Bad Girlfriend

by Kirsten DeMuzio

  Bad Girlfriend

  Kirsten DeMuzio

  Copyright © 2014 by Kirsten DeMuzio

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval systems, without prior written permission of the author except where permitted by law.

  Published by

  Kirsten DeMuzio

  9054 Tabernash Drive

  Columbus, Ohio 43240

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Cover design by Kirsten DeMuzio

  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

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Chapter Twenty Nine

  Epilogue

  Playlist

  About The Author

  Excerpt from Fourth Down

  Excerpt from Just One Reason

  Chapter One

  Brooke

  Flipping through the channels for the third time, I finally settled on a marathon of America’s Next Top Model. It was season six, which I had already seen more than once, but it was better than any of the other crap that was on TV on Sunday nights.

  The house was quiet except for Tyra’s voice coming from the TV. Gram was at her weekly poker night, which wouldn’t end until close to midnight. I swear she had a more active social life than I did lately, which wasn’t all that hard to accomplish.

  For being a seventy-one year old grandmother who had raised her now twenty-three year old granddaughter, she was surprisingly spry. My mom had been sixteen when she had me. Shortly after I was born she ran off with some guy, who was not my father. I’m not sure what happened to him, but my mom stayed gone. I’ve seen her only occasionally over the years, and she’s more like a distant cousin than a mother. Gram is the only mother I’ve ever known, which is why I still live here with her. I tell her it’s because she’s getting older and needs my help to keep up this big old house. But the truth is that I don’t know how to be alone.

  My friend, Poppy, who used to live in the apartment over our garage, moved out on her own right after she graduated high school. She’s so independent and sure of herself. I envy that about her.

  It’s only been a few days since she moved out of the garage apartment to live with her boyfriend, Ford, but I miss her already. My bedroom is at the back of the house and my windows overlook the backyard as well as the detached garage and studio apartment where Poppy used to live. She spent most of her time locked away in there studying, and it was rare that I could get her to go out with me. But it was still comforting to be able to look out my window at night and know I had a friend close by.

  Now the lights above the garage were on, but I had yet to meet the new tenant. He had moved in yesterday when I was at work. I sincerely doubted we would be besties though, considering he was the new principal at the elementary school. Not exactly someone I would want to hang out with, and vice versa.

  My phone rang from its spot next to me on my bed. The display showed that Chet was calling. There was only one reason Chet called me, especially at 10:00 at night. Tattooed with a shaved head, Chet was the epitome of a bad boy. He played guitar in a local band and was my on-again off-again boyfriend. Right now we were off-again, but that didn’t stop him from calling me. Even as I touched the screen to answer the call, I hated myself for not being stronger and ignoring the call.

  “Hello?”

  “Hey, babe.” He only ever called me babe, and I sometimes wondered if he knew what my name was. “You at home?”

  “Yeah, I’m at home. What do you want, Chet?”

  His voice took on the low seductive quality that had undoubtedly charmed many girls before me. “I just finished a gig, and I thought I could swing by.”

  I sighed. “Why do you want to come over, Chet?”

  “I miss you, babe.”

  I paused, trying to resist. “No, Chet. If you really miss me, you can call and ask me out on a date. A real date. One that involves spending time together not having sex.”

  Then, because I knew my resolve would crumble if I stayed on the line, I pressed End. I put my phone in my nightstand drawer, where it would be out of my sight, and went downstairs. There was absolutely no chocolate in the house, so I stood in front of the open fridge trying to find a good substitute. With a frustrated huff, I swung the door shut. From the kitchen window I saw the lights above the garage go out. I rolled my eyes. The principal must have an early bedtime.

  The outside light was still on, illuminating the corner of the garage. The garbage cans caught my eye, and I remembered it was trash day on Monday. Not wanting to make Gram put the cans out when she got home later, I slipped on a pair of flip flops and went outside.

  It was only mid August, so the summer humidity was still in full effect. The heavy moist air hit my skin and made the tendrils at my neck curl. My hair was piled on top of my head, but there were a few strands escaping the messy bun.

  Since it was my lazy day, I wasn’t wearing any makeup and had on a tank top and boy shorts. Gram would have scolded me for going outside in my underwear if she was home, but it was dark. On a Sunday night, everyone in our small town was probably in bed by now.

  I dragged one trash can and then the other down the driveway to the curb, making sure they weren’t blocking the way for Gram to pull her car in. Or for the principal to pull his car out. His very sensible black sedan.

  My finger caught on the handle of the second trash can, and I swore as I saw that my nail broke. I just had my nails done yesterday, and now half of the hot pink polish on my left pinkie was missing. Most people thought redheads shouldn’t wear pink, but it was one of my favorite colors. I made a mental note to leave for work early tomorrow so I could stop by Nancy’s New Nails and get it fixed.

