“Well, Geoff lives here. The others are a few out-of-town friends who’re spending the week with us.”
“Oh God.” Teetering a little on her high heels, Corinne grabbed Kyle’s arms for balance. “What am I going to do? It’s bad enough I’ve stolen Tony’s Ferrari. Now I’m naked in an apartment filled with strange men.”
Kyle chuckled. “All men are strange, darling, but these happen to also be gay. So trust me—you’re safer than a meatball at a vegetarian banquet.” He nibbled on the end of the strawberry while looking her over. “We need to get you into clothes—” He met her eyes. “—then plan what’s next in the life of Corinne Mc-Court.”
Kyle offered her his arm. “As we have to pass through the dining room to get to the bedroom where we can raid Geoff’s closet, I suggest we pretend you’re Judy Garland and I’m Fred Astaire strolling along in the Easter Parade.”
“Was Judy naked?”
“Yes, but she wore a hat.”
“You’re lying.” She took Kyle’s arm. “This isn’t fair. You’re fully dressed. I’m almost nude.”
Kyle shot her a whimsical smile. “Trust me, darling, no one will notice.”
2
AN HOUR LATER, Corinne headed west along I-70, tearing across the blacktop in a low-cut slinky number, looking like a Liza Minelli wanna-be from her Cabaret days. Piled on the back seat were a stack of Geoff’s dresses—a variety of skimpy, sequined numbers that Cher would kill for. Geoff had gone full-tilt drama queen upon hearing Kyle and Corinne would be raiding Geoff’s closet. But when Kyle mentioned Corinne would be forced to live with them until she rebuilt her wardrobe, Geoff became ultra magnanimous, offering her dresses, makeup, even a rhinestone dog collar that doubled as a tiara.
She took it all. Anything was better than a roll of plastic wrap.
Then she, Kyle, and four gay men brainstormed her next steps. Everyone agreed she needed an R and R—a fun, relaxing, adventurous getaway before making any serious life changes.
“You never play!” Kyle had chided. “And, darling, you deserve some major playground time after what Tigger’s put you through.” After she told them about “Tiger Boy,” they’d coined a new nickname, Tigger, to take some of the sting out of the situation. It sort of worked. The way a salve momentarily takes the sting out of a scraped knee.
Or a joke momentarily takes the sting out of a broken heart.
Determined to mend that broken heart, Corinne mulled over Kyle’s comment about “playground time.” It took her all of two seconds to associate that concept with her cousin Sandee. Wild, fun-loving Sandee—the complete opposite of mild, sedate Corinne. Maybe, on the outside, they were as different as oil and water, but mix them up, and some secret part merged, forming a special world only they shared. A world where they let down their guards and discussed their dreams and fears…a world where they discovered that, deep inside, they weren’t so different after all.
Fortunately, Universal Shower Door owed Corinne several weeks’ vacation. As the guys cheered her on, Corinne phoned her cousin in Vegas who, after hearing about Tony’s two-timing, had demanded Corinne “get her butt out here, now.”
Kyle’s friends then took up a collection. After a group hug, where Corinne confessed with a giggle that she’d always wanted to be held by four men at once, she was now driving a stolen Ferrari across the country with three hundred and fifty dollars in her new silver-beaded purse.
It was like being a glamorous Louise minus the Thelma.
Two days later, Corinne arrived on Sandee’s doorstep. After squeals of reunion and multiple hugs, Sandee pulled Corinne inside the pink-and-orange living room that made her feel as though she’d stepped into a sunset.
Or, considering she was restarting her life, a sunrise.
Sandee stuck a cigarette between her glossy peach lips and fired the tobacco with the snap of a silver lighter. After exhaling a stream of blue smoke, she smiled—an expression that had always looked more secretive than happy on Sandee. “We still look alike,” she said in her signature husky voice.
Their mothers had been identical twins, so Corinne and Sandee did look eerily alike, but their outward personalities were about as similar as Angelina Jolie and Gwyneth Paltrow.
Sandee planted her hands on her curvaceous hips, barely covered in a pair of denim shorts, and gave Corinne a once-over. “And we’re still the same size.”
Corinne darted a glance at Sandee’s breasts. “Well, give or take a few cups.”
Sandee waved her frosted-pink fingernails, tipped with tiny red roses, in a dismissive motion. “Honey, inserts can turn Bs into Ds.” She narrowed her eyes and scrutinized Corinne’s hair. “What’s with the bottle blond?”
“It’s hot gold. I colored it—” She bit her lip, hating to confess the truth, but knowing Sandee was the one person to whom she could. Corinne took a fortifying breath. “I colored it to remind Tony of his beloved Ferrari,” she finished quickly.
Sandee took a long drag on her cigarette, her eyes shooting fire, like the color of her hair. “That bast—” She released the rest of the word on a burst of smoke. She took a few steps, pivoted, and jabbed her cigarette at the air as she spoke. “Honey, never change yourself for a man. Never, never, never. Been there, done that.” Sandee’s blue eyes softened with a look that gave away that “been there, done that” hadn’t been so long ago. “If you feel an overwhelming urge to change something, honey, change it for you.” She shrugged apologetically. “Uh, sorry I cussed.”
“Cuss away,” murmured Corinne, but her thoughts were on the other things her cousin had said. Tough, strong Sandee changed herself for a guy? He must have been a very special man to have pierced her tough-skinned “been there, done that” exterior. From the pained expression in Sandee’s eyes, Corinne guessed her cousin had been pierced all the way to her heart. But even if that were true, Corinne knew Sandee would never let the world know.
“Cuss away,” Corinne repeated, realizing she’d been staring intently at her cousin, but not wanting to voice what she’d been thinking. “You can call Tony whatever you like. Except Tiger Boy.” Corinne grinned, feeling silly and happy that she could play with that term.
“You got it.” Sandee smiled, that sly, secretive smile that reminded Corinne of the Cheshire Cat. “No T. Boy. Besides, I have a list of much better names for that bozo after what he did to you. But I’ll not use them all at once—I’ll sprinkle ’em like salt on food…just enough to spice up our conversations.” She pointed at Corinne’s high heels. “Speaking of spice, dig the stilettos.” Her blue-eyed gaze roamed up the silvery body-hugging dress. “Cool look, too. Looks good with that heart necklace Aunt Charlene gave you.”
Corinne’s fingers touched the locket, the sole item from her former life. A gift from her mom on Corinne’s sixteenth birthday. A flickering of sadness rose within her as she realized she’d done exactly what her mother had done so many times—run away from a man. Had all the men her mother run away from been two-timing creeps like Tony? Or had her mother been incapable of sticking around, loving any man? The last thought filled Corinne with horror as she clasped the cold
