Super Chick

by Amber R. Polk

  SUPER CHICK

  Amber R. Polk

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Super Chick

  Copyright © 2015 by Amber R. Polk

  Published by ARP Publishing

  Cover design by Sprinkles on Top Studio

  Edited by Tiffany Fox at Beyond DEF

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserve above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above copyright and publisher of this book.

  This is a work fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or used factiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  Michael, thank you for taking long

  showers so my imagination

  could run wild.

  Chapter One

  “Think you can help me with that?” Drew Calloway crossed his arms over his chest, making the well-defined muscles evident under his tight, black t-shirt. If Megan were another kind of woman she would take him in the back room, rip off his shirt, and run her tongue across every one of those muscles. Unfortunately, she wasn’t that kind of woman. The thought alone made her want to crawl under the table until he disappeared.

  Megan McAlister just so happened to be born with a supernatural ability to see through walls. It was not a gift she appreciated or even remotely wanted, and that was compounded with extreme shyness when it came to the male species. Especially the part of the male species that came in attractive packages. Detective Drew, in her opinion, was hottest man to ever walk the streets of Hope, Oklahoma.

  There he was, staring at her, waiting for a reply to whatever the hell he’d asked.

  “Mmmm,” she replied unintelligently, then frowned at her own ignorance. Someone shoot me now!

  “Megan?” he asked when she stood in terrified wonderment. She turned a little and touched the corners of her mouth, checking for drool. “Well?’

  “Well, mmm, yeah.” She stared at the counter in front of her, scratching her temple like a cave woman, and her skin burned like it was on fire. “Wha… what was it you needed?”

  Drew scrunched his eyebrows together and tilted his head slightly to the right, causing a strand of his dirty-blond hair to fall onto his forehead. He had to think she was a certifiable lunatic and to a point, she supposed she kind of was. “A dress. For my sister.”

  “Right… I’ll just go get someone to help you with that.” She put a finger up to halt him when he opened his mouth to speak again.

  “Brandy!” she yelled. There was no way she was going to be able to help him without passing smooth out from lack of oxygen and collapsing right in the middle of her shop’s floor.

  Brandy worked for Megan at Dazzled and knew about her inability to talk to anyone with a penis. Brandy also knew that was why Megan picked owning a boutique shop as her profession rather than a doctor or lawyer. Men didn’t normally shop for women’s clothing, or at least people from Hope didn’t.

  Brandy, on the other hand, had zero problems when it came to men. She was a vertically challenged twenty-three year old, half Hispanic, half everything else, and was blessed with more curves than a Slinky. She also had lips that thousands of woman paid big bucks to get and enough junk in her trunk to make J-Lo envious. The girl had most men eating out of the palm of her hand in two seconds flat.

  “Yes?” Brandy asked, walking around the counter to her. When her vision honed in on Drew, she pushed her chest out a little further (not that she needed to), waved Megan off with the back of her hand, and quirked a dramatic eyebrow. “Go on, I got this.”

  Megan managed to give Drew a weak smile without looking directly at him before turning away and hightailing it to the restroom. Normally, she wasn’t that bad, but she had admired Drew’s… assets from afar for quite some time. This wasn’t the first time he had tried to talk to her and she’d run away.

  The last time Drew had tried to talk to her was two weeks earlier while she tried to have a quiet meal at the local diner. He came in, walked straight to her table, and took a seat across from her. She literally choked on her chicken. When he ran to get her water, she got the heck out of dodge.

  She waited until the next day to pay for her meal and apologize for leaving.

  The thought just hit her that the waitress could have reported her for dine-and-dash and Drew could have chased her down the street and arrested her!

  Megan yanked a few paper towels from the dispenser and shoved them under her arms. Although she didn’t sweat much, fear of sweat rings under the arms of her shirt made her do this. She stood, facing the storefront, and looked through the wall of the bathroom to the sales floor.

  She’d had this looking-through-walls gig for as long as she could remember. Since she was an orphan, she had no clues on why she had this ability and had no one to ask. Megan liked to think there were others out there like her. Somewhere. She might be alone in this life, but surely not alone in the world.

  Megan had never told a soul about it for fear of what would happen to her if she did. She had seen the shows about experiments done on animals and people, and being a lab rat wasn’t on her list of things to accomplish in this life. Over the years, there had been people who had noticed she knew things she shouldn’t have and thought she was a strange little girl, but who would have really been able to guess the truth? Mostly, she just kept to herself and didn’t get close enough to anyone for them to notice.

  She rolled her eyes as she watched Brandy hold up a dress to her own figure so Drew had little choice but to notice her abundant curves. He looked in Megan’s direction numerous times and though she knew he couldn’t actually see her, she still got a prickle of anxiety down her spine.

