Martini With a Twist

By D.B. Maine

Addison Keller, U.S. Olympic swimmer, is recently home from the London Games. She isn’t looking for trouble or for love, but both manage to find her in the most unexpected way. Addison must navigate between her past tragedies, present public persona and her future happiness all while discovering an unforeseen (and unconventional) love. This unchartered territory inadvertently puts her in danger. In this romantic suspense novel with a “twist,” the story unfolds through Addison’s eyes, as we watch her learn that in the end, love chooses you.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sentia Publishing
• Release date: Oct 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9780997893021

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Martini with a Twist

A novel by D.B. Maine

Copyright ©2016 by D.B. Maine

Sentia Publishing Company has the exclusive rights to reproduce this work, to prepare derivative works from this work, to publicly distribute this work, to publicly perform this work, and to publicly display this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the copyright owner.

Printed in the United States of America.

ISBN 978-0-9978930-2-1

For you and me and F and G

Prologue

I locked eyes with the other driver. There wasn’t enough time to react. It happened so fast. The impact was so hard, that I thought I was going to break into pieces. There was the ear piercing sound of the ripping metal, screeching tires, shattering glass and a scream. Her bloodcurdling scream. I felt my body slam forward against the seatbelt and my head hit the steering wheel. Once the movement stopped I open my eyes. I feel disoriented. I look to my right and see her slumped over the dashboard, her head plunged right through the windshield, shattered glass in pieces around her. She’s not wearing a seatbelt. Everything seemed to happen so quickly after this, there is so much noise and people all around.

Can you hear me miss? Someone is yelling at me. I think I manage to nod my head. Can you tell us your name? I try, but the words get trapped in my throat and all I care about is her. Is she okay? Please let her be okay.

I only had two drinks Officer, I swear! I hear someone yell frantically just within earshot. I looked away for just a second, I didn’t see her car! Oh my God, what have I done? What have I done? The voice is panicked, as I am being wheeled on a gurney and placed in an ambulance. Oh my God! Oh my God! I killed her didn’t I? She’s dead, isn’t she?

She’s…dead? No, that can’t be. No, please, no! We were just talking a few seconds ago.

Everything suddenly turns black.

When I finally come to, I am lying in a hospital bed. My head aches and I notice that I have bandages on both of my arms, the crimson blood slowly swallowing up the white gauze. What happened? Is she okay? Where is everyone? Where are my parents? As I start to open my eyes wider and focus in on my environment, I suddenly see her, standing at the edge of my bed. She is beautiful as always. She doesn’t look at all injured. Her hair cascades in soft waves around her face as she moves closer and closer to me.

What happened? Are you okay? I was so worried. I can feel the tears streaming down my face. When she finally gets beside me, she wipes the tears from my cheeks and smiles softly. As she tucks my hair behind my ear she leans down toward me and I can see that her expression has changed. She seems panicked, almost fearful.

Addison, she says sternly, I need you to remember what I am telling you, okay? I nod my head in response. Do not trust her. Promise me, Addison. Bad things will happen. Suddenly I am at full attention.

What do you mean? Who are you talking about? I am practically yelling at her but get no reaction. What do you mean? Don’t trust who? Tell me! I squeeze my eyes shut in anguish for just a second. When I open them, I am alone in my hospital room.

Chapter One

Is she a martini with a twist? Who?

The hot blonde over there at the bar, directly across from us.

You mean, Addison Keller?

You know her?

Uh yeah, the entire world knows her, Morgan. She won three gold and two silver medals for the U.S. in London this past summer! Swimming. She was the one who missed out on the gold back in ’08 by a tenth of a second for the 100-meter butterfly. Remember? It was a huge story. She left Beijing with just that one silver medal after being the U.S. hopeful. She came back for a second appearance this summer and not only won two silvers for other races but she took the gold for the 100-meter butterfly while setting the world record for it. And snagged two more golds for the 100 and 200-meter freestyle. She’s America’s sweetheart swimmer. Morgan recoils and gives her friend Shannon a bemused smile.

Seriously Erin, you work too much and you need to start reading more. Shannon turns to face her friend. And to answer your question, no, she is not into women! That guy she is with, Declan Brand is her on-and-off again boyfriend of I think a year and a half now.

Wow, okay. I think you know a bit too much about her life, Morgan says laughing out loud. And you know I hate when you use my first name like that. Shannon gives Morgan a dismissive wave, her fire truck red nail polish catching the light.

"I read People Magazine and watch the news. Some of us know how to work and live!" Shannon teases.

