Bitter

by S. L. Romines

  Bitter

  by

  S.L. Romines

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. The author makes no claims to, but instead acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following marks mentioned in this work of fiction.

  Copyright © 2015 by S.L. Romines

  Bitter by S.L. Romines

  All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copy-right reserved above, no part of this book 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 written permission of above copyright owner of this book, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  Cover Design: Vanessa Kelly

  Cover image licensed by Adobe Stock/Kaponia Aliaksei

  Formatter: Vanessa Kelly

  Printed in the United States of America

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Dedication

  Bitter Sweet

  Chapter One

  Chapter One

  Tick…Tick…Tick…

  The nail screeching sound of the clock ticking its way to quitting time has my nerves fraying like nobody’s business. Not only am I feeling edgy to no fucking end, I also have a blind date tonight I was reluctant to accept when the idea was thrown in my face. My best friend, Cass—thought it would be a great idea to exploit her suck ass matchmaking skills on me— setting me up with some dude named Jaxon that her husband knows. Apparently, Jaxon is an absolute winner, as Cass brightly gushed when she begged to go out with the loser.

  Whatever. Who gives a damn? I’ll go, show face, then I’ll walk my happy ass out of the restaurant and be on my merry little fucking way.

  Besides, with my luck, he’ll probably end up being an asshole. And let me tell you, I’ve been with my fair share of assholes. My last date should’ve won the academy award for that shit. That guy was an epic turd. All he did was talk about himself, his car, and then a lot more about himself. There’s only so much that a woman can take when hearing about a man’s hairy mole and crooked toe. Who does that? And I’m convinced that the guy before him had the worst body odor in recorded history. The dude smelled like Funyuns and old cheese. Not attractive at all. Hey, I’m not saying that I’m the most perfect person in the world, but I do know that a shower and some deodorant would’ve probably helped his rancid body funk.

  “Hey, Viv!”

  I slowly lift my eyes up at my cubical neighbor and cringe.

  Brittany Davenport. I swear to God that woman has the biggest boobs I have ever seen. They kind of resemble big, colorful bouncing beach balls. At our annual Christmas party, last year— that I was forced to attend— Brittany danced right out of her dress. Apparently, the zipper malfunctioned and she gave the entire office a good look at her jugs. And did I forget to mention that she wasn’t wearing a bra? Yeah. This girl has firsthand knowledge of those triple double decker Ds and eraser nipples.

  “What?” I ask, trying to put on my best fake smile and failing miserably.

  “Oh, poo. Did the grumpy gremlins tinkle in your Cheerios again?”

  “Sometimes,” I say in a low, low voice, “I really, really want to know why your parents didn’t consider using birth control.”

  “What was that, doll?”

  “Oh, nothing,” I reply, wearing a smile that feels like it’s going to break my face. “What’s up?”

  “Well, I wanted to give you this.” A yellow envelope is thrust into my face. “It’s an invitation to my son’s fifth birthday party. I cannot believe my little man is going to be five! And we’re having his birthday at Fun World!”

  What. The. Actual. Fuck.

  Why would anyone think that I would go to a five-year-old's birthday party, especially to Fun World? I’ve been there only once and I swore that I would never go back. I was convinced then, just as I’m convinced now, that they give those kids a pound of sugar before they enter the building. No lie. The last time I was there I saw some little kid pile drive another little kid in the ball pit and then knee him in the crotch. Even I was scared. Nope. Not me. Never again.

  “Sorry, Brittany, but I’m busy that day.”

  “Oh. But you haven’t even opened the card.”

  “Yeah. Kinda busy all month.”

  “That’s perfect because it isn’t until next month!”

  Fuck. My. Life.

  I breathe in hard through my nose, throwing Brittany another fake smile, while crossing my fingers under my desk. “Sure, Britt, I will definitely think about it.”

  “Hey, look! Time to go!”

  My guts drop as soon as Brittany speaks the evil, wretched words. The Date from Hell awaits and I seriously want to crawl up Brittany’s ass and hide. Did I mention that she has a butt that’s spread like the Pacific Ocean? Yeah, it’s a big ole’ donkey. If it was possible it would have its own zip code and a backup detector.

  I shake my head of thoughts of the woman’s butt and grab my things to leave. Weaving my way through the parking lot, I rip off my blouse and let my skin finally breathe. I hate clothes, especially the type that feels like they are glued to my skin. Give me a tank and a pair of faded Daisy’s and I’m a happy fucking camper. But because I work in a stuffy call center, professional office attire is required. Well, pretty soon they can shove their office attire right up their…

  “Hey!”

  My adrenaline kicks into overdrive when I spot three shady looking dudes putting hands on my bike.

  “What the fuck! Get your hands off my shit!”

  Several of my co-workers stop and stare. And to be totally honest with you, I don’t give a crap.

  “This ain’t yours,” shady ass number one says.

  “Yeah, go get in your Prius, lady,” shady ass number two laughs.

  Shady ass number three takes off when I pull Ginger out from my Docs. Apparently, she isn’t well received.

