Saving Emmy by Rayne Lewis

Chapter 9

“Gyrating dicks or angry Brit? You decide.” Maven looked at Eli and Ember sitting next to each other on the sofa.

“Definitely not dicks!” Eli said definitively. “Whatever we’re deciding on, the answer is always, not dicks.”

“Okay, angry Brit, with a dick it is then.” Maven plopped down in the oversized chair and took the remote from Ember.

“But, Magic Mike is a classic!” Ember whined.

“A classic? For real? Do you even know the definition of classic?” Maven schooled her best friend.

“Well...it will be.”

Maven rolled her eyes at her bestie.

Ember continued, “This movie will one day be studied, dissected, and examined in future cinematic classrooms all over the world.”

“You’ve cracked, my friend. No one is going to be studying Channing Tatum’s crotch for cinematography class. The only ones studying his crotch will be the lucky Mrs. Tatum...and also the other three bazillion people who watch the movie.”

“Can we be one of those bazillion? Please?” Ember gave a pleading look.

“Eli doesn't want to watch greased-up abs and sweat-clad men parade their toned, tanned, ripped, muscled bodies across a stage, pumping, pulsating, and grinding to hard beats of music…” Maven’s breathing sped up, so that her chest was starting to heave with every panted breath. “Oh, my...I need a panty change!”

The girls broke out in hysterics while Eli was left wondering if Maven really was going to jump up and dash to the bathroom. He wondered if she kept a spare pair for emergency use in her purse. She used the phrase so often, he didn’t know any more if it was a joke or if she actually got that worked up. He shook the disturbing thought from his head. He was glad to see Emmy getting back to her old self. She still had anxiety and an occasional nightmare, but over all, she was getting back to the girl he always loved.

* * *

After a four-hour marathon of reality cooking, Ember announced she was hungry.

“What food are you in the mood for?” Slate asked from beside her.

At the same time, Ember and Maven both answered, “Mexican!” Then looked at each other and broke into laughter.

“Oh, shit.” Slate put his head back against the headrest of the couch. “It’s Monday!” He uttered in defeat.

“Yassss!” Maven sang.

In perfect unison the girls rang out, “Margarita Monday!” falling into another fit of laughter.

Eli was not up for Margarita Monday. “Maybe we could order Chinese? There’s a place that just opened, and I’ve been dying to try it out. Heard great things about it.” Eli tried to make a convincing argument but knew it was a futile attempt.

Maven put her hand on her hip and glared at him. “Nope. Nope...can’t let you do it. Not gonna let you do it. You are not breaking our sisterhood of Margarita Mondays.”

Eli knew it was a last ditch attempt, but he really didn’t want to babysit while Maven and Emmy got sloshed, three-sheets-to-the-wind. “But, I really have a taste for Chinese,” he tried in his most convincing tone.

“Okay—”

“Really?” Eli’s brows came up in astonishment.

“You didn’t let me finish,” Maven huffed. “I was going to say, okay, you...go get Chinese, and we’ll,” she pointed back and forth between herself and Ember, “we’ll get Mexican.” She looked oddly satisfied.

“But, you two get blitzed. You can’t drive,” he pointed out the obvious.

“Well, no shit, Sherlock!” Maven looked at Eli like he was a dumbass. “That’s why you’ll be dropping us off before you go get your food and picking us up after.”

He watched as Ember sat quietly enjoying the dramatics that never seemed to disappoint when it came to Maven and Eli. Maven adored him but loved to give him a hard time, just because she could. And, Eli allowed it, because one: Maven was her best friend; and two: he adored Maven as well. No way would he ever take shit talk from anyone else.

“You really want that margarita, Emmy?”

“Yes!” Maven answered for her.

Eli gave Maven a stink-eye stare and then turned his attention back to Ember. Ember nodded.

“Told you,” Maven said, matter-of-fact.

Eli ignored her and spoke to Ember, giving a defeated breath, “Chimis or fajitas?”

