by DC Renee
“Shit,” I said out loud to the empty room. “Just … shit.” That summed it all up. And on top of that, I was officially screwed.
Two
Carter
“Oh man, that girl was a piece of fucking work,” my buddy Lance said beside me at the bar. My buddies and I had gathered at our usual spot for after-work drinks. As usual, we ended up talking about work, and when we’d complained fully enough about our co-workers and work-related drama, we’d switched to girls.
Lance was currently telling us about his last fuck buddy.
“I mean you should have seen her. Stacked in all the right places, she was a fucking model.”
“More like a stripper,” Dan chimed in since he had seen her. He and Lance had picked up cousins a few weeks before. Dan had one night with his match, but Lance had been seeing Kimmy something-or-other for about three weeks. Apparently, she flipped out on him two nights ago, and now, he was done with her.
“Same shit,” Lance retorted before continuing. “But she did give head like one.” He smiled cockily.
“You’d know”—Erick laughed—“since you have to pay women to sleep with you.”
“Yeah, yeah, fuck you very much too,” Lance said as he flipped him off. “So where was I? Okay, so check this. We’re having fun, having a good time, and everything’s going great. She knows the score, right? Just sex. No strings. And then, Monday, I get home, and she’s in my apartment naked on my couch. At first, I’m like ‘Hell, yeah,’ until I realized I never gave her a key. How the fuck did she get in? So I asked, and she said she told the super that she was my girlfriend and wanted to surprise me, had to flirt a bit, whatever. So I’m like, ‘Okay, whatever. I like the surprise, so fine.’ So we start doing our thing, but when we move to the bedroom, there’s a fucking pink comforter on my bed. Then I look around, and my room is full of her shit. She’d practically moved in.”
I cracked up. I couldn’t help it, but so did Dan, Erick, and Lance too.
“Fuck, that’s awesome,” Dan said.
“Oh, yeah?” asked Lance. “What’s so fucking awesome about it?”
“Because you got stuck with the crazy cousin.”
“Hardy-har,” Lance said.
“So what’d you do?” Erick asked.
“I told her she was fucking nuts if she thought she was moving her shit into my place.”
“No, Lance, tell me you didn’t,” I finally spoke.
“Yeah, and that’s why she’s a piece of fucking work. She went nuts on me, started yelling and throwing shit, grabbed her clothes, and stormed out, one heel on, one heel off. Shit, I should have taken pictures. She probably gave old Mrs. Batters a heart attack,” he said of his nosy elderly neighbor.
“You sure know how to pick them.” I chuckled.
“Like you haven’t had your share of crazy,” Dan tossed back.
“Sure”—I shrugged—“crazy for my body.”
“Sorry, that was so funny, I forgot to laugh,” Erick said.
“Clever guy,” I retorted. “Aw, is little Erick jealous that I can pretty much get with any girl and do the friends-with-benefits thing, and she won’t go psycho on me?”
“You’ve never had a screaming match with a chick or gotten your tires slashed after you fucked her for a few weeks and then dropped her?” Dan asked incredulously.
“Wouldn’t I have told you about it?” I replied smugly.
“Maybe you vetted them properly,” Lance threw back.
“Maybe I did, but that’s not necessary. I can pick up any chick I want, have them begging for me, and when it’s all over, they go quietly, just happy enough to have had the time with me.”
“Bullshit,” Dan said. “Aside from the fact you couldn’t just walk up to a random chick and get her number—”
“Any chick,” I interrupted.
“Aside from that,” Dan responded, “what if she’s married?”
“Not my problem.”
“Good girl?”
“Every good girl has a bad girl inside waiting to be let out.”
“Freak?”
“Even better for me. Kinky as hell in bed from my experience.”
“Fine. Whatever. Let’s say you ‘can’ pick up a girl,” Dan said, actually using air quotes like some teenage girl. “There’s no way you’re leaving unscathed after you use her and dump her.”
