Love on the Boardwalk Page 7

  The casinos in Atlantic City were just as big on decorations as a theme park. Caesars had the whole Roman Forum thing going on with girls in plumed gladiator helmets and little else posing with lucky winners, a toga bar, and marble columns everywhere. The Wild Wild West, including a mechanical bull, silver mining cars and a bar that looked like it was carved out of a desert mountain range, occupied part of Bally’s. But the Atlantic Dunes Resort Casino took home the prize for cheesiest décor, hands down.

  Every wall had a floor-to-ceiling cartoon mural of beachgoers beneath an almost solid roof of umbrellas. Each gambling section was denoted with a kite-shaped sign. Crashing waves echoed through the sound system. And animatronic sea gulls flapped from corner to corner. The whole thing seemed kind of pointless to Brad. Since all you had to do was walk outside, cross the Boardwalk and experience all these things for real.

  But something still didn’t add up for Brad. “So why the road trip?”

  They headed down a hallway lined with slot machines. Darcy put herself in between the two men and grabbed both their hands. “We talked about it a little. A non-honeymoon sounded flatter than old soda. Atlantic City is more fun as a group activity.”

  “We can dance, drink and party in AC way better than we would’ve at some stuffy country club wedding reception.” Coop tugged at the open neck of his pale blue shirt. “Plus, no ties required.”

  “And this is a good relationship hurdle to get out of the way,” Darcy added. “Coop and I have never been on a trip together.”

  Brad snorted. “Well, I’m not sure that making it a threesome with me is what’s good for your relationship.”

  Darcy came to a stop. Patted his cheek. “We just want to help cheer you up.”

  “There’s a lot of that going around. Your pal Trina’s on the same mission. And I gotta say, she’s doing one hell of a job.” With a head jerk, he indicated the entrance to a family-style Italian joint. Coop stepped up to give his name to the hostess wearing a tie covered in wine bottles over a tight black shirt.

  “You ran into Trina? Talk about random.” Darcy bit her bottom lip. “I wonder why she didn’t tell me.”

  “Maybe she didn’t want to blow her deep cover,” he said, tongue in cheek. “Anyway, her job’s wrapped up. I’m sure she’d love to see you tomorrow.” Yup. He’d just thrown Trina under the bus. If Brad couldn’t talk her out of pulling more shifts at Club Eden, maybe Darcy could. Kibosh this whole trumped-up investigation kick she refused to drop. Trina insisted on still waitressing at the strip club. She said it’d be stupid to toss away a job that brought in enough to cover her expenses, and it gave her cover to keep investigating Shorty. Technically, they were good reasons, but Brad wasn’t thrilled by the idea.

  With an arm wave, Coop circled them over to the bar and a high table covered with a red-and-white-checked cloth. The candleholder was a straw-wrapped Chianti bottle. Frank Sinatra crooned from the speakers. And the whole place smelled of garlic and tomatoes in a way that made Brad’s mouth water.

  “It’ll be about fifteen minutes before we get a table. Let’s hang here and grab a cocktail.” Coop hitched one leg up onto the black leather stool.

  Darcy patted him on the arm. “How about you start without me? I want to call Trina. See if she can meet me for lunch tomorrow.”

  “Good idea. Brad and I can use that time to knock out a round of golf.” Coop kissed her, fast but hard, branding her before releasing her into the wild groups of luck-drunk people.

  They both watched Darcy walk away. Heck, half the restaurant probably watched her walk away. The combination of dark hair and light green eyes along with her above average height brought attention to Darcy, even though she never noticed. She had the ultimate girl-next-door vibe—sweet, smart and easygoing. Whereas Trina had more of a female Dennis the Menace vibe—sure to fall ass over ankles into trouble, but endlessly entertaining.

  After ordering a round of gin and tonics, Coop eyeballed him. Hard. The way he eyeballed suspects. “What’s with the stare?” asked Brad. “It’s way more freaking me out than cheering me up.”

  “I’m trying to figure out what’s with you and Trina.”

