Cream-Pied (DTF (Dirty. Tough. Female.) Book 2) Read online

  I parted the beaded curtains and made my way down a dimly lit hall. The scent of patchouli grew stronger as I neared the room.

  “Come on in, Weston. My third eye can see you puttering about out there,” Frannie called.

  I stepped through yet another beaded curtain and sucked in my breath. Frannie sat at a round table with a gigantic crystal ball in the center.

  “It’s just like the movies in here,” I whispered, dodging the eighty candles surrounding the walls.

  “Sit,” Frannie commanded.

  I lowered myself into the chair across from her, wringing my hands.

  “I don’t need any readings today, just so you know. I am good. Life is good. I—”

  “The black cat told me what you did to him. Swatting his whiskers like that!”

  My jaw dropped.

  “He lies! He swatted Dan!”

  “Who?”

  “Not doing this again. He swatted my beard!”

  “He said you told him you didn’t believe in this hocus-pocus and you swatted him.”

  My pulse thumped throughout my eardrums as I began to break a sweat.

  “Well”—I rubbed my hands down my pants—“I didn’t say that exactly. Not to him. That black cat is trouble.” I made the sign of the cross.

  “Seems like you let a lot of trouble come into your life.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  My mind immediately went to Nikki. I wondered if Frannie was trying to send me a warning.

  “I mean, this whole charade you are putting on for your parents so you can get the goods.”

  “Do I get the goods?”

  “Which goods are we talking about here?”

  “Nik—Westy’s! Westy’s,” I blurted, dragging the back of my hand against my forehead before beads of sweat began to form.

  Her hands reached out, rubbing the crystal ball back and forth.

  “Oooommm,” she called, tilting her head back and closing her eyes.

  When she finally stopped chanting, she squinted into the crystal ball and gasped loudly, standing up so fast that her chair fell backward. I did the same.

  “What? Oh no! What is it? Did I die?” I clutched my chest with one hand and steadied myself against the table with the other.

  “Huh?” She peered into the crystal ball. “Oh, wait. That’s not you. You’re good.”

  “Oh, thank heavens!” I moaned, fanning my face.

  “No. Wait. Do you … do you drive a pussy wagon?” she asked, moving her face closer to the crystal ball.

  “Hells bells!” I cried out. “Do I crash it? Am I dying? Is Nikki okay?”

  “No, no. It just looks sweet as fuck.” She shook her head, picked her chair back up, and situated herself.

  “I have to go. I can’t handle this anymore. My blood pressure is through the roof. I don’t want to know how I go!” I threw my hands in the air and backed away from the table. “Sorry, Frannie!”

  “Now, listen here! You wait just a minute! I have something important that you need to know! Sit back down!” She pointed at my chair that still laid on the floor.

  I overturned it and did as she’d said, terrified she would curse me if I didn’t. “Please. I can’t know anything serious. I would rather stick my head in the sand and go through life, clueless.”

  “Oh, you’re clueless, all right,” she sighed. “Now, blow this out.” She stuck a candle in my face, to which I promptly huffed out.

  “Why did I do that? Did I break a spell?” I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “No, I just wanted to see if you’d do it.”

  “What for?” I cried.

  “To prove a point.”

  “To?” I asked.

  She raised a bony finger and pointed it toward the corner of the room, where a tiny television was tucked away. Nikki sat in the green velvet chair, waving and laughing. I had been on camera the entire time I waited on their session.

  “You knew that black cat swatted Dan!” I cringed, realizing they’d watched me talking to myself too.

  “It’s the year 2020. Everyone has cameras. Don’t you know I had to install them when some asshat was stealing from me while his mama came in here, getting her cards read?”

  “So, you both tricked me. To prove what? That I’m gullible?” My face reddened.

  My brother had been telling me all my life that I was a big, gullible dummy.

  “Nope. To prove that one in there that she is more than a fake fiancée to you, so she needs to tread lightly.”

  “Can she hear us then?”

  “Yes, I had the audio turned on, but it’s switched off now. So, listen to me quickly before she comes back to get you. She has to tread lightly with that big heart of yours, but you have to tread lightly with hers too. You aren’t just some fake fiancé to her either. I think you got a chance.”