  “Dear Lord, he’s beautiful,” she said to herself.

  Again, he turned her way and Brandy must have said something funny because he laughed. She couldn’t hear him, but she could see it in the way his eyes crinkled and his dimples showed. Just one time she wished she could talk to him and make him smile without becoming a babbling moron.

  She took the paper towels out from under her arms, washed her hands, and hurried out of the bathroom so it didn’t look funny that she stayed in too long. The last thing she needed were rumors going around that she had IBS. There were enough people who thought she was weird and she could do without more being added to that list. She avoided looking in their direction and made her way
to the stock room. It was ridiculous; she knew this, but there was nothing she could do to change it, or if there was, she hadn’t found it yet.

  Megan pushed thoughts of Drew from her mind and kept herself busy working on signs for her booth in the upcoming fall festival. This year she would be doing the cakewalk, even though she didn’t know how to make a cake unless it was from a box and even then, it was like a game of Russian roulette. Every business in town was expected to do something for the festival to help raise funds for the town’s renovation project. The counsel tried to force her into sitting at the kissing booth, but she talked Mrs. Webber, from the pharmacy, into trading with her. Being in her late seventies and widowed for over twenty years, she jumped at the chance of getting young lips on hers.

  “Girl, you got to do something to get control of yourself,” Brandy said from behind her. “That there is one fine piece of male, and from the way he was watching to see if you were coming back… he’s got a thing for you.”

  She snorted. “He does not. He just probably wondered when the weirdo was coming back so he could hurry and get out.” Megan walked away and hoped she would leave it alone. She could already feel her face starting to flush just from the thought that he might like her.

  “Uh huh, if you say so.” Brandy followed behind like she always did. “Really, though, you need to take some seminar or class or some shit to get over this thing in you that keeps you from talking to guys.”

  “Brandy, I do talk to guys.” Megan rolled her eyes and tried to move away again, but Brandy didn’t get the hint and leave it alone.

  “Who exactly do you talk to?” Brandy’s head cocked to the side and one eyebrow went straight up in challenge. “Regularly.”

  “Well, there’s Mr. Baker and that guy at the grocery store who loads my car… I think his name is Timmy. I talk to both of them all the time.” Take that, Brandy.

  “Okay. Mr. Baker is the walking dead, and I don’t mean to speak mean of anyone, but that guy at the grocery store has got to be the biggest nerd I’ve ever seen. He wears a pocket protector, Megan. A pocket protector,” she repeated to get her point across.

  True, he really was. Megan didn’t understand what it was that came over her when she was around an attractive man. It didn’t even have to be a hot man, just any man who didn’t make her cringe at the thought of dating him. Granted, she was at her worst when it came to Drew. With most men, she could hear what they were saying and say whatever she needed to in return. With Drew, she felt like her insides were going to burst into flames from the immediate embarrassment washing over her.

  “Honestly, I don’t know what to do about it. It seems to be getting worse.” Truth be told, it had been getting worse since she was seventeen and made the mistake of dating a jock. Since he humiliated her, her shyness went to a whole new level.

  Brandy stared at her for an uncomfortable moment, making her feel like an exhibit at the zoo. “Maybe what you need is to start with baby steps.”

  She shook her head. “No, I’ve tried that. Typically, I end up making a complete fool of myself and run away.” She slipped her long red hair behind her ears and wished she would’ve opted for a ponytail.

  “But was anyone with you?”

  “I have always been alone.” Like the rest of my life, she thought.

  “Well, there’s your problem then. I can be your wing-man… woman.” Brandy smiled, showing her perfectly straight, pearly white teeth.

  “Wing-woman?” She crossed her arms under her chest, ready to hear whatever ridiculous thing her employee had come up with this time.

  “Yeah, you know,” she waved her hands around, “I go with you and kinda be your side-kick. I help you reel ‘em in and you decide whether or not to keep him or throw him back in.” She mimicked holding a rod and reel.

  Megan caught herself before she rolled her eyes again. Brandy was always using some sort of absurd analogy whenever she wanted to explain something. She had to give it to her, though, right then she had the image of holding a man up on a string and watching him flop around.

  “Let me think about it.”

  “Okay, but I’m going to bug the shit out of you ‘til you agree,” Brandy said, walking toward the belts.

  Megan had no doubts that she indeed would.

  An hour later, after closing up shop, she walked Brandy to the door and locked it behind her before going to the office to complete the end of the month tax paperwork. It was the one part of the business she didn’t care for, but it had to be done and she was the only person to do it. Well, unless she wanted to pay the local CPA, Eric Upton, to do it. He happened to be expensive, single, and really good-looking, so that was a no go. After another grueling hour, she dragged herself out of the store.