“Yes!” Maven did a little happy dance in the middle of the living room. Eli rolled his eyes at her. She grasped his face with both her palms and planted a kiss on his forehead. “You’re the best!” she crooned, giving him a wide smile. “I’m always telling Em what a great catch you are,” she said, which made Eli’s heartbeat jump a notch. “But she’s gonna miss that train if she holds out. There’s gotta be plenty of passengers riding that rail.” Maven wagged her eyebrows at him, and Ember gave her an oh, please look.

If only they knew the truth. There’d been no passengers to ever climb aboard the Eli Express. Not that Eli was a prude. He’d never judge anyone for whomever they decided to sleep with, but he never found the one he wanted to make that forever bond with.

Well, that was a lie.

The girl he wanted to purchase a ticket for the Eli Express was sitting right beside him. She was the only one he ever loved, so she was the only one he’d ever consider. He dated plenty of women, but most just wanted to purchase a ticket, ride the rails and abandon the train at the next station. Eli wanted more than that. Call him old-fashioned, but he wanted his first to be his only.

Too many people looked at sex as a physical, recreational activity, and he guessed if it was just sex, that’s all it could be considered. But, he knew when the day came that he made love to his forever, that it would be so much more than just a meaningless hookup. It would be a bond that’d tie him to her for a lifetime.

“Hello? Earth to Eli!” Maven waved her hand in front of Eli’s face. “We gonna get grub, or are you going to sit there being a space cadet the rest of the night? Need to know, or I gotta call us an Uber.” Maven loved to rattle Eli.

But, Eli gave as good as he got. He stood up and stretched. “Space cadet? Kettle, meet pot. Thought maybe you could call a spaceship if you needed a lift to your home planet ’cuz God knows you ain’t bred on Earth.”

Maven stuck her tongue out at him, but he grabbed the tip before she pulled it back in her mouth.

“Awe, that’s not nice, Mavey.” Eli tsked as he held her captive, like a brother torturing his little sister.

“Lhhet ith gooo!” Maven screeched.

“Say you love me,” Eli taunted.

“Nether!”

“Say you love me. Just three words...that’s all I need to hear.”

“Ellli!” Maven tried to plead for him to let go.

“Come on, Maves...I know you want to say it.”

“Emmmba, helth me!” she whined.

Ember stood next to Eli, grinning. “I think you need to say it, Maves.”

“I donth wanth thu.” She feigned crying.

Ember taunted her. “The sooner you say it the sooner we’ll be drinking margaritas.”

The words barely left Ember’s lips before Maven blurted, “I lovth ooou!”

“Awe, that’s so kind of you, Maves. I love you, too!” Eli let go of her tongue.

“Bastard.” Maven ran her tongue over her teeth, giving him an evil eye.

“Wow...such a potty mouth,” Eli teased. He made a show of wiping off his hand on his jeans.

Ember grabbed her purse from the front table. “Don’t know what I’m going to do with you two.”

“You can start by kicking him to the curb.” She motioned to Eli.

“Weren’t you the one that said I was such a great catch?” he questioned Maven as he held the door open.

“You’d never be my catch, Eli. You’re my best friend,” Ember answered, giving him a wide smile.

All humor left Eli’s face.

Maven cut Eli a glance, noting his silence, then huffed to Ember, “Hey, I thought I was your best friend?”

“Everyone’s allowed to have two best friends, ’cuz they’re two different categories...dicks and chicks,” Ember said straight-faced.

Both the girls broke into laughter, and Eli shook his head following the two out the door.

It was going to be a long Monday.

* * *

While babysitting Ember and Maven at their favorite restaurant, El Molcajete, where Margarita Mondays often got out of hand, Eli sat sentry over the woman who drank enough booze that both were feeling the early effects as they sipped.

Usually, it was a gaggle of three—Ember, Maven, and Mary—but with tensions between King and him running high, the girls decided it would be just them. They were drinking margaritas out of what could only be described as a small-sized fish bowl. Ember sipped the last of her first drink while Maven had one down and was working on a second.