  “Really? What did she say?” I twirled Dan around my finger.

  “No time. Off you go!” Frannie stood up and shooed me down the hallway and out the door.

  Nikki followed behind me, waving good-bye to Frannie.

  I buckled myself into the P-wagon and took a moment to gather my bearings. I let out a loud sigh and started the car.

  “No worries, Weston. The cat is long gone. You’re safe with me,” Nikki said, buckling in beside me.

  “I think I’m more worried about you and your shenanigans than that devil cat,” I muttered.

  “I had questions I needed answered.” She shrugged.

  “And? Did you get your answers?” I asked.

  “Yes. Did you get any answers?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. Now, let’s go do our business,” she said quietly. “Take me to your home, so I can do what I’m here for. Getting paid for sex work.”

  “What?” My eyes bulged out of my head.

  “It’s what you’re expecting, aren’t you? Sex? I’m assuming since I strip—thus working in the sex industry—that you are paying me to have sex. Fulfill all the fiancée duties, bedroom included. At least, that is what you think. That I can be some type of whore for you for the weekend. Remember, I warned you about that back at Scarlett Herb.”

  “What in the world? Where is this coming from? No, no, no! Not at all. I don’t expect anything like that. What exactly happened back there in Frannie’s shop?”

  “Nothing. Look, I’m sorry. Some things were brought up back there that triggered me. You did nothing wrong. I’m here to pretend I love you. That’s it.” Her eyes glazed over.

  My breath caught in my throat. “That’s it,” I agreed.

  FIVE

  Nikki

  “Holy cow! Literally!” I said, pointing at the cow walking across the gravel drive.

  The car slowed to a stop to let the animal cross.

  “That’s Bessie!” Weston said, rolling down his window and letting out a loud moooooooo.

  The cow stopped in its tracks, looked toward the pussy wagon, and mooed back.

  “Ha-ha! How did you do that?” I stuck my head out of the car and tried to moo back at it, but I swore that heifer rolled her eyes before trudging along.

  “Just call me the cow whisperer. She told me everything I need to know in that one moo.” He continued up the driveway.

  At the top of the hill stood a plantation home like I’d only seen in the Southern Living magazines my mom had swiped from the barbershop. The red brick popped against a bright white mortar. An expansive porch circled both the top and bottom levels amid massive gothic columns.

  “What did Bessie say?” I asked politely, though my eyes and mind were both distracted by taking in the mansion in front of me.

  “She said, good luck winning over my ma and that she is in a spitfire mood today.”

  “Who? Your ma or the cow?”

  “Both.” He pressed his lips together and parked the car in front of the massive brick steps.

  “Hey. It’s going to be okay. I got this.” I reached over, squeezing his hand. I flipped the visor
down, looking over myself in the mirror. “I can handle Bessie and your ma—”

  “Ma! Hi!” Weston shouted, drowning me out.

  He hopped out of the car and rushed up the porch, greeting a lady who looked as if she’d stepped out of a ’50s-era sitcom. Her powdered sugar–stained apron clung tightly around her waist, and her gray hair was loosely sitting atop her head in a messy bun. I opened my door and slowly pulled myself up to my full height, towering over this woman who was all of five feet, if that.

  “Ma! I want you to meet Nikki, the love of my life,” Weston spit out, pushing me forward and into harm’s way.

  “My boy! Finally settling down. And look at your hips. Those are some baby-making hips! Oh my gosh! I can’t wait! Come here, hon! Give mama a hug!” Weston’s mom stepped toward me and pulled me into her, squishing herself against me like a melted marshmallow. “You can call me Ma, or you can call me Jean. Your choice,” she added, stepping back to take me all in.

  “Thank you, Ma. This is such a lovely place you have here! Weston has told me all about it and all about you. I can’t wait for you to tell me about him when he was little. You know, so I can figure out what our kids will be like.” I winked, smoothing out my modest dress. I had this shit in the bag.

