!! WARNING !!
THIS STORY CONTAINS SOME MINOR ADULT THEMES AND HAS SWEARING AND FOUL LANGUAGE,
WHICH MAY OR MAY NOT OFFEND SOME PEOPLE. SWEAR WORDS HAVE NOT BEEN WRITTEN IN ASTERISKS SO
THIS IS A WARNING FROM THE AUTHOR AND EXPLAINS WHY THIS STORY HAS BEEN RATED A 'T'.
- The author apologises for any inconvenience caused and thanks you for your time -
This story is dedicated to Serafim, for being a great supportive friend and giving me inspirations, and to Selena, my first best friend, who got me into this writing network.
I hope you thoroughly enjoy this story - the first one I have written and posted on - so please also review with some feedback! I appreciate that you have taken your time to read this story, it makes me feel that someone likes the style I write in.
Plum Sweet
Chapter One
The moment I left my car I knew something was wrong. The Buick didn't seem right. I walked around the car, staring at the Buick. Its light blue colour was dull against the moonlight. I sighed. Having weird suspicions again, I told myself.
Pretty lately I've been annoyed with myself. I can't seem to do anything right. Just last week my apartment got ransacked. And then my Mercedes was blown up. Right now it was dead in the night. I rummaged in my bag, trying to find my cell phone. Shit, shit, shit, I thought. I didn't leave it in the apartment…Did I? Finally, I found it. My fingers hesitated. I paused, and then called Morelli.
"Hey cupcake," Morelli answered. "Having a good day?"
"No."
"Well?"
I didn't say anything. I bit my lower lip.
"Steph?" Morelli pressed.
"I'm hopeless," I manage to say. "Everything's going wrong. I think someone's going to kill me and that the Buick is going to be sent to car heaven."
"Christ," Morelli said. "What's wrong with you lately? You always come to me when you get upset. Like last time your apartment got burnt to a cinder. You came to me."
"Well…" I paused. Silence. "I need your help again then."
Morelli sighed at the other end. "What now? You need another car?"
"No."
"Then?"
"I'm depressed. Can I stay at your house for a while? I don't feel like staying in my apartment. It's got death cooties. I'm scared of death cooties." You're lying, Stephanie, I said to myself. It's not good to lie. Mental note.
"You shouldn't be lying to me, cupcake. I know when you're lying to me, especially as I'm a cop."
"But I don't want to live in an apartment with death cooties. It scares me."
"Cupcake, you scare me. And I can hear yourself giving yourself a mental note."
"You are such a fucking jerk!" I yelled into the phone. I disconnected and recklessly threw my phone back in my bag.
Life for me pretty much sucks. I've got two men in my life and still don't know where to place them. First thing was Morelli. I'd known him for years. Half the time he wanted to marry me. The other half was spent not knowing what to do with me. And I definitely knew what he could do on the half where he wanted to marry me. That's why I'm always on the pill when I live at his place. Then, our family gets the wrong idea. My mother would think I'd married Morelli and Morelli's family would think I'm pregnant. On the other hand, there's Ranger. I haven't known Ranger as long as Morelli but I'm definitely attracted to him…in a way. I'm not saying that I like Ranger or Morelli better. I like them both. And it's not because they're good in the bedroom. It's because they care about me. Which is the best thing about them both.
My phone rang. I pulled it out of my bag. "Hello?"
"Cupcake, about the moving in thing – "
I bit my lip. "Yeah. What about it?"
"Well you can move in. But you got to promise that you won't blow the garage up or burn the house down or anything. If something like that happens and it's your fault, you're out."
"You wouldn't do that," I said. "I'll pay you rent."
There was silence. "You don't have to pay rent, whatever you're thinking of. I've got a spare bedroom. You can sleep there. Just promise that you won't do anything crazy, Cupcake."
"I don't do crazy things," I retorted loudly, but he had hung up. Argh. I banged my head against the steering wheel.
Morelli's front door opened. The light flooded out from the doorway. Morelli was dressed in jeans and a navy t-shirt. He was holding his gun, staring out at me. I put my head back on the steering wheel of the Buick. The passenger car door opened up and then closed. I felt Morelli's hand on mine. I looked up.
"You coming in or not?" he asked, smiling. He leaned over and kissed me gently. "Come on, Steph. You need sleep. Look at you."
I sighed. "What's wrong with me?"
"Well," Morelli started, "you've got bags under your eyes. Your eyes are bloodshot. Your hair's a fucking mess. You shirt's almost torn to shreds. If I keep listing you'll be here until the sun comes up."
I put my head back on the wheel. "I'm tired."
Morelli slid his hand up my shirt and onto my back. He kissed me on my neck and I could feel his tongue against my skin.
I let out a shriek and took my head and hands off the steering wheel. "OK. I'm going already."
Morelli smiled and slid his hand off my back. He opened the door on his side and slammed it shut. Then he came over to my side, pulled open the door, took my arm and pulled my out. I leaned against him for support. He whispered something into my ear about getting some sleep while I still could, locked the car and holstered his gun. He picked me up and carried me inside.