SevenDeadlySinsSeries Read online

  There was little doubt that he wanted me to go with him, “Then I’ve got your back. You can tell them you brought your attorney with you, and all questions must go through her!” I climbed onto my knees and knelt before him, “What do we need to do to get the plane back here so we can go?” I brushed thick strands of hair from his face; already the South Carolina sun had tanned his skin into bronze.

  “It’s already on its way, and we need to be on it in an hour. We’re stopping by New York first to drop off the dogs, and I need some papers from my safe. Can you call Palmer and see if he’ll tend to Jargon and Nucy?”

  I scanned his face; he was so hard to read sometimes. A genuine pain resided in his soul that hadn’t been there before. Now that I think about it, I had gone into robot mode when my parents had died as well. It’d been almost comforting to turn myself emotionally numb at the time, if it hadn’t been for Aunt Kerry I would have been a total wreck. I nodded and climbed from the bed, “I’ll call him right now, and then I’ll pack our bags.”

  His large hand caught mine as I turned to find my phone, “Thank you, Liz. Believe it or not, this is really going to be hard on me. The old bastard and I hadn’t spoken in years, but I always got his messages loud and clear.” His eyes clouded thickly, “I just never responded to them.”

  I turned and put my hands on his shoulders, “It’s never important who has the last word. Didn’t you learn that in law school?” My faint attempt at cheering him was lost I could see. “Carlton, I don’t know anything about your family, but Palmer went through something similar. He was devastated with grief that he never spoke to our parents about his sexual preference. Through lots of therapy we found that he imagined our parents up in Heaven, looking down on him in judgment; like some portal opened up and they watched us constantly now. I’ll save you the gazillions we spent on psychiatrists and tell you that we decided that if in fact our parents are Angels of sorts, then they would never be judgmental Angels. No, the things that would’ve driven them batshit during life are surely forgotten now.”

  He looked up at me from his perch on the side of the bed, “You’re the Angel, Liz... thank you. I know he loved me, and I loved him. He made a poor decision, albeit not with his big head, and I punished him by not taking over his business. It’s probably what drove him to the stroke.” Carlton tilted his head and leaned against my stomach, “Now that I have you it all seems so trivial. It sure as fuck didn’t seem trivial then… Regardless, we have to be on a plane in an hour. God forbid the Executor of his will shows up late… they’ll all be panting and pawing at the artwork.”

  I bent down and kissed his dark curls, “Alright. You get the dogs and their paraphernalia, and I’ll take care of everything else.”

  *-*-*-*-*

  “I still haven’t been able to get Palmer on the phone. I’ve left three messages,” I studied my phone with angst as the cab weaved tediously through New York towards our building.

  “Did you text him?” Carlton asked distractedly. He was whizzing through text messages on his own phone. I assumed to inform the partners of what was going on and dealing with family matters on the other side of the pond.

  “Of course I texted him,” I spat. My nerves were growing tauter by the moment. Each step we made towards Worcester, England told me this was a bad idea. On top of that, having Palmer ignoring my messages was throwing me into a hormonal tirade. I needed to grab that bottle of Xanax from my bathroom counter… don’t let me forget that!

  He glanced down at me with interest, “There’s no need to get testy with me young lady. Just because I’m having a traumatic experience doesn’t mean that you need to take the reins.”

  I lowered my eyes and examined my skirt with feigned embarrassment. He’s right. I need to chill… let things play out… “I’m sorry sir.” And I was in fact duly reprimanded; his strong expression told me that I need to relax. He’s ‘Killer Carlton’ after all… he’s got this… As the cab pulled to the curb in front of our apartment building his hand slid Jargon’s leash into mine, “Will you take both of them on up? I need to bring the bellman up to speed.”

