by Bijou Hunter
I had a great dinner with Shane. Well, there were a few hiccups, but it ended on a high note. Now I’m hanging out with my best friends. I should be in chill mode.
Except I feel the weight of my worries stacked on my shoulders, pushing me down. I struggle to stay focused on the game Kelsi and Hugh play. I think about Sunday. Meeting his sister worries me. Sure, Shelby seemed nice on the phone, but Shane made her sound protective of him. If I had a little brother, I wouldn’t want him dating someone like me. I’d shut that shit down quickly. My fictional brother would deserve a saner, more successful woman. Of course, a quickie with someone like me might work, but I’d have to be sure my brother wasn’t getting his heart involved.
“I’m sleeping over,” Max announces, telling everyone what we already knew. I know she’s just hoping to distract me from my stupid thoughts. “The food is ready to go for tomorrow. We’ll pick it up in the morning.”
Nodding, I exhale roughly. “I’d want tacos at my wedding rather than mini burgers.”
“Everyone likes burgers.”
“Do you want to sleep in my bed?” I ask Max.
Kelsi grunts, “No.”
Max frowns at our friend, who sets down her controller. “I’m bunking with Ramona. Max snores,” Kelsi announces.
“I do not.”
“How would you know?”
“I recorded myself sleeping.”
“Really?” Kelsi asks, genuinely surprised. “Wait, why haven’t I done that?”
“You lack problem-solving skills.”
“That would explain why I might get fired from my sweet bus-driving job,” Kelsi says before frowning at how Hugh keeps playing.
“Fired, why?” I ask, desperate for a distraction from my growing wariness over everything that can go wrong with Shane.
“Some brat said I cussed, and he was going to tell on me to his mom. I told him that he was mistaken. Now I have to wait to see if he was lying about telling his mom.”
“Will they really fire you over some kid’s word about another word?” Hugh asks, shooting Kelsi’s spawned yet passive character.
“Feel free to take advantage of my current hysteria,” Kelsi mutters while Max and I snicker at her expression.
Hugh just smiles while locating Kelsi’s respawned character on the map and shooting her again. “Okay.”
We laugh at his devious chuckle. Kelsi finally grabs her controller and goes looking for him to shoot.
“I don’t know what’ll happen. On Monday, I’ll find out if the shithead fucked me over.”
“I’m sure it’ll be fine,” I tell Kelsi, who shrugs.
“If not, I’ll get another job.”
We fall silent, and I forget about the sleeping arrangements until Kelsi follows me into my room and crawls in the bed.
“Why aren’t you sharing a bed with Max?”
“I had a dirty dream about her, and I’m uncomfortable with her half-naked body nearby.”
“Then why can’t she sleep in here?”
“Because she needs more room.”
Rolling my eyes, I climb in bed and sigh. “I’m doing okay.”
“You seemed tired after Shane left.”
“I am tired. I took too much OxyContin last night. It left me groggy.”
“Or you’re stressed because dating is stressful. It’s why I just fuck bikers on weekends. ‘Keeping Life Simple’ is what I’ll name my self-help book.” Getting comfy in bed, Kelsi glances at my vibrating phone. “Think it’s your boy-toy?”
“No, my mom keeps messaging me.”
“Ignore her for a little longer.”
“What if she needs me?” I say, feeling guilty for never responding today.
“My mom talked to her earlier. Velma is fine.”
“I thought she was ignoring your mom.”
“She was, but Velma doesn’t have any other friends. Eventually, she got desperate enough to make an exception for my mom.”
Relieved to know Velma isn’t all alone in the world now that I’m dodging her, I sigh. “She won’t understand about Shane.”
“Which is bullshit. Your mom’s entire life revolved around a man. If anyone should understand you putting a sexy piece of meat before everyone else, it’s Velma.”
“You’re right.”
“I know I am.”
Smiling, I feel tonight’s pain pill kicking in, and my body gets loose. Unfortunately, my brain instantly goes to a topic I’ve been mentally avoiding since meeting Shane.
