Sweet Little Bitch

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Sweet Little Bitch Page 11

by Abbi Glines


  “Fuck,” Rowan muttered beside me. “I think that was my fault.”

  I forced myself to stop watching her. I wasn’t going to appear pathetic. I took a long drink from my glass and turned back to my brother and Rowan.

  “What do you mean?” I asked Rowan simply to make conversation and get myself under control. The desire to chase Fiona’s ass down and beg her to talk to me was strong, but I was stronger. I’d begged that woman and I had pleaded on my knees for the last time. Never again.

  “I was so wrapped up in the moment I didn’t realize I was holding onto your arm waiting for the next move. She read it wrong.”

  I glanced down at my arm not even realizing Rowan was touching me. Every fiber of my being had been focused on Fiona. Which meant I was pathetic. But if it looked like I was with Rowan, then maybe I didn’t look pathetic to the rest of the place. Maybe it was just me that knew how fucking weak I was when it came to Fiona.

  “Doesn’t matter,” I shrugged. “That’s all the past. Time we both grow up and forgot it happened.”

  Rowan snorted and Mack grinned. I didn’t respond to either of them because they were both complete dicks.

  “You sure you don’t want a drink?” Mack asked Rowan. “All of us might need several. Dinner hasn’t even started yet.”

  Rowan glanced back over her shoulder. “The blonde is watching it all very closely. This is going to get good. I love girl fights. Do you think if they tie up in a fight we can get them to do it naked and covered in oil?”

  Mack spat his beer our and laughed uncontrollably.

  Usually Rowan’s humor made me laugh. Tonight, all I could manage was a smile. One that didn’t meet my eyes. One that I knew appeared more like a grimace. But fuck me, I was doing the best I could.

  Fiona

  IT WAS HER. THE REDHEAD I ran into from across the hall . . . she was here with him. Hanging on his arm staring at me as if I were about to throw things and scream with rage and jealousy. Her wide-eyed expression annoyed me. I could tell she wanted drama and hoped for it. Marty always picked the worst ones. Including me. I was a wreck emotionally. I’d warned him in the beginning.

  Getting out of her nosy line of sight had been my goal. I had only taken a couple of steps when I saw Chantel standing off beside a yellow and pink rose garden speaking in hushed tones to Beulah Edwards . . . no, make that Beulah Richmond now. It had been Richmond for three years now. After that wedding, I hadn’t been back.

  Both Beulah and Chantel turned their gazes to me and Beulah’s smile softened. She was sincere and possibly the nicest person on the damn premises. Chantel, however, looked pale. With that platinum hair of hers it wasn’t attractive. This had to happen eventually, so I sighed and decided to get it over with while I had three quarters of a bottle champagne in me.

  I didn’t pause in my stride as I walked toward the two of them. I returned Beulah’s smile. It was good to see her. She was still as naturally beautiful as she had been three years ago. Even very pregnant. Which she obviously was . . . again. They’d already reproduced once. I hadn’t heard they were doing it again. Jeez, Stone liked to make kids. Was he working on a basketball team? With his son this baby would make three.

  Beulah did beam with that pregnant glow I’d heard people talk about. I’m glad the Richmond’s seemed as happy as when I’d left them. It was time I faced what I had rather ignore. Chantel. My former best friend, roommate, and one person I trusted. Even more than Shay. Until Chantel decided to go to a bar with Marty one night, drank too many shots of tequila and screwed him in our apartment . . . while I was asleep. I’d found them in the living room half naked and passed out on the floor wrapped up together.

  Marty and I had been broken up for a year at that point. But . . . we had started talking again. I’d admitted I still loved him. We’d even let things get carried away a couple times and ended up screwing like crazed maniacs. But I was scared of trusting him again. I had been holding him back. Not ready to move forward. Wanting him more than anything but so scared to listen to what had happened when I’d been In Italy. It didn’t matter now because that was all over.

  Now that I had three years to think about it, I had come to accept Chantel didn’t realize any of that. I hadn’t told her. It had been something I wasn’t ready to share with anyone. I was afraid of it myself. But she had known how much he had hurt me. She’d been there when I finally crumpled to the floor and cried uncontrollably.

