by Maya Rossi
Dana, Dana, Dana. I force myself to meet her eyes even if it’s painful. She’s the sum of all that is acceptable. A standard. She is intelligent, set to inherit her father’s chain of departmental stores and she’s exquisite. Me? I have nothing.
In appearance and personality we’re as different as two people can be. When I recall my excitement when mom newly married Richard Newcomb I want to gag. Where I was happy and eager to have a sister, Dana and her papa never felt the same way.
Now, she tosses her hair back. It’s silky, blonde and full. Something else she throws in my face at every opportunity. “Just because you aren’t mentioned in daddy’s will, doesn’t mean you get to be the martyr.”
Oh, she did not. “Little heiress, a few stores do not a human being make. Last I checked, I still control the cheerleading squad, get out of my way, bitch.”
I push past her and run down the stairs. My whole, bitchy queen act is getting old. It’s not me and I wonder briefly what Griffin will think if he sees me now. I sigh when I hear Dana right behind me.
“If you leave, I’ll tell daddy,” she says.
I place my Hermes bag on the dining table and face her. There’s no point asking if she means it. In fact, I think Dana goes as far as compiling a report on my activities to report to daddy. It would have been pathetic, but it’s not. For all her money and daddy issues, for all her seeming perfection, Dana wishes she has two things — my curves and Griffin.
“Go tell, then.”
Taken aback by my blase attitude, she blinks. “I—I should?”
I arch an eyebrow. “Isn’t that what you just said you wanted to do?”
I watch in satisfaction as she flounces off with a huff. My shoulders drop. I’m so tired of being what I’m not. The bitchy act has seen me become the first black leader of our cheerleading squad. But I’m so over it. I won’t ever admit it, but I’m relieved to have graduated.
With a sigh, I take my place at the dining table, waiting for the shouting in my parent’s room to die off. My mouth water at the sight of the scones our housekeeper lovingly arranged at the center of the table. A heavenly aroma of fried eggs, toast and bacon drift into my nose and I almost groan. I love food. With effort, I turn away from the tempting fare. Out of the corner of my eye, I stare at the scones. I badly want one but without my girls to other around and practise sessions to ground me, I’m adding weight faster than an obese cat.
Finally, our parents come down. Richard doesn’t say a word to me. Not even happy birthday. My mother, Lily gives me an apologetic smile. I wonder what they are fighting about now and if Dana has anything to do with it.
After five minutes of waiting for Dana to make an appearance, I glance over at Richard. My heart skip a beat to find him watching me. With his blond hair and blue eyes, Richard is handsome but dull as a dishwater. I still question what mom ever saw in him. Not that he’s bad, he just doesn’t see me.
I grab a scone and nibble. He scowls. “I need you for an advertising shoot for the Christmas holidays, you’re already fat enough.”
With my eyes fixed on his, I shove the rest of the scone into my mouth and chew faster. I watch his blue eyes so like his daughter’s grow darker and darker with rage. My eyes drift to mom. She has her hands clasped tight in front of her. Her brown eyes beg me not to pick a fight. I shake my head in annoyance. I had a family once. How many nights had I spent in Uncle Grif’s lap, reading or being read to in his rumbling voice?
Now, I have daddy Newcomb and his daughter watching my every move. Mom’s marriage to Richard came as a shock. After working in the legal department of his company for years and hearing what a douche he is, she shocked me when she started seeing him.
I’m still in shock.
I reach for another scone, but he drags the plate away. “I said you’re fat enough.”
Without missing a beat, I take a plate and heap toast, bacon and eggs on it. As I dig into the meal, I can feel his frustration rising. I’ve never had his approval and I never will so there’s no point depriving myself of something I enjoyed.
Before Richard will catch apoplexy, Mom asks hurriedly, “How did your date with Stanton go?”
My food go the wrong way and I almost choke. I wave off mom’s concern and down two glasses of water. Richard doesn’t say a word but I’m used to it.
“Are you alright?” mom asks.
I haul in a deep breath, struggling not to throw up. The last thing I need is a reminder of my date with Stanton. I’m not the type to nurse a crush and go boy crazy like some of my friends. Mostly because I found boys of my age immature and annoying. I thought Stanton was different. He is quieter than most and a nerd. So when he asked me out I surprised everyone by saying yes.
The date ended with my dress ripped from neck to chest, while I struggled to fend off Devil Stanton.
“Liv?”
I force a smile. “Okay, I guess. But I’m not seeing him again.”
Mom frowns. Just as she’s about asking why, Dana graces us with her presence. Her shoes, dress and jewellery are the very best money can buy and I go green with envy. She stops at my side.
“You couldn’t even wait five minutes?”
“Why should I? I’m tired of your passive show of superiority. You pull the same shit every day, making me wait forever in the car, at parties, everywhere.” I shake my head pityingly. “Dana, you’re the heiress, you’re big. You don’t have to remind me every second.”
Her nostrils flare, a hot flush stealing over her face. Her eyes darted to daddy and back to mine. “You’ll regret this,” she says.