  Giving the old green trash can a good kick for breaking my nail, I stormed back toward the house. When I glanced up at the apartment over the garage out of habit, I saw the curtains move slightly. Awesome. Not only was the new tenant boring, he was also a peeping Tom. Suddenly I was wishing I had dressed a little more appropriately for taking out the trash.

  I hurried back inside and checked the time. It was still not even 10:30, and I wasn’t at all sleepy thanks to a late afternoon nap. I thought about calling Poppy just to chat, but she was probably either studying or sleeping…with Ford. My other friends, Leah and Lindsay both had babies, so they were also likely sleeping or spending time with their husbands.

  I was starting to feel like I was missing out on something other girls my age had already found - love. Though not for lack of trying on my part. Sure, I knew the type of guys I tended to go for weren’t exactly relationship material. But the nice guys - the good guys - all seemed to be taken.

  Knowing I would hate myself in the morning, or ma
ybe even later tonight, I went upstairs and took my phone out from its hiding place.

  Me: come over

  His response was almost immediate.

  Chet: be there in 5

  At least he didn’t have anybody else on his booty call speed dial. I thought about putting on some makeup or fixing my hair while I waited. But why bother? Chet wouldn’t even notice.

  It was more like three minutes than five when I heard the kitchen door open and close and heavy footsteps on the stairs. And ten seconds later, his boots were off and his hands were under my shirt. Chet wasn’t one for foreplay, and we were usually both naked before I could say hello. Tonight was no different.

  “I’m glad you changed your mind, babe,” he breathed against my neck as his hands roughly caressed my breasts.

  “What’s my name?”

  Chet pulled back to look at me like I was crazy. “Is this some kind of crazy kink? Cause I’ll call you whatever you want as long as you get…”

  I shook my head. “No! You always call me babe. I want to make sure you know my name.”

  He laughed and resumed his groping. “Of course I know your name, Brooke.”

  That relaxed me a bit, and I wound my arms around his neck, pressing my body fully against his.

  “That’s what I’m talkin’ about,” Chet murmured. He grabbed my ass and walked me backwards until the backs of my bare thighs hit the bed.

  In no time, all of our clothes lay on my bedroom floor and Chet was on his knees between my legs.

  “You are so fucking hot,” he said as he rolled on a condom and slid inside me.

  I gripped his big biceps and rocked my hips up to meet him. Chet kissed me fiercely, and it was those moments that kept me coming back for more. The small moments when I felt like I was the center of his world. Of someone’s world. He moved his hips, the deep thrusting causing the familiar pressure to build inside me.

  But as always, orgasm was just out of my reach, and when Chet left my house thirty minutes later I felt on edge and unsatisfied. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy myself. I could just never get off on the Chet train before he made it to the station.

  No sooner had he disposed of the condom than he said, “Hey, babe. I gotta get going. I promised the guys I would help them unload the equipment from the show.”

  “Mmmm hmmm,” I murmured, not surprised. Chet never stayed over or asked me to stay at his place, and there was always some excuse why he had to go.

  “Don’t pout. No one drives me as crazy as you do, babe.” He kissed the top of my head.

  I grabbed my short summer robe and pulled it around me as I followed him down the stairs.

  “I’ll call you,” he said. It was his usual parting statement. “Hey,” he said turning back when he was halfway out the door. “You wanna grab some dinner later this week. Maybe Friday?”

  I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. “Sure. That would be great.”

  He winked at me and was out the door.

  No sooner had Chet pulled his old muscle car out of the driveway than Gram pulled her little red sports car in. That was a close call. Not that she thought I was still a virgin or anything, but I never wanted her to walk in on me in the middle of anything.

  Pulling the belt of my robe tighter around my waist, I got a drink of water and leaned back against the counter. Gram came in through the kitchen door a minute later, took one look at me barefoot in my robe and shook her head. I guess I didn’t get away scot-free after all.

  “Brooke, what are you doing?”

  I jingled the ice in my glass. “I’m getting a drink of water. How was poker night? You’re home early. Did you win big?” Gram played every Sunday night with some ladies from church. They bet some serious cash, and Gram usually came home with a pretty big haul.

  She lowered her white eyebrows and pointed a finger at me. “Don’t you try and change the subject, young lady. I saw that hooligan leaving here in the middle of the night. And then I find you standing here naked. Lord knows I wasn’t born yesterday.”

  “I’m not naked,” I countered. “And it’s not the middle of the night.”

  “There’s only one reason a boy like that comes over here. And it’s not a good reason.”

  I sighed and took a seat at the table. It had been a while since she had lectured me. Of course, I was usually much better at hiding what I was doing.

  “You can’t keep giving away the milk for free, Brooke. It gives them no reason to buy the cow.”

