KNOCKED UP BY THE BAD BOY

by Nicole Fox

  Mother whipped me around in the chair in front of the dressing table so that I had to look directly into her eyes. They were a bright blue, and they glinted with anger at the center of decades of eyeliner that never seemed to wash off anymore. “Bambi Bidwell, don’t you ever go saying you’re a normal person! You’re my daughter, and you’re special! You’re the most beautiful, most talented woman in this goddamn county, and I won’t hear of you thinking otherwise!” She slammed her fist on the arm of the chair for emphasis.

  I knew there was no point in arguing with her. “Yes, ma’am.” She had always pushed me, even when I was a child. There were trophies lining the shelves in my bedroom and leaking out into the living room that declared I was beautiful, talented, photogenic, and smart. Mother was never satisfied unless I was in first place, no matter what I was doing. I had even graduated as valedictorian from Myrtle Creek High School the previous year, but she wouldn’t let me out of her sight to attend college. I was her little puppet, a pretty doll that she forced to dance and sing.

  “That’s much better. Now, let’s figure out that makeup. I think you should go with a brighter shade of lipstick for the parade. That light pink was nice, and it was perfect for the judges. They had to see you as sweet and innocent. But now that you have the title, I want to make sure everyone can see your features.” She pulled a tube of lipstick out of her massive makeup case and held my chin tightly as she applied it. “That’s much better. Now, about those eyes.” She folded her hands in front of her sagging breasts as she bent over to study every inch of my face. “Yes, I really think we need to go with the blue contacts.”

  “They’re not comfortable,” I argued gently. “They dry out, and I feel like I have cornflakes in my eyes.” This wasn’t the first time we’d discussed the contacts, and I had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.

  She clucked at me as she reached for a tiny plastic case. “Bambi, you never do anything but whine. If it weren’t for me, you’d be a nobody right now. I just wish you had gotten my eyes, instead of those plain brown ones from your father. Still, we can make them look nice enough.” She came at me with the contacts.

  I leaned back and blocked her with my arm, a move that was unheard of in our house. “No, I don’t want them. I can’t see anything when I have them on, and I’ll have even more trouble with them if I’m riding on the back of a convertible. Besides, I won the pageant with my plain brown eyes.” If it had been up to her, I never would have made it to the pageant without those damn contacts. She had insisted that I wear them, and I had agreed to avoid an argument. They had been conveniently misplaced the morning of the contest, but Mother had found them eventually.

  She snapped the case shut with a resounding click and an even deeper frown than she’d had before. It accentuated the lines in her face, which multiplied regularly. “I suppose that’s true. But when the festival is over and your picture isn’t tacked up in every single restaurant and store in town, you’ll have to start making the transition to blue so we can get you ready for the state competition. You’ll be Miss America before you know it.”

  My shoulders slumped. We’d had this conversation so many times, and it always ended with Mother practically in tears over her hopes for me. “I don’t know that I really want to go that route …” I began.

  But she wasn’t listening. “You know, we could always have that surgery done. Then you wouldn’t have to mess with the contacts. I’ve been researching it on the Internet. There are some places that just use a laser to blast all the brown pigment out of your eyes, and then there’s another place that does some sort of implant to change the color. It’s a little expensive, but you won some money at the pageant and you’re only going to win more. I think we can make it happen.” She tapped her finger against her lips. “It’s cheaper in Mexico, so that’s always an option. We can make a vacation out of it.”

  “Mother! Stop! I don’t want surgery!” I was horrified at the thought of doing it at all, and I certainly wasn’t going to have it done in a foreign country.

  She scowled at me. “You say that now, but just give it time. Before you know it, you’ll be begging me for a boob lift or facial injections. I’d get them myself, you know, but I spend all my money on you.”

  Here we went again. There was never an end to how much she thought she sacrificed for my sake. Her job at the hospital in the human resources department paid well enough, but she always needed something more. I decided this was the time to take up yet another old argument. “Then let me get a job. I can make money for myself, and you can spend your money on the things you want. I want you to be happy, Mother.”

  She smiled, which was just an odd stretching of her lips. “That’s very sweet of you, dear. But you know we can’t do that. You have a busy schedule, and you have other obligations. You just let me worry about money.”

  “But what if I’d really like to get a job?” I asked. “It would be such a good experience for me, and I’d probably make all sorts of business connections.” I knew that was one point she would like. Mother prided herself on all the people she knew.

  That wasn’t enough, though. “Absolutely not. Let’s say you go get a job as a waitress. You’ll have men pinching your ass and staring down your shirt. And don’t think it’s any better if you work in an office. No, Bambi. There are too many awful people out there, and I can’t let you go out alone.”

  She wouldn’t even let me go to the parade rehearsal by myself. I didn’t need her assistance. I had been to the Peach Festival Grand Parade every single year for as far back as I could remember, and I didn’t even need the committee members to tell me what to do or where to go. It wasn’t as though it was difficult to meet my driver at the right time and place, and then just smile and wave as we drove through downtown. Still, it was a big deal for our little town, and everyone was crowded into the community center to go over the details that afternoon.

