by Z. B Heller
“Well, at least I’ll have something white and creamy coming out of my mouth.” I smiled.
“Get your shit together and call me later,” said Ryan. “I’ve got a big cock waiting for me when I get home. Tom is back from working in Seattle and we are having dinner and drinks with his parents.”
“Ok. Thanks for meeting up with me. Love you.”
“Love you too, Moxie girl.”
Ryan walked out of the coffee shop. But not before a guy wearing a cashmere v-neck sweater winked at him.
Fucking bastard.
Chapter Four
I had to get my mind off Miles. Maybe if I refer to him as Dillion’s dad it will feel more formal. Or maybe I’ll say I don’t fucking care whose dad he is, I just want to lick him like a Ben and Jerry’s Funky Monkey ice cream cone.
I was mentally imagining Miles and putting whipped cream on top of his very large and thick ice cream cone when the phone rang. I glanced at the caller ID. Crap. It was my stepmom, Martha. My mom died when I was nine years old from breast cancer. The memories that I have of her are great ones. She was loving, attentive, and I remember that she loved to do art projects with me. I miss her fiercely and she would have been a perfect person to talk to about the incident with Miles.
About a year after Mom died, Dad went to a singles’ mixer at the temple. Martha was there, perched like a vulture, waiting to stick her talons into unsuspecting men. My dad is an exceptional man who is way too trusting. Martha smelled security, both finical and emotional, and went in for the kill. She didn’t have any children when she met Dad and he didn’t want any more besides me. Hence, Martha felt that she needed to take over the role of mother figure in my life. Unfortunately for her, I wasn’t having any of it.
Her calling was the last thing I wanted. I think I would have rather smothered my naked body in dog food and lay down in a dog park than started that conversation. I do try to like her, but Martha has an image for who she wants me to be and I don’t fit that image.
“Hi, Martha.”
She hates it that I don’t call her Mom.
“Moxie, what took you so long to answer the phone?”
I was waiting to see if I would be struck by lightning.
“Oh, I was just walking in from work,” I lied.
“What? At this hour? Moxie, honey, you work way too hard. Teaching kindergarten should be a breeze. What does it take to teach someone to count to ten?”
It’s about as hard as it is for me not to hang up this call.
“I’ve got conferences coming up, Martha, and I was just getting everything in order,” I said as I let out a long breath.
“What can you possibly have to say to a kindergartener’s parent?” she asked. “Do you tell them that little Jonny is wiping his tushie ok? By the way, did you get that hand sanitizer I told you about from Costco? All those little Bubalas walking around with their germs. You could get typhoid fever or chickenpox.”
I groaned.
This is Martha, the doctor. Well, she thinks she’s a doctor. I honestly think that she has the delusional concept that she went to Harvard and was awarded an honorary degree in medicine. She quickly tries to diagnose you with whatever aliment she is currently obsessed with. A few weeks ago she told the rest of the family that my aunt had scarlet fever and she was worried that she would become deaf and blind. My aunt only had a cold.
“Martha, I’ve got good news for you. They now have vaccines for those things.”
“Moxie Rachel Lynn Summers. Do not sass me. It is my job to protect you as my one and only daughter. But, I wasn’t calling you to lecture you on your sanitary obligations.”
Oh, no.
“The other day I was at the grocery store.”
Oh, shit.
“And I ran into Diana Goldman.”
Fuck.
“You know she’s got a boy about your age, David.”
The bile started to rise.
“He isn’t seeing anyone and she wanted to know if you were still single.”
Would anyone notice if I suddenly disappeared to the Antarctic?
“I told her of course you were, because you work too much with the babies to go out on a proper date.”
Do they have cookies in the Antarctic?
“So I gave her your number and David is going to call you.”
“Martha, you know I’m very capable of getting my own dates.”
“Oh, sure you are. That boy you brought to your cousin’s wedding was too busy looking at the groom’s tushie to know how beautiful you looked in your dress.”
“Martha, I told you a long time ago that Ryan was gay and we were good friends.”
“Gay, smay. You looked amazing. Even if his Pee Pee doesn’t stand at attention for beautiful women, it should have for you in that dress.”
“Ok, Martha, have to go now. I think someone is trying to break in and convert me to
Hinduism.”
“Moxie…”
I hung up the phone. I needed to escape from reality for a while so I went to my number one escape plan. Tumblr. I’ve become somewhat of a Tumblr addict, searching for hot men to drool over and images I can become creative about when using my Carl. I booted up my computer and found that I had a few emails waiting for me.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
9:26 p.m. CST
Subject: Ryan
You little wench. Why did you go to coffee with Ryan without me this afternoon? You know I need my man-on-man action report for the week. God, his boyfriend is so hot. Any chances of me turning him to the dark side = ) Well, I suppose he thinks being with a woman is considered a dark side. Fuck! Princess Mary Weather just scratched my arm! Anyways, I need to head to sleep. I’m talking to Penis Pauly’s parents tomorrow.