  I really loved being compared to a cow.

  “You need to find yourself a nice boy. One that appreciates you.”

  I snorted. “Where, Gram? There are approximately five unmarried men in this town. I don’t really have a great selection to pick from.”

  Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. “Don’t you think that’s a bit of an exaggeration? Look at your friends. They’ve all found nice boys. Leah and Lindsay have beautiful babies, and Poppy has that nice football coach.”

  She was probably the only person that had ever described Ford as nice. But she had a point. I just didn’t want to hear it. It’s not like I didn’t already know all this, but I wasn’t sure what to do about it. Nice guys weren’t exactly beating down my door.

  When Gram saw the tears that welled up in my eyes, her voice softened and she smoothed my hair like she’d done since I was a little girl.

  “I want you to be happy, Brooke. That’s all I’ve ever wanted. I’ve seen too many boys break your heart. I just want you to find your prince.”

  I wiped my eyes and offered a small smile. “I know, Gram. Don’t worry about me. I’ll figure it all out…eventually.” That seemed to appease her, though I didn’t believe a word of it. I had no idea if I could figure anything out or not.

  When Gram retired to her room for the night, I went outside. I had been planning to spend some quality time with my vibrator, which was my usual routine after Chet had been over. But getting lectured by Gram had effectively doused my libido in cold water.

  The old tree swing that I used to spend hours on as a little girl still hung from the giant oak tree in the backyard. My toes curled into the grass as I walked silently across the yard in the clear dark night.

  With my hands grasping the rope, I pumped my legs until I was swinging high in the air. My hair had come undone during my time with Chet, and it streamed behind me as I flew through the air. I rarely felt as free as I did when I was swinging. Leaning back so I could look through the branches to the stars above, I remembered what it felt like to be young and innocent.

  I continued to swing until a distant rumble of thunder brought a warning of an impending storm. Reluctantly I let myself slow down until my feet brushed the grass under the swing. Even then I stayed outside until the first few raindrops fell. Then I ran inside and locked up the house for the night. Gram’s light was already off when I went upstairs, so I made sure the volume on my TV was turned down low when I resumed watching America’s Next Top Model.

  It was after midnight before I finally turned off the TV and fell asleep to the sound of rain on the roof. In the words of my favorite green eyed heroine, Scarlett O’Hara - tomorrow is another day.

  Chapter Two

  Adam

  My alarm clock went off way too early, considering I didn’t sleep well. And it was way too quiet here in Penn Yan. Coming from New York City, I was used to the sounds of traffic and music from the bar down the block lulling me to sleep. Here there was only the sound of the summer rain and the occasional cricket chirping.

  Leaving the city had been a hard decision, but in the end, the promise of an easy position at a small town elementary school had drawn me away. After watching kindergartners set off metal detectors on a daily basis, I welcomed the change. Granted this was my first year as principal, but four years of teaching and two years as assistant principal had prepared me well. Or so I hoped.

  Today was a teacher in-service day, so I would be able to settle into my office and meet
the staff before the kids started back on Wednesday. When I had come out for my interview two weeks ago, I had met with three members of the school board and Thomas Cole, the Superintendant.

  I had known Thomas for many years, from back when I dated his niece for several years in college. We had spent some time here in the summer at Thomas’ lake house. When he called me out of the blue about this opportunity, I couldn’t help feeling like it was meant to be. I was only one hour into my drive back to the city after the interview when Thomas called to offer me the job. I gave my two weeks’ notice to my old school the next day.

  The only bad part of taking a job so quickly was that I didn’t have time to look for a place to live. One of the school board members knew a woman who had an apartment available, and the price was great. So I took it - sight unseen. Now that I was here, I understood why the rent was so cheap. I could stand in the kitchen and almost touch my bed. There was just enough space in the bathroom to turn around, and I had to duck down in the shower to wash my hair.

  The landlady, Eleanor, was a nice, older woman who lived in the big house out front. She was here to greet me when I arrived on Saturday and kindly recommended a storage place for the furniture that wouldn’t fit in the studio apartment, which was almost everything. She had mentioned that her granddaughter lived with her, and I was assuming she would have been young - middle school or maybe high school age - since Eleanor herself didn’t seem to be too old.

  But the woman I saw taking out the trash late last night was no teenager. And if she was, Lord help me, I shouldn’t be allowed to work with children after the thoughts I had. No, she was definitely older, maybe early twenties. I had just turned off my light to attempt to go to sleep when I heard rattling around outside. Going to the window I saw a scantily clad young woman wrestling two large trash cans down the driveway. It wasn’t until she reached the curb and the streetlight illuminated her that I saw her hair was a vibrant shade of red and her skin was smooth. I couldn’t make out her features, but her body...good God. Yeah, she was definitely not a teenager.