Stronger Together: A second in the Allouette Series a Novel About Sisters

By Michael Stone

Nicci Bleu goes on vacation to Tahiti to explore her southern hemisphere. Life is, after all, what you don't come dressed for.

Jordin La Toi becomes a government hacker while preparing to journey to Paris to attend the reading of her father's second will worth 149 million.

For Nicci and Jordin, who remains and whose remains are questions that cannot be answered with just one more mocha.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Feb 18, 2018
• ISBN: 9781543927115

Book preview

Acknowledgement

CHAPTER ONE Tahiti

Few things are more memorable than a woman in a white see-through surrong with purple Tiare flowers and a black string bikini top. See through? Maybe just enough for the late afternoon sun to pass light directly between her legs all the way up, leaving nothing to speculate, while she assumes a stalking position, waiting for the patrons’ appreciation before entering the resort’s poolside bar.

The Lioness scans the room and the streak of tigers, before moving toward the Tahitian watering hole, like a big cat on the hunt. Men could see the surrong flowed freely, following her from the small of her back, like a waterfall, over her perfect precipice, hanging down to her knees.

Her blond hair was pulled partially over her face and back to one side. A fresh orchid placed behind her ear. Men looking up from their drinks, subconsciously sat up straight, sucking in their guts, their jaws dropped. Their brains now out of gear, forgetting they were waiting for their significant others, hypnotized by the large breasted, full-bodied woman who approached slowly, walking across the room, crossing one beautiful leg in front of the other, her sandaled feet finding their way across the bamboo floor.

Men started taking mental pictures, their motor drives clicking relentlessly. If a bystander could have read their minds, they were thinking, this is why I came to Tahiti.

Of all the pool bars in Tahiti, she picked this one. Was it meant to be? Maybe. I would love to have her, but God, the test drive would probably kill me. How would I explain that to my wife back home? I don’t want to risk this woman, any woman, finding out. Me, acknowledging I’m not man enough for her. So I’ll just let her go … . This time.

The men continued to watch intently. Those drinking rums were able to keep one eye on their glass, the other on the lioness. Who was she waiting for? Where would she sit? What if she came and sat down next to me? What would I say? What did I used to say?

What will I do when my wife walks in and asks where her seat is? Do I get up and we move to a table or do I turn and pretend I’ve never seen her before? These are all questions; one’s players ask themselves, and challenges the newly divorced or separated ask, doubting their judgment in the ritual of settling.

Settling occurs when a man is in desperation, in need of ending a saga in his life or when the bartender announces last call. The algorithm is not how attractive, but will anyone see me leave with this woman?

The lioness walked past the men at the bar slowly, finger outstretched, almost as if she was going to reach out and touch one on the shoulder, and she won’t bite you, and she won’t bite you, but she will bite… . YOU.

At the end of the bar, the man-boy bartender is watching. His eyes are shifting from side to side; shining a whiskey glass as if he was trying to start a fire.

Next to him, is a man with black hair hanging over his collar, clean-shaven within the last hour, because that’s how long his shave lasts, and a white shirt.

He is shaking a tall, thin glass of Pina colada. He is looking at his watch trying to figure out how much time does it take a beautiful woman to make herself beautiful.

The woman sits down and nestles her ass into the worn bamboo bar stool cushion next to him.

What will you have? the bartender asks.

A glass of water, please, the lioness said.

Would you like to order a drink?

No, thank you. I’m waiting for someone to buy me one, the woman said looking at the man with dark hair sitting next to her.

Salut, the black haired patron said slightly raising his glass in her direction.

Salut, is her sultry reply.

Ca va? he pitches. How’s it going?

Comme ci, comme ca, she swings back. Easy come easy go.

At this point, the other men have picked up on their dialogue. Some because they are in a French protectorate. Others, because they speak a little French, are hating themselves for not trying out their French pick-up lines.

Qu’est-ce que tu fous la? she explodes in a tranquil voice. What the hell are you doing here?

J’avais soif, he said looking down at his glass ignoring her. I’m thirsty.

Tu viens souvent ici? She said tossing her hair back, a clear sign she was trying to flirt. Do you come here often?