  Coop used to be as dumb as a sand crab when it came to relationship stuff. Being with Darcy must’ve juiced his relationship-detecting antennae. But they were guys. Which meant they didn’t need to talk about this. At all. He cut his eyes away to look at a travel poster from the 1950s of Rome. Some woman stomping a tub of grapes in her bare feet in front of the Coliseum. Yeah. ’Cause that happened all the time.

  “What’s to figure out? We’re friends.”

  “No, you’re friendly,” Coop corrected. “When you’re around me and Darcy. You haven’t laid eyes on each other since June. Until now.”

  Next he looked at a poster on the back wall for Venice, full of gondolas in a row. A place it had never occurred to Brad to go. The travel bug had never really bitten him. But he’d pay just about anything to be there right now, instead of here, having this conversation with Coop.

  “I didn’t LoJack Trina and hunt her down. We ran into each other. No big deal. We’re having fun.”

  “Uh oh.” Coop rested his forearms on the table. Leaned in closer. “Don’t tell me you guys did it?”

  “Jesus Christ,” Brad exploded. Yeah, it was noisy and crowded in the bar. Nobody was paying attention to them. Still he couldn’t believe Coop would just come out and ask him such a balls-to-the-wall question. “Didn’t you send me up here to do just that?”

  “Not with Trina.”

  “You’re not her dad,” Brad threw back.

  “You’re not answering.”

  If it was anyone but his best friend giving him this third degree, Brad would just get up and walk away. But then the waitress came over to throw down cocktail napkins printed with the flag of Italy and pass out their drinks. It gave Brad the time to dial back his annoyance enough to reply. “I don’t owe you any explanation. The good guys don’t kiss and tell, remember? But no, we haven’t gotten horizontal. Yet.”

  “Good. ’Cause I’m thinking maybe you shouldn’t.”

  Oh, no. He could and would do Trina if he wanted to. Brad could also do that lingerie-model-type blonde in the corner who’d been eyeing him since they walked in. Hell, he could do both of them at the same time. And it still wouldn’t be any concern of Coop’s. “Since when do I need your approval every time I plan to roll on a condom?”

  “Since you screwed things up with Dana.”

  Coop might as well have punched him in the gut, because all the air left his lungs in a rush. “I thought you were supposed to be on my side. My partner.”

  “I am. Which is why I’ve held off on this ass-kicking for so long. But you seem ready now, to face up to a couple of facts. I’m just going to be real with you for five minutes. Don’t worry, I’ll be done before Darcy gets back. We won’t gang up on you.”

  A big gulp of his drink froze the roof of his mouth. It did nothing to cool down Brad’s temper. He took his stirrer—blue and topped with a plastic seagull—and jabbed it at Coop. “Let’s go over the facts of the case one more time. Dana left me. She dumped me. She took my heart and cut it up into confetti. I didn’t do anything.”

  Coop shrugged. Swirled his ice cubes around. “Kind of my point.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Yeah, Dana’s a cold-hearted bitch for walking out on you to go climb the corporate ladder. But what everyone’s been too chicken shit to mention is that you’re accountable, too.”

  “Excuse me?” How had a fun dinner out turned into a mini-therapy session? Wasn’t this breaking the guy code? They weren’t supposed to delve this deep, get into feelings and all the mushy stuff. It all made Brad squirm. And then the music switched over to Sinatra singing “Ain’t That A Kick In The Head.” He didn’t need a res
taurant providing an all-too-on-point soundtrack for this little chat.

  “You didn’t do anything,” Coop continued. “When she started getting super busy with work, you didn’t try to support her or partner with her. You just moped around being lonely. In fact, you turned around and buried yourself in your work. Your life had just as narrow a focus on the MSP as hers did on her career.”

  Technically, it was all true. He’d taken extra shifts. But only because Dana was out all the time. Brad thought it was better to work than to sit at home playing video games. “Her work stuff went right over my head. All of that talk about markets and values and the yen versus the dollar. Made my eyes glaze over.”

  “Well, did you try to learn about it at all? Spend a day doing a web search to get some clarity? Ask for pointers?” Coop leaned in again, voice pitched low. “Try to connect with her on any level, anywhere, besides in bed?”

