Walk on the Wilder Side by Serena Bell

8

Brody

Several days after sex-on-a-boat, I have to go into the office to grab some paperwork. Not coincidentally, it’s lunchtime, which is the best time to show up at Wilder Adventure headquarters, because Amanda, who is a great cook, brings us lunch from her catering business.

I pull into the parking lot on my bike, remove my helmet, and sit there for a moment trying to get my head screwed on straight. I’ve been doing a lot of this—and also a lot of jerking off late at night—since that party.

My phone buzzes and I lunge for it. I’ve been doing that a lot, too, even though there’s no reason Rachel would call me, and many reasons she wouldn’t.

But this time it is actually her.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey.”

She takes a deep breath, which she does when she has to do something that scares her—like the time Connor and I dared her to jump out of the treehouse.

Side note: She did it, and sprained her ankle, and Con and I got grounded for weeks.

“So. I know you said sex toys on the boat was a bad idea, and I totally get it. But my mom said it was one of her best selling-nights, and she really wants us to do it again.” She hesitates. “She’s trying to make enough money to bring my abuelita to Rush Creek.”

Rachel has two grandmothers, but only one gets to be abuelita. I get a strong flash of her, a small, soft woman with a big, strong hug.

“I love your grandmother,” I say, surprising myself.

“Oh,” she says softly. “Yeah. I almost forgot you spent a lot of time around her.”

“I want to help, but—”

But I can see Rachel standing in the boat with her small fingers around an eight-inch silicone cock and I can hear Connor saying, Don’t do anything half-assed till you have some time to sort yourself out.

“Don’t feel like you have to answer right away,” Rachel says. “Think about it. Text me later.”

“Okay,” I say, and hang up, feeling…

Way off balance.

A car pulls into the parking lot next to my bike, and Lucy, Gabe’s girlfriend and Wilder’s savior, hops out. “Hey, Brody!” she calls.

I pocket my phone and follow her. We stroll toward the Wilder offices, which are in a big, revamped barn building. It was originally part of a ranch, but before I was born, the ranch was sold off and turned into housing parcels. Our family home, where I grew up, was one of the houses that got built here. There was a barn on the land, too, which my dad made them leave up, because he knew it would be the perfect new headquarters for Wilder Adventures, which he’d inherited from his own dad. He and my brothers and I gutted the barn and built the new Wilder together.

I loved that, when we were all working on the barn together.

“How’s the boat biz going?” Lucy asks.

I know she’s asking because she’s friendly and supportive, but my hackles still go up a little, because fundamentally, she’s on Gabe’s side. I wonder if she’s seen the reviews. If she knows about the ultimatum. “Fine,” I say, and shrug.

I hadn’t mentioned to either her or Gabe beforehand that I was doing a girls’ night party with Rachel, figuring if it was a miserable failure, there’d be no need to bring it up, and if it was a success, there’d be plenty of time to brag.

It was a success, but at the moment, I’m too confused to feel triumphant. Plus I’m not sure how to bring it up.

I accidentally sold some sex toys in the Wilder name the other nightfeels like a lit firecracker.

Suppressing a sigh, I hold the door open for Lucy, and she steps into the barn.

There are offices at the far end of the room and a big conference table in the middle, with loads of equipment on shelves and racks and in bins around the perimeter.

I loved headquarters as a little kid. It felt loaded with possibility. You could grab an armful of stuff and head out into the woods, or onto a lake, a river, a ski slope. You could have any adventure you could imagine.

That said, since my dad died, headquarters isn’t my favorite place. For one thing, it reminds me of losing him—and of the pain of his choosing Gabe over me to run Wilder. I mean, not that I thought he’d give Wilder to me and not Gabe—but it hurt like hell when he didn’t ask us to run it together. Or even give me a hint that he wanted me to be Gabe’s partner. We were barely a year apart in age, but it had been clear for a while at that point that Gabe was the chosen one and I was…

Well, I was the screwup.

Welcome to my inheritance, which is feeling like the brother who didn’t make the cut.

“Are you working at Wilder this afternoon?” I ask Lucy, to distract myself from all the history and my dark thoughts.

She shakes her head. “Just mooching lunch.”

Lucy spends some afternoons at Wilder, because even though she runs her own marketing company from an office over Rush Creek Bakery in town, we’re one of her biggest clients.

