the door. He pulls me close and murmurs in my ear, “We’ll finish this conversation later. Maybe naked you won’t drive me so crazy.”
I give him a lingering kiss, then smile up at him. “Oh, you know you like it. You’d be bored without me to test your sanity.”
Rory knocks on the door and tramps in. As soon as she sees me in Dave’s arms, she squeals and yells, “You made up! Now we can be friends-in-law.”
“What the hell is that?” Hunter says, coming in behind her with their suitcases. Wide-eyed, he looks around. “This place is huge. Do you have a Jet Ski?”
Rory and I exchange a look and change the subject. Josh and Carlos show up next, then Grayson. He’s brought supplies for s’mores and reminds me right away that I promised to throw him off the dock.
Saturday afternoon we all laze around. The boys attempt to barbecue while Rory, Josh, and I gossip. Then Gray decides to take us out on the boat, and I go with him to the boathouse for extra life jackets.
We’re halfway down the path when Gray says, “So you and Dave, huh?”
I smile at him. “Me and Dave.” I stop and grasp his arm. “I really like him, Gray. I mean, I’m scared, but I’m excited. Am I just being stupid?”
Gray gives me a look like you’re-my-little-sister-you’re-always-stupid, but says, “He’s crazy about you.”
My eyes widen. “He told you that?”
Gray glares at me. “I can tell, Allie. Don’t mess this one up.”
We start walking again, the dead pine needles crunching under our feet. “It wasn’t your fault, you know,” I say. “That thing with Chris. I’ve never blamed you.” He doesn’t look at me, but I peek at him and see his jaw is tight. “I’m just sorry that you went to jail because of me. Because you went after him.”
“What?” Gray stops, turns to face me. “I went to jail because I was a junkie and was stupid enough to carry heroin around with me. That had nothing to do with you.”
“Yeah, but if you hadn’t been fighting with Chris—”
“Then I would have done something worse. Have you been blaming yourself for that?”
I shrug, and he grabs me and pulls me in for a hug. I seem to be evoking this response a lot lately.
I hug him back, a tight bear hug, and say, “I love you, Gray.”
“Back at you, brat.”
“Hey, have I told you about my friend Natalie?”
The boat ride is fun, and by the time we get home it’s dark. Gray’s promised Mitsy he’d bring a book on the dangers of liposuction to my aunt, so he heads over there. Rory and Hunter settle in for the Star Trek marathon on TV and Josh recruits Carlos to help him brainstorm names for our new business.
Dave and I go skinny-dipping.
Sunday afternoon we make s’mores, and Gray teases me until I try to throw him off the deck. No surprise, I end up going in instead.
I’m just finishing drying my hair after showering when Josh taps on the bathroom door and pushes it open.
“What’s up?” I say.
“Rory told me the last episode of Kamikaze Makeover! is on tonight.”
I meet his eyes in the mirror. “You’re kidding.”
He shakes his head. “Want to watch? It’s not every day you get to see three Japanese guys win a million dollars.”
I set the blow-dryer on the counter. “It should have been us. It was my fault we got disqualified.”
“Sweetie, who cares? I’m a celebrity!”
We settle in front of the TV, Rory and Hunter on the couch, Dave and I snuggled into the big armchair, and Carlos, Josh, and Grayson lying on the floor.
It’s pretty weird to watch myself on TV, especially considering all that was going on during the filming. I thought I was going to be a princess. I thought everything was perfect.
Then Nicolo comes on-screen, and everyone looks at me. Dave squeezes me around the waist. “You haven’t seen this part?”
“No. I think this is where they announce the winners. That’s obviously not us.”
Nicolo begins to explain his role in the competition and how hard it was to choose the winners and how excited he is to be part of such a great project. He looks happy, and he probably is. Of course, he doesn’t know that when he steps offstage they’ll be a subpoena waiting for him.
Payback time, Nicolo.
Nicolo announces the winners and hands over three huge checks for a million dollars.
Josh sighs. “That could have been us.”
I nod, still staring at the screen. At the smiling Prince Nicolo Bourbon-Parma. That could have been us.
“You okay?” Rory asks.
I look at Dave. I’m sorry I lost the money, but I’m not sorry Nicolo’s out of my life. Prince Charming, he’s not. Once you clear away the title, the connections, and the money, you’re left with an ego and a pretty face. No substance. An illusion.
“I am now.” And I take Dave’s hand in mine.
Later that night, Dave and I are on the balcony. He’s sprawled, pirate-style, on the lounge chair. The lights are out, and the balcony’s in shadow. I’m feeling my way down his chest with my lips, giving him teeny, tiny kisses so that the journey takes a long, long time.
Dave grips the arm of the chair, and says through gritted teeth, “I’m going to have to file a complaint with the Pillaging Committee. This is torture.”
I nip his skin and he sucks in air.
I smile up at him, then give an exaggerated frown so he can see it in the dark. “Now, look what you did. I’ll have to start all over again.”
“Sweet Mary, mother of God. If you so much as—” The words end in a strangled groan as I flick my tongue over his belly button and move lower.
“Dave! Hey, you up there?” It’s Hunter. I don’t look, but it sounds like he’s out on the dock.
I kiss lower, and Dave takes a shaky breath.
“Dave?” Hunter yells again.
“What?” Dave growls.
“You were a Boy Scout. Come down here and build us a fire. Rory wants marshmallows, and Gray went into town.”
I flick the button of Dave’s jeans open and slide the zipper down. Dave groans again.
“Dave? Did you hear me?”
“Fuck,” he mutters. Then, “Ask Josh to do it.”
“Hello! Are you listening to yourself?”
I slide a hand inside his jeans, and he curses again. “Hunt, go away.”
“I will. First get down here and start a fire.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” Dave scrambles up, and I sit back, watching him with an innocent smile. He fumbles with the button on his jeans, pulls the T-shirt over the bulge, and takes my face in his hands. “Do not move. Stay right there. I’ll be back in two minutes.”
I nod. He storms through the French doors, then sticks his head out again. “Two minutes.”
I lay back and close my eyes. Leave it to Dave to be a Boy Scout, and consequently the only one of us who can get a fire started. But talented as Dave is, I don’t think he’ll have the fire going in less than two minutes. He’s more pirate than Boy Scout.
“Allie?” Rory peeks her head out. “Can I come out?”
I sit up. “Yeah. Grab that chair. We can watch the guys play caveman. Me fire, you none.”
Rory giggles and settles next to me. “You seem happy.”
“I’d be happier if your boyfriend didn’t call my pirate away in the middle of foreplay.”
“Yuck, okay?” Rory shakes her head, and we listen to the guys arguing over fire-starting techniques below. Dave sounds unusually grumpy.
I turn my head to look at Rory. “Remember when we used to come up here and play princess?”
She laughs. “Yeah. I wanted to grow up and be Princess Leia.”
“Do you still want to be a princess?”
She stares out at the water, considers. “No. It’s a lot of work fighting the Empire. Who’s got time for that with a career, friends, boyfriends…?”
“Yeah,” I say quietly.
“What about you?” Rory asks after a moment. “Do you still want to be Princess Allison?”
A tongue of blue fire leaps up from the pit on the side of the yard, and Dave and Hunter jump back, cursing. Rory and I roll our eyes.
“I don’t want to be Princess Allison anymore.” I stare at the fire, then the lake and beyond—at all the mansions, the Porsches, and the yachts, bobbing in the ghostly dark of the water. “I think I’ll just try being me.”