XXReneeXX
___________________
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
10:05 p.m. CST
Subject: Tame your pussy
Listen, bitch, I stopped by your room after school and you weren’t there. I had a class 1-A emergency that needed immediate attention and caffeine. You will not believe who my new kid’s dad is. Hairy Balls!
Moxie
P.S. – Will you please take that pussy of yours to get declawed or threaten to euthanize her.
I kept scrolling through my emails and ran across an address I did not recognize. My curiosity peaked and I opened the message, praying it wasn’t a virus or that stupid email that has you look at a picture for 3 minutes and then the girl from the Exorcist appears.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
9:35 p.m. CST
Subject: Hello
Hi Moxie,
My name is David Goldman and I got your info from my mom, who apparently knows your mom. I recently moved to Chicago from Arizona and don’t know anyone in the city. So my mom had to intercede and make a playdate for me. Let me know if you ever want to meet up for drinks.
David
David Goldman
Senior Vice President
Sanco Sports Company
Well, scratch my balls and call me Mary. That was certainly a turn of events. I sat and stared at the computer screen, wondering if I should respond. When I heard a ding.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
10:15 p.m. CST
Subject: Don’t touch my pussy!
It is cruel to declaw a cat and Miss Princess Mary Weather is flipping her paw at you. And who has hairy balls? Did you walk in on one of your students in the bathroom again? Can’t you give your kids some privacy? Sheesh!
XXReneeXX
___________________
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
10:17 p.m. CST
Subject: Your Angry Pussy
Listen, you blonde ho, that cat of you
rs is an indoor cat. Therefore, she has no use for her front claws except to scratch you and tear apart that butt-ugly couch of yours. And how has your memory slipped so easily in the last few days? Hairy Balls is the guy from Dickies last week. The one I up-chucked all over his shoes? Umm, yeah, him. He just strolled right into my class like it was just another day in Mr. Roger’s fucking neighborhood. We can discuss more at lunch tomorrow. Go to sleep and straightjacket that cat!
Moxie
I went back and re-read David’s email. He seemed normal. As normal as one can seem from a three sentence email. I was sure he’d keep his sickle-and-blooded-clothes conversation for after he got to know someone. I mulled it over for a while and decided not to email him back tonight. I didn’t want to show any desperation. Even if there was some. Plus, I had a date to keep with my vibrator, which I’d just renamed Miles.
The next morning I was in the teachers’ lounge getting some coffee. At least that was my intention. I spotted the coffee pot and it looked like someone crapped into the carafe. Mrs. Knolls must have made the coffee again. She was a sweet lady, but when it came to brewing a cup of coffee, she had the skills of a hooker picking up her first John. I was hoping there was enough creamer to make it worth downing. I’d had worse things down my throat.
“Good morning, Miss Summers.” Mrs. James walked in.
“Is that what time of day it is? I was more hoping it was 3:05 and school was letting out.” I smiled.
“Cute. I had an interesting conversation with Mr. Dane yesterday, after dropping Dillion off in your room. Did you know he is an artist?” She wiggled her eyebrows.
“So, are you going to offer to pose for one of his paintings?” I smirked.
“I would, but I don’t think he wants a model who has breastfed three children and whose breasts now point south for the winter.”
“Don’t be so sure. You can bring the whole Rubenesque women back into popular culture.” I grinned.
“Thank you for the flattery, but you’re not getting out of morning bus duty. How did Dillion do, his first day? He seemed a little nervous coming in.”
“He actually did ok, kept to himself. But who can blame him, when Katie Simmons tries to haggle you into buying gift wrap paper for her girl scout fundraiser?”
“She’s going to make a great governor one day.”
“Well, she certainly has the scruples for it.”
Mrs. James grabbed a cup of shit coffee and headed to her office.
“Good moorrnniinngg!” a high pitched voice squealed.
Amber Smith was a fourth grade teacher and my arch-nemesis at Montgomery Elementary. This was her second year teaching, and from her first day she was the biggest pussy kiss-up I’ve meet. I honestly believe that she was plotting to take over Mrs. James’ reign at the school and turn it into a spa. Her hair was so bleached and dried out that I imagined birds flock around her to try to nest in it. There was no love lost between us, and she was about as fake as her boobs were.
“Moxie, I love your skirt! Did you pick it up at Goodwill?” she snarled.
“Actually, I picked it up off your boyfriend’s floor after the great blow-job I gave him. That’s probably why it looks familiar,” I retorted.
“Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?” she asked in a most disgusted tone.
“No, I don’t kiss my mother with it, but I did rim your boyfriend’s ass and that’s why it’s probably so dirty,” I smirked.