“Do you think he knows about the Executioners?” I whisper as she chills next to me in bed.
Kelsi doesn’t waste time asking what I mean. “Probably. Has he hinted about it?”
“No,” I say, scratching at my wrists. “Or maybe he has. I’m nervous around him. And he seems nervous around me. Why would he be that way if he didn’t know? But then if he did know, why would he want to date me?”
Kelsi yanks my black comforter over us. “It’s cold in here.”
“Do you think he has a fetish?” I whisper.
“Like anal or pee stuff?”
Grinning, I adjust on the bed so we can sleep together without having to share a pillow. “Like he’s into whores or something?”
“Then why wouldn’t he want to date me? I’m way sluttier than you.”
“You fucked Skullz. I fucked the enemy.”
“It’s just fucking,” she says, taking my hand and closing her eyes. “I bet Shane fucked every half-decent woman in Ellsberg, and that’s why he moved here. Fresh pussy.”
“What if he doesn’t know, though?”
“I’m sure someone mentioned it. Like, they’ve been running the club for months. Wouldn’t someone have told them?”
“I guess. It would be easier if he knew that already and still wanted me rather than him not knowing and then finding out and dumping me.”
“If he dumps you, we’ll get stoned and watch ‘Book Smart.’ You’ll just have to live with less dick in your life.”
Kelsi pretends to sleep, but I know she’s only remaining in my bed because she worries about my mood. I’m worried too. Having Shane in my life is already causing me more stress than I’ve dealt with since my move back to Shasta. He makes me hope for shit that I’ll never get, and I know how much it’ll hurt when he gets bored of me. I ought to end things now. It’d be the safest choice for someone like me. But I’m too greedy to pull the plug.
Besides, I doubt Shane would let me dump him anyway. The man really can’t handle being told no.
THE ROMANTIC
Saturday without Ramona sucks! I wake up at ten to find Shelby sleeping in a chair downstairs and River crashing on a nearby couch. The dogs see me and instantly run for the door. As I sit out back with them and a cup of coffee, I text Ramona for the first time that day.
I know she must be up since she’s DJing the wedding, and those things usually start early. She takes forever to respond and then only sends quick answers like “Yes, no, not sure.”
I keep bugging her, though. As much as I want to see her, crashing a wedding screams “desperate stalker.” True, I am a stalker. And I feel pretty desperate at times, sure. However, I keep myself under control.
When I realize she won’t provide me more feedback, I send the words, “I miss you.”
Ramona instantly replies with, “I miss you too.”
After that, she sends messages every ten minutes. What songs she’s playing, if anyone embarrasses themselves with speeches or bad dancing, what food is served.
“You’re such a bitch,” River mutters later as we run laps at the high school track.
I slow down long enough to send Ramona a text about how my best friend’s shorts are riding up his feminine ass. She really likes that one and sends me lots of laughing emojis.
“I ought to tell you to slow down with this girl,” he says when I catch up to him. “But what if she’s your Winnie?”
Picturing my mom, I smile. “I could love Ramona. I feel it in my gut h
ow she might be the one. That’s why I’ll embarrass myself for her.”
“Pussy,” he says and starts running faster.
When I catch up, he hits another gear. I finally can’t keep pace. Homeschooled by his hippie-biker parents, River only started high school so he could join the track team. Then he realized he had to take boring classes about topics he’d already learned about and dropped out. Still, he often used the Ellsberg High School’s track to hone his running skills. The one in Shasta isn’t as nice, but it’s also a lot less busy on a Saturday. No dodging middle-aged speed walkers or giggling teenagers.
We finally cool down on the bleachers while watching a mom chase her children around the track.
“Where will you and Ramona live if this thing continues?”
“I don’t know. I went on one date with Ramona. I have no idea where she’d want to live if money wasn’t an issue.”
“There’s no space at the house,” he lies.