  She didn’t have to look in her refrigerator to know there wasn’t anything edible inside so she headed to Benny’s Drive-In to grab a burger and fries. Not a healthy meal by any means, but she was blessed with high metabolism and didn’t tend to put on much, if any, weight.

  By the time Megan made it home to the outskirts on the north end of town, the burger and fries were nothing more than a greasy memory. She walked in, instinctively looking through the whole house with just one step inside the front door. If there were ever any intruders, she would easily know. I’m a security system all on my own, she thought with a smile.

  It was a rare occurrence that she smiled at the thought of being born a freak.

  It wasn’t that her life was all bad. She had great friends—of the female variety—a job she loved, and this house. Megan fell in love with the house the first time she laid eyes on it. It had to be completely gutted on both floors, but the horrible condition she found it in made it cheap and she had enough leftover that she was able to do what she wanted with it. Her favorite part was the cathedral ceilings over the living room with the landing upstairs that had a great view through the floor-to-ceiling windows in the front.

  The phone rang before she managed to get her shoes off. It had to be Brandy since she was the only person who had her phone number.

  “Yes?” she asked while removing her coat and hanging it on the hook behind the door. As the hook sagged, it reminded her that she really needed to tighten the screws on it before it wore a big hole in the wall.

  Just another thing added to the Honey-Do list with no honey to do it.

  “It’s ladies night down at Roosters and you’re going with me!”

  “I don’t know.” She picked up the mail from the floor and scanned through it to see if she had won a million dollars yet. Of course not, so she tossed it all on the hall table and walked away. The bills weren’t going anywhere anytime soon and she wasn’t in the mood to deal with them.

  “I think it’s a great idea. Get your butt ready now. I don’t want to go alone,” Brandy whined.

  Megan rubbed her temple, weighing her options. Today shook her up. If she ever wanted a semblance of a normal life, she had to do something about the shyness. She had control of every other aspect of her life—besides the whole seeing through walls thing—and it was time to take control of this.

  “If I go with you tonight do you swear not to ask me again?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Ever?” Megan asked, raising her eyebrows along with the stakes.

  Brandy let out a sigh. “I’ll never ask you to go with me again if you go with me tonight.”

  It was a lie, but it gave Megan leverage for the next time she asked.

  “What time do you want to meet?” She couldn’t believe she was actually agreeing to this. Brandy was brazen at the shop, so how was she going to act after a few beers in her? That thought alone was almost enough to make her call the deal off.

  “Meet me there in an hour,” Brandy squealed. “Wear a hoochie momma outfit!”

  Megan laughed. “Sure. Hoochie momma outfit it is.”

  They hung up and she felt a nervous excitement she hadn’t felt in, well, maybe forever. At least she was going to get out of the house for o
nce. Netflix and Oreo’s would still be there when she came home.

  Maybe Brandy was right about needing a person she was comfortable with to help pave the way. If there was anyone who could take the attention away from her, it was Brandy.

  Megan went to her large walk-in closet and felt a bit lighter just looking at it. Owning a boutique kept her closet fully stocked with everything imaginable and she loved it. Putting on a blue silk blouse and topping it with a cropped jean jacket, she added her best pair of jeans and a pair of peek-a-boo black heels. She chose a few pieces of tasteful jewelry and started on her hair and makeup. Thirty minutes later, she was satisfied enough to walk out the door and not think about what she was about to do.

  All the way to Roosters, she had to convince herself not to turn the car around and go home. When she reached the parking lot there was no going back. Brandy was outside of her car, leaned against the door, waiting on her.

  “Come on, girl. Before all the good ones are picked through.”

  “God, Brandy. You make it sound like a cattle auction,” Megan told her while checking the contents of her purse, trying to delay getting out of the car. Now that she was there, her bravado was quickly dwindling and her hands were beginning to sweat.

  Brandy gave a crooked smile and shrugged. “Pretty much is.” Dragging herself out of the car, Megan pulled the hem of her shirt as they walked toward the old building. “You look for the finest one you think will get you the best meat.”

  Megan couldn’t help but giggle. The things that came out of Brandy’s mouth were hilarious even if she didn’t intend for it to be a joke. “This may come as a complete shock to you, but I’m not interested in a piece of meat. I just want to learn to have a normal conversation with a man without freaking out.”

  “Yeah, right.” She continued talking, but the thumping music and loud voices drowned out whatever she said. Megan probably didn’t want to hear Brandy’s words of wisdom, anyway.

  Coming to a halt, her breathing became more difficult to control when she realized the bar had a ratio of at least three men to every woman. Brandy must have sensed her sudden and immediate need to run because she grabbed a hold of her arm and tugged her to the bar.