“I’m telling you,” I replied haughtily, “they’re happy with whatever scraps I send their way.”
“That’s why you’re a ruthless attorney,” Lance cut in with a smile.
“I’m just good at what I do, and I know it. No sense hiding it.”
“So any girl?” Dan asked with a devil-may-care smile.
“Any,” I stated with a nod.
“Want to bet on that?”
“Sure,” I responded. “What’s the wager?”
“Hmm.” Dan rubbed chin with his hand. “Something good,” he contemplated.
“Loser has to wear a dress to this bar,” Lance said.
“What the fuck?” both Dan and I said at the same time.
“Well, why in the hell not?” Lance shrugged. “You two pansies wouldn’t have thought of something in this lifetime, and it’s sure to be a bet neither wants to lose with that shit on the table.”
“And the winner?” Dan asked.
“I don’t know. Bragging rights. Who cares? You don’t have to wear a fucking dress. Shouldn’t that be enough?” Lance told us.
“So what exactly is the bet?” I asked, wanting to make sure I understood everything clearly.
“You have to get a girl to sleep with you, no strings attached,” Dan told us.
“Easy,” I cut him off.
“Not for one night,” he said with a smug smile. “A one-night stand usually gets that she’s a one-nighter. It’s the ones you have on speed dial for a couple of weeks or longer who are hard to shake.”
“Not for me,” I responded.
“That’s the point of this bet.”
“Okay, so I get a girl, sleep with her for a few weeks,” I rehashed.
“Not just any girl. We get to pick her.”
“Fine, whatever.” I shrugged.
“And not just for a few weeks,” Lance butted in. “What?” he asked when I glared. “The longer you string her along, the harder it is to break that shit off. Take it from me.”
“Yeah,” Dan agreed. “Okay, a month, no, no, two months. You have to keep her for two months then break things off, and she can’t get mad. You have to part ways like it’s no big deal.”
“All right, fine. I’m in,” I said after a beat.
“Yeah, me too,” Dan responded as he stuck his hand out to shake on it.
“So who’s the lucky girl?” I asked as I rubbed my palms together. “Her?” I asked as I gestured toward the chunky girl sitting two tables over. “Or her?” I asked as I pointed at the woman who was clearly having a bad day and giving off the ‘don’t mess with me’ vibe. She was good looking, but cracking her might be difficult on this particular night.
“Better,” said Dan with a smile so wide you’d have thought he won the lottery. He pointed right behind me, and as I turned around, I thought of several things at once. I recalled the entire conversation and wished my mouth had shut up before I’d gotten myself into this mess, I tried to figure out how to get out of this bet, I wanted to kill Dan, and I prayed immensely that the next word out of his mouth wasn’t …
“Her.”
Three
Emerson
When I was working my way through college, I had somehow stumbled upon a small liquor distributor. At first, I worked part time in the front office, but I was always giving my opinion on ways to run the business better. I had always excelled in school. When you don’t have a social life, and you don’t want to sit and think about your past, you tend to find something distracting and throw yourself into it. School was that for me. I would have finished my business degree in two and a half years if I hadn’t
started taking on more hours at work. Instead, I finished in the standard four years, but I might have tacked on a minor in finance and business policy. And I did still manage to complete my master’s program in one year instead of two.
Now, I was Don’s right-hand woman, and with many of my suggestions, the business had expanded. My paycheck expanded as well, which was why I could easily afford my own place.
I probably could have gotten more money working somewhere else, but I wasn’t sure many companies would hire someone who looked like me. Plus, I had an easy relationship with Don. He somehow managed to partially fill the father-figure role I’d missed growing up. I even spilled my guts to him one day after he found me crying on the anniversary of my father’s death. He didn’t handle me with kid gloves after that. When I asked him why after, he just shrugged and said, “You’re a tough girl, Em. Most people wouldn’t be even half of what you are even with all this stuff covering you up. If you needed me to handle you with care, I would. But I know you don’t.”
