Dastardly Bastard(8)

Robert looked back down, his face full of shock. “I don’t appreciate being whistled at like a dog.”

“And I don’t appreciate being looked over like one. Listen, Bob, I suggest you tell your owners to lawyer-up. Because if this shit hits the proverbial fan, you’re going to be out of a job when I own this fucking place.” Donald rolled the brochures and stuffed them in his back pocket. “I’d wipe that smirk off your face, as well. Keep looking down on me. I’ll show you just how big I can get when I’m crossed.”

Donald turned, going to the bellman’s cart where his belongings waited.

“My sincerest apologies, sir,” Robert said.

“Sir this, asshole.” Donald flipped the bird over his shoulder as he pulled the cart through the front doors.





4


JUSTINE MCCARTHY ROLLED OVER ONTO her boyfriend’s sleeping form, needing the warmth of his body. Cold fall air seeped through the tent at an alarming rate, and her feet were frozen solid. Why had she let him talk her into going camping? Because she loved the man with all her heart, that was why.

Trevor was the best of the worst. Atlanta hadn’t given Justine a big pool of winners from which to choose, and in the end, Justine had finally settled on a white boy from Warner Robins, Georgia, an ex-Air Force geek with a penchant for urban wear. Justine’s family called him a ‘wigger.’ Justine just called him ‘baby.’

Nana Penance, Justine’s grandmother, had loved Trevor. The way Nana Penance smiled when she met Trevor had warmed Justine’s heart. Nana laughed at the story of how Justine and Trevor had found each other, thinking that internet dating was ‘of the devil’ before realizing her granddaughter had snagged Trevor in a Yahoo chatroom.

“Seems them internets is good for sumthin’, after all,” Nana Penance said over her cup of coffee. “When you two go’n’ get married?”

The question had made Justine’s breath catch in her throat. She looked at Trevor, and he smiled back, brightly. He seemed to like the idea. Justine didn’t know how she felt on the subject. Not back then, at least.

That had been six months ago, and Nana Penance had died shortly after meeting Trevor, maybe a month, but Justine couldn’t remember. Everything had been a blur—the cold body on the hospital bed that looked far too empty, the news that Nana Penance had diabetes but had never sought out a way of controlling it, the lazy peal of an unattended heart monitor someone forgot to turn off as Justine cried and cried and cried.

Trevor had been her rock, the shoulder she had needed to cry on and more. Her love for him cemented itself in her heart. It was as if all the love Justine had had for Nana Penance transferred into Trevor. Family be damned. Trevor was the man Justine would spend the rest of her life with, if only he would ask.

Trevor whined from under her, his breath whistling. She rolled off him a little, allowing him to breathe easier.

Instead of continuing to slumber, his sleep-crusted eyes fluttered open and met hers. “Hey, beautiful,” he groaned, stretching.

“Hey, baby.” She smiled down at him. “Sleep well?”

“Best in months.”

“Good.”

“You?”

“Other than freezing my black ass off? Fine, I guess.”

Trevor laughed. “Want I should warm you up?”

She remembered their heated lovemaking and moistened. “You did plenty warming up last night, babe.”

“No reason…” He paused to yawn. “Sorry. No reason why we can’t this morning, too.”

“Yes, there is.”

“Why’s that?” Trevor looked thoroughly disappointed, puppy-dog eyes and all.

“Because I need a shower.”

“Sure.” He chuckled. “There’s one right out there behind tree number four thousand and twelve.”

“Funny.” She pushed his shoulder. “Get up and find me a suitable place to clean up. I’m dirty and cold.”

He sighed. “Regretting the whole camping thing, huh?”

Justine looked around the ten-by-ten tent, taking in the small confines better than she had been able to in the dark when Trevor had first erected it—before erecting himself. She shivered against the wind coming through the fine fabric. Other than the chilly autumn weather, she supposed the camping wasn’t so terribly bad. She told him so.

“Good,” he said, propping himself up on his elbows. The comforter Justine had brought from home slid off of him, revealing his muscular chest. She felt her inner lining tighten, but the smell of her body killed the mood.

“Please,” she begged, trailing a fingertip down the front of him. “Let me wash up.”

“Baby, the tour starts in like…” He checked the Sony on his wrist. “… in like two hours. There’s some bottled water in the truck and some soap in my bag. That’s all we got.”

“You’re kidding me. An Aquafina spritz is not exactly what I had in mind.”

“It’s the best I can do. I told you yesterday, no toilets, no bathtubs. We’re roughing it. Remember? Just you and me in nature’s wild.”

“Some wild.” Justine sighed. She had agreed, and last night had been fun. “Okay. For you.”

She kissed him on the forehead. He pulled her close with one hand at the back of her neck while the other found her butt cheek. Caressing and kissing, both of them dirty and smelly, Justine was reminded of another reason she loved him so much as she slid her hand down the front of his boxers to grasp his length.