  Forgiveness. It was time to forgive. We’d never be what we once were. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t ease this tension and make the weekend easier for her. And me.

  “Hello, Beulah. You look stunning. Pregnancy only makes you more beautiful. I hate you for it,” I said teasingly. I turned to Chantel. “Chantel, you look good. I hope life is treating you well.”

  “It’s great to see you,” Beulah said before Chantel could say anything. She was giving Chantel time to get herself together. I respected that.

  “You look happier. I heard about your new career. You deserve it.” Chantel’s voice quivered, mixed with nerves and relief.

  “Thanks,” I replied.

  “I’ve spoken to several of the models you’ve worked with. They can’t sing your praises enough. I’ll admit I’m proud.” Chantel said the last sentence as if she was prepared to defend herself.

  A smile tugged on the corner of my lips but I didn’t feel like a response was needed.

  “I’m sorry, Fiona. I miss you,” Chantel blurted out the words as her face flushed pink.

  I should have guessed she’d need to get that out there and clear the air. She had never been good with the elephant in the room. Chantel had been a fighter. Nothing scared her. She had always been tough and said what she was thinking. Until the morning I confronted her about Marty, she had never backed down. Never gone silent.

  This was the Chantel I knew. The Chantel I missed.

  “It’s over. Three years changes a lot. Truth is, you saved me from a mistake. I don’t hate you for that. I did then. I hated everyone. But not as much as I hated myself. I hated my insecurities. My damage,” I paused as a server appeared to my left with a tray of champagne flutes with strawberries floating inside the pink bubbly. I grabbed two and handed one to Chantel. “Drink. We both need it.”

  Chantel took the glass from my hand. Her eyes cut to Beulah. “I feel bad drinking in front of you but she’s right. I could use this.”

  Beulah laughed. “Don’t be. I swore I’d never drink with you again after the night in Stone’s apartment. I woke up feeling like I was dying, and you walked out looking like you were about to step onto the cover of a magazine.”

  Chantel grinned. “I hold my alcohol better. I’ve had practice.”

  “She’s right.” I turned to the server who was about to walk off. “Hey, wait, we need two more of those.” He stopped and held out the tray with an amused gleam in his eyes. I took another flute and so did Chantel.

  “Drink up,” I said throwing back the glass in my left hand. Chantel did the same. Beulah watched on, giggling.

  “Y’all don’t go getting hammered at my party! I’ve seen the two of you drunk more times than I can count and I can’t afford the damage it will cause,” Shay called out from across the courtyard.

  Chantel’s perfect smile displaying her white straight teeth was familiar. One that reminded me of happier times. Moments when my life was easier. Simpler. A time when I didn’t question everyone around me and their motives the way I did now.

  “We’re just getting in the party spirit,” Chantel responded to her.

  “Mack, watch them or we will have strippers on the table before dessert is served,” Shay said as she walked toward her fiancé and closer to us.

  “Hey! Don’t go stopping the fun before it begins. Make this weekend memorable,” a guy I didn’t recognize said. He slapped Mack on the back as if this had just become his bachelor party.

  “Shut up, Cort. No one asked you. I was talking to my man,” Shay said
with a roll of her eyes.

  “Free entertainment, Shay. Don’t knock it,” Cort argued. His gaze shifted back to us and he winked. At me or Chantel I wasn’t sure. Didn’t matter. Cort was not my type. Nor was his humor.

  “We should have gotten three,” Chantel muttered.

  “They’ll be back around,” I replied.

  “I missed this. Y’all like this,” Beulah’s tone was happy. As if this mattered to her as much as it did to us. And I knew it did. Because these were my friends. The people I’d trusted. The people in my life I had lost suddenly. When you are away from it you forget the feeling of home. You grow accustomed to the emptiness.

  Without warning my eyes moved across the guests until they found Marty. I hadn’t done it on purpose. My eyes did it without me thinking about it. His head turned sharply and those eyes locked on mine. We wouldn’t be ending the night with champagne and smiles. There was no forgiveness there.

  Bridges can be burned and repaired. Sometimes they’re burned beyond redemption.