Her name is familiar. Morgan brushes her index finger across her lips. I think she’s the swimmer my niece is always gushing about. So, she is a martini straight up, huh? Well, maybe she would like a twist in her life, Morgan remarks playfully while sipping her cocktail.

Ha! Good luck with that, Morgan. Shannon furrows her brow and shakes her head. That girl is way out of your league, even for you. Not to mention the whole boyfriend thing!

We’ll see. Morgan sets down her glass and gazes across the bar at the blonde stranger.

* * *

Oh! I forgot to tell you, Dan texted me and asked if we wanted to go to the Bear’s game next Sunday, he has two extra tickets. You wanna go? Declan waits patiently for my answer knowing full well I am distracted by something going on in the bar.

Addison! He nudges my arm. What! I yell.

The Bears on Sunday? You wanna go?

I’m sorry, but those two women across the bar keep staring at me. You know how uncomfortable that makes me.

Addison, come on, when are you gonna get used to this? You are an Olympic gold medalist, of course people are going to stare.

It’s not like that Decks. These women aren’t giving me the usual, ‘oh there’s that swimmer’ look, they are kind of intense. I shake my head.

Okay, you wanna leave? I feel like Mexican food anyway. We can just walk to Cantina Laredo from here. It’s a block away on State Street.

Okay, yeah that sounds good. Lets just go. I’m starving now anyway and I don’t like eating at the bar here, too crowded. I fib in order to escape the gaze of these women. I am still not used to this attention.

As we walk through RPM Italian Restaurant, I can’t help but glance over at the two women who were staring at me. The one looks like she could be an athlete herself, with long dark hair, stunning blue eyes, and an olive complexion. I would guess 28, 29 years old. Very attractive. Striking, actually. What am I doing? Why do I even care how she looks? As I start to turn my head towards the front door, she looks my way again, and for a moment, our eyes meet. They are so inviting, filled with warmth and kindness. I don’t want to look away for some reason. And then, after a slow and subtle smile, she winks! What! I am so caught off guard I bump into Declan in front of me. He turns around quickly.

Are you okay? He touches my arm.

Yeah I’m fine, this place is just so busy, trying to maneuver through the crowd.

I swing my head back to look at her one more time, but she is engaged in conversation with her friend who is sitting beside her at the bar. She is a slender and attractive woman, with short dark hair, dark eyes, and looks to be about the same age as the woman who winked at me.

This wink haunts me all through my chips and salsa and chicken fajita dinner. I even indulge in a margarita and still, I can’t stop thinking about this wink and this woman. It really caught me off guard. Why would she wink at me? Does she know who I am? Did she want an autograph? A picture? Was she trying to get my attention? And why do I care so much?

Poor Declan, my attention has been elsewhere all night and I know he has noticed. I am sure he did not see the wink. He just thinks I am distracted as usual. I agree to the Bears game during dinner, which makes him happy. Declan pays the server and after she brings him the change we head towards the door. While we stand outside on this beautiful October night in Chicago’s River North Neighborhood and wait for a cab, I look around the intersection, secretly hoping to see this woman, which is not likely in a city of 3 million people. Why do I want to see her again? I just want to know what that wink was about. Declan hails a cab and allows me to climb in first. He slides in next to me and grabs my hand for the ride. He gives the cab driver his address and looks at me for approval. I nod my head and then move closer to him placing my head on his shoulder, my face cools against his leather jacket. We arrive in the Roscoe Village neighborhood at Declan’s apartment. He pays the driver and we clamber out of the cab, a little unbalanced from our very strong margaritas. I stand next to this tall, svelte, very handsome, dark haired, dark eyed man of mine and wished I knew if this was love. Hoping that it is and it’s the kind of love everyone gushes about on TV and in the movies. The kind of love my parents have. He opens the front door, and we ascend up one flight of stairs to his second floor apartment.

I walk into his familiar apartment, feeling at home. I scan the living room and kitchen combo. It’s a small bachelor pad with a mismatched couch and lazy boy, one coffee table and a large flat screen TV that once turned on is almost always on ESPN. He is a huge college football fan. The kitchen is clean, for a guy. Declan doesn’t like dishes in the sink or a dirty counter top.

This is a plus I guess, we could share the cleaning responsibilities if we ever lived together. We have talked about moving in together but I am just not quite ready to give up my personal space. Declan works from home as a graphic designer and I don’t know how it would be to have him around all the time. He is just starting out as a free lancer, which I suppose explains the minimalist look to his apartment. I take off my jacket and lay it down on the couch in front of the TV. Declan opens the refrigerator and grabs a bottle of water. He gestures to me.

