I socked him again, the perverted bastard.
“Quit looking at her,” I told him, right as Iris caught my eye and winked.
“Holy shit, man. She’s going to chew you up and spit you out, isn’t she?”
“It’s likely,” I agreed wryly.
Even after coming twice in quick succession, I was getting worked up just watching her dance.
“See that chick that keeps touching your girl’s hips?” Turner asked at one point.
I had noticed that, and kept telling myself that it was an insane mouth-breathing move to get jealous of another woman touching her while dancing. “Yeah,” I said shortly, not about to admit to my insane possessive streak. He wouldn’t understand, anyway.
“I’m going to f**k that one. We’ll practically be Eskimo brothers with the way my girl is freaking yours.”
“I don’t know what the f**k that means, and I don’t want to.”
“Yeah, no, don’t look it up. You won’t like it. It was probably way out of line. You know I have no filter.” Of course he was laughing as he said it, and he was dead-on about the lack of filter. We’d discussed it many times. It was just one of his quirks.
He was working on it, but I still gave him a dirty look.
CHAPTER TEN
“Ahh shit, here comes trouble,” Turner said, looking way too happy about it.
I glanced back at the spot beside the pool that had turned into a girl on girl grinding spot. Nothing unusual there, but a new addition, two hot women, were approaching our cabana.
Turner rose and embraced first the dark haired one, then the brown-haired one.
The women were opposites, appearance wise, but both were beautiful, and I could tell right away they were a couple.
The black-haired, tattooed one couldn’t keep her hands off the other one, and they were both wearing next to nothing, some of the tiniest bikinis I’d ever seen, so it was a lot of skin on skin contact that was hard to mistake for anything but what it was. Yep, they were a couple.
Turner hugged the one with light brown, thick wavy hair, and she said something to him in a heavy accent.
“Frankie, Estella, this is my good friend, Dair,” Turner introduced.
I shook their hands, trying not to stare at Frankie’s (the black-haired one) very bared body, but it was difficult, since so much of her skin was covered in some rather interesting tattoos.
Iris was suddenly beside us, looking so excited she might start jumping up and down any second. I was okay with that, in fact there wasn’t much I loved more than watching her bounce.
“Oh my god! Frankie and Estella Abelli! I’m such a huge fan!” she got out, looking and sounding as young as I’d ever seen her. It was absolutely adorable, but I was a little lost.
Turner caught my puzzled look. He rolled his eyes. “I take it you’ve never heard of Frankie’s reality show,” he guessed.
I nodded. “You would be right.”
I should have known.
Iris loved her reality TV.
Frankie and Estella were quickly recruited to join the dancing mass of girls.
“I’m surprised no guys are trying to get in on that action,” I remarked, trying not to grimace every time any of the girls’ hand made any contact with a part of Iris’ body, though I could tell they were all just having fun.
I was way too old-fashioned for my own good.
“I didn’t invite that many guys, and the ones I did know not to mess up my view.”
I rolled my eyes. I should have known. He was such a lech.
We had another round of Mai Tais and just kept watching the show.
“I was only going to stay two hours,” I told Turner, five hours into the party.
He laughed. “Good job with that. Well, you can’t leave now. Look how much fun your girl’s having.”
I looked. I’d been looking, didn’t know how to stop.
She was tireless, the whole lot of them were, dancing to every song, calling out the DJ when one didn’t have a strong enough beat.
“Uh oh,” Turner said, and I looked from Iris to follow his gaze, which was trained on the large double doors that led into his playground of a backyard.
Tammy stood there, holding a cocktail in one hand, and scoping the crowd. She was wearing an itty-bitty red bikini, and I swore she got thinner every time I saw her. Every bone seemed to protrude from her pale skin, starkly defined.
Maybe she’d taken up crack. She certainly had the jacked up personality for it.
Not all of her was skinny anymore, though. Big, fake-looking implants now dominated her chest. She looked in danger of tipping over at any moment, and had her chest thrust forward to show it off, as though anyone could miss the new additions.
She’d upgraded since I saw her last.
“Where has she been all this time?” I wondered aloud. “Just hanging out inside?”
“I’m telling you, she’s in there looking for things to lift,” said Turner. “If I find out something’s missing after this, I’ll know where to look. I’m having Candy take inventory after tomorrow.”
Tammy’s focus fixed, unsurprisingly, in the direction of Iris and, hand settling on her hip, she started striding in that direction, her gait a bit awkward on five-inch stilettos, which were another thing she’d never have been caught dead wearing when she was married to me.
“Fuck,” I said softly, succinctly, standing up.
I was not sure what to do or how worried to be. Tammy was completely unpredictable to me, at this point.
And if she laid one single finger on Iris, I wasn’t sure I wouldn’t lose my shit.
Turner stood as well, letting out his own long-winded litany of curses. “I hate it when women fight each other. There’s no good way to handle it.”
I started to move when Tammy reached Iris, whirling the other woman to face her with a hand on her shoulder.
The crazy bitch was actually going to go there.
I couldn’t quite believe it, even as I was seeing it with my own eyes.
I didn’t hear everything, but I did hear the words ‘trashy’ and ‘tacky’ coming out of Tammy.
That irritated the hell out of me.
Iris wasn’t trashy or tacky.
Tammy was.
Iris was adorable, and sexy, and too good to be true.
I was still out of reach when Tammy screeched the word, “Whore!” loudly and threw her cocktail, glass and all, at Iris, then flew at her, claws first.
The glass hit Iris on the shoulder, liquid flying everywhere, then shattered on the ground at her feet.