  “Of course,” I nodded, glad that he’d moved onto another subject. It was getting to the point that pretending to be his submissive seemed all too fake to me. Like smoking but not inhaling…there’s no fucking point. With Benton, there’d been no doubt who was in charge. With Carlton, I just wasn’t sure. I pulled the dogs into the elevator as he stopped to inform the bellman of our whereabouts for the next few days and arrange for the dog walkers to be let in. As the metal doors closed silently, encasing me, I struggled to determine the unsettled feeling I got whenever I thought of Carlton dominating me. I humored myself to think that he was teaching me lessons… smoothly… slowly… without my even being aware. Who knows? He may be the world’s greatest dom, training me to be the sub he wants. I giggled alone in the elevator at the thought. While I wouldn’t bet my last dollar on it, my suspicion is that my dear, sexy as hell, Carlton has never been a dom a day in his life. Oh he’s confusing… the sex room that fills my dreams and makes me wake up with my panties damp… and ‘Killer Carlton’ who drives women to divorce just so they can be in the courtroom sitting next to him… But those things aren’t adding up with the man I know. My fingers tapped against my lips with one hand as the other barely held both dogs’ leashes.

  When the elevator door opened I expected them to bolt out, ready to find their comfy pillow and settle down, but as they gingerly stepped into the hall they seemed perplexed. Loud music, way too loud music, was blaring from my apartment door. It wasn’t the head banging rock music that annoyed me; it was the loudness level of the head banging rock music that sent my last pre-menstrual nerve into action. I stomped towards our apartment with fury and slammed my key into the bolt lock. As I threw open the door and stepped across the threshold, I couldn’t make a list of all the things wrong in my apartment with a calculator much less count them on my fingers. Pizza boxes, Chinese delivery boxes, empty wine bottles scattered randomly around the entire apartment. A stack of plates, complete with dried cheese eggs, was on the windowsill; remains of a meal cut short. But for some unknown reason my eyes were drawn to the overflowing trash can in our small kitchen; on top amidst an empty egg carton and cracked shells, was one of our mother’s crystal glasses.

  We didn’t bring much from Charleston to remind us of home; mother’s crystal had been her pride and joy. So we’d had it delicately shipped to our temporary home in New York. Murderous thoughts exploded in my brain as I thundered down the hall towards the source of the music. Palmer’s door was open and there he was… in his youthful innocence… my baby brother… getting a smoking hot blow job in his bed. I knew instantly that the image would be forever scarred in my mind.

  In an effort to divert my eyes, I barreled towards the stereo I’d given him for high school graduation. My fist slammed into it hard enough to give me an emotional release as the music halted abruptly. “What the fuck?” Dicksucker exclaimed, obviously gasping for air.

  Palmer leapt from his bed and danced awkwardly beside his dresser, “Damnit, Liz! What the fuck are you doing here?” His hands struggled to cover his still hard ‘booby.’ At least that’s what he’d called his penis as a child… his booby. It makes for a fairly laughable story now, but I recall at the time having him call it that was rather embarrassing at Grandma’s… on Easter.

  I couldn’t help it. Suddenly my fury did a complete 180 and I burst out laughing. Palmer and Dicksucker stared at me with a look of concern laden shock. “Seriously, what the fuck Liz?”

  I shook my head. I was on the verge of total hysteria, and I knew it. If I so much as uttered one more word, I’d humiliate Palmer beyond repair in front of his friend. I bit my lip with added power before the sentences could spew out. The impulse to say, ‘Hey look, Palmer! It got hard again!’ was almost too much to hold in. The memory of him sitting next to Grandma on her front porch was always a story that made me cry with laughter. Hahaha…
I said hard… oh no… I bit my lip again.

  “Good bloody hell! What are you two fucks doing standing around naked?” Carlton’s voice sounded deeply irritated from over my shoulder. I turned to look at him and lost my already fragile battle with self control, the hilarity of the situation meshed with Carlton’s stern English accent threw me into a fit of laughter. I barreled past him down the hall into the living room.

  Nucy and Jargon stared at me as I flung myself into the sofa and buried my face in the cushion. But I couldn’t stop laughing…Palmer had some guy sucking on his booby! No, I was far from finished laughing over this. As a matter of fact I thought of calling Aunt Kerry and telling her…after all it’s an old family trait to spread embarrassing tales as soon as possible.

  “You want to tell me what is so God awful hilarious about this mess?” I could feel Carlton sitting down beside me.