No thanks, I’ll just have a sip of yours, I say.

Okay, are you tired? Ready for bed? I know this is his way of asking me for sex. I feel really bad about neglecting him tonight and although I am not really in the mood, I feel like I should oblige and give him some much needed attention. I nod and sheepishly follow him down the hallway and into the only bedroom in the apartment. The hardwood floor of this vintage building moans beneath me with every step. His bedroom is also a little sparse. Furnished entirely by IKEA, he has a queen bed with grey sheets, and a grey and black comforter. His cheap, wooden dresser is neatly organized with his a bottle of CK One cologne (that he has probably been wearing since high school) and his one framed picture of us. On his nightstand there is an alarm clock and a remote control for the TV that hangs above the dresser, which is also a flat screen, and also always tuned in to ESPN. Very romantic. I have always hated the idea of a TV in the bedroom.

Declan unbuttons his dark blue long sleeved shirt and pulls it off one arm at a time. He is left with a white t-shirt underneath. He picks up his iPhone and selects a playlist. Morning After by Howie Day begins to float through the speakers. Wow, a soundtrack? He must really want me tonight. I excuse myself to use his bathroom, directly adjacent to his room. I close the door and lock it, why though? I haven’t locked the door behind me since the first night I slept

over. What am I hiding? I am not myself tonight. I turn on the water and stare at myself in the mirror above the sink. I see a strong woman, long blonde hair that people constantly admire, green eyes and a defined body in my little black dress. What is wrong with me? I have this guy who loves me, who all of my family and friends adore, waiting to sleep with me in the next room. He probably wants to marry me and all I do is question this relationship. Is this love? I so want it to be. Declan makes me laugh, we have fun together, we like the same things, my celebrity status doesn’t bother him, and he comes from a good family. And like a flash of lightning in my memory, I’m back to that woman and the wink! What the hell? Why can’t I stop thinking about this? Declan and I have been to RPM at least five times since I have been home from the London Games, why have I never seen her there before? I am going to have to go back and look for her and ask her. Ask her what exactly, I don’t know. Enough! You have a great guy waiting for you. Now go! I mouth to myself in the mirror.

I open the bathroom door and Declan is down to his red cotton JCrew boxer shorts. I walk over to him and place my right hand on his chiseled body. Not a fleck of hair on his chest, which he jokes, that I should appreciate given I am a swimmer. He touches my hand with his and leans in for a kiss. Our lips touch. I can feel the stubble on his face from a long day without shaving. He pulls me closer while wrapping both arms around my waist. I concede and wrap my arms around his neck. We kiss and he slowly unzips my dress in the back. He uses both hands to pull my dress down from my shoulders. His fingertips gently brushing the sides of my arms, sending a chilled shiver down my spine. The dress falls to the floor and I step out of it, leaving it behind as Declan walks us over to the bed. He sits down on the edge and keeps me standing while he kisses my stomach and slowly pulls my panties down my legs, caressing them as he goes. He puts his hands on my hips and pulls me closer, leaving me no choice but to straddle him as he lies back onto the bed. I lean forward, bending down over him and he pulls my face close to his for a kiss. He tickles my left ear lobe with his finger, which I know is an indication of what’s to come.

He pulls me in, curls his lips and begins his ear-sucking ritual. What is it with men and the ear sucking? I suppose this could be pleasurable if they didn’t insist on so much moisture and tongue while doing it. He doesn’t even concentrate on my earlobe but instead, basically just puts my whole damn ear in his mouth. What is hot about that? He may as well be licking my hair, it would have the same non-effect on me. I want to scream, the neck! Kiss my neck! Kiss the small dip in my neck in the middle of my clavicle, anything but the ear. As I contemplate telling him to stop, he suddenly thrusts his hips upward. He flips me over and he is now on top. I lie there with him in between my legs as he pulls the cups of my bra down and places his mouth around my nipple, sucking, for a moment too hard and I push him away. He thinks I am being playful, but I just need the relief. Declan means well I know, I wonder what he is thinking as he kisses my body and caresses my breasts. I try to drink him in and submerge myself in his scent and his body, but something is missing. My mind wanders-is this what love feels like? Is this what it’s like for everyone? He finally pulls his own boxer shorts down around his ankles eventually kicking them off and I can feel his hard erection against my thigh. He slowly inserts himself, guiding himself into me. He pauses briefly.

Is this okay?

Great. I say. Was that a proper response?

