by Hart, Cary
“How gracious of you,” I mumble.
“If you need anything, call the office, my secretary will get a hold of me.” Jeffery throws me one little bone before he turns and walks out the door, but not before bimbo baby momma pipes up.
“That’s me! Right, Pookie Bear?”
Jeffery grumbles something about later, and before I reach out and yank her back by her platinum extensions, I slam the door.
“Jeffery has a little dick. Little dick.” Kramer finally gives his two cents as he bops up and down, ruffling his feathers.
“Shhh! Kramer, no. I told you that was our—” I stop myself. He’s right. Jeffery has a small dick. Not as in teeny tiny, but as in pencil-thin. Actually, I’m pretty sure my vibrator is twice the size of it.
Running to my bedroom, I fling open the door and skid to a halt. Everything is packed up like he said. My bags are on the bed, the closet doors are open, and my clothes are gone. Jeffery never intended for me to stay for as long as I needed. He wanted me out. That’s how much I meant to him. He wasn’t trying to do me any favors by getting everything together and switched over. He was making it easy for me to leave and for baby momma to move in. Well, I’m not going to give them the satisfaction.
Forgetting everything, I reach into the nightstand, snag the velvet bag, and run back through the house and out the front door, trying to catch Jackoff and Bimbo Barbie before they leave.
“Hey, asshole!” I holler from the top step as Jeffery opens the door to his black, overpriced SUV. “If you want to keep this one, you may want to give her more than you’re working with, if you know what I mean.” I wink as I pull my very large, very pink vibrator and throw it his way. “Use this so you know how a real orgasm sounds.”
“What in the…?” He coughs as his eyes scan the area to see who’s watching.
“That’s right. I faked every single one. You, my friend, have a teeny tiny baby dick. If you think what you have is enough to keep someone like her.” I shrug. “Good luck.”
“She’s joking.” Jeffery laughs nervously and points to me. “She’s upset. You know how women are,” he says to the neighbors, who have front row seats. “I have a…” He holds his hands wide, as if they care.
“Poogie Bear, let’s go,” Angel whines. “I’m hungry.”
“Yeah, Poogie Bear, why don’t you go?” I urge him along.
“Clover, I thought you were classier than this.” He shakes his head as he rounds the vehicle.
“Yeah, I thought you were forever. Guess we were both wrong.” I flash him my biggest go-to-hell smile before I turn to address the neighbors. “I’m so sorry. I guess I got carried away back there.”
“Don’t worry about it, sweetie.” Mrs. Hawkins, who joined Mr. Hawkins halfway through my outburst, nods toward the road. “Looks like he had it coming.”
“Yeah, I guess he did.” I glance back to see Jeffery pulling away.
“It also looks like he took your advice.” She giggles. “You didn’t need that thing anyway.”
“Nooo!” I twist to see the vibrator gone. “He didn’t,” I gasp.
“He really did.” She winks as they both go inside.
I didn’t plan to lose my shit on Jeffery, but one minute, we were perfect, and the next, he was standing next to his pregnant mistress introducing her to our neighbors. How was I supposed to know I was going to turn into a name-calling, dildo-slingin’, crazy ex-girlfriend? I’m not sure there is an etiquette on breaking up.
Heading inside, I gather up the few things I do want to keep. My fuzzy blanket, my favorite whisk, and the picture of my parents. Everything else is just stuff.
Grabbing the suitcase with all the necessities, I throw in a couple outfits, shoes, and all my jewelry—everything I could possibly need to get me through the weekend until I can schedule a time to get Kramer and the rest of my things from Jeffery.
It’s kind of funny how I’m almost thirty and everything I’ve worked for my entire life fits into one single suitcase.
How is that for planning?
CHAPTER 3
CLOVER
I never thought I would find myself here, in the parking garage, at Austin Montgomery’s apartment. Yet, here I am, staring at a cinderblock wall, wondering how I’m going to explain this. How do I say, “You were right! Jeffery’s a douche and now I’m homeless?”