And that was just another reason I wasn’t leaving Don.
I was also surprisingly good with the customers. It was not as if I had a bad personality, after all. I couldn’t truly change the manners my parents had instilled in me. I just didn’t want to get close to people, didn’t want them getting close to me, and I sure as hell didn’t want anyone to see the real me.
But customers? You could be friendly enough without having to get too close.
I wasn’t social, but I didn’t mind visiting the establishments we worked with because most people didn’t frequent the bars during the day. I could slip in and out without much fuss.
I was usually so responsible, so on top of things, but that day, I had been so distracted from the conversation with my mom that nothing seemed to be going right. I had botched an order I had to fix, everything took forever for me to do, and on top of that, when I got home, I realized I had left some paperwork at one of the bars I had visited.
“Hey Paulie, it’s Emerson,” I told the owner after he picked up.
“Oh hey, Em, you know you left the record slip here?” he asked, his jovial tone brightening up my day.
“That’s exactly why I’m calling. You think I can swing by tomorrow morning to pick it up?”
“Sure, but no one will be in until eleven am tomorrow.”
“Shi … uh, shoot.” I caught myself, never liking to curse in front of customers, but Paulie just laughed.
“Em, trust me when I say I’ve heard a lot worse.” I smiled. I needed to file the paperwork first thing in the morning. “Why don’t you swing by now?” Paulie offered.
It’s not as if I hadn’t ever been in a bar during the peak hours. Sometimes, I had to work late, but I always hated it.
“Yeah, I’ll do that,” I responded, not thinking of a better solution.
“Okay, kid. I’ll be at the bar, just come flag me down.”
“You got it.”
We hung up, and I grabbed my things to head back into town.
When I made it to Paulie D’s – yep, that was the name of the bar – I went straight toward the bar to find Paulie.
“Hey Em, that was quick.” He smiled.
“You know me, always efficient.” I smiled back.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. But you have to live a little too, kid. Sit down. I’ll grab you a beer on me.”
“Thanks, Paulie, really, but I should be heading home.”
“You got a man waiting for you?” he asked with a raised eyebrow. I snorted in response. “Well, then sit for a minute. I’ll find you one.” This time, I laughed. “Too young to be so serious,” he mumbled quite loudly He didn’t know the half of it. “All right, all right, I can take a hint. Let me go grab the paperwork from the back. But if you change your mind on the beer, just let Alex know,” he said as he pointed at the pretty girl serving some obnoxious guys who were clearly trying to get her attention. I rolled my eyes at their idiocy before I told Paulie I wouldn’t change my mind.
I saw him shake his head and heard him mumble something else but didn’t catch the words.
Not two seconds after he left, I was rolling my eyes again.
“What are you having?” I heard from my right. I ignored the guy at first. “Sometimes, it takes a little shoving around here to get your order in. Tell me what you’re drinking and I’ll get it for you,” he said again, and I finally turned toward him.
My first thought when I saw him was this asshole was gorgeous. I mean “holy shit” gorgeous. A face so pretty it was illegal, eyes so gold they sparkled, sandy blond hair styled perfectly, just a touch darker than my natural color, and a smile so dazzling, it could light up the entire bar if the power went out. One dimple on his right cheek had me wanting to poke my finger in the dip. He had a small scar through his left eyebrow that was the only real proof he was a real-life human and not some Greek god statue.
You’d think I would have stuttered, gotten tongue-tied, or fawned all over him, right? Wrong. My appearance was also my armor, my shield to let me deal with jerks like him who thought I was a plaything to amuse them.
“Oh, that’s so very sweet of you,” I started. “But I’m good here,” I responded as I looked behind him at the group of guys staring in our direction, eyes wide, small smiles on their lips. “You can go back to the three musketeers and tell them you lost the bet.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said so calmly, I might have actually believed him.