  I struggled to sit upright, wiping my eyes with my sleeve as I caught my breath. “When we were kids…” I paused, -laughing too hard again- “Palmer was scratching down there… according to how I heard it… with some fervor. Grandma asked him what in the world was wrong? Did he spill something on his shorts? Tiny little Palmer, barely two feet tall stood in front of her and pointed to his penis and answered, ‘No, my booby is hard again Grandma.’ Well needless to say, the cousins, the aunts, the neighbors all had to be told this precious little story. By the end of the week all of Charleston knew that little Palmer Martin’s penis was already getting stiffies. But it get’s funnier…when Palmer came out of the closet; Aunt Kerry breathed a long sigh of relief. She said she was just glad Palmer wasn’t attracted to old ladies.”

  Carlton stared at me and issued a small chuckle, “That’s pretty funny. Liz, are you alright?”

  Finally I caught my breath. I’d snapped. Pre-menstrual Liz was becoming more and more unstable by the moment. I nodded, trying to gain some clarity, “I just need to get something out of my bathroom and pack another bag.” As I stood, Palmer and Dicksucker were coming into the living room. “Look, Sis, I’m sorry about the mess… and you know finding us like that… well… this is Colt. He’s in a few of my classes.

  I glared at Dicksucker, speechless. So my brother’s assailant had a name.

  “And he’s quite the filly I might add…” Palmer schmoozed towards Dicksucker with playful banter.

  I stamped my foot hard against the wooden floors to end his frivolous antics, “Yeah, right! Well you and your stud better clean this fucking apartment. And after you’ve made it look like Martha Fucking Stewart lives here, then you can march your paunchy asses to every antique store in New York City until you replace mother’s broken glass.” I glared with vengeance for full affect.

  Palmer stood silently for a moment digesting my anger, “Screw you Liz, you can glamour around the world in ‘Mr. Killer’s’ private jet and lounge on the beach at home, but my having a little fun turns you into Mother, what the hell do I need crystal for when I have her bitching at me via her ‘mini me?’” His words stung like wasps. Nothing like family to press just the right buttons…Inner Princess sighed.

  I looked to Carlton in disbelief. Oddly his expression –raised eyebrows and a smirky grin- showed that he was siding with Palmer. Fucking traitor! But my brother continued, “But just so you know, I already ordered the damned glass online. It’ll be here next week.” With that he stomped down the hallway towards his room. We all heard the door to his bedroom slam shut.

  Dicksucker stood awkwardly at the edge of the room wearing nothing but gym shorts; he did a lame ass curtsy and mouthed the word ‘sorry’ before retreating to my brother’s room.

  My hands flew to my hips and I turned to Carlton, “What’d I do wrong?”

  “Get your stuff, Liz… and don’t forget your Xanax.”

  “How do you know I have Xanax?” I asked accusingly, unable to give up fight mode quite yet.

  He stepped towards me and wrapped his arms around my neck pulling me into his broad chest, “I’m not Double O Seven here, Liz. I read the medical portion of your application. Remember the pee test?” he asked as though I hadn’t understood.

  “Yes, yes…” I replied grumpily. I’d had to list what medications may show up in my pee. I own two prescriptions, birth control and Xanax. I doubted either would show up, but listed them anyway just in case.

  “So will you please pack your things so we can go? The plane is running. Do you have any idea how much jet fuel costs?”

  I shook my head, no I didn’t… “Alright,” I said in defeat and headed off to my bedroom.

  Carlton straightened out my argument with Palmer; I could hear them talking through the thin plastered walls. By the time I realized I’d been struggling to hear what they were saying, I’d packed enough clothes for a month. I fought with the zipper to my suitcase before it relented and encased half of my wardrobe, five pairs of shoes, and an umbrella. The only thing I’d so much as heard about being in England was that it rained there… a lot. A matching make up case was filled with lipstick I hadn’t worn in years, and a straightening iron that surely I’d need in such humid weather. I made sure to take a full pill before tossing my medications into the bag along with my toothbrush.

  Palmer stood by the front door as I drug my luggage down the hall. I sat the bags down beside him and started to speak. He put his hand on my shoulder gently, “No, Liz, just listen… I’m sorry about the mess. I got your message, and of course I don’t mind dog sitting. I just didn’t know you meant today. I would’ve cleaned if I’d known you were coming home, I swear I would. But Liz, you aren’t Mom. It isn’t your job to monitor me. Believe it or not, I am an adult.” He shook his head, “And when we lost Mom, I relied on you not because you took care of me, but because you’re my sister… That’s what family does.”