  Brad half rose from his stool. “You are so far out of line right now—”

  “Sit down. I’m almost done.” Coop waited, arms crossed, until Brad sank back down. “I’m not pushing your buttons for the hell of it. If you were going through women like potato chips during a bowl game, I’d let it lie. Figure you were getting her out of your system, one orgasm at a time. But Trina’s already as good as a little sister to me. I don’t want her to be on the tally board of your rebound chickfest. She’s a relationship kind of woman. And I don’t see that you’ve done a single thing to figure out where you screwed up your last relationship.”

  Brad threw back the rest of his drink and signaled for another. He’d give Coop exactly two more minutes of flapping his gums, and then walk out if it didn’t end. Mostly because he couldn’t stand his cousin saying out loud the very same thoughts that had poked at his subconscious for the last few weeks. “First of all, Trina’s the least serious person I’ve ever met. That’s what makes her so much fun. I think you’ve got her all wrong. There’s no way she’s looking for more than a good time.”

  “Trina’s sweet. Got a heart as big as the moon. She might not be looking for more, but she sure as hell deserves it.”

  Ouch. That hit home. Mostly because it was something he should’ve thought of himself. At the very least, he owed Trina a conversation about it before he stuck his tongue down her throat again. With less heat, he continued. “Secondly, what do you want me to do? Write I didn’t try hard enough on a chalkboard a hundred times as atonement? Go talk to a shrink?”

  Coop clapped him on the shoulder. “Talk to someone. Your sisters. My sisters. Your mom. Even me. Everyone’s been waiting for you to reach out, but there’s been complete radio silence from your end about the breakup. They’ve all been on the verge of chewing your ear about this for a while. I held them off. Told them I’d handle it.”

  Holy shit. The thought of his mom having the same talk with him that Coop had just barreled through struck terror into his heart. Brad had broken up innumerable gang fights. Had chased down a murder suspect. Gone into a crack den to confront five dealers, all high as a kite and armed to the teeth. But none of that scared him even a tenth as much as discussing with his mother where he’d gone wrong in his failed engagement.

  His fear must’ve washed across his face, because Coop nodded smugly. “Thought so. I’m your best case scenario.”

  Although it tasted as bitter as straight tonic, Brad knew he owed Coop for keeping the rest of the family at bay. “Thanks for having my back.”

  “I always do.” Coop lifted his fresh drink and clinked glasses with Brad. “Same as how I’m always here for you. Always have been, always will be. No matter what else changes, you can count on me.”

  Weird thing to say. “Why—what else is going to change?”

  Coop’s eyes widened for a split second—a sure tell that he was hiding something. He did the same thing when he bluffed in poker. “Slip of the tongue, is all. Doesn’t matter. We’re talking about you.” He waved his hands, as if calling a runner out at third. “Don’t get me wrong. I don’t want to ruin the night, or this trip, by getting into it now. The subject is officially closed. Just promise me you’ll think about it.”

  “I have been. More than you know. I swear.” It just all sounded so much worse coming from Coop than his swirling 3:00 a.m. thoughts when he couldn’t sleep. When Brad thought about dinners with Dana in those last six months together. How they’d trickled down to a date night once a week, or less. Sex definitely less, if he could tear her away from her laptop. How she’d held onto her phone more than his hand.

  That he’d never said anything because he didn’t want to start a fight. And how the more Brad thought about it, that was a pussy excuse. Being scared to rock the boat was no way to prepare for a life with someone. He knew better. After all, he had his parents’ rock-solid marriage as a guide. Neither one accepted less than one hundred percent from each other or their kids. Why had it taken him so long to remember that?

  “Trust me, nothing would make me happier than seeing you back out there knocking girls for a loop. The catch is that Trina isn’t just any girl. She’s practically family. Keep that in mind when you’re deciding whether or not to keep it in your pants.”

  “Ooh, what’s Brad keeping in his pants? Or who is he pulling it out for?” asked Darcy with a wide smile as she slid onto the third stool.