Non.

Vas-tu m’acheter un verra? she asks. Aren’t you going to buy me a drink?

As-tu soif? he asks without regard. Are you thirsty?

Mes levres sont seches, she said, slowly rubbing an ice cube over her lips back and forth. My lips are dry.

Amener la femme a boire, s’il vous plait, he asks quietly. Get the lady a drink, please.

J’aurai un mojito, she informs the bartender. The bartender rushes off to the mixing station and returns momentarily setting the glass down in front of the woman after rubbing the maroon bar counter with his towel.

At this point, every breath taken by the men at the bar is in quiet desperation. They want to see where this goes. If their wives or girlfriends show up, they will wisk them aside to be quiet so they can wait to see how this plays out.

Vous venez de vous lever et quitte la piece, she said looking down at her glass. You just got up and left the room.

Je pensais que vous aviez fini, the customer responds. I thought you were done.

Je n’ai jamais fini, the lioness declares loudly. I am never done.

The men’s eyebrows raise in unison, and their eyes roll back in their heads. A man, heavy set with a mustache, an ex-jock with a sad comb-over and two gray-haired men who could be brothers, wearing matching shirts, long white socks, and orthopedic shoes, who were traveling together with their fifty-something wives were leaning forward to hear every word.

Reviens dans ma chamber, she commands quietly. Come back to my room.

The words echoed through the room. Even the surf hushed to hear it. The man took a slow sip. He pulled the glass away and slowly rolled its contents back and forth in his hand.

Non, he responded.

Non? the lioness repeats slightly shaking her mane.

Non, he replies in a firm voice.

Pourquoi pas? she asks squeezing her lips together in a pout. Why not?

J’ai faim. Je veux manger en premier, he states. I’m hungry. I want to eat first.

Si je vous nourris, puis-tu revenir dans ma chambre? she asks with carnal intent. If I feed you, will you come back to my room?

Silence.

Si je vous nourris, puis-tu revenir dans ma chambre? she said in a louder voice standing. If I feed you, will you come back to my room?

Silence.

Tu es impossible, she cries out slamming her glass on the bar. You are impossible.

Oui, he replied in the stillness.

Oui? she repeats like a young lamb.

Oui, allons manger, he directed. Let’s eat. The man stood up, as if turning to walk out alone.

Enfoire! The woman shook her mane in disgust. Bastard!

The two turned and threw back swallows, slamming their glasses down and walked out of the bar.

Some of the patrons unconsciously got up off their stools, and momentarily prepared to follow the couple out of the giant grass shack at the edge of the pool to the restaurant next door. It was as if they were leaving to see a gunfight outside.

The couple, Nicci and Michael, now swinging hand-in-hand, smiled looking into each other’s eyes, laughing. Both loved foreign films and romance. They loved each other even more.

CHAPTER TWO Anchorage

As the sun peaked over the frozen snowy peaks of the Denali, nothing could have prepared the wilderness silence for the incoming assault of a masked rider punching the throttle of a black and chrome Harley gangster bike.

It was May. The sky remains illuminated all night for another two months. The rider was in thermal underwear and black leathers. Goggles and a heated mask protected the face. Hanging out the back of the jacket was a blond horse’s tail as big as the Alaska wilderness.

When she let out the clutch, the bike roared again, this time nearly breaking the necks of the moose and caribou foraging for grass within earshot of the Iron Maiden. The bike was beautiful. Every time she moved her new boot under the shiny shift pedal, a wide smile spread across her lips. Lips worth protecting with the finest lip balm money could buy.

In her mind’s eye, she replayed the day before at the dealership. She asked the bald salesman with the gangster soul patch and head tattoo, to show her a bike made just for her. He started off by telling her she would have to relax and let him take a few measurements.

Hi, I’m Chugg, he said pulling out a measuring tape and walking slowly around his customer. He put his finger firmly on her left hip and pulled the tape across her small butt to the other side.

Hmm, Chugg mumbled.

Hmmm? the customer mimed.

Now, I need to do your inseam, he said.

Standing up or laying down? she asked.