My “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” ringtone, fills the car and drowns out the self-doubt. Scaring the bejeezus out of me.
Girls don’t just want to have fun. They want to get married and live happily ever after. Fun is temporary. Love is forever.
“Um—hello?” I answer with a question, even though I know who it is, and brace myself for her celebratory verbal parade of questions.
“I’m going to forgive you for not calling right away because I get it,” CJ blurts out, barely pausing to take a breath. “You probably got your french vanilla on after he popped the question, but come on, it’s been like two hours and I’m pretty sure vanilla has a time limit.”
“CJ, we—”
“Oh-me-gee!” she gasps. “You sprinkled that shit up, didn’t you? I mean, I always knew you had it in you, but I-I’ve just waited so long for this day.” CJ begins to fake cry, bringing out all the dramatics. “Well done, grasshopper.”
“CJ, we didn’t sprinkle it up, we didn’t even have french vanilla.” I try to get through to her, but nothing seems to work.
“I’ve read about this,” she carries on. “I think there was a Buzzfeed article or something about how some couples after they get engaged like to wait till after the wedding to relive the first time all over again. R-E-S-P-E-C-T, my friend. I couldn’t do that, but to each their own.”
“He left,” I blurt out.
“Oooh! Then hurry and give me all the deets before he gets back,” CJ pries.
I love my friend, but this is her trying too hard. She’s never liked Jeffery, and now I’m beginning to understand why.
“CJ, you can stop pretending to be happy for me because there’s nothing to be happy about. Jeffery left…for good.”
“Fuuuuck!” CJ moans. “You were trying to tell me and here I am being all extra. Sometimes I wonder why you’re even friends with me. I’m such an asshole.”
“You’re not an asshole.”
“Yeah, I am. A big fat hairy non-bleached stinky asshole…with dingleberries.” CJ laughs.
“Dingleberries?”
“Yeah, Google it.”
“I’m not in a Google mood.” I find myself whining.
“Gasp.”
“I know.”
“Why don’t you come over? We can order takeout, braid each other’s hair, make voodoo dolls…” CJ rambles on and on about drinking and playing dashboard confessionals with her new webcam and who knows what else before she finally realizes what this means for me. “Wait! Does this mean you’re homeless?”
“Something like that.”
“Shit, Clo. You can come live with—” A knock interrupts us. “Oh, good! I thought I would have to persuade you.”
“I’m not—”
“Get your ass—oh? Wait…you’re not…um…here?” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “This isn’t you.”
“Nope, it’s not.”
“Well, then, hold please.” The background becomes muffled before her voice comes over the line again. “Okay, I’m back. As I was saying—”
“CJ, as much as I love you for offering, I’m going to pass.”
CJ lives in a one-bedroom loft apartment. Even though it’s fairly open, there is no privacy, and right now, I need exactly that.
“Cheese’n’rice! You spoon a girl one time—one time!—and she holds it against you for the rest of her life. I told you, I can’t help it what my feet do when I fall asleep.” Her laugh vibrates through the phone.
I can’t help but join in. It’s the perfect medicine to forgetting. That night, we both had a little too much to drink and passed out on her very small full-size bed. W
hen I woke up, CJ was spooning me and her big toe was using my leg as a scratching post. I’m pretty sure I still have the scars to prove it.
“It’s not that,” I reassure her. “It’s just…at Austin’s, I’ll have my own space, and…well…”
“Mm-hmm. Is that the only reason,” CJ teases. “Because that man talks like he has some skills.”
“Ew—no! I told you it’s not like that. He’s like—”
“A brother,” we say in unison.
“Blah, blah, blah. If he’s like a brother, then let me hit that,” CJ begs.
There is no way I’m going to let CJ hook up with my best friend. That is a line I’m not willing to let either of them cross, no matter how much they have in common or how good they could be together.
I’ve known Austin Montgomery since we were middle schoolers living in a small town in the Midwest when his parents moved in next door.