Dana takes her time sitting, just to make mom wait I’m sure. It’s almost funny, but it’s not. Like her father ignores me, she doesn’t pay mom a glance as she draws him into a conversation about — guess what? Their stores.
I’m done with breakfast and looking through the Instagram feed on my phone when Jerry, our driver enters with a package.
“Your birthday gift came early Miss Lee-Sterling.”
“I wonder what he got for you this time,” mom says, her voice wistful.
Sometimes, I wonder if she’s still in love with Grif but I don’t dare ask. “Maybe it’s a book.”
“Or maybe it’s not him,” Dana retorts.
Our eyes meet and she looks away first, almost guiltily. She has dear old rich dad, why is she jealous of the gifts Griffin sends on my birthdays? Why it’s nice to know he never forgot me, I find it weird to receive gifts from a man I haven’t seen in twelve years.
I don’t dignify her statement with a reply. I turn my attention to my phone. It vibrates with an incoming call from my best friend, Emily.
“Whatsup?”
“I’m coming over,” she says, sounding like she’s running.
“Nah, I like the previous plan, we get ready at your place--”
“Livvy, wait. Just… stop,” her voice trembles.
“Are you alright?”
“Switch off your phone. I’m on my way.”
“Who’s that?” Dana asks.
“Since when do you care about my calls?”
She shrugs and unlike me, serves a small helping of salad onto her plate. I barely restrain a shudder. I stare at my phone, thinking of who to call to unravel Emily’s odd behavior.
Suddenly, Dana bends over her plate laughing. Mom meets my eyes in question and I shake my head. Maybe the bitch has finally gone crazy.
“Hey, Liv.” She shoves her phone in my face. “Isn’t that your nipple piercing?”
It was me. A picture from yesterday’s horror date with Stanton. He ripped my shirt down to my waist, baring my breasts with the nipple piercings I secretly play with for all to see. A drumming begin in my ears. Stupidly, I continue to stare at the picture like it’s someone else’s.
“Didn’t know you’re into kinky stuff,” Dana continues carelessly.
There’s a commotion at our front door. But I’m unable to look away from the picture of my full breasts on display online!
“Livvy!”
Suddenly, Emily’s there. She pulls me into her arms, holding on tight. Someone brushes a hand over my cheek. It comes away wet with my tears.
“What’s going on?” mom asks.
“Do you know your daughter’s nipples are pierced, Mrs Lee-Sterling?” Dana asks sweetly. “Like both of them?”
My stomach roils. The breakfast I just enjoyed growls and churns like some poisonous snake inside me. I push blindly away from Emily’s arms. I need air, badly. But Dana as always is in my way. Through my tears, our eyes meet. Her blue eyes is smug and gleeful.
“I told you, you’ll regret crossing me,” she says.
My stomach growls, twisting and churning like a hurricane tearing me apart inside. Quickly, I clamp my hand over my mouth but it’s too late. I lose my breakfast all over Dana’s chest.
She blinks. Looking from my contrite face to her heaving chest filled with the gross remains of my breakfast and what else. Dana screams.
I would have sworn it wasn’t intentional. But not even I believe me.
Chapter three
If I strolled in naked, I don’t think I will get quite the same reaction. I feel the hush descend on the customers like mist kissing my crops early in the morning. A couple to my left pause with their beers halfway to their mouths. Pete who runs the only coffee shop in town gasps rather loudly, his ruddy face quickly turning an unappealing shade of red. In the poorly lit bar, the only reason I recognize Pete is because only he and Rick, talk to me. The rest of our town, even guys I once shared a classroom with? They don’t mask their disdain.
I take quick stock of my body, digging my toes into the concrete-like hardness of my working boots, clenching my fists until my nails carve moon-shaped lines into my palms and sucking in a quick breath. Fresh calluses from the day’s work sharpen the lingering pain in my palms, whitening my vision to a dull sheen.
Pete shakes his head, blinking like he’s seeing double. “Grif-Griffin are you — is everything all right?”
I resist the urge to tug at the collar of my shirt. Loudly, fondly and passionately, I curse an amused Rick under my breath. “I’m fine, Pete. How’s Gladys?”
He chokes on his drink, eyes watering painfully. “What are you doing out here?”
“We’re here to get laid,” Rick announces rather loudly.
Pete loses the battle with his breath. We leave him slumped against his chair, slack jawed and bleary-eyed.
Under my breath, I growl in impatience. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I can still go home, you — ”
“Save it,” he murmurs, “and fucking smile. You know he’ll only go on and on.” Rick shudders. “Don’t think I’m not gonna enjoy this — ”
He’s right unfortunately. As much as I will like to linger by the door with Pete, the man never shuts up. “I know dammit, I won’t hear the last of this,” I agree glumly. Blinking my eyes to adjust to the dim light, already regretting the decision to come out today, I let out a breath to ease the tightening in my chest. “We could be drinking my home brewed ale you love so much in my house if--”
“Please, this is your birthday Grif, thirty-eight and you want to remain at home? Wait.” Rick suddenly pushed forward, he stops with a hand against my chest, his expression both hard and determined. “Am I forcing you into this? You — like, you aren’t ready to come out?”
