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They stayed quiet for a moment before bursting out laughing and moving in for a hug as though Jazz’s at-work freak-out had never happened. When they broke apart from the embrace, Toni asked, “So we’re good?”
“Yes, we’re great.”
“Good, I think I drove Zach totally bonkers today with how many times I told him you must hate me for being such a bitch.” She poured a ton of vodka into the pitcher.
Jazz passed her the cranberry juice. “Toni, the last thing you are is a bitch.”
In companionable silence, they finished making the cosmos. Out of her head, the room may have been quiet, but inside her brain a marching band of anxiety pounded. “I have scars,” Jazz finally said, the words spoken so quickly, she had no idea if Toni had even heard them. Now that she’d said it once, now that she’d opened herself to the vulnerability, sharing with those she loved didn’t frighten her quite as much as it had only days ago.
When her friend stopped mixing the drinks and turned her sympathetic gaze on Jazz, she knew she’d been heard.
“Something happened right before I moved from Arizona. Actually, it’s why I moved away. It left me with significant scars I’m not comfortable showing to anyone. I don’t really want to go deeper into it, but you deserve at least a little explanation for the way I reacted to the very reasonable request of trying on the tank top.” She pressed her lips together, picking at her thumbnail while she stared at the ground.
Seeing the pity on her friend’s face would be too much right then.
“Jazz,” Toni said, grabbing her hand and giving a gentle squeeze. “I’m glad you feel safe enough to confide in me, but you don’t owe me anything. Nothing at all. That being said, if you ever need to talk more, I’m here for you. My scars may not be visible under my clothes, but I promise you my insides are full of them. Painful ones I’m sure will never completely fade.”
Jazz lifted her head and her gaze connected with Toni’s. Instead of the pity and maybe doubt she’d expected, all she saw was understanding and compassion.
“Thanks, Toni,” she said, returning the squeeze.
“Please,” Toni replied as though her easy and unconditional acceptance was no big deal. “What are sisters for?”
Sisters. Not by blood, but definitely of an even stronger bond, love.
“Come on.” Toni grabbed the pitcher. “Let’s get in there before Izzy goes into Housewives mode.”
Jazz’s forehead wrinkled. “Housewives mode?”
“Mmm-hm, it’s something to see. No one is allowed to speak without pausing the television. If you need to reach for a snack, you can’t block her view, and if you need to pee you have to ask Izzy’s permission. She’ll determine how long you get in the bathroom.”
Jazz’s head fell back on her shoulders as she laughed. “What happens if you break her rules?”
With one eyebrow raised, Toni said, “You really want to know?”
“Nope.”
Laughing, they reentered the den and sat down.
“Just in time,” Izzy said as she held out her empty glass. “If you’d been any later, you’d have had to wait in the kitchen until I was willing to pause the show.”
Jazz bit her lip to keep from laughing as she caught Toni’s eye roll.
Four hours later the clock was closing in on midnight and just about all of the girl’s eyes were drooping. Izzy had gone home about ninety minutes ago, needing to relieve Jig from baby duty, but everyone else had stuck around.
As usual, they’d had a fantastic time full of sugar, booze, and more laughing than should be legal. But the best thing about the evening was how it accomplished her number one goal: taking her mind off Screw and Gumby. And for a few blissful hours, she hadn’t thought of either man. But now, as Holly clicked the TV off and the girls began to doze, the quiet brought a new round of spiraling.
She rested her head back on the couch, feet on the coffee table as she tried her damnedest to forget the way Screw’s tongue felt against her clit. Or how Gumby’s hands felt as he worked her breasts to aching points.
Just as Jazz let out a frustrated groan, a heavy pounding on the door had her jumping.
“Shit!” Toni yelled as she shot off the couch.
Shell grumbled. “Why the hell can’t they knock like normal people? Sounds like the police are about to break the door down.”
Another thump on the door. “It’s open!” Jazz yelled.
Copper walked into the den followed by Rocket, Zach, and LJ. Man, they were an impressive group. Tall, muscled, tattooed. Don’t-fuck-with-me vibes rolled off them in waves, but it faded away the second they all laid eyes on their women. She couldn’t help but seek out both Gumby and Screw though she’d known they were hanging out by themselves. Nor could she help the foolish surge of disappointment at their absence.
