Cheap Sunglasses

By Mara A. Miller

After one too many bad decisions, The Mae Flower has fallen entirely in Mae's lap. It's to teach her a lesson, according to her father. And worse? She has to manage it without a cook, bartenders, AND a crappy menu.

Dan is trapped in Kentucky with a broken car after trying to help his sister at his grandmother's request. It's by

• Language: English
• Publisher: Kingston Publishing Company
• Release date: May 8, 2023
• ISBN: 9781645334545

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Copyright

Cheap Sunglasses is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

CHEAP SUNGLASSES: A NOVEL

Copyright © 2020 by Mara Miller

All rights reserved.

Editing by KP Editing

Cover Design by KP Designs

Published by Kingston Publishing Company

The uploading, scanning, and distribution of this book in any form or by any means—including but not limited to electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the permission of the copyright holder is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized editions of this work, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Table of Contents

Copyright

Table of Contents

Dedication

Prologue

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

20

Extras

About the Author

Also by the Author

About the Publisher

Dedication

We both want to be Mae. We both want to live a life unburdened by responsibility. I think that is why we love Mae so much.

This one is for you, sweetheart. I miss you. You’re one of my best friends. I’m gonna have to get over myself and come visit you in Canada!

Prologue

MAE

I’m hovering outside the graveyard where my best friend is buried, and it is impossible for me to imagine ever having a family.

My friend’s problems were never my own. As adults, we would be fully capable of taking life by the balls.

…I was a selfish, crappy friend.

Gwen Justice especially suffered from how awful I was when she first started dating Jay. Of course, I was there for her, but had I really shown her the support she deserved? Not even close.

I wipe the tears from my eyes and sigh. We had promised each other—after getting my head out of my ass—that we would be roommates until we turned thirty. Nothing would get in our way.

Then, Gwen got herself pregnant and suddenly, she had a human to care for. I tried to fool myself into thinking my friend hadn’t permanently altered her life, we could still be roommates and best friends, even beyond thirty. We’d be like Patsy and Edna in Absolutely Fabulous, forever boozy and silly together.

Not only did she hide the fact that Jay wasn’t Amy’s father, but she got engaged to the bastard and moved back to Kentucky with him while I remained in New York during my art major phase.

I wasn’t perfect either.

But… Seeing such a good friend go through such a shitty relationship? It made me realize I can be selfish, so long as I’m there for the people I care about. We all go through our own rough times, and it’s not safe to let anyone go through it alone. I’m not the type of girl to be tied down. Even now, Jay is still causing problems, and that’s because Gwen wasn’t strong enough to take care of herself.

I knew everything. I knew Jay wasn’t her daughter’s father, that he was abusive, that Gwen was unhappy. I should have done something, but it was like Gwen couldn’t remember to pick up the phone to call me after she moved. Maybe I should have told her brother what was going on sooner. I should have spoken up, but when I finally did, it was too late.

No. No relationships for this girl. Flings, yes. But relationships that result in marriage with kids?

No, I want no part in any of it.

1

MAE

Ugh…where are my Maui Jims?

It’s too bright. It’s highly unlikely that my sunglasses will make it easier to see my phone, but I want them, anyway. It feels like white-hot pokers are stuck through my brain. Hangovers only get worse the older I get.

The first notification that pops up on my phone after I pick it up is a text from Carole.

Mae! Where the hell are u? I can’t believe u abandoned me at the bar… at least 1 of us is getting laid.

I can’t believe myself.

I made a promise to be there for my friend. Care repeatedly reminded me of her emotional fragility as I watched her struggle over the nasty split with her husband and a custody battle over their kids. I’m on a vacation, and had had other plans, but decided Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, would be as good of a place as any to rest and recreate while I deal with my friend’s ex-husband problems.

I still can’t believe myself.

After Care is taken care of, I’ll continue my original plans. Mom and Dad will just have to deal with me not working for them in the bar for another week while I focus on getting my shit straight. I’m taking this vacation because I deserve it. And… I’m contradicting myself. I’m not awake enough to think clearly.

I booked us a hotel room, dropped our things off, and declared a need for a drink as soon as we got here.

I hadn’t even been aware that a divorce was imminent when I last spoke to Carole.

What did I do instead of being there for her? I abandoned her for a stranger with a big dick and a bottle of white wine.

But… Damn it. The entire point of this trip in the first place was to get completely plastered and to have sex with men I’ll never see again. I need to erase the past six months. We’ve already been here for a night, and I planned on taking at least two weeks off. I booked the room for three days even though I’m not sure we’ll stay here that long.

I’m well aware that this is only a temporary fix. My mistakes follow me everywhere, no matter what I do, but a small reprieve for a few hours with a stranger at night is something I’ll take if I can get it.

One of those mistakes just happens to be my friend, a heartbroken mess in our room on the sixth floor. Another one is in the bed beside me with his hand between my legs.

I sigh and put my phone on the nightstand. It would be so easy for me to wake him up. I could just ravage him as he did me the night before; he won’t mind. It’s hard to give a damn about his name, or to wonder where he’s from, I only need a reason to avoid Care for a little longer. Sex is a perfect solution.