He was the geeky new kid, and I was the popular girl on the debate team. Just being friends with me gave him an instant in. However, in high school, our roles reversed. I was considered the nerdy girl with big glasses, and over the summer, he grew four inches and decided to try out for football. His popularity sky-rocketed while mine sank, and even though his friends tried to get him to ditch me, he wouldn’t.
Austin and I…we’ve been through a lot together. His parents’ divorce, my dog dying, car wreck, pregnancy scare—his girlfriend, not me—college, an injury…We did everything together and consulted each other about everything. Neither of us made a move without the other one.
That’s how I ended up in New York. After he injured his knee, his football career was over and he started a campus podcast that talked about dating, sex, and anything real life. So, when Live Wire Radio came knocking and offered him his own satellite radio show, he took it, and I followed.
Neither of us could have imagined the way The Hotline Hookup with Dr. Feelgood would blow up. It became the number one talk show radio show in the nation. Men worshiped him. Women fell at his feet.
And me? I was always his constant. And he was mine. We never lost touch. We never crossed “the line.” Everything always stayed the same—just how I liked it.
So, when I say we are like family, I mean it. There is no one I trust more than Austin Montgomery. It’s why I’m sitting here. He’s my go-to. My safe haven.
“I’m waiting?” CJ pries.
Even though CJ asks me all the time why not her, I know she doesn’t really want Austin, but just the thought… Nope! Not doing it. Not going there.
“Hello? Are you there? CJ?” I hold the phone away, pretending it’s cutting out. “I’m getting into the elevator…I think…” I pause for a brief second, hoping she buys my story. “I’m losing you.”
“Clover Marie Kelley! You don’t get to pull a CJ. I taught you—”
Click.
The line goes dead; I toss my phone into my purse and take a deep breath as I step into the elevator and wait for the big silver walls to beam me up.
Nothing.
“Ugh. Of course.”
It’s been a while since I’ve been here. Actually, the last time, I think I walked in on Austin doing yoga, bare-ass naked wearing only a charcoal facial mask. I guess having his face plastered on billboards and buses has Dr. Feelgood feeling a little under the microscope. Since then, we felt we should raise our boundaries a tad. I was allowed to keep my parking spot since he has a car service and my key as long as I promised to knock before entering.
Pulling out the card, I swipe it, waiting for the lift to automatically take me to the forty-ninth floor.
It doesn’t matter how many levels separate me from Austin, there will never be enough time to prepare me for this—admitting the plan I came up with years ago failed, proving he was right, and I was painstakingly wrong.
The elevator slows to a stop, and the doors slide open.
This is why I should’ve called. Austin is standing in the doorway, shirtless, whispering God knows what to this bleach blonde hussy who looks more mid-west stripper than New York gentleman’s club.
I clear my throat. “Sorry to interrupt, but…”
Austin stops what he’s doing, a big Cheshire grin creeping over his lips, as his eyes slowly meet mine. “You know what they say, there’s no place like home.” He winks as he smacks stripper girl on the butt, sending her on her way.
“Call me,” she coos, blowing him a kiss.
“Speaking of home.” He nods toward my single piece of luggage. “You moving back in?"
“Yeah…well, turns out there was a flaw in my plan.” I step forward as Austin meets me halfway, reaching for my bag.
“You don’t say?” His hand rests on my lower back, rubbing comforting circles as I struggle not to fall apart. The only man, I can really count on, takes my hand and leads me into his apartment.
“Apparently, I forgot to add in a ‘don’t knock up another woman’ clause.”
“Ahhh.” He clicks his tongue. “That’s a doozy.” Austin shuts the door, sets the bag down, then wraps me in his arms.
“Austin, what’s wrong with me?” Tears begin to fall as I cry over the life I ignored for the future I dreamed of. All that time invested was a complete waste.
“Hey now.” Austin leans back to see how pitiful I look as he wipes away the sadness with his thumbs. “You are perfect. Dalton is a little bitch baby who doesn’t deserve you.” Austin gives me a few moments to suck it up before his lips curve up in a shit-eating grin. “If you’re looking to forget for a few moments…” He eyes me up and down, licking his lips.