Standing, unless you lay it down a lot, was his reply without skipping a beat.

You won’t need to stop at my thighs, go all the way up, the customer challenged.

I ride tight, referring to hugging the frame with her crotch and legs up close to the tank.

Chugg kneeled down on the floor and placed the end of the tape under her black leather boot before pulling it up quickly to the top at the inseam poking it with his finger into the crevice.

No thighs here, he said, scratching his head, wishing he could take the measurement again.

Anything else? the customer asked knowing full well the measurement was a gimmick for the amusement of the salesman. She then repositioned her non-touching thighs two fingers apart.

Have you ridden a bike before? Where do you like to rest your hands? he inquired.

I’ve ridden before, was her reply. I don’t like monkey bars. I don’t ride high and wide. In fact, I usually have my hands resting on the lap of the guy up front. But today, I’m driving.

Come, he said hypnotically, motioning with his index finger to follow him to the back of the store.

She followed him to the back room. It was empty now. At closing time, it would be full of bikes from the line displayed out front.

This is a brand new model we just got in. This bike was made just for you. If you look closely at the ride, you see the designer used a full figured woman for inspiration. If you start at the back of the bike, you see a super wide rear tire. Gangster look. It’s very sexy and makes for a very comfortable ride. When I look at the back of this bike, I see a woman’s ass. Your ass. Curvy, rounded. I can practically see you hanging out the back of a pair of leathers. When you look down at the chassis, you see where the very back end is wide and comfortable.

Then your eyes follow the seat up to where the gas tank starts. The bike has a very narrow midsection like a woman’s waist. And then your eyes are drawn further up towards the front where the tanks are hanging. Their lines make you want to run your hands up and down them like they were a woman’s breasts. The tanks are oversized and are designed to hold a lot of fuel for long distance riding. Everything in Alaska is long distance. Harley put a lot of thinking into this one.

Bend over and look at it from the front. Way down, Chugg instructed. The forks and headlight are beautiful. The chrome calipers are showy. You can’t take your eyes off of them. They are like women’s earrings. The wheels are five spokes, black, and chrome. The freshest design out there. Mount this ride, and you are going to get a lot of attention no matter where you go, whether you are on it or not.

People are going to wait to see who comes out to claim it. This bike is you. I can show you a bagger or a cruiser, and they are special. But this bike was designed for a woman like you. There is nothing you can do to dress this up until you get on it. Go ahead, straddle the seat with your feet down and check it out. Put up the kickstand and tip it from side to side, Chugg challenged the customer.

She threw her leg over the bike and tightened her thighs around the place where the tank met the black leather seat. It had a natural feel. The bike was designed to give special comfort to a woman who would be sitting at a traffic light feeling the cam vibrate with every piston cycle.

She rocked the bike side to side and tested the feel of the calipers in her hands. She pushed the bike slightly forward with her strong long legs and tried the feel of the brakes. Nicci started out with a slight smile, which grew into more of a sense of familiarity and affection. She had ridden this bike before. In her dreams.

I think it’s starting to grow on you, Chugg commented. What’s your name?

Nicci.

If I get so fortunate to write this up, so you can ride it out of here, I’ll need a last name, he said, knowing full well a trick of the trade was getting the last name as a sign the buyer was hooked.

Bleu. Nicci Bleu.

Chugg extended his hand to the customer straddling the black and chrome bike.

Nice to meet you, he said while shaking her hand as if it would be the last time he would ever get to touch her. I used to know a Nicci.

No you didn’t, she calmly replied while squatting down low to look at the bike from a different angle.

Yeah, you’re right. I didn’t. But I wanted to, Chugg confessed.

You’re my first Bleu customer, he said faking a laugh.

And you’re my first blue Chugg today, Nicci said laughing back. What does Harley call it?

The Breakout, Chugg said proudly.

Breakout?

Yup. The Breakout is a softtail high output Screaming Eagle Twin Cam 103B engine. It comes with an 18’ 240 mm rear tire, the widest ever put on a production motorcycle. The frame is low profile which means it has drag bars, stretched out and aggressive. The front has wide forks and chopped dragster style fenders. As you can see, it comes with a side mounted license plate so it won’t take away from the rear tire. You want to know the price?