Fuck.

No.

I can’t do that.

As much as I want to have endless day sex, I can’t abandon her. She needs me something fierce. Besides, I’m not willing to deal with the ramifications of a pissed off, brokenhearted Carole. I need to get her back up north as soon as possible so she can properly deal with this shit with Ben. If I don’t, I might take her home with me. It would piss off Ben if she’s not there to sign the final divorce papers on Monday, and I could make sure she’s okay, since I’m genuinely worried about her for the first time in months.

I’m still beating myself up over the last time I let a friend’s silent cry for help go unnoticed.

I’m certain that bringing her home won’t be a good idea, otherwise I would have taken her straight home with me to Kentucky instead of the little Myrtle Beach detour. Dad still doesn’t know about my brief poly amorous relationship with Ben and Care six years ago, and I'd like to keep it that way.

It’s definitely a better idea to let Care do her crying here at Myrtle Beach where I can be there for her without the pressure of being surrounded by people we know. I’ll be there for her, hug her, and tell her what a gigantic asshole Ben is, but I won’t take her back to Kentucky with me. I’ll be a better friend than I was to Gwen, and then I’ll send her back to New York where she belongs. She was made for that city. She might not realize it now, but she wouldn’t be Carole Lawson without New York City.

I shake my head. I can’t dwell on the past now, needing to haul ass and find my clothes before the sexy man beside me wakes up. If I accidentally wake him up, I won’t say no if he asks me to stay. Then again, I also don’t want to be kicked out like a used toy. Both scenarios would suck.

The problem is, I have no fucking clue how to get away from him. With his head buried into my shoulder and his hand between my legs, moving away without waking him up is a challenging bitch. His warm breath keeps tickling my ear. I scoot away a little to test him. He doesn’t stir except for his hand slipping onto my thigh and I hope the snoring is a sure indicator of his deep sleep. Something snags my skin and it makes me wince. To hell with this slipping away unnoticed business, I’m not that savvy.

I pick up his arm and can’t stop staring.

He is wearing a gold Rolex.

Maybe I should wake him up for another round.

Seeing that Rolex makes me think it might not be so bad to have a lover who can buy me nice things.

He groans beside me and moves his hand, so I release it. Something tugs on my hair. Gross. Some of it got into his mouth. I take my hair out and spend a minute releasing the rest of it from underneath his shoulder.

My phone buzzes on the end table. As much as staying behind tempts me, I need to go. Care won’t stop blowing up my phone until she knows I’m safe. I did leave her with no clue of where I went with a strange man, after all.

It takes a lot of twisting and maneuvering to get free because he tries to throw his leg over mine. He’s pudgier than I remember. I manage to get one foot on the ground, but after some serious acrobat-worthy moves, succeed in standing. Thanking the higher powers for yoga. I stand, scowling at my tattered dress on the floor, and then tug for a few minutes on the flat sheet under the duvet until it comes loose. I wrap it around my body and huff. That was way more work than I wanted to do. This isn’t the first time I’ve done the walk of shame in a hotel hallway with a hangover.

Where are you going? he asks, his voice thick with sleep.

I’m gaping at him like an animal frozen in headlights.

You aren’t who I slept with last night.

He’s dazed, not fully awake. I’m probably not making sense to him, but I had a completely different image of the man who took me to bed last night.

What are you talking about, baby? We had an amazing time last night.

No. This is not the man I slept with last night. The man who rocked my world had been about twenty-five, with a flawless baby face and ripped abs. He’d even worn a suit. This one has scraggly dishwater brown hair and a receding hairline. I dart my eyes away and see shape-wear draped across the edge of the bed.

He wore shape-wear.

His overly round stomach juts out from under the covers. I think I might puke. What the hell possessed me to sleep with an old fat man with a receding hairline? What man wears shape-wear?

I clear my throat.

So, I thought.

He laughs. His voice sounds nasally, not deep and rich like I thought it sounded the night before. He scoots toward the edge of the bed, his belly fat jiggling as he moves. He reaches for me and says, Come back to bed…

I grab my phone and dart out of the way. Nope. He is not touching me again. Big nope. I don’t care if he might have wanted my hand, I’m pretty sure that hand was headed toward my butt.

I’m sorry, I really need to go.

****

The staircase is tempting.

I’ve lost my beloved shoes.

I’ve pressed the up button on the elevator three times now, hoping my bed mate from the following night doesn’t decide to come after me.

It took me twenty minutes to get away from fat receding hairline guy. All because he didn’t get it. I made another mistake; no doubt about it.

He wanted to get me breakfast. He wanted my number. He started to squeeze back into the shapewear, and that’s when I made a beeline for the door, only grabbing my phone and sunglasses before he realized I was gone. I wanted to get my shoes. I wanted them so bad, but he had his ass stuck up in the air while he wiggled his belly fat into the shapewear and I nearly barfed.

I will forever miss those shoes. Velvety, six inch heels sharp enough to be considered spikes, with fake crystals lining the back. I’ll never find another pair like them.

I also didn’t want to know what his reaction would have been had I told him we made a mistake last night that should have never happened, and so I took the opportunity to flee without a second thought.