  Marty

  “THEY’RE WASTED.” ROWAN’S FASCINATION WAS almost annoying. She’d been giving me a play by play of Fiona and Chantel since their earlier scene with the champagne. They’d made up or whatever the hell one called it.

  “Jesus, this is better than a fucking soap opera,” Rowan leaned in and whispered again. I wanted to forget all of this and go to bed. I didn’t need Rowan keeping me updated on things. I had my back to them on purpose. The coldness in Fiona’s eyes had been clear. No emotion. No desire to speak to me. Her indifference had been fucking hard to swallow.

  “Ohmygod! Chantel is getting on the table with her cocktail,” Rowan gripped my arm as she said it and almost squealed with delight. Multiple voices began chanting her name as she stepped to the top of the table. The music was turned up as “Gold Digger” by Kanye West began pumping through the speakers. The fingernails biting into my arm told me that Chantel had drank enough to do her stripper dance to Gold Digger. Chantel dancing was a party favorite and I’d seen her do it alongside Fiona. They’d done their choreographed moves at more than one party or wedding. As had many of the other people here.

  What felt like ages ago, we had held parties in our building. The memories from those parties had me reaching over, taking Rowan’s unfinished whiskey and downing it. She didn’t even notice. She was too enthralled at the sight of Chantel moving her body seductively to “Gold Digger”.

  “Uh . . . you might want to drink some more,” Rowan whispered but she didn’t take her eyes away from Chantel. I was a little lightheaded for a brief moment while the whiskey hit my system and I glanced back to see what she was talking about.

  The site of Fiona’s legs was like a bucket of ice water thrown over me. Shit. Fiona had joined Chantel. There must have been a lot of alcohol consumed to get her tight ass up there. She never loosened up as quickly as Chantel did. Fiona might light up for a camera, but in a crowd, she didn’t enjoy being the center of attention.

  “Please tell me they kiss or do some touching shit.” Rowan didn’t even attempt to whisper.

  “You need to let that fantasy go,” I muttered and forced myself to turn away from her.

  The song was ending and there were chants for more from the single men. I heard Mack shut it down saying it was time to get some food in a few of us. Meaning the drunk stripper twins on the tables. A couple of servers appeared at an arched, rose-covered entryway. They opened the doors that had been closed. Candlelight, along with firelight flickered inside the space. They stood back and held out their hands, directing us inside.

  “Is there assigned seating?” Rowan asked.

  “I have no idea,” was my honest response. If Mack and Shay thought putting us at a table with them and Fiona, this night was going to get a lot more interesting. Fiona rarely got drunk. But when she did, it was a goddamn mess.

  “I see name cards,” Rowan whispered. She peered at the tables as we passed looking for our names.

  I knew without looking we’d be at the center round table. Mack pulled out Shay’s chair, and she was taking a seat when his eyes met mine. He gave me an apologetic smile, and I knew that my suspicions were correct.

  “That one,” I told Rowan. “Shay wants us to be one big happy family this weekend. We’re seated there with them.”

  “And Fiona?” Rowan’s tone was hesitant. As amused as she was with Fiona’s antics she also didn’t want me to suffer.

  “Yep. I told you this weekend is about my brother. I’ll do whatever necessary to get through it.”

  Rowan sighed and nodded her head. “Then let the train wreck begin.”

  For Mack and Shay’s sake I hoped that wasn’t the case. But I couldn’t promise anything. Fiona’s laughter rang out in the quiet romantic setting.

  “Shay! Why can’t I sit with Chantel! It’s been too long!” Fiona yelled her words across the distance separating her from her sister. I turned to look back at her, even though I knew I should ignore it. Let Shay handle it. I needed to pretend she wasn’t here.

  “I’ll be sure to move Chantel to our table tomorrow. But tonight, the two of you need coffee, water, and separation until both have kicked in,” Shay replied loudly. Not as loudly as Fiona but she still had no issue having this conversation in front of the entire party.

  “FINE! You’re the bride,” Fiona yelled back.

  There was laughter from many of the other guests.