You going to give me a discount? Nicci asked raising her eyebrow.

I can’t do that. It’s a new floor model. But I can throw in some ass-essories, Chugg laughed.

I need warm boots, anything you got heated, a new coat, leather pants, fancy ones and the warmest gloves out there, Nicci demanded, knowing at this point, she had full control of the deal to be made. I just got off the plane, she admitted.

We have all of the riding gear you need right here, Chugg assured.

Mr. Chugg, how much are you going to take me for today? Nicci asked.

Twenty-three and some change. And my name is Myron.

No change and I want all of the riding gear thrown in, MYRON, Nicci demanded.

I dunno. I’ll have to ask the manager, and he’s not here today, he responded.

I thought this was YOUR store, Nicci said smiling and biting her sunglasses flirtatiously.

You got me … . Don’t you even want to ride it first? Myron quizzed.

I’ve ridden bullet bikes in LA and BMW bikes across Europe. I’ll manage somehow. Oh, and a passenger seat too, Nicci ordered.

Myron looked up into the sky as new fantasies filled his head.

Myron, I can read minds, Nicci confided in Myron while lightly patting him on the shoulder.

You been to Gwennies, across the street yet? Myron asked trying to change the conversation.

Just this morning. It would be the first reason why I would move here, Nicci confided.

Oh yeah? What would be the second reason? Do you want to eat lunch there?

No response.

Do you want my service guy to go over maintenance with you? Myron asked.

I’m okay. I used to turn a wrench here and there, Nicci confessed.

Really? Well then, anything else the bike needs? Myron reviewed.

A Screaming Eagle Heavy Breather Performance Air Cleaner Kit.

Deal. Now, I am going to make you pay … I mean, How will you be paying for this today? he asked.

She pulled a black American Express out of her purple bra, handing it over to Chugg before he could blink. He kept turning the card over in his hands as the card was slightly warm and had just come from a place he would never get to go.

Oh, she added. I need you to take my car back to the Enterprise rental place at the airport.

Really? Myron remarked now unsurprised.

I can’t do the Ride with YOU and take the rental back at the same time. Seal the deal, Myron.

Would you like a job here? he asked with a masochistic tone of his voice.

After I worked through all of you here, then what would I do? You’d get mad at each other and likely end up closing the store. We don’t want that, do we? Nicci said expressing false concern.

No, that would be terrible. I have two day-cares to pay for, Myron pleaded.

Chugg held the card close to his heart, spun around like a schoolboy and headed towards the register. He looked back to make sure he hadn’t imagined the whole thing. Crouching in front of the bike, with her feet spread, was a woman in denim and a purple thong who was so hot she was making the wax blister on the hardwood floor. She was going on a mission. Not out of love. Just gratitude.

The memory lasted a moment. A log hauler’s lights appeared off on the horizon heading towards Nicci. She returned her focus to the dry road and the ever-changing yellow lines for passing on hills and large over-sized trailer rigs.

Healy was just a few minutes away and hopefully, so was a good cup of coffee.

The memory returned. Nicci met a few of Chugg’s friends, who just happened to drop by. Along with the staff and six customers, they came to watch her tear out of there in her new leathers and sunglasses, hair blowing back as she heavy throttled it out of the parking lot past Gwennie’s Old Alaska famous restaurant.

Nicci continued on her way for another two hours before deciding to stretch her legs at Trapper Creek. Trapper Creek was a gas station with a convenience store about as big as a lemonade stand you had as a child, out on the front lawn with a cupcake pan for a cash register. It did have coffee with an actual coffee pot; you poured yourself honor style. The baked goods consisted of a brand that went out of business then came back, tasting worse the second time. There was no hot food served here.

She did get to see an Alaska State Trooper pumping his gas. A Ken doll. She thought about saying Hi, but at the time he was showing off his new white Durango to another customer. He was blond, young and looked like a Marine recruitment poster. No sooner than Nicci came out of the bathroom, he was gone, and no one remembered which way he went.

Two older guys were talking to each other like