“Oh, please. Look at me, look at you.” I waved my hand up and down his body. “And let’s throw in the three stooges staring at us like they’re waiting for us to hit each other over the head instead of letting them lead the show. Dead giveaway, buddy.”
I was expecting him to give up, or curse me out and call me a bitch, or at the very least, try to wiggle his way out of it. Instead, he laughed. He laughed with his dimple on display, his eyes shining with humor. I had to fight a smile.
“You’re good,” he responded, and I could tell he wasn’t being sarcastic. “I’ve never had anyone call me out like that before.”
“Glad to be of service,” I responded. “So what’s the bet?”
“You really want to know?” he asked.
“Sure”—I shrugged—“might as well.”
“Woo you, get you to become my special friend,” he said with a little twinkle in his eye that had me realizing just how easily his charm alone could get any girl. “And then when we part, you’re not supposed to have any hard feelings.”
“Seriously? That’s the bet? What girl has no problem being used and then dumped?” Although I had a feeling several women wouldn’t mind if they had a chance with the guy standing before me. “And what would happen if you lost, which you clearly are going to.” I smiled this time.
“I have to wear a dress to this bar.” I chuckled. I couldn’t help it. I could literally imagine him wearing a dress, except in my mind it was more like a tutu.
“You have a nice laugh.” He cut into my thoughts.
“Oh no, cut that shit out, buddy. I’m two seconds away from sending you off to your friends with your tail between your legs.”
“What’s stopping you?” he asked. What was stopping me? Actually, it was my mom. And her harebrained scheme, and the fact that this guy had magically fallen into my lap. My mind had been processing and thinking of all the pros and cons during our conversation.
“I’ll help you win your bet,” I told him and registered the absolute shock on his face. “On one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“I help you, you help me.”
“Oookay …” He stretched out the word.
“My cousin’s wedding is in three months. In case you can’t tell, I’m not exactly the dating type or the guy type, for that matter. But I do need a date for her wedding. I play along with you for however long you need, and you escort me to the wedding. So what do you say? A favor for a favor?”
He looked over his shoulder
at his friends briefly, took a few seconds to think, and then held out his hand. “Deal,” he said. “And I’m Carter, by the way.”
I took his hand, and I felt the warmth of his skin against mine. I hated that I loved the way it felt, the slight tingle of contact in his sturdy handshake. “I’m Emerson. When you’ve earned it, you can call me Em.” Dear God, I was flirting. I didn’t even know how to flirt, but I was pretty sure that was it.
“So how does this work?” he asked.
“Give me a minute,” I said as I waved Paulie over who seemed to have been standing off to the side, watching us with a smirk on his face.
“Hey, kid.” He handed me the paperwork with a smile on his face.
“Looks like I found a man,” I joked with him.
“You sure did,” he responded. “Have fun, okay?” he said as I nodded, and he walked away.
I turned back to Carter, who was watching me with a curious look. I didn’t dwell on it, though.
“Shall we?” I asked as I put my arm in his. He looked mildly surprised but followed along as we walked out through the front door.
“Now what?” he asked as we stepped through the front door.
“You can either tell your friends you’re meeting me later or just go home and pretend we spent the night together. I’ll play along. I promise.”
“Oookay.” He drew the word out for a second time that night. I was starting to think maybe speaking, period, wasn’t his forte.
“Ugh,” I said out loud. “Give me your number. I’ll call you tomorrow, and we can figure things out.”
So he did, and I walked away without looking back. It was only after I made it home and slumped in a chair that I realized the magnitude of what I had just done. If I thought I was screwed before, I had to think again. Now, I was screwed.
Four
Carter
I had many calls that came in from numbers I didn’t know. Some were women, some were damn telemarketers, and a lot were clients. I always answered the phone the same way.
“Hello, Carter Anderson speaking.”
“I figured you were the kind to forget a woman’s name, but I didn’t picture you being the type to need to remind them. Don’t worry; your secret is safe with me.”