I raise my head to see everyone has finally managed to close their gaping mouths. “We’re already here before you realize this? You’ve been griping about taking me out for my birthday, so much it’s all I can think about--”
“Then we can just go back,” Rick says, small shoulders squared with determination. “There’s no need to do this if you don’t want to.”
It is hilarious — or it will be if it’s not fucking frustrating. At almost six feet six inches, I’m fucking huge. It’s no exaggeration to say I could break Rick in half but his next words wreck me.
“You promised — Griffin Brodigan you promised you were gonna try,” Rick cries. His eyes legit fills with tears and he hunches his shoulders inward. At his side, his fingers twitches and I can see he has trouble drawing a breath. “You know… I’ll--” he licks his lips, his eyes dropping to the floor, “I actually want to be home more than you do.”
I curl a hand around his shoulders and lead him out to the dark summer night. Flosdale at this time of the year runs hot and cold like a woman who changes her mind at the very last second. Recently, we’ve had a blistering summer followed closely by a day so cold I swear it snowed. For a farmer, an unpredictable weather was a nightmare. I take a moment to narrow my eyes at the stars. It can be so damn beautiful but dangerous too.
“What? You see someone you like?” Rick’s voice is at once eager and perky.
Miraculously, the stooped shoulders and pinched look disappears, color returns to his pale cheeks and his rather long lashes flutters like he’s rousing from a deep sleep. I don’t know the details of Rick’s condition, just that he hasn’t been well, not since the tragedy. But his ability to bounce back from a bad mood both scares and humbles me.
“Why would you ask that?” I ask, irritated with his interfering albeit kind ways.
He throws me a puzzled look. “You just murmured something about beautiful and dangerous--”
“I was talking to myself,” I interrupt gruffly. At his full blown pitying look, I throw up my hands. “Just… stop.”
That determined glint solidifies in Rick’s blue eyes. “You promised you would try. We agreed living like a hermit is no way to live, you can have better. You want better,” he adds softly.
His soft words wrench something inside my chest and I raise my hand to rub at it absently, staring to his left. “If we all got what we wanted, the world would be wierder than it is now,” I retort gruffly.
A cab stops and a woman with the most amazing curves step out. Noticing women or anyone isn’t what I do. Hell, I’ve gone years since Lily without setting eyes on another human being except for Peter who helped out occasionally at the farm. With nothing but my dog, Clark and plants for company, I’m good. But something about this woman snags my attention.
From where we stand, I can’t make out her features. But other things pierce the barrier of darkness. It’s the carriage, the straight back, long legs and hips. Jesus, her figure is unreal, womanly. With a shape like hers, she can look like Clark and get away with anything. The light from the taxi outlines her shape while shielding her features.
“You could ask her out.”
I stiffen and step away from Rick. The irritating part is how he remains unaffected by the things he wishes me to have. For a second, anxiety races through my heart and I stop to peer at Rick closely. He waggles his eyebrows theatrically and incline his head towards the woman as she disappears into the bar.
“You can do it, bro. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise,” he says mock seriously.
I roll my eyes. “Look, we came here for beers and--”
“To celebrate, Grif.” Rick throw a hand to encompass the bar. “How many years have you being cooped up in that farm--”
“Lizanne,” I correct quietly.
His eyes soften, and he reaches out to hug my considerably larger frame tight. “You can do it, Grif, I know you--”
“Are we going to kiss now?” I catch his face gently and step away again. “A beer, that was the agreement--”
“I will convince Peter to stay on,” he tacks on quickly.
It’s not fucking fair. Peter is my farm hand. And he just threatened to quit, says his parents don’t like him working at the farm. With me. I should be used to their scorn by now, but I’m not. Already, I do most of the work myself; I need Peter.
I give him by best puppy dog look. “We both know you won’t let me work the farm alone--”
Rick folds his hands, looking annoyingly determined. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes are somewhere on my chest. The last time we had this argument, I refused to give an in
ch and Rick ended up working the farm with me. Some people weren’t meant to be farmers. He got blisters and sunburns! In November! I ended up spending time I didn’t have nursing him back to health.
“I just have to talk to her?” I ask dubiously. “Even hello is enough?”
“At least four words --” he breaks off at my withering look, “alright, alright, just talk to her and make sure she hears you.”
“I’m pretty sure a woman like her ain’t deaf,” I retort.
With a wide grin, Rick takes my hand and leads us back into Vetty’s. A coil of tension tighten in my gut. Somehow, I forgot I would have an audience watching. I spot the woman seated at the corner of the bar where there’s almost no lighting. There’s that carriage again, like she’s someone. Even the way she holds her drink, angles her head, says she’s someone. An actress or model maybe? But with curves like hers, no way she is a model. She isn’t fat, just curvy. Extremely so.