  Ma clasped her hands together and beamed at the word kids. I felt a bit sad, leading this lady on. So far, she seemed super friendly. I had no idea why Weston was so worried about her.

  “Now, let’s get you in here in the kitchen and see what ya got! I’ve got to make sure you’re good enough for my Weston. No one has ever measured up. I think you might be in luck though. We’ll see!” Her voice rose to a shrill.

  Ah. There it is. Perfect son syndrome.

  I glanced at Weston, who looked like he was about to faint.

  He leaned down to whisper in my ear, “Go on, I’ll get the bags.”

  “Like hell you will! You aren’t leaving me alone with her! Not yet anyway! Help me out a little at least!” I whispered back.

  “Chop, chop!” His mom clapped her hands from the doorway where she stood, waiting. “We only have three days to get to know each other. I need all of that time alone just to see if I like you!” She laughed.

  Fuck.

  My blood pressure began to rise with each shrill syllable she sputtered out. I nodded toward her, narrowed my eyes at Weston, who turned to unpack the trunk, and made my way up to the gates of hell—according to Weston at least. The comment about being good enough threw me off, but I knew my worth, and I knew that I was not only good enough but damn worth it.

  “Let’s go, Ma! Got any cocktails in there we can get to know each other over?” I said, carrying myself up the stairs.

  “Oh! Heavens no! We don’t drink in this house!” she said, taken aback as if I had just asked her to help me bury a body.

  A weekend with the Banks, and I couldn’t even get slightly buzzed on booze. Crap. This whole trip was quickly beginning to feel more like a job. Which it is, I had to remind myself.

  “I meant, sweet tea! That’s what my girlfriends and I call it. Cocktails of tea. With a little lemon, and sometimes, we even add mint!” I smiled sweetly at her, giving her my best innocent eyes.

  “Sweet tea I have by the gallon. Come on, dear. Let me get you a glass.”

  She opened the massive wooden doors and led me inside their farmhouse mansion. It looked exactly how I’d expected it to look—like a barn had thrown up in here. Pictures of cows, tractors, and chickens littered the walls. A giant iron rooster sat in the corner of the entry, holding a sign that said, Welcome friends. I shuffled behind Ma, afraid to touch anything. Not because it was nice, but because I didn’t want to catch whatever sickness this was.

  Country life.

  Ma led me into a kitchen that was bigger than my first apartment. Plaid napkins, placemats, and dish towels were placed in every corner. Another damn rooster sat on the counter, offering up a plate of cookies. I couldn’t help myself; I grabbed one.

  “Sweet tooth, do ya? That’s my special recipe. I keep them on hand every week. I call ’em cow patties because of how they look. Course they ain’t cow patties!” She laughed, pulling out a chair and motioning for me to sit.

  I took a bite out of the cow pattie and instantly tasted regret—regret for my waistline after I inhaled ten more.

  “This is delicious! There is something in there that’s unique. It’s different. What gives it that sweet taste but with a twang?” I asked between mouthfuls of cookie.

  “Balsamic vinegar. You have a good palate to taste that in there. Weston told me you worked as a chef?”

  I cleared my throat, choking for a quick second on the cow pattie.

  “Oh my! I didn’t even get the tea out. I’m sorry, doll. Coming right up. My mind’s not been right lately!” Ma hurried over to her refrigerator and took out the tea, pouring us two glasses.

  I took the glass from her and drank it like I was downing tequila. I wondered if I could convince Weston to sneak away and buy us a bottle.

  “Yes, I am a chef,” I said, not sure how much Weston had told her.

  “You cook tacos or something, right? Weston went on and on about it! Maybe you can make some while you’re here. You teach me your taco secrets, and I’ll teach you how to make a cow pattie! Better yet, if I like you … you’ll get the family recipe book as a wedding gift.”

  I sucked in my breath and clutched my chest. “Really? You think I could? Weston has told me how much he loves his mama’s cooking and how much he misses it. He said mine comes close, but nothing will ever compare to his ma. If I knew how he liked his food, I think that would make him so happy. I’d love to surprise him by making him a homemade meal from his childhood sometime!” I gushed.

  Ma’s face beamed with pride.