  I leaned forward and kissed his cheek, “Well as your roommate, and your sister, I’m asking you to clean this crap up before I get back. Oh and Palmer, Colt’s much hotter than Grandma!” I laughed, grabbed my luggage and climbed on to the waiting elevator as Carlton stood holding the door open for me.

  “Very funny Liz, very fucking funny…” Palmer called out as the doors closed.

  “Carlton?” I whispered as the plane began its climb over the Atlantic Ocean.

  “Yeah?” he looked up from the heavy stack of paperwork strewn across his tray table.

  “What’s the story with Ms. Williams? Did you sleep with her?” Immediately I realized that my inner princess had asked that question, not rational Liz. Still the caring way he’d told her to go back and rest for the rest of the flight made me think she had more a part in his life than I knew.

  Carlton’s eyes froze onto mine with a vice like grip, “My former lovers are not something I wish to discuss with you… ever. They no longer matter, and honestly never did. But no, since you asked, I haven’t slept with Patricia.” His eyes averted back to his paperwork but he mumbled, “I’m not her cup of tea.”

  I stared at him blankly… oh! So it’s only women she fondles as she belts them for the flight! My inner princess should’ve had a V8. There was no doubt in my mind that whoever landed her was one lucky lesbian! My ankles still tingled from her firm grasp as she’d held my feet and removed my shoes. I giggled and turned my attention back to the Webster Shipping file I still had with me. I was trying to find a way to force them to make renovations to their ships without losing them as a client. Somehow I had to make them do the right thing and make them believe they’d had the idea themselves. I was starting to think practicing law should require a PhD in psychiatry.

  Before I realized it, darkness had taken over the sky outside the wings. Lights in the cabin had been turned on and heavy snacks were on trays in front of us. I glanced over at Carlton, who was still studying his father’s will. Surely he’d read it before, hell he’d probably written it. But he was mesmerized by its contents still. “Carlton, are you going to be up all night?”

  His head turned towards me as if he’d forgotten I wa
s there, “Sorry, Liz. I guess I’m kind of out of it. Just re-tracing my steps to make sure there’s nothing we forgot.”

  I shot a quick glance towards the papers. I’ve seen plenty of wills, but this one was novel sized. “Is there a lot of property to divide?” I asked.

  He shook his head, “Nope. As a matter of fact, Dad only owned one item. The problem is… his uh… wife… is most likely expecting a great deal more.”

  “Oooooh, and the plot thickens. I take it step-mom isn’t a favorite of anyone’s?”

  A bolt of lightning flashed through Carlton’s eyes. For a moment I was sure his head would explode from the fierceness of his expression- ‘Killer Carlton’ was live and in color. “I think you need to get some sleep, Liz. It’s a long flight.”

  What did I say? The depth of his hatred rose above him, and surrounded him in a halo of brimstone and fire. I’d hit a nerve when I asked about dear old step-mom. “You’re right, of course. I’m going to change and snuggle out here with you if you don’t mind.”

  His voice rang strong with bitterness but he managed a weak smile, “Watching you sleep is my newest hobby.”

  I slipped into the bathroom, trying to be as quiet as possible. Carlton was intently checking his work for possible errors, and Patricia was sleeping in the one and only bedroom on the plane. I did feel a little grimy from the day; it seemed so long ago since I’d taken a shower before running to the Pig for groceries. My guess was that we had at least nine more hours on our flight, so I headed towards the rear of the plane to freshen up.

  A dim light peeking through the doorway leading into the bedroom caught my attention as I felt along the wall in the bathroom for the light. The bathroom had two narrow doorways; one led to the main cabin of the plane, the other to the bedroom. The door to the bedroom was slightly ajar and I could see a pale light from the television. Patricia must’ve watched a movie and fallen asleep. I started to close it when the unusual sound caught my attention; my blood rushed with unruly pre-menstrual hormones. As I stepped into the still dark bathroom silently, I knew I shouldn’t look into the bedroom… but my horny inner princess made me. Another soft moan came from the bed.