I love you. He whispers in my ear through labored breath.

He says this to me all the time lately. I have technically never said it back.

Me too, I respond quickly because that’s basically the same thing, right? I have convinced myself of that. My mind has gone to so many places while he is inside me, thrusting away. I just keep both of my hands on his back and encourage him. He moans and groans and I try to do the same. I don’t think I am feeling what I should be feeling, but then again I don’t really have a lot to compare this to. A life of swimming leaves little time for dating, much less sex. Declan climaxes, releasing into me and he gently falls on top of me. He rolls over onto his back.

Was that good? he asks. So much better without the condom, right? His voice is husky.

Oh yeah, definitely, I say, hoping I sound convincing. What I am really thinking is, good thing I am on birth control. We usually double up and use a condom but every now and then he forgets. Something about the skin on skin contact.

Declan reaches for his bottle of water on the nightstand and hands it to me. I take a sip and stand up; I take off my bra and lay it on top of the dresser. I open the top-drawer pull out a pair of his boxer shorts and a white t-shirt. I bring them into the bathroom, along with my underwear and change. I use the bathroom, wash my face and brush my teeth with the extra toothbrush I keep here. When I return to the bed, Declan is already asleep, naked. I hate when he does that. I have told him countless times to change back into his boxers before falling asleep after sex. It’s just a thing I have I guess. I switch off the music from his iPhone. I crawl into bed, careful not to disturb him and rollover onto my side, facing away from him. I glance at the clock on the nightstand, 2:03 a.m. I keep thinking about that woman, she was very attractive and I have never had anyone, man or woman for that matter, smile and wink at me like that. The intensity with which she regarded me was smoldering. She was a stranger. I can’t help but wonder if she knows who I am. I can feel my obsession with her slowly start to grow. I need to know. I have to know. But right now I need to sleep.

* * *

As I wake to the sun coming in through the window, I am comforted by the fact that I did not have any nightmares last night, at least any that I can remember. Declan is already up and probably watching ESPN in the living room. It’s Saturday, college football day. I slide out of bed, feeling tired after a restless night’s sleep, and grab my dress. I step into the bathroom, the cold tile under my bare feet sends a shiver through my body. I brush my teeth and change into my dress from last night. As a way to maintain boundaries, I don’t keep spare clothes at Declan’s place. I don’t want to encourage anything yet; the toothbrush alone was a big step. I walk out of the bedroom down the hall and into the kitchen. I see Declan on the couch and as suspected, ESPN on the TV.

Good morning, sleepy head, he teases too cheerfully. Sleepy head? What time is it anyway?

10:00 a.m.

Really? Wow that’s definitely sleeping in for me! I yawn.

Must have tired you out last night, huh? He muses with a sly smile. Oh yeah, must have been you, I say trying to force a smile.

You want some tea? Breakfast?

Oh no, I am supposed to meet my mom for lunch at 1:00 p.m. at Bandera, I reply hurriedly.

Okay, call you later then?

Sure. Actually, I’ll call you when I get a chance. After lunch we might do a little shopping. I’ll let you know. I start to walk toward the front door, until Declan stands. He walks over to me and puts his arms around my waist. He gives me a small kiss on the lips.

Okay, sounds good. Have fun and I will talk to you later then. He brushes the hair off my forehead.

Okay, I agree as I pull away from him and continue to walk towards the door. Declan quickly catches up to me and unlocks the front door and opens it. He mouths, love you as I walk through to the stairway.

Me too, I yell back and I start down the stairs. Its almost like I’m running out of there. I hear the door close and lock behind me and it’s almost a relief. I have been feeling this way for sometime now, but for some reason the events of last night have really amplified these feelings. Now I have to meet my mother and she will no doubt ask me how things are going with Declan. The question is do I tell her the truth? And what is the truth exactly? I am very close with my mother but there are still some things that I hesitate to share.

I exit the building onto Roscoe Street and am able to catch a cab with ease. On the ride to my place in Lincoln Park, I ponder what my mother will think if I ask questions about love and tell her how I have been feeling about Declan. And what about the woman at the bar? Do I even bring that up? Is it weird? She will just tell me I am being paranoid and say the same thing she always says, "Celebrity and fame has a way of bringing out the crazies. In a way she is right, I know this. While swimming in London, I received my fair share of weird and just plain disturbing mail. From a picture of a guy’s penis to a letter filled with words cut out from magazines, arranged to relay the message, I’ll be watching you in your swim suit at the

Olympics along with my bag of tricks," I am the poster child for creepy fans. Even the other swimmers had shared stories that were similar to mine. And they were right when they told me not to worry, it passes or fades and stalkers move on to someone else. I stopped receiving letters when the Olympics concluded.

