Page 35 of Play to Win
12
Aweek later, Portia was still in Providence. As a result of the hurricane, most of the roads in and out of town had been flooded. The closed roads meant that Portia couldn’t make it to the airport, which was just as well because flights had been cancelled the day after the storm until late in the evening. The call with her agent had been as pleasant as possible, all things considered. Her agent had been the one to break the news to the publisher. It helped that leftover rain from the storm moving north hit New York on Tuesday morning, so her appearance there would’ve been cancelled even if she’d managed to get there. Sadly, a few more appearances had also needed to be cancelled, but she was trying not to think of how pissed her publisher might be at this point.
There were parts of the town that also flooded, like Camy’s backyard and basement. As for Sunnydale, the storm had broken a couple of the back windows. The glass shattering had awakened Portia and Ethan, and they’d gone downstairs to attempt a temporary patch job until the storm passed. But in the meantime, rain and wind had pelted through the plastic they’d managed to pin up to the windows and the walls and floors were damaged. Rod and his family business were swamped with repair estimates, so he hadn’t been able to get to Sunnydale until Wednesday morning. Of course, he had a list of new things he needed to fix on the house now before it could be put on the market.
That meant Portia had to stay here. She’d made a commitment to Sunny, and her godmother had told her she was glad Portia was there overseeing the project. So, she couldn’t leave until it was complete, not even to return to her book tour. Sunny meant the world to her and she wasn’t about to let her down.
It surprised her to learn how easy that decision was for her to swallow, but as she recalled last night’s impromptu gathering with Camy and her friend Rylan, she realized she could get used to being back in Providence.
Ethan was scheduled to work the late shift and wasn’t set to get off until late so Camy and Rylan had stopped by Sunnydale with some of Jeret’s famous hot wings, nachos and bottles of wine all pre-ordered from the bar.
“How many bedrooms are in this place?” Rylan Kent who Portia recalled seeing Camy with a lot when they were younger, asked. “Cause I’m tellin’ y’all right now I’m gettin’ tore up tonight! I’ve been working like crazy and my mother’s been in a mood, so I need this release.”
“Um, there’re three bedrooms.” Portia answered but she hadn’t been expecting overnight guests and her mind wandered to needing to put fresh sheets on the beds. She’d stripped all but the one in her old room as part of the packing process.
“No worries,” Camy chimed in. “We can all sleep right here. This couch seems comfy enough.”
Camy and Rylan were sitting on the couch while Portia had taken a seat in one of the leather recliners across the room.
“And we can talk about my date with Steve last week.” Camy leaned forward and took one of the wings from a plastic container. She grabbed a napkin and sat back.
“Oh yeah, you said you were gonna tell me about that,” Rylan said. She grabbed a paper plate and filled it with nachos and a few dollops of the melted cheese from another plastic container.
Portia wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do at this point. She figured this was what they called a girls’ night, but she’d never experienced one before. Because her stomach growled, she got up from the recliner and fixed a plate of two wings—the flats ‘cause they were the best—and some nachos and cheese. Her glass of Moscato was already sitting on the table near the recliner so she sat back down after grabbing a napkin.
Camy had started her story and Portia settled back in the recliner to listen, eat and marvel over the concept of women sharing their private thoughts, laughing together and uplifting each other when necessary. That part had come when she’d mentioned the sad state of her personal life.
“I’ve been really busy these last few years so no, I haven’t had time for friendships or romantic entanglements.” That was partly a lie, but mostly true. If there’d been someone she wanted to be romantic with she would’ve made the time, but there hadn’t.
“Your business is doing great,” Rylan said, her words had begun to slur a little by this time, as she was totally serious about getting tore up. “And it’s so empowering. I mean, you know women are usually shamed for being proud and open about their sexuality.”
That didn’t actually ring true for Portia because all this time she’d been focused on other people’s sexuality, not so much her own. Until Ethan. Every moment she was with him she couldn’t help but be super aware of her body and how it reacted to him. The last few days that physical reaction had shifted to something a little more powerful than she’d anticipated, but she’d chalked that up to all the fantastical dreams she’d had about him while growing up. She knew that now was different, that what they were doing was strictly about sex.
“Since you’re so open about sex, tell us how good Ethan is in bed,” Camy had said when Portia had been quiet for too long. “And don’t leave anything out. Ry and I’ve been watching him and all Del’s friends for that matter for years, and we’ve always wondered how they each were in bed.”
“Yeah, we only wondered because Del and Lance would kill you if they even thought one of their buddies put a hand on you.” Rylan chuckled.
Portia blushed. This was actually the real thing; it was a true girls’ night and she was happy to be a part of it. Of course, that didn’t mean she was going to tell them everything about her and Ethan, but she had shared a bit and it’d felt good. She’d also tried the hot wings and almost choked on the spicy hot sauce. Still, being with Camy and Rylan had felt particularly good and that had only been the beginning of their night.
So good that sitting in The Bullpen area of the bar today, she admitted that Providence was really starting to grow on her. With her laptop open on top of a small round table she sat in a cushioned chair facing the main dining room on the first floor. A half empty glass of Sprite and the plate which had held the tuna sandwich she’d eaten for lunch pushed to one side. She’d been here for the last hour working on the first chapters of her newest book and enjoying the scenery.
Ethan was on the early shift today. He was at the bar, taking orders, talking to customers and otherwise looking as sexy as ever. She lost track of how many times her gaze had drifted over to him and her mind had circled back to the time they’d been spending together. Since the storm, Ethan had been sleeping at Sunnydale with her. Even though Portia could happily attest to the fact that they did a lot less sleeping than one would imagine. The thought made her blush as her fingers hovered over the keyboard.
“Thinking of your next sex video?”
She jumped at the words, her surprised gaze immediately finding the slim woman who stood on the other side of the table glaring down at her. Portia’s smile faltered as she stared into familiar eyes. And they were just as cold and dark as they had been years ago when Melissa Bannon sat two seats in front of Portia in chemistry class.
“Hello, Melissa,” Portia replied curtly. She quickly minimized the screen on her laptop and sat back in her chair, hands falling to her lap.
One of her teenage nemeses looked almost exactly the same. Melissa’s hair was still fire engine red, chilling green eyes still looking with judgement onto anyone she deemed unworthy. Portia had been tops on Melissa’s list for reasons unknown. Melissa’s body had matured into a svelte combo of generous boobs, yet her ass had received the same boost. Still, she looked fresh off the pages of a magazine in the fitted cream-colored dress and nude pumps she wore. A large leather boxed-shaped purse hung from the bent arm at her side.
“I heard you were back,” Melissa continued, her tone just a hint shy of disdain.
“I’m not back.” Portia felt the need to clarify. “I’m here on business.”
That was true, even though there’d been a good amount of unexpected pleasure during this business trip.
Melissa dismissed that comment with a wave of her free hand. “Whatever,” she said before flipping her hair back behind her shoulder. “I also hear you’re into the porn industry.” She gave a wry laugh. “I have to say that surprised me. I mean, Poor Little Portia, a sex goddess.” Her laughter grew into high-pitched guffaws that caught the attention of two patrons sitting at the counter that faced the front window.