  “Get the fuck away from my bike or I will cut your dick off. And after I cut your fucking dick off, “I spat to shady ass number one, and then point to shady ass number two, “ I will slice his nut sack off and shove it down your throat!”

  Both men haul ass when I flick my wrist and expose Ginger’s shiny side.

  “Damn, lady, you’re crazy!”

  “You little bitches have no idea!

  With my heart beating a mile a minute I breathe in deep to calm myself. Normally I wouldn’t go all bat shit crazy, but these numb nuts had it coming. Oh, who am I kidding? Touch my bike and I’m liable to break your face, rip a chunk off and send it to your mother.

  With co-workers still watching and gasping in the distance— probably waiting to see me explode all over the parking lot, I wave them off. Busy bodies. I slide my palm over my bike and smile. I swing my leg over the side and take a good long look at Ginger, closing her up then shoving her back in my boot. I feel a sense of release when I press the ignition button and my bike roars to life. That bike is the only thing my biological father left me when he passed away.

  As I slide out into traffic, I remind myself to bring Ginger along on my blind date.

  Chapter Two

/>   El Molcajete is hands down the best Mexican restaurant I’ve ever been to. And their homemade tortillas? Holy crap! They literally melt in your mouth. I’m pretty sure Lupe— the world’s most kickass waitress— thinks I’m a certifiable nut job when I call in an order for a dozen tortillas…and nothing else. The language barrier is a bitch but she and I have mastered the art of Point and Smile. I point to the picture of what I want and she just smiles. Works every damn time.

  I pull into the parking lot, shut my bike down and give myself a minute to calm my nerves. When my cell phone starts to ring I nearly jump out of my skin. The caller ID flashes on the screen and I instantly have visions of throat punching Cass.

  “What!”

  “Oh my God. You clearly need to calm the heck down. Are you on your period?”

  If Cass hadn’t been my best friend for over twenty years, she would’ve already met the sole end of my boot.

  “Oh, no. I’m just a glutton for punishment. Tell me again why I let you talk me into this shit?”

  “Because you know that I love you and that I want to see you happy.”

  “I am happy! I’m the happiest fucker out there! What makes you think I’m not fucking happy?”

  “OMG! Would you please get off that death trap, walk in the damn restaurant, and get some of that delicious man meat already? You. Need. To. Get. Laid!”

  Before I can throw out another word, Cass ends the call. Bitch.

  I sit on my bike for a few more minutes contemplating an escape route. If I leave right now, no harm done. If I stay all hell could break loose, Lupe’s life could be in danger and the precious lives of those kickass tortillas once they get to flying across the restaurant. Neither Lupe nor the tortillas deserve that kind of abuse. But on the flip side, Cass is right. I do need to get laid. Two years is far too long. Maybe a Hump N Dump is in order. But with my luck, the guy will more than likely end up having a weenie the size and girth of a Vienna sausage.

  “Oh, fuck it,” I say to no one around, as I lock my helmet into place and slide off my bike. “Let’s do this shit.”

  Walking into the restaurant, I scan the area for Lupe but she isn’t around. Three other tables are occupied by families with really small children. At one table a little boy finds it necessary to flip his little rear from one booth to the other, while a little girl screams her head off as their parents shovel food in their mouths.

  I find a corner booth at the other end of the restaurant and wait.

  “Hey, Viv, can I get you something to drink?”

  I look up and smile at Lupe’s granddaughter, Imelda. “I’ll take a Coke,” I reply, realizing that I hadn’t seen any sign of the old woman. “Hey, where’s your grandma?”

  As far as I know Lupe’s never missed a day at the joint, considering it’s her family that owns it. I’ve been coming here for years and she’s always the first person to greet me when I walk in. Lupe has always been like a grandmother to me, even though we barely understand each other. On my fifth birthday, she gave me my first Cabbage Patch doll. Her name was Samantha and she came complete with short, blonde curly hair and a birth certificate. I loved that damn doll so much that by the time I was old enough to grow out of playing with dolls, I’d worn out several holes in her material and even gave her a few Sharpie tattoos. Believe it or not, I still have that doll.

  “Oh, my nana is kind of under the weather,” Imelda says, holding her pen and order book. “She was in the hospital last weekend. The doctor said that she had some issues with her blood pressure. But she’s home resting now.”

  I look up at Imelda and see the worry in her eyes.

  I’ve known Imelda Reyes since kindergarten. We were in nearly every class together up through our senior year in high school. We didn’t hang out in the same circles but we knew who the other was, and if she ever ran into a problem I’d always find myself right in the middle.

  “Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” I say, feeling a little shitty. “I don’t cook or bake or any shit like that, but just let me know. I could probably give you a ride to the hospital.”

  A small smile spreads across her lips. “Thanks, Viv. I’ll get that Coke and bring some chips and salsa right over. One basket?”

  Now, normally I would get one basket of chips but seeing as though the seat in front of me is soon to be occupied by a possible hungry beast…

  “Bring me two.”

  “Two?”