  Mother left me alone for only a few minutes while she schmoozed with the politicians who had been roped into participating, and I wandered over to the refreshments table where several of the other candidates were hovering. They spoke quietly to each other, but their glances became furtive when they saw me approach.

  “Hey, girls. How’s the punch?” It sounded lame and I knew it, but I had to have something to say to them. Anything was better than, “Hey, sorry I totally kicked your ass in the pageant.”

  Apparently, they were thinking that anyway. “It’s okay,” shrugged a short girl with curly red hair as she sidled a little further away from me.

  “So, I guess you got your cars all lined up?” It was traditional for any pageant participants to ride in the back of a convertible, and each girl was responsible for arranging this herself. There were usually plenty of volunteers, though.

  “Yeah, not that it matters,” said Kelly with a flick of her long, dark hair. She had been in the pageant for several years, and she always came in second. “Your mother had already gotten you the brand-new Camaro convertible from Nelson’s Auto Sales. That cherry red would have looked fabulous with my dress, but I’m stuck in some old blue car my dad’s friend has.” She shot me a rueful look as she popped a strawberry in her mouth.

  I knew she resented me, both for winning and for the car, but I couldn’t help it. I wouldn’t have even entered the pageant if I’d had my say. “I’m sorry. I’m sure it won’t be that bad. And I think your dress would look fine against a blue car.”

  “Not when it’s being driven by his creepy friend. He’ll probably be saying pervy things to me during the entire parade, and I’ll have to paste on a smile and pretend it’s okay. Thanks a lot, Bambi.”

  “You know, I have to wonder how you won the crown anyway.” This was from Sandy, who stood tall and lean with short blonde hair. She walked up to me until she stood so close that she towered over me, her slanted eyes staring straight down into mine. “Who did you sleep with?”

  Aghast, I took a step back. “I didn’t sleep with anybody. I just did my b
est.”

  “Right,” she said with a knowing look over her shoulder at the other girls. “With a name like Bambi, you’ve got to be some sort of whore. I guess we’ll all get to see just how far this crown takes you when you end up dancing at Club Carnal for a living.” Her nasty laugh pealed throughout the room, and the other girls joined her.

  I should have said something. My mother never would have let anyone get away with speaking like that, but I couldn’t seem to make my lips move. I was frozen in place for one horrifying moment before I finally turned and found a seat next to Mother just as the meeting was about to begin.

  “I want to thank all of you for coming,” said Mayor Ward, smiling under his ample mustache as he studied the assembly. “My assistant is passing out some information that details where you’re positioned in the parade as well as where you’re supposed to wait until it’s your turn. As I’m sure you know, we’ll march all the way from 21st Street to 7th Street, and it’s going to be a wonderful event!” He droned on, talking about all of the accomplishments of the year’s grand marshal, an octogenarian who had attended every single parade since she was born.

  Mother was captivated, listening to every word with her hands clutched in her lap. She would soak up the information in the hopes of being able to tell someone else about it later and sound superior. That was her usual motive, anyway, and I had no doubt that it was any different this time.

  I turned to the long row of windows that faced Main Street. People roamed up and down the sidewalk with cotton candy and giant teddy bears, hauling home their souvenirs from the Peach Festival. Several blocks of the downtown area had been completely closed down so that rides, carnival games, and food vendors could be set up in parking lots and on side streets. Couples and families made the long walks back to their cars where they had left them in alleys and in front of stores.

  Even though I knew it wouldn’t happen for me, I longed to be out there with them. I wanted to walk up and down the sidewalk and take in all the sights while I ate a big peach tart and spent far too much money trying to win a stuffed animal. But even though I was the Peach Festival Queen, I wasn’t allowed to head out with my friends. No, Mother kept me right at her side all the time. Secretly, I wondered what would happen if I simply stood up from my seat and walked out. Mother would follow me, but it would be interesting to see how far I could get before she dragged me back.

  A roar sounded somewhere outside, and now everyone in the community center was looking out the windows. A group of motorcycles came charging down the street, pausing for only a second at the stoplight before moving on. They were big men with beards, leather clothing, and so many tattoos their original skin was barely visible. Seated close to the windows as I was, I could see them in such detail that I felt as though I was outside with them. My heart soared to see how free they were, how they could just glide off down the road and go anywhere they wished.

  “Can you believe it? They shouldn’t let people like that into town,” said an old woman in front of me as she shook her head.

  “Myrtle Creek used to be a safe place,” her friend confirmed, her white head bobbing. “Everyone’s so liberal these days, and we get rabble like this.”

  One of riders paused a little longer than the others, and his face turned to the window. We locked eyes, and a thrill shot up from my feet to my throat. He was tall and handsome, his muscles sleek and lengthy as he held the handlebars of his ride. Just like any other biker, I knew he had to be a bad boy. He probably drank and smoked. It was likely that he was rude and mean, maybe even cruel.