  I glanced back at Mack and he shrugged. Shay didn’t seem upset at all. She was laughing, but then Shay had never been uptight. That’s why she and Mack worked together. She could give it back to him much worse than anything he could dish out. I’d seen them dancing around this mating game for years before they both admitted that their secret fuck sessions had led to more and they were in love.

  Damn fools. Both of them.

  I pulled out Rowan’s chair and she rolled her eyes in response before taking the seat. I often forgot she didn’t appreciate that kind of thing. It didn’t offend her. She was just annoyed by the idea of it all. Luckily, she overlooked my southern habits like opening doors for women. It was never a point of contention, but more something she could make fun of me about when I forgot and did those things for her.

  “Seating arrangement is interesting,” I said to both of them as I took my seat.

  Shay gave me a small smile. “Sorry. But we want our family with us.”

  I understood. Still didn’t make it easier.

  “As long as you’re prepared for your drunk ass sister’s unfiltered mouth.”

  Shay sighed and glanced up at Mack who sat beside her. “Yeah. We know. But you know to ignore it. Not like you’ve not dealt with her this way before. I’ll do my best to sober her up some.”

  I laughed at that. “Sleep is the only thing sobering her up. She’s had way too much. Coffee and water aren’t going to help.”

  Shay chewed her bottom lip nervously just as Fiona stopped at the table taking us all in before throwing her head back and laughing loudly. Her long brown hair reminded me of a shampoo commercial with all its flowing soft curls. Snapping my thoughts off all the things about Fiona I loved, I stared at the menu in front of me. Or glared angrily, because I was a weak man.

  “I’m Fiona. We saw each other earlier in the hallway. You’ll be fucking my ex-boyfriend in the room right across from me. Aren’t we all lucky we get to share the experience,” Fiona was talking way too damn loud.

  I snapped my head up to say something but I wasn’t fast enough.

  “I’m not against sharing if you’re into that.” Rowan’s response made Mack spit his drink out. Fiona’s eyes went wide with shock. If she’d been sober, she’d have had her own comeback. But if she’d been sober, she’d have never said what she had about the fucking.

  “Ooookay,” Shay said quickly. “Let’s get some coffee over here and maybe some ice water I can throw in my sister’s face.”

  Rowan was grinning at Fiona over the rim of her wine glass. Then she wink
ed.

  Fiona was frozen.

  Mack wasn’t successfully covering up his laughter.

  Let the fun and games begin. God help us all.

  Fiona

  SHAY WAS HANDING ME ANOTHER cup of coffee as my stomach roiled in protest. The earlier high I had been feeling was now gone. The nausea was taking over and this coffee wasn’t helping. Concentrating to avoid eye contact with Marty and his date was keeping me distracted enough that I hadn’t thought too much about my need to vomit. Even their presence was starting not to matter.

  “Drink it,” Shay ordered and I shook my head. “Fiona you need to sober up,” she urged.

  “I need to vomit,” I replied then stood up and hurried toward the entrance where I had noticed the restroom sign earlier. This was not the way I had imagined tonight going. I had wanted to appear aloof and carefree. As if Marty was no longer an issue for me. As if he didn’t still make my heart race when he was near me. Instead, I was racing to a toilet to throw up.

  Not to mention, this was Shay’s weekend and I was acting like a selfish bitch. Disgusted with myself and the saliva pooling in my mouth, I pushed through the door clearly marked Women before falling to my knees and humiliating myself further by ridding my stomach of its contents. At least I’d gotten to a toilet in time.

  My forehead broke out in a cold sweat by the time I was finished. I took some toilet paper and wiped my mouth before standing and flushing my embarrassment away. With a sigh, I went to look at myself in the mirror and assess the damage. I was pale. An improvement because I was no longer green. I was sure I had been earlier. I’d felt green at least.

  Even my lips were pale. The lipstick I’d applied with care was now gone. The gleam of sweat on my forehead was less than flattering. I should go to my room, sleep, and try this again tomorrow. While staying away from alcohol. Shay would probably be relieved if I left.

  The door opened and I glanced up in the mirror to see Chantel entering behind me. Her eyes still glassy. She could hold her drink better than anyone I knew. “You okay?” she asked.

 

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