  “Yes. Two.”

  “You sure?”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake!” I whisper-yell. “I have a damn date!”

  Imelda smiles wider and I can see a question ready to bounce from her lips.

  “It’s a blind date, Melly. There are no goods to dish about.”

  Imelda bends over across the table and says in a low voice, “Well, you can at least try to get you a little some. Maybe that will clear up the bad mood you’ve been in for the past twenty years. And I’ll bring that salsa right over.”

  That perfect, little wink of hers is enough to make me want to gouge her eyeballs out.

  “My non-existent sex life is none of your business!” I yelled back behind me as Imelda walked away giggling. Bitch.

  “Viv?”

  “What!” As soon as I whip back around in the booth, my breath catches in my throat. Holy shit!

  “I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am, but is your name, Viv?”

  Okay, folks. Have you ever heard the term “Time Stood Still”? Well, it’s real. Not only is that term as real as it gets, the man standing in front of me cannot be real. Perfection. Absolute platinum perfection.

  “Uh…yeah, but the name’s Vivian.” I say although it comes out sounding like a squeak.

  And his smile? That one he’s forcing on me right now— complete with a mouth full of pearly whites— is also fucking perfection.

  “Thank God. I was afraid I’d ended up at the wrong place,” he says, sticking his large palm toward me. “My name’s Jaxon. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  I scan his features, taking in first his deep blue eyes and long black eyelashes. My gaze travels down the side of his face instantly connecting with his sharp jaw line. As he talks, the movement of his plump lips does funny things to my insides. If was scientifically possible, I’d swear that my ovaries are on the verge of imploding. Something must be seriously wrong with me.

  “Hey, what’s up?” I ask, sliding my hand into his. As soon as our palms connect, a jolt of the feels goes straight to my pussy. I try to reign in the proverbial butterflies, slipping my hand from his. “Hungry? 'Cause I’m starving.”

  My body has never reacted this way before. Even when I’m butt naked and spread eagle on some dude’s bed have I ever wanted to just submit.

  What the fuck is wrong with me!

  “Here’s your…”

  Imelda stops at our table, holding a tray with all our goodies, and openly eye-fucks my hot blind date. I look up at Jax and see him smile up at our rude ass waitress. I wonder if anyone will notice if I pluck her eyeballs out with my fork. I mean really, rude much?

  Something is absolutely wrong with me.

  Giving Imelda my best stink eye, she leans in closer, turns her head slightly in my direction and mouths, “If you don’t, I will.”

  Yeah, right. There would be no way in hell that she would ever fuck around. Imelda has been married for nearly ten years. Her husband, Jaime, is one of the good guys, I have to admit. And with all the idiots I’ve come across, he’s a keeper. One time she told me that Jaime surprised her by giving her an at home pedicure complete with a damn toe polishing. Sounds like torture if you ask me. Never in a million years would I let a man near my toes. Ever. Some men have foot fetishes, I understand that. But the moment some guy thinks he’s going to even touch my southern digits is the day he finds my foot jammed down his throat.

  After taking Jax’s drink order, Imelda winks at me and I immediately want to throat punch her. Jax notices the ugly sideways look I give her because he
throws up a questioning brow.

  “What?”

  “Oh, nothing.” There’s that smile again. Sexy asshole. “Do you have some beef with the waitress? She seemed pretty nice to me.”

  “Nah. She’s just been a pain in my ass since we were kids. No biggie.” I scan the menu even though I know exactly what I’m going to order. “Know what you want?”

  Jax clears his throat. “Well, I’d like to get to know you a little better.”

  I can’t help it. My eyes flash up and meet his and I’m quickly assaulted by two very deep embedded dimples. My stomach does a weird twisty turning thing and my hands start to feel slightly clammy. Maybe I’m having a heart attack. Or maybe I’m on the verge of stroking out. I can see the whole ER scene play out in front of me.

  “So what seems to have brought on your symptoms?”

  “Oh, well, ya see, I was on a blind date— which I thought the idiot was going to end up being ugly as dog food, but he wasn’t. He was fuck hot and his smile made my vagina throb and I swear it felt like my ovaries were going to leap from my body and do the Macarena. And then before I knew it I felt like I was going to hurl and then my heart started to race and my hands got really clammy. Am I dying, doctor?”

  And then once the evening news got involved, I would become the town’s epic dumbass.

  At 8:30 pm a local woman was rushed to the county hospital complaining about what some are saying were the signs of a heart attack or food poisoning. The woman had been out on a date and began to feel ill.

  When we spoke to the hospital, a witness at the scene had this to say. “Did you see the man that was with her? Hell, I’d be having a heart attack too!”

  From what we’ve learned, a heart attack was not the case. Apparently, the woman was horny as hell. Back to you in the newsroom, Barry!”

  Well, Barry can suck a big fat veiny one.

  “There’s not much to tell,” I say, dipping a tortilla chip in the bowl of salsa Imelda brought to the table. I take a big, heaping scoop and feel Jax’s eyes on me. “What?”