And I’m sure the fact that Gabe’s here is a plus. Not to mention that Gabe’s house is just over yonder, and sometimes they both disappear for twenty minutes in the middle of the work day.

Lucy, who has taken a few steps away from me, suddenly turns back, phone in hand. “By the way,” she says, holding up her phone. “You’re a hit!” She hands it to me so I can see. It’s my Brody’s Boat page, and there are eight new reviews, one from each woman on the boat the other night. They’re all five-star, and they’re all glowing.

Wish high school sex ed had been this matter-of-fact and pleasure-oriented.

Best hours I’ve ever spent on a boat.

A great time in a gorgeous setting.

Every woman should take a ride on Brody’s Boat.

“Gabe, check it out!” Lucy says, before I can stop her.

Lit firecracker. Alert!

Like some kind of turret gun, Gabe’s attention, which had been on Easton, swivels to me. He strides across the room and, when I refuse to hand him Lucy’s phone because lit firecracker, takes out his own and starts scrolling.

Lucy is ecstatic. “There are so many amazing lines from here we can use!” she says. “I’m going to do a whole campaign around this. Seriously. How many of these parties can Rachel do? Find out. Really. We can fill them all.” She smiles at me. “You’re a super genius!”

I realize that Lucy knew what Rachel was selling. Lucy knew, which means Amanda knew, which means she stood there and let me have that conversation with Rachel at Gabe’s party and didn’t try to stop me.

I’m going to kill her.

“It was Connor’s idea,” I say, because I hate taking credit for other people’s shit. “And Amanda’s, too, I guess.”

“I appreciate your shout out,” Lucy says, “but you still get to take credit for recognizing a brilliant idea when someone brings it to you. You’re the business owner.”

Lucy has a way of making everyone feel great about what they’re doing, which is one of the many reasons it’s impossible not to love her, despite the havoc she’s wreaked. Plus, obviously, she’s a great complement to Gabe, since heaping praise on us is not one of his strong points.

I start to say I didn’t know the merchandise was sex toys when I agreed to host the parties, but I decide to shut the fuck up. After all, I did agree to let Rachel and her mom sell stuff I knew women loved. So maybe Lucy’s right. Maybe I deserve some of the credit.

If we’re giving credit, that is, which I’m pretty sure Gabe won’t be doing. Sure enough, when I look up, Gabe has an eyebrow raised. “Sex toys, huh?”

“Yeah,” I say, in a you-want-to-make-something-of-it? tone.

“Congratulations on the good reviews.”

I know him too well to get excited about the compliment. Plus, he’s still frowning.

“But a few good reviews are not a business model.”

And here we go.

“I have a lot of questions.”

“I’m sure you do,” I mutter.

“Is this sustainable? Can you keep bringing in attendees, or will the market get saturated? What if Rachel or her mother decide parties on boats don’t work for their business, then what? Can you convert these customers into ones who’ll pay for other experiences?”

“Gabe,” Lucy says.

“You know these are real questions,” he tells her, in a way gentler tone. “Along with, will there be some customers who don’t like the fact that we’re peddling sex toys?”

That gets my blood up. “They can go fuck themselves. What Rachel’s doing is great. Yeah, she’s selling sexy stuff, but she’s also educating. You should have seen those women. They had fun, and they learned a lot, too. If we have customers who are uptight about this, they can fuck right off.”

Gabe draws back, obviously startled by my speech—and my vehemence.

But he doesn’t argue. He looks at me, considering, and then nods. “I need numbers,” he says. “Show me the numbers.”

And once again I’m staring at his back as he strides away.

Damn it.

This is such a familiar scenario. The way my stomach clenches, I might as well still be the teenager who just lost his first job after showing up late for the third time in a row.

Nothing I do will ever be good enough for Gabe.

Lucy’s face is sympathetic. Her kindness makes me feel, if anything, a tiny bit worse than Gabe’s hardassery.

“You got this, Brody,” she says. “We’re going to make this work. I’m going to go get started on your campaign. Line up as many of these as you can with Rachel and let me know the dates.”

“Thanks.” I hand her back her phone, which she pockets before heading back to her workstation.

I pull out my own phone and take another look at the reviews.

It was fun to talk about this stuff.

What a great setting for a party.

I’m pissed at Gabe, sure.

But for a change, that familiar emotion is warring with an unfamiliar one. It’s definitely quiet, muted—but it’s there.

Pride.

And that’s the emotion that makes me text Rachel:

Let’s do it.