  Nailed it.

  “Oh, yes, ma’am, we will get you that! But not before the wedding. I’ve got to make sure you and my Weston are matched up properly. You know his last few relationships didn’t work out so well. He’s a good boy with a huge heart. He needs someone who can handle that big heart with care.” Ma shook her head and took a sip of her drink.

  “I agree! Poor thing has been treated so terrible with these ladies who snuck into his life! Ugh! Varmints!” I wrinkled my nose.

  “You said it, sister. My boy’s better than a shithouse rat!”

  I gasped, “Ma! You are absolutely right! Shithouse rat!”

  We laughed.

  “What’s this carrying on in here?” a man called from the doorway.

  “Westy! Come meet our future daughter-in-law. Look at her hips! Aren’t they some childbearing hips? Weston already told me he wants twelve!” Ma clasped her hands together as her husband made his way toward me.

  “He picked a mighty fine one this time! Come on over here, sugar. I can’t see very well. I need to make sure you have a button nose and all ten toes. Otherwise, you might taint the Banks’ line.”

  He gently grabbed the end of my chin between his thumb and index finger, turning my face side to side. It was all I had in me not to punch this man in his face, inspecting me like that.

  “Hey! Hey! Hey! She’s not a new snow cone machine! You don’t have to look her over that closely. She’s perfect! That’s my soon-to-be wife! You’re inspecting her like a cow at a blue ribbon contest! Hands off, Dad!” Weston cried. His arms circled me as he brought me snugly into his chest. Dan tickled my forehead.

  “Sorry, son. I trust ya. She does look something special.”

  “She is. Don’t you all worry. Now, I’m assuming I’m in my old room?” Weston asked.

  “You’re in your old room, and I set up the second-floor guest room for Miss Nikki here. Can’t have y’all shacking up before the wedding! That’s bad luck! Follow me. I’ll show you the way, so you can freshen up,” Ma said, pulling my hand toward the stairs.

  I shot Weston a look of death. His jaw muscle twitched as he waved me good-bye.

  The rest of the evening went as expected. Weston’s
parents grilled me on my past, and I quickly made up a fairy-tale life that even I believed for a moment.

  The whole time I spoke, Weston watched me, nodding and agreeing. He chimed in with, “Isn’t she great?” and, “I’m so lucky,” after nearly everything I said.

  I was exhausted. Ma had me doing mental gymnastics the entire night. I would be lucky in the morning to remember what horseshit I’d fed to her. The way her eyes sparkled as I talked about my future with her perfect son did have me feeling a little bit of guilt. But the cash in my pocket that would set me on the path to financial freedom brought me back down to reality. Weston squeezed my leg under the table each time his mom asked me a question. The main points to remember about his family, Weston had told me in our drive up, were to talk about babies and wife stuff—like crafts, cleaning, and caretaking.

  Barf.

  I talked about children mostly, even going so far as to tell them the truth about some of what I did. I told them about my work at the cottage and how I’d spent time helping the disadvantaged youth. The passion in my voice came out when I spoke about my volunteer work. I had the entire Banks family teary-eyed at the dinner table.

  “Sorry! I get a little carried away when I talk about the children.” I set my napkin on the table. “That’s enough of that! I think I’m getting sleepy.” I yawned.

  “That’s okay, dearie. You are going to be an amazing mama.” Ma reached across the table and squeezed my hand.

  I smiled genuinely. This traditional Banks family thing wasn’t so bad.

  We finished dinner, skipped a nightcap due to their no-alcohol rule, and headed to bed.

  “Now, you two kiss good night and be on your merry, separate ways. I’ll see you both in the morning with my famous cinnamon rolls. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow with party prep, and your brother and guests are arriving! Go get some rest!” Ma said, pushing herself up on her tiptoes to kiss Weston’s cheek. She embraced me into her soft, squishy hug and patted my butt up the stairs.

  “Can I help with the dishes?” I turned to ask her.

  “Pfft! Not a chance. I have someone coming to clean in the morning. It’s bedtime for all of us.” She nudged Westy on the back, who had already fallen asleep at the table.