In the time spent hiding in the stairwell with a bedsheet tucked around my body, waiting for him to go back into his room with a disheartened look on his face, I probably could have made it back to mine and Care’s hotel room. Instead, my legs are achy, and I don’t want to think about what kind of bacteria I might contract walking down all those steps to the sixth floor.

Finally, the elevator door opens.

I sniff and stand taller.

A shocked woman with her small daughter and an elderly couple stand inside. Because I don’t want to scare the little girl for life, I try to readjust the sheet into a toga. It’s okay. Sort of. It’s a little hard to do without a boob popping out.

Morning y’all, I say, in the sweetest Southern Bell accent I can muster. Isn’t the sun big and pretty this morning?

The elderly woman gasps when I push my way in so I can press the six button to my floor.

The offended mother scowls at me and makes her daughter turn around. I roll my eyes behind my sunglasses and lean against the wall. The elderly woman smacks her husband and he snickers.

What’s wrong? I say before my morality can catch up with my mouth. Haven’t you ever seen a walk of shame before?

The elderly man grins at me while both women gasp in shock. I roll my eyes and tap my fingers against the elevator wall, especially when the mom covers her daughter’s ears with her hands.

Have a little decency, she hisses.

The elevator opens on my floor. Yeah, I say, shrugging. That’s not exactly my thing.

****

I’m vigorously scrubbing my teeth in my hotel room.

Care gives me a knowing look through the bathroom mirror. I pause briefly to meet her gaze, but only long enough to bite down on the toothbrush and readjust the sheet around my torso.

My cheeks flush. Care won’t stop staring at me and smirking.

Did you have fun last night? she asks.

Fuck you, I say over my tooth brush.

Care snorts, covering her mouth in an attempt to cover her laugh.

I roll my eyes, spit into the sink, and rinse my toothbrush.

I hate you, I say.

Hey, I wasn’t the one who abandoned my friend in a time of need. Serves you right.

You sobbed even after I got you drunk. What else was I supposed to do?

I don’t know… be there for me? She raises an eyebrow. Like a normal friend? I needed you last night, and you knew alcohol wouldn’t solve my problems. She throws her hands up with a huff. Instead, it just reminded me how pitiful my life is when you went off to have sex with a complete stranger. Why did you even come to pick me up if you weren’t going to be there for me when I needed you?

I’m completely ready for a fight, but the hurt tone in her voice derails my need for an argument.

I sigh and lower my toothbrush.

Care has a point. Admitting that sucks. She’s usually always right.

I release a deep sigh. I’m a bitch.

You are… she nods, but I’m not judging you.

I never said you were. It’s just hard to listen to you talk about Ben.

Care looks away. As much as I want to be there for her, I’m wondering what went through her mind when she asked me to pick her up. We tried a relationship—the three of us. Me, Ben, Carole. It was an experimental stage I needed to go through in college. Now that I’m older, I’m happy with one man or no man now. I never want to share a partner again. There is too much jealousy. What if, by some miracle, I really do fall in love? I don’t want to risk that happening only to have him fall in love with another woman because I let him mess around. She hasn’t told me what happened yet, but I have a feeling that is why she is currently going through a divorce. He must have met someone else because they had an open marriage, and now he wants to be with that one person. I don’t ever want to put myself through that hell.

When Care became pregnant with Chance, I ended things, even though they didn’t want me to. It’s been a few years now.

Care sighs and looks at me again. I know.

Now I’m the one avoiding eye contact. I can’t help it. We haven’t seen each other in nearly a year even though we both lived in New York. I might want to be there for her as a friend, and I will always come running if she needs me, but now I almost don’t know how to act around her and it’s awkward as hell.

I need to get over myself. I look at her again, ready to say something, but I just don’t know how to make her feel better.

Going through a divorce hasn’t treated Carole well. She’s too thin. Her usually gorgeous chestnut hair lays flat in a messy side bun, and she has bags under her eyes. I thought I loved this girl once, and even though I’ve since learned it is a love based on friendship, I hate seeing her like this. Her wrists are far too bony. She’s one of those women that other women hate because she has given birth and you can hardly tell since she’s so thin.

I need to change the subject. We can talk about the pending divorce without mentioning Ben. We did it the entire trip to South Carolina so there isn’t a reason we can’t do it now.

You’re still wearing your rings, I say.

Surprised, Care looks at her hand.

I… it’s…

Her eyes tear up.

It’s okay, I say, interrupting her. I reach out and soothe a hand over her shoulder to make her look at me. I don’t pay attention to the sheet when it pools around my feet. We’re going to the beach. Go get on your swimsuit.

What does the beach have to do with my rings? A little sob escapes Carole’s throat.

Stop asking questions! I laugh, shoving her in the direction of her bed. Swimsuit on!

It’s sixty degrees outside!

I don’t care; it’ll get warmer. We’re going to look at the ocean like I promised you we would.

I can see it from the balcony… and I didn’t bring a bathing suit.

Care, honey, will you stop fighting me? Get your pretty behind in one of my suits. I have like, five of them.

Care sighs in defeat.

"Fine. You make no