“I don’t know why they just don’t make the entire glass out of a salt mold. You know, like one of those salt blocks ‘deerses’ lick. It’d be so much better.” Maven’s words slurred a bit as she spread her wisdom to Ember who was nodding along at the crap flowing out of her best friend's mouth. “I mean,” she paused searching her thoughts, “I have fifty-four ounces of ‘rita here, and by the fifth sip,” she popped the P, ”I’m out of salts. I mean, I turn the glass,” she studied the drink, turning it to show her thought process, “but once I'm back to start...here’s no more salts, and I gots lots of ‘rita left to go.” Her words were relaxed, as was she. Fifty-four ounces plus of strawberry margarita had her feeling pretty good.

Eli glanced at his watch willing the time to go faster. As a Delta, he had an enormous amount of patience, but a man had his breaking point. Sitting recon for days in the remote Afghani mountainsides, no problem. Sitting recon over two slightly inebriated women, one who matched herself with the likes of the great thinking philosophers, Socrates and Plato...Slate would take the mountainside any day.

“Hey girls, wha’cha got going on here?” A woman's voice came from across the bar.

Eli went on high alert, even seeing the girls clearly knew the woman.

“Imogen!” Maven squealed, almost toppling herself off her barstool as she rushed to embrace the pint-sized woman. Maven was usually high-energy, but with a few drinks in her, the girl was wound like a top. Ember climbed off the bar stool and made her way to the huddle.

“Did you come to eat or drink? ’Cuz if you came to drink, better order now, ’cuz Maven’s drinking the bar dry.”

Imogen took in Maven and grinned.

“Oh, you hush, boo. You’re a lush, too,” Maven giggled at her rhyming words. “You’d think she was a teetotaler she’s sipping so slow.” She tried to hide the words behind a side hand, but it was obviously meant for Ember to hear. Maven smiled at her bestie.

“Where’s Mary?” Imogen scanned the empty stools nearby.

Mary had introduced Ember and Maven to Imogen after she got the job at Hellforce, explaining to the girls how it was Imogen who pep-talked her and worked her up with enough confidence to get the job. Since then, the group were regulars at the coffee shop Imogen owned.

“She’s not joining us tonight.”

“Married life, huh?”

Eli kept an eye on the group from his table in the corner. He could see Ember’s discomfort with Imogen’s question. She probably didn’t want to go into detail about the break at Hellforce with Slate and King and that it had slowly bled into her friendship with Mary.

“Eat or drink? Which one you doin’, Immy?” Maven slurred a little over her friend’s name.

Imogen looked crestfallen and defeated. She quickly masked it and answered in a cheery tone, “I was supposed to be meeting a date here, but he’s a half an hour late.” She did air quotes around the last word. “And, he’s not answering any texts or calls.” Her voice feigned an upbeat tone, but her sullen look gave her away. “I don’t think he’s so much late, as he is not coming.”

Her friends did what friends did best and consoled her.

“Oooh, ghosted.” Ember tipped her head to the side. “That’s too bad, Immy. I’m so sorry.”

Maven shook her head, “His loss.” She swung her arm around her friend's shoulder, pulling her into a side hug. “That’s fine. Who needs men?” She threw a disdainful look over at Eli. “I don’t have a man, and I’m perf’ticly happ-ly.” Maven tripped over the last words. “Ember doesn’t have a man, and she’s happier than anyone I know.”

Looking over at Eli, she gestured to him. “Eli doesn’t have a man,” she leaned in closer trying to whisper, but her judgement in volume was impaired, “but, I don’t think he swings that way.” Her brows pulled in on themselves. “But, he’s cranky all the time, so I don’t think he counts in this scenario.” Her bubbly composure came back. “Like Meatloaf sings, ‘Two out of three ain’t bad.’” She sang the last words and the girls burst into side-splitting laughter. Even Eli had to chuckle at Maven’s exuberance. He was happy to see Ember laughing again. With Maven’s crazy antics, never knowing what the girl was going to do next kept Ember’s mind off the fact that she could be in danger.

“My God, girl!” Imogen said to Maven. “How much have you drank?”

Maven held up one finger.

“Only two?’

Ember raised Maven’s second finger. “Yeah, two fifty-four ouncers.”

“Damn, girl. Why aren’t you on the floor?” Imogen chuckled.