The cab driver pulls up to my condo on Webster. I pay him and hop out. It is a beautiful sunny day, football weather as my dad would call it. I walk up to the front door of the building and unlock it with my key. I head over to the elevator and press the ‘up’ button. It opens immediately and I take it to the fourth floor. I unlock my front door, close and lock the door behind me. Ahhh, I love my condo. I bought it two years ago and I just love it. It’s totally my style, two-bed, two-bath with a great kitchen and lots of natural light. The living room is large enough for my sectional couch and I love curling up on it and watching a good movie, when I have the time. I head past the kitchen, down the hall, passing the first bedroom and bathroom until I reach my master bedroom. I de-robe, tossing my dress into the laundry bin inside the walk-in closet.

I saunter into the master bath and turn on the shower. I grab a towel from the linen closet and hang it on a hook outside the shower door. A hook, which I am proud to say, I attached myself. The shower is starting to steam up and I open the door and step inside. I don’t take too much time, just the basics right now. I step out and grab a towel. I wrap it around my body and walk over to the tub. I sit down on the ledge off the side and just relax for a moment.

As I watch the water drip off my bare legs, I am thinking about Declan, sex with Declan, love with Declan, life with Declan. Is this what it’s all about? It seems colorless, the sex, the relationship. I feel as though I am just going through the motions sometimes. The sex feels so dutiful. I can’t help but contemplate what would happen if we broke up. Sometimes I really don’t like being in the limelight. It would be all over some magazine cover. And poor Declan, he deserves better. He certainly deserves someone who knows how to love, who is capable of love. I am not sure that ‘someone’ is me. He deserves better, I feel like maybe I should break up with him. I need to think this over, talk it out with someone. Julie! I should call her, she has just been so busy with work, I don’t want to bother her, but she’s my best friend, she’ll understand. Maybe she will meet me for a drink tonight. Maybe we should go to RPM. I can feel the excitement at the possibility of that woman being there. What is going on with me? Ugh! I have to get ready, mom hates when I’m late.

After blow-drying my hair, applying makeup and finally settling on an outfit-an oversized, cowl neck sweater and my favorite pair of Lucky Brand jeans, I am on my way to lunch. I know my mom will undoubtedly criticize my wardrobe choice, always telling me that I need to invest in a personal shopper. You may be one of the most talented swimmers alive but when it comes to style, you have absolutely zero, my dear, she has said to me on a number of occasions. Of course, her idea of style is at total odds with my sense of style but still, she may have a point. I own exactly three nice dresses, one of which I wore last night with Declan. I know I should take more of an interest in fashion given the many appearances I make on talk shows and publicity events, but I am just more comfortable in jeans. Plus I am still getting used to being in the limelight. And it’s not like I am void of fashion. I enjoy a good pair of skinny jeans and tall boots like the next girl. I am just not sure why I have to be decked out in Christian Loubitins to go grocery shopping.

I take a cab from my place to Bandera and arrive on time. I walk through the door to the restaurant and see my mom, a beautiful woman with my same blonde hair, but shorter and it frames her face just below her chin. She looks really good for a woman of 50. She is sporting her usual pantsuit, today in a soft periwinkle color that makes her blue eyes shimmer. Of course she has her custom made Burberry trench coat draped over her arm along with her matching handbag. I watch her for a moment, speaking to the hostess, and no doubt wondering if I will be late. I see the hostess smile and know my mother has said something about me.

Hi Mom! I say behind her and she immediately turns around to hug and kiss me. Hi dear, how are you? She scans my outfit, her eyes radiating with disapproval. Good, I’m starving though! I say trying to distract her from my ensemble.

We are ready, my mom says to the hostess. We follow the hostess to our table, great location of course, in the window overlooking Michigan Ave. My mother has a way of always getting the best of things. She says I should never apologize to anyone for being successful. And I should never feel guilty for being able to afford the best in life. She knows a thing or two about hard work just like me. She is currently the President of a large and very prestigious university. We both take our seats and she stares at me for a moment. The hostess hands me a menu.

Congratulations on the world record, Miss Keller, she says with a warm smile. Thank you very much. I see my mother smiling from ear to ear, as proud as a mother can be I suppose. The hostess leaves the table and my mother starts our lunch chatter.

So, we have much to discuss today. This means someone has called her about a book or an interview