“Are you afraid that my happiness will make you cry with petty jealousy?”
River smirks. “I need a quiet house. You know I can’t handle a crowd after dealing with my siblings.”
“Quit bitching. I’ll move in there with Ramona and ten other people just to help you get over your shit.”
My threat inspires River to head to the gym, where we train for an hour. Mostly, he tries to kick my ass, partially succeeds, and gives up when my punch hits him just above his baby maker.
“If you hate noise so much, I can fix it, so you never spawn any loud kiddos,” I taunt when he stumbles back and curses under his breath.
With all his kung fu moves, River often forgets how people fight dirty. As his best friend, it’s my duty to remind him.
By the time Ramona is finishing up at the wedding, I’m home and showered and in the kitchen. Shelby sits at the table with the laptop.
“I’m calling Mom,” she says. “Keep your farts and dick talk to a minimum.”
“Mom knows I have a big dick and suffer from gas.”
“If a man knows how to write well, it doesn’t matter how big or fancy his pen is.”
“How would you know, virgin?”
“Hi, Mom,” Shelby says when our mother appears. “Shane is mocking me.”
“Why?” Mom says, searching for me in the background of the image. “Shane, she’s sensitive.”
I hug my sister until Mom smiles. “I’ve never loved any sister more than I love this one.”
Mom’s smile grows. She’s so easy to impress. She still praises me for burping the alphabet that one time when I was twelve.
“Shells, are you sleeping better?” Mom asks.
“Yes.”
Still standing behind my sister, I shake my head. I’m not sure if the camera picks up my movements until Mom sighs.
“Are you taking the pills I gave you?” Mom asks.
Shelby frowns and then glances back at me. “Are you signaling her?”
“Yes.”
“Stop.”
“She won’t be fooled by your lies when you wear those dark circles under your eyes.”
Shelby turns back to the camera. “Shane is falling in love with a girl.”
“Why did you emphasize that last part?” I mutter.
“So, she wouldn’t think you were in love with River.”
Mom smiles at our bickering. When Shelby stops bitching, she turns again to the camera.
“Her name is Ramona, and he’s bringing her over to the house tomorrow. I’ll give you all the details after she leaves.”
Mom glances behind the laptop and smiles at my father, somewhere off-screen. The look she gives him—even after all these years—makes me miss Ramona more. I want that kind of connection. Not with anyone else. Just Ramona. Before her, I planned to swim in easy pussy until I was at least thirty. Why rush into responsibility when I had an ocean of sweet butts to enjoy?
But Ramona caught my eye, and I refuse to look away.
This certainty is why, on the way to the Saloon with River, Taylor, and Shelby, I break off from our group at a light. Taking a right, I end up at Ramona’s house. The driveway is filled with the same vehicles as last night. I assume that means she’s home.
My Harley’s engine alerts the Band to my arrival. They take turns peeking through the shades before a clean-faced Ramona answers the door.
“Shane,” she mumbles, seeming shy about her lack of makeup.
The bruising under her eyes and across the bridge of her nose is much more noticeable. She also looks tired. Despite all that, she’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
“I know you have plans tonight,” I say before she can explain how she has plans. “I just needed to see you today, even if for only a minute.”
Ramona’s eyes widen at my words, and she reveals a silly, excited smile. Her entire expression is so unguarded. I see how much she wants me. How much I scare her. How hopeful she is that I won’t crush her heart. It’s all written across her face as I kiss her.
In my arms, Ramona feels like she always should—safe, cherished, healthy. I hope she knows I’ll kill to protect her. No one messes with the people who matter to me, and Ramona already makes me insane like no other woman could.
Her power over my heart is the only reason I release her from my arms and step back. I want to take her with me. I don’t care about the Band or the Fearsome Foursome. Leaving Ramona feels like a cut too fucking deep, but I make myself walk away. One step after another, I back up toward my Harley. Wearing flushed cheeks and that wonderful, silly smile, Ramona watches me.