“You are a disgusting human being. It’s really a shame that those students of yours need to suffer through your teaching every day.”
“I can’t argue with you there, but I’m sure it’s better than trying to figure out who did that piss-poor job on your eyebrows.”
Amber rolled her eyes and walked out of the door. I’ll have to bribe one of my kids to eat a bunch of junk and then puke in her Prada purse. I had some time before class started, so I turned on my computer to check my email.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
11:32 p.m. CST
Subject: Friday
Hey, Wonder Woman,
Tom and I are having a small shindig at our place Friday and he is insisting you bring your mad margarita skills over. Let Renee know too. I haven’t seen her face in forever.
Smooch,
Ryan
P.S. – Is she still seeing that dickhead, Bobby? I’ve got someone I want to set her up with.
___________________
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
7:45 a.m. CST
Subject: RE: Friday
Wtf? You have someone to set Renee up with? Hello? What about your adorable, single, raging horny friend? Just remember who set you up with Tom. Me. That’s right, not Renee. And yes, I will bring myself and my magical margarita skills over. That’s unless something of great importance comes up and my beauty and brains are required elsewhere.
Moxie
I went back to my inbox and re-read David’s email to me from the night before. I decided that I was going to send him my carefree I’m-not-really-interested-but-I-really-am-because-my-Baseball-Mound-is-in-need-of-some-players reply.
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
7:52 a.m. CST
Subject: RE: Hello
David,
I’m glad that someone else’s mother is as overbearing as my own. Although Martha is my stepmom, which makes her meddling ten times worse, because she’s not a blood relative. First, welcome to Chicago. How long have you been here? Is there something special that brought you to the Windy City? I’m sure it was nice to get away from the Arizona heat.
Moxie
There. That wasn’t overcommitted. It had a nice introductory vibe that didn’t give too much away and didn’t seem like I was overanxious to find out more. I shut my laptop and heard my phone vibrate on my desk. I quickly reached for it.
Renee: OMG I just finished my chat with PP’s parents. Apparently, denial isn’t just a river in Egypt.
Moxie: First of all, who uses that saying anymore? What did the p’s say?
Renee: His parents didn’t think there was an issue. Of course they said this as Mr. PP was adjusting his own junk.
Moxie: That’s really gross. What are you going to do?
Renee: Put a partition in my room so he has something to stand behind.
Moxie: Good luck with that. Kids are coming in. Talk later.
My kids started to file into the class. Katie came running up to me as soon as she got in the room, with a piece of paper in her hand.
“Hi, Miss Summers. My girl scout troupe is asking for donations to help put pandas back in their natural habitat. Can you donate some money?”
“Katie, aren’t there more local organizations that need help, like feeding the homeless or giving clothes to children who are in need?”
Katie looked at me like I’d grown two heads.
“Miss Summers, those things aren’t cute!”
“Katie, I don’t think it’s about being cute, I think it’s about the act of giving to those who need it most.”
Katie slouched her shoulders and sighed.
“Fine, I’ll just tell my mom that you wish panda bears would die.”
“Give me the paper, Katie,” I groaned.
Katie’s smile brightened immediately, like she’d just won a prize at Chucky Cheese. I wondered if she’d need a campaign manager when she started to pimp herself for office.
I was headed to the front of the class when suddenly I stepped on a block from the block center and flew into the air. I landed straight on my ass and the kids started roaring in laughter and clapping.
“That was quite the performance. I would definitely give it a 10. But the Russian judges might disagree.”
I looked up and there was Miles Dane leaning on the doorframe, holding Dillion’s hand.
It was finalized. I was going to die f
rom embarrassment. I could just hear the eulogy now.
Friends and family, thank you for coming to the funeral of Moxie Summers. Moxie died tragically from the worst case of embarrassment that has ever been documented. It was her innate ability to make the biggest ass out of herself, especially in front of very attractive men. She will be missed, as we no longer have anyone to point our fingers and laugh at.
I jumped to my feet and straightened out my clothes so I didn’t look like I belonged in the morning trash.
“Good morning, Dillion. Mr. Dane, good morning. Is there something I can do for you?”
It tried to speak without my voice shaking, but I was having little success. If he didn’t stop looking at me like I was a prime steak dinner I would have to change my panties before class started.
He shot me that award-winning smile. “I just wanted to thank you for helping make Dillion’s transition easier.”
Crap. He was pulling the whole hot dad and good mannered persona today.
I put on my teacher-of-the-year smile. “You’re very welcome. He’s a nice addition to the class.”
He chuckled softly. “Well, Dillion had nothing but nice things to say about his class. Especially his teacher.”
My jaw dropped ever so slightly. If this man did not leave my classroom, my kids would be getting an earlier than expected lesson on sex education.