“You’re an asshole!” I slap his hands away, irritation overtaking the sudden feeling of loss.
He throws his head back and laughs. “Have a seat. I have just what you need.” Jogging into the kitchen, he pulls a carton of my favorite ice cream out of the freezer and grabs two spoons.
“I’m not sure if ice cream can fix this,” I huff out, falling back into the couch. “Vanilla is what got me into trouble in the first place.”
Hopping over the back of the couch, he settles in beside me and nudges my shoulder. “I call bullshit.” Austin passes me the open container and hands over a spoon. “Vanilla is a classic. It’s the base for every sundae.” Austin stares at me staring at the carton.
“What does that have to do with my breakup?”
“Fuck, Clover. I’m trying to use metaphors to make this less awkward.” Austin sighs, then pulls a bottle of chocolate syrup from behind his back and squirts it over the vanilla bean goodness. “Don’t you see? It was up to dick face to bring the toppings.” Austin sets the container down and reaches for his spoon, scooping up a huge bite. “And up to you to see what tastes good.” He nudges at my lips. “Try the flavors.”
It’s not that I don’t like chocolate. I do. But chocolate melts, becomes messy, and is hard to get out. Why go to all the trouble for something that sticky when you’ll just want to wash your hands? Total nonsense and goes against the plan.
And look how that turned out.
“Fine.” I open wide and moan, losing myself in the flavor.
“In the words of another brilliant Austin, ‘yeah, baby, yeah.’” He waggles his eyebrows as he shovels a huge spoonful into his mouth. “Fucking delicious!”
I shrug and smile, pretending it’s no big deal.
I’m not sure how much time has passed, but it’s long after we finished the carton of ice cream and I filled Austin in on everything from the moment I walked in through the doors to the moment I tossed my vibrator at Jeffery.
Austin leans back, taking it all in. Resting his arm against the edge of the loveseat, he signals for me to scoot closer. I rest my head on his shoulder as his words vibrate through me. “So, what’s next?”
“Well, I guess I need to find a place to live,” I admit, mentally adding it to my long list of things to do.
Get the rest of my things.
Kramer.
Search for a place.
Forwar
d my mail.
Update my driver’s license.
“You can stay here as long as you need.” Austin glances down as I look up, kissing my forehead. “It’ll be fun. I’ve missed having my wingman around.”
I smack him on the chest, laughing. “You just miss having someone to clean up after your skanks.”
“Nooo. That was an added perk.” He smirks.
I narrow my eyes. “Speaking of which…” I take a deep breath and wrinkle my nose. Alcohol, smoke, baby oil, and a musky stench. Just as I thought—strip club.
“I’m going.” He moves to stand.
“You’re so gross.”
“At least I’m trying the flavors.” He turns around and flips me off as he walks backward to the bathroom.
“Last I checked, tuna wasn’t a topping.” I stick out my tongue. “Are you sure you didn’t catch anything?”
“Nothing a shower won’t cure!” Austin shouts, disappearing down the hall as my phone chimes.
CJ: Come out and play.
CJ: I called in reinforcements.
I begin to type out a message, declining the offer, but a pic begins to download.
CJ:
Great, CJ and Mallory, Austin’s little sister, are together, drinking—which means news traveled fast and there’s no way I’ll be able to avoid this for much longer.
Me: Not tonight.
CJ: Aw!!! Mal says PLEAAAAASSSSE!
Me: I’m too tired. How about coffee in a couple days.
That should give me enough time to wrap my head around this whole situation.
CJ: Cuppa Joe.
CJ: Tomorrow.
That’s not a couple days. I contemplate how I’m going to respond as I grab my things and head to the spare room. As soon as I reach the door, I freeze, staring at the bed with ruffled sheets. “Looks like someone went a couple rounds in here,” I mumble, grossed out.
“Montgomery!” I call out. “Are you kidding me?”
“What’s up?” He peeks his head out from behind his bedroom door, hair dripping wet.
“Did you have sex in my bed?”
“Nah! I fell asleep in there a couple days ago while I was waiting for my sheets to dry.”