“I’m coming back tomorrow to pick you up. If you need anything, text me. If you don’t need anything, text me.”
Nodding, Ramona can’t stop smiling. My showing up was such a small thing, but she acts as if I’m a fucking Casanova sweeping her off her feet. If she thinks I’m romantic now, wait until I really get started.
THE LEGACY
Wedding receptions feel like work more than my job at the station ever could. Even in Cleveland, when I had less leeway to pick my songs, I never stressed the time I was on air.
Receptions, though, are filled with people on edge. From the bride worrying over every detail coming together perfectly to the unloved relatives only invited out of duty, no one relaxes until the very end of the reception when the liquor kicks in.
I never imagine myself getting married. If that somehow managed to happen, I wouldn’t want a wedding. No way would I willingly sign up for this kind of stress.
The reception ends around eight, which is early. The middle-aged couple seems exhausted by the time six rolls around, and they don’t leave their chairs except for when someone wanders by to tell them congrats and so long.
I work in the corner, invisible to most guests, playing songs from the playlist the couple chose months ago. The first few big songs matter most. The couple dances. Then their families join in. Those songs are the ones the bride agonized over. As people eat and drink and the magical vibe from the wedding fades, the only people dancing are either showing off or bored.
While I’m hidden in the corner, the rest of the Band works the room. They wear those spiffy white jackets and black slacks that Max bought for her fledgling catering company. My friends clean up well, looking professional with their hair slicked back. Kelsi isn’t even snapping her gum despite hours of boring work. The Band knows Max needs a positive word of mouth if she ever wants to make actual money from catering.
“I’m still in the red despite all the extra shifts I worked at the Fish Net,” she told me weeks ago. “I need to figure out how to save money on food or increase my prices.”
I wish I could help Max more, but I don’t know shit about money. I don’t even know how much our bills are at the house. I just transfer most of my paychecks to Hugh, and he pays everything. I should be smarter about stuff, but I get agitated as soon as I start worrying about money.
“I’m not suited for adulthood,” I often say.
“No one is,”
Hugh insists every time. “I just fake it better because I’m so naturally cool.”
He does look naturally cool while serving guests. I sneak pictures of him and the Band during my hours playing music. I don’t want to forget these times together. One day, they’ll move on, and pictures will be all I have left.
“Five guys hit on me tonight,” Kelsi says once we’re at the house, and everyone’s taken turns in the shower. “Only one of them was elderly.”
“How many were teenage boys?” Hugh asks while Max throws together turkey tacos in the kitchen.
“Two, but one of them is old enough to drive,” she says before laughing. “I’m so hot.”
“I’d do you if you had a special something dangling between those lean legs of yours.”
After his compliment, Kelsi decides to walk around in heels to show off her legs. Hugh applauds before logging them into the game and shooting her avatar.
“Fucking cheat,” Kelsi says, ditching the shoes and sitting between us on the couch.
I’m wiped out after a stressful day, and the pain meds are still making me too groggy. I need to stop taking them even if the bridge of my nose throbs.
“Do you think Safire and Dymond are in pain?” I ask, nibbling at my taco.
“Oh, yeah, I heard they even went to the doctor,” Kelsi says. “Whiners.”
“Heard, how?” Hugh asks, running through the map and searching for Kelsi’s avatar to shoot. “Are you like their bestie now?”
“No, dumpster fire, I was taking a shit at the elementary school, and two of the teachers were talking about it. The one with a weak bladder is friends with Goddess who claims Safire might need plastic surgery now.”
We all laugh at the idea of anything we did being the reason for my sister’s desire for a nose job.
“Tomorrow, you get to hang out at the ghost house,” Max says and then frowns. “Don’t you like the taco?”
I realize I stopped eating at some point. Biting into it, I give her a thumbs-up.
“If you hear any strange noises coming from the basement, do not check them out,” she warns.
“And whatever you do, don’t call out, ‘Hello,’” Hugh adds. “You're just asking to die then.”