Hell's Belles. Kristen Robinette

she wore came nearly to her ankles, the effect no less than stunning. Auburn curls wound to her waist, and her ivory complexion was ten years more youthful than it should have been. Cut crystals hung from her ears, matching the crystal pendant that swung between her breasts. The New Age garb was the only hint that Shay’s life had taken a turn down the road less traveled. Mattie sipped her drink and suppressed a surge of jealousy. Did everyone else have to be so damn interesting?

      “Cough up that envelope.” Della got right to the point.

      Shay opened a delicately crocheted handbag and removed her envelope. Mattie eyed her own pedestrian-looking purse, then Shay’s. Heck, she’d probably grown the cotton—organically, of course—spun it and crocheted herself, all the while chanting good thoughts for the universe. Mattie sat her drink down with a thud. Was it the alcohol or was she just becoming a middle-aged bitch?

      Shay added her envelope to the growing pile in the center of the table, her expression serene but not entirely natural. The envelopes themselves told part of the story. Della’s was ringed with coffee stains, Shay’s rumpled but clean, and Mattie’s pristine, having survived its twenty-year wait pressed between the pages of a dictionary.

      Mattie thought about what her envelope contained. This was the one that had started them all, the first time one of her fantasies met paper. And for twenty years it had been her little secret. Proof that she could be naughty when she wanted to. But now she wasn’t so sure. What had been deliciously wicked twenty years ago suddenly seemed a little, well, stupid.

      There was a feeling Mattie got when she was about to do something colossally dumb. It was a creepy creeping sensation that started at the base of her spine and worked its way to her chest like a big hairy spider. It was crawling now. And once it got to her chest, she wouldn’t be able to breathe. She flexed her shoulders as if she could dislodge it. It didn’t work.

      “Jack!” Della’s voice shouted in Mattie’s ear. “Come say hi.”

      What? What? She followed her friend’s gaze to find the silhouette of two men frozen in the shadows of the entrance. One was thin and rather short. The other was obviously Jack. The shadows fell across his face but she’d know that perfect silhouette anywhere.

      “He and his partner are moving back here from Atlanta.”

      Partner… Mattie’s tequila-laced mind turned the word over, trying to make the puzzle piece fit.

      Jack’s posture spelled r-e-l-u-c-t-a-n-t as he crossed the distance to their table. Mattie’s stomach clutched, then froze in a spasm of denial as Jack stood before her. He was wearing a charcoal-gray suit, a stunningly shy grin and…bronzer? She squinted. Mother-of-pearl, he looked like the local news anchorman after last season’s disastrous brush with self-tanner. And to make matters worse, his black hair was spiked and so thick with gel that it could put out an eye.

      “Y’all remember Jack, of course.”

      Shay stood and embraced Jack without hesitation. Mattie watched her friend’s ample breasts flatten against the lapel of Jack’s suit, strained to make out her breathless greeting. Unlike Shay, Mattie was frozen in place, cemented to her seat. Something was off kilter, something—

      “And this is Cal,” Della said, as she motioned the second man to the table. “Cal is Jack’s partner.”

      The smaller man literally seemed to pulse with energy as he approached. His head was shaved smooth, the shiny dome interrupted only by a pair of goggle-like glasses perched atop it. He wore a casual white shirt tucked inside eye-popping striped pants. Mattie felt her eyes go round with realization. No straight man she knew would wear tight white denim with wide brown stripes. She cocked her head, thinking for a moment that the vertical stripes had a great slimming effect. She blinked, forcing herself to focus as her gaze traveled upward, finally resting on a diamond stud that winked in one earlobe. Cal smiled in response to her scrutiny. He had blindingly white teeth and one perfectly manicured hand resting possessively on Jack’s shoulder.

      Oh God.

      “E-excuse me.” Mattie stood.

      “Mattie? Mattie Harold?” Jack held out his arms and her stomach lurched. “My God, you haven’t changed—”

      Neither have you. The normal response formed in her brain but ended as a strangled noise in the back of her throat. “I— I’ve got to…” She stammered, then reached for the obligatory hug. The sound of a million and one fantasies shattering was deafening. “Excuse me for a moment.” Mattie swiped her drink from the table and dashed to the ladies’ room.

      As Mattie hightailed it, Della shook her head. Her gaze fell on her brother, sweeping him from head to toe before settling on his face. “What,” she said slowly, “on God’s green earth happened to you?”

      Jack’s jaw twitched and his eyes narrowed. “Kimee happened to me.” He tried to flatten the spikes on top of his head but they only bent, instantly standing up again like a tinsel Christmas tree.

      Della burst out laughing. “You look like Dennis Rodman and Peter Pan’s love child.”

      “I can’t believe you left me with her.”

      “You showed up out of the blue. I had no choice.”

      Jack’s face was turning a threatening shade of red. “You told Kimee I was on my way to get a photo made for the chamber of commerce.”

      “I did.” Della pretended to swoon, pressing her hand to her chest. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. What was I thinking?”

      Jack raised an eyebrow, then pointed to her drink. “How many of those have you had?”

      “Not enough. Now please explain to me how telling Kimee that you needed a haircut so that you could get your picture made has caused you to look like—” she wavered a little under Jack’s glare “—like a tanning salon mutant.”

      “Because, dear sister, little Kimee was convinced that the photographer’s lighting would…how did she put it?…fade me out.” He rubbed at his face with his knuckle. “She put… What was it called, Cal?”

      “Bronzer,” Cal offered with a sly grin.

      “Yeah. That’s it. She put bronzer on me with a weird little sponge.”

      Della looked at Cal. “And you were…?”

      “Reading Cosmo.” He shrugged, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “What can I say?”

      “Yeah, about that,” Jack interjected. “Try Field and Stream next time you’re in public.” He glanced at Cal’s slacks. “I know subtle isn’t your nature, but you might want to let people get to know you before you break out the tiara.”

      “Oh, please.” Cal rolled his eyes. “This is Haddes, not Green Acres. I think they can handle one gay man.”

      Jack looked serious. “This is Haddes, not Atlanta.” He shrugged Cal’s hand off his shoulder. “And cut the touchy-feely stuff before you give everybody the wrong idea about us.”

      Della straightened. “A tractor and a head of cattle wouldn’t hurt, either.” She fell into a fit of laughter. Shay muffled a giggle.

      Cal winked. “Cows. I’ll get right on that.” He looked at Shay, then gestured toward Della and Jack. “Can you believe these two?”

      Shay smiled, laughter replaced by her usual Mona Lisa serenity. “Haddes is pretty good at taking folks in.” She met Della’s eyes for a moment. “Even people who are different.”

      “So.” Della jumped back to her brother. “Why did you let Kimee do this to you?”

      “I didn’t let her.”

      “Then why are you, uh, tan?” Della leaned forward to get a closer look.

      “Because when I said no thank you, she started to cry.”

      Della laughed. “Kimee does not