  “Jesus, you startled me.” Coop put a hand to his heart. “And I don’t ever want you talking—or thinking—about anything to do with Brad’s pants and what’s in them. All of it’s off limits. Especially now.”

  She turned that bright smile full force onto Brad. “Why now? Did you get lucky last night? Was it a big-haired, big-hearted Jersey girl who took pity on your tale of woe? Or some buttoned-up, glasses-wearing grad student looking to make her trip to AC super exciting?”

  “Don’t bother. Brad’s already informed me he won’t kiss and tell.” Coop kissed the back of her hand, then covered it with his own. “Whereas I will kiss you and tell you how beautiful you look tonight.”

  “Nice try, Romeo. But I’m not that easily distracted.” She bounced on her stool. “I want to hear about Brad’s hook-up.”

  “No can do.” He did see a small shot at payback, however. Something that would keep Coop up wondering half the night. So Brad waggled his eyebrows as he leered at Darcy. “You might have some luck getting the details out of your pal Trina, though.”

  Chapter Six

  Head sticking out of the car window, Trina inhaled a big gulp of the morning-fresh sea air. It was a great contrast to the stale smoke that she’d sucked in during last night’s waitress shift. “Pull over,” Trina ordered. To make sure Darcy obeyed, she flapped her hand right in her friend’s face.

  “What? Is there a bug in the car?” Darcy asked as she hurriedly steered to the side of the road.

  “Look at that—it’s a merman!” Throwing open her door, Trina rushed over to the tall statue. It sat on a little island of greenery at the entrance to Gardner’s Basin. The bearded stone merman glowered, as though protecting the edge of the Atlantic touching the shore.

  Darcy shook her head. Her long ponytail thwapped at her shoulders. “No, I’m pretty sure that’s Poseidon. Neptune. Greek or Roman, he’s definitely the king of the ocean. See the trident he’s wielding?”

  Kings were fine, but Trina had a fascination with mermen stemming back to childhood. Something about the freedom of swimming around every ocean mixed with the iridescent awesomeness of their tails. Okay, when she got to be a teenager, it became more about the fact that in pictures, mermen never wore shirts and were incredibly ripped. As she snapped off a few pictures with her phone, she said, “It could be an armed merman soldier. He’s riding a fish like he’s swimming off to battle.”

  “If you look closely, beneath his seaweed toga, those are knees. Let it go.” Darcy’s navy wedge sandals scuffed noisily across the dirt back to the car
. “I swear, if a merman swam up right now, you’d hop right into the ocean with him. No questions asked.”

  Entirely true. If life was going to toss a merman at her, why on earth would she waste time asking questions? Act first, think later. Some people might call that approach backward, but it always worked for Trina. As she got back into the car, she resisted the urge to scan the calm blue water for even a vague hint of a tail and bare, muscled chest.

  “Every girl has her own fantasies. There’s no need to judge mine. I don’t hassle you about your thing for vampires.”

  Darcy steered them around the statue and into the parking lot of the quaint maritime shopping village. “Vampires aren’t slimy and scaly. Vampires are sexy. I don’t have to give up oxygen to be with a vampire.”

  “No, but you’d have to give up garlic bread and shrimp scampi. Ooh, and those garlic rosemary fries you love so much at that brewpub.” And...now she had a craving. Maybe they should lunch first and shop afterward. So what if it was only eleven o’clock? The yearning for a perfectly crisp French fry knew no time boundaries. She’d worked hard the night before, trying to keep her eyes on Shorty and the dancers who lingered at his table along with working her own section. Trina deserved to blow off steam and just enjoy this time off.

  “Don’t ruin my fantasy with a reality check.” Darcy grabbed her sun hat, purse, sweater, water bottle and camera.

  Trina, on the other hand, shoved her phone into one pocket of her shorts, and patted the other to be sure her bundle of cash was there. Her hands were free to carry whatever purchases they might make here. Jewelry always called out to her when browsing. She also wanted an adorably tacky souvenir of Atlantic City. A magnet with a giant crab crawling over the name of the city. Or a snow globe with tiny dice rolling around amidst the string of high-rise casinos at the water’s edge.