Maven shrugged and led her friend over to an empty stool. “This round’s on me. What’ll it be?” She laughed, again at her rhyming words.

Slate approached the group and pinned Maven with a stare, his eyebrows raised, “No more for you.” His tone held a stern warning.

Maven huffed. “You're not my dad.”

“I may not be, but I am your ride home and I don’t need you puking in my truck.”

“I promise I won’t puke.” Maven held up three fingers in the sign of the Girl Scout promise.

“You’re not a Girl Scout, and I’m not going to chance it.” He gestured to her drink, “Finish up the fish bowl you have in front of you, and we’ll call it a night.”

She pulled her face back then turned to Emmy. “Such a buzzkill.” She pointed in Slate’s direction and poked his chest. “That should’ve been his nickname in the Army, Buzz Kill.”

“Drink up.” Eli pushed her drink towards her and waited for her to comply.

“Yes, Sergeant Kill.” She saluted him and took a long pull from her drink.

Eli turned to the newest member of their clique. “Hi, I’m Slate...um, Eli,” he corrected, extending his hand to the newcomer.

Imogen eyed him up and down and took his proffered hand. “Imogen. Single and looking. And, you look fine!” She perused him once again.

Slate smiled. She was barely five feet tall, standing on her tiptoes and cute as a button.

“Nope. Can’t have him, Immy,” Maven said matter-of-factly. “He’s Emmy’s.” She got a shocked, confused expression on her face then repeated, “Immy, Emmy...Immy, Emmy,” then chortled.

Ember reeled back, “He’s not mine!” She looked over at Eli. “Eli’s my best friend…” She corrected before Maven was going to butt in, “My best guy-friend. We grew up together,” she told Imogen.

“Dicks and chicks...separate best friends,” Maven added as clarification for Imogen.

Imogen scrunched her face, seemingly baffled, but didn’t ask.

“Imogen owns Brews & Books, the coffee and bookshop downtown.” Ember told Eli.

He nodded, knowing of the little shop. “It’s nice to have met you, Imogen,” giving her a genuine smile. He pointed. “I’ll just be over there.” Then he walked to the table where he could see the ladies but still give them room to finish having girls’ night without hovering. Seeing the group prattling on and laughing with each other, he thought about his team—well, his former team—and wondered what they were up to. He hadn’t heard from them, with the exception of his best friend, Cypher.

Cy was keeping him informed of their findings and what was happening with the situation concerning Bazwar. Last he heard, Bazwar wasn’t talking and his bail hadn’t been posted. The fact that the Bazwar family was still MIA had him on edge. Although Dorian was the target, Eli had a gut feeling Ember was a target as well. His gut wouldn’t settle, wondering if Ember was still in danger.

He hadn’t spoken to Cy in the last week. He knew the guys had taken a mission and returned, but he wasn’t privy to any details. His mind ached at the fact he hadn’t joined them. Never had he missed a mission in the five years since he’d joined Hellforce. But he didn’t regret his choice to leave to keep watch over Ember. He couldn't live with himself if he stayed on the job and something happened to her. He wasn’t chancing her safety to anyone else. He’d rather die than to see one hair on her beautiful head hurt.

His attention was drawn back to the three friends as Ember threw her head back and laughed and the others giggled. They were talking about God only knew what, and it made him miss the guys even more. If not on a mission, once a week they got together for beers, or a cookout, or had evening bonfires just sitting around shooting the shit. They saw each other every day at work, but it was nice to have time outside the office where they could just be guys and not worry about the next mission or prep that had to be done.

Forty-five minutes later the girls called it a night and he was heading back to Ember’s house, three ladies in tow. Imogen had come to the bar in an Uber waiting on her no-show date. She made a phone call home, to whom Eli didn’t know, but she continued girls’ night without a care in the world, seeming to have the weight of the world off her shoulders. There was no way Eli was letting the slightly tipsy woman catch a ride with a stranger. Maven had insisted that she continue girls’ night back at Ember’s house, though by the sounds of soft snoring coming from the back seat, he had a feeling it would be a pajama party and not an extension of Margarita Mondays. Eli’s watch would extend overnight.