  But he was free. While I was stuck in here like a fish in a tank, he was riding towards whatever he chose. Maybe he was even riding away from something, but at least he was able to choose. He cranked the throttle and was gone, leaving a faint cloud of exhaust and the fading noise of the motorcycles. My heart sank slowly back down into my stomach, cold and heavy like a stone.

  “Well, then,” the mayor said, eager to bring everyone back to the matter at hand. “Let’s get back to business. I would also like to thank Miss Bambi Bidwell, our Peach Festival Queen. She’s the definition of Myrtle Creek spirit and soul, and we couldn’t be happier to have her with us this year. Let’s all give her a round of applause, ladies and gentlemen.”

  The roar of clapping around me did nothing for me like the sound of those motorcycles did. My cheeks burned, but not because I was embarrassed at the attention. All eyes were on me, especially those of my mother, but I could think of nothing but that sexy man outside.

  Chapter 3

  Snake

  “Come on, Snake. Why are we here? I know we said we needed something to do in this town, but going to a parade isn’t really my kind of thing.” Rubble kicked the gravel in the parking lot and squinted against the bright sun.

  We had taken a position near the front of the parade, where we would be sure not to miss anything. I had ripped down the poster in the bar as I left, and it was now folded up in my back pocket. I didn’t need to look at it to know the face of the girl I was looking for. She was so different from anyone else, and certainly different from the women I was usually with. I was grateful for Rusty’s bet, since it had given me a reason to go after her. Otherwise, the rest of the guys would have given me shit ten times over for pursuing a beauty queen.

  “Just be patient,” I said. “Or go get some food. That always seems to make you happy.”

  “I’ve already tried all the peach cobbler, peach milkshakes, and peach turnovers I can handle,” he groused. “And that shit is expensive. I could ride all the way to my grandma’s house and spend less money in gas just to get some dessert.”

  I was after a little dessert myself, but not the same kind. “Look, I told you why I was here. This is where the girl on the poster is going to be. I know it’s not a big town, but I’m guaranteed to find her here. If you have better things to do, like trying to win the bet yourself, then I suggest you go do them.”

  Rubble rubbed his hand up and down his arm, feeling the fine scabs from his most recent tattoo. “Naw, I’ve lost already. I tried talking to that waitress again last night before we left the bar. Her manager came over and told me to leave her alone or else he’d call the cops.”

  I grinned. “I’m not sure that’s ever stopped you before.” Like most of the Warriors, Rubble had been in and out of jail numerous time in his adult life, and probably several times even before that.

  He shrugged. “Well, I wouldn’t care except that Bruiser said not to start any trouble. He pulled me aside last night and told me specifically. I don’t see why. I mean, that warehouse fire back in Houston was not my fault.”

  Silently, I wished I had picked someone else to come with me. Axle would have been happy to scout for hot chicks at the parade, but he had some things to fix on his bike. Rusty was sleeping in at the old motel we were crashing at, and Moose said he had made some progress with the woman from the bar. They were supposed to get together again that afternoon, so my little plan of tracking down the Peach Festival Queen wasn’t very interesting to him.

  The crowd in Myrtle Creek was surprisingly big. People lined the main road, grabbing spots anywhere on the sidewalk and even out into the street. Firetrucks and police cars headed up the procession, their lights going and their sirens blaring. Next came several cars full of older folks, probably the town council. Then came a float holding the class of 1960, and their queen right behind them. She still wore her crown, but she was dressed in a conservative suit and had a puff of gray hair. She was definitely not the same person who had earned her place as Peach Festival Queen.

  I shifted from foot to foot, wondering just how much more heat I could take in my leathers. Finally, several convertibles came down the street, each with a beautiful woman in the back. The first was a tall blonde who waved to the audience as though she was the queen, even though the sign on her car clearly stated she was a runner-up. Another girl, dark and beautiful, stared at the gathered crowd as though it was their fault she was
forced to be in the parade. She kept her lips in a firm line. A short girl with flaming red hair came next, and finally behind her was a bright red Camaro.

  I knew the woman in the back instantly. She sat tall and straight, her sparkling silver dress glittering in the sunlight. Her teeth were brilliantly white against her red lips, and her blonde hair blew gently in the breeze. She was everything that had been advertised on the poster, and even more so now that I knew she was real. Her eyes scanned the crowd and locked on mine. I had her.

  Suddenly, I realized this wasn’t the first time I’d seen her. She was the same girl that had been staring out the window of the community center as the guys and I rode by the previous afternoon. I had seen the longing in her eyes, like a lioness in a cage at the zoo. It had been tempting to pull over, burst through the glass doors, and drag her off, but there had been far too many people in attendance. I had to bide my time.

  An older woman sat in the passenger seat of the car, which seemed odd since none of the other candidates had anyone but a driver. I looked on the sign hanging off the side of the car to see if she was anyone important, but there was no indication. Shrugging, I watched her face as she passed by, and I saw something I didn’t like.