Seriously Messed Up: A Laugh Out Loud Romantic Comedy

by Luke Young

  SERIOUSLY MESSED UP

  A Novel

  LUKE YOUNG

  V1.6

  Table of Contents

  Seriously Messed Up

  Bonus Content - Get two complete books in my Friends with Benefits Series in this special edition of my new release!

  Friends with Partial Benefits (Book One)

  Friends with Full Benefits (Book Two)

  Friends with More Benefits Excerpt (Book Three)

  Prologue

  “He’s probably screwing her right now.” Anne Martin threw back a shot of vodka. Appearing as though she might vomit, she wiped her mouth gracefully with her hand.

  Sitting on the stool next to her, Melanie simply nodded, concerned. She sipped gingerly from her shot glass and cringed.

  “I’ll bet he didn’t join that bowling league.” Leaning over the crowded bar, Anne tucked her shoulder-length blonde hair behind her ear. She motioned with a wild swing of her arm to get the bartender’s attention. After a few seconds with no success, she shook her head and plopped down on the stool. “You know, I even bought him a pair of bowling shoes.”

  “Really that’s—”

  “I thought I would do something nice for him,” Anne interrupted.

  Melanie returned a supportive smile before taking another tiny sip from her shot glass.

  “Hey! Yo! Bartender? Bartender!” Calling out loudly over the chatter in the crowded restaurant, Anne leaned forward once again and waved her hand at the frazzled guy. Obviously unaware, he quickly pulled some frozen concoction off the blender and spun away toward the opposite end of the bar. She turned her attention to her friend. “Who do you have to blow to get a drink around here?”

  Seated next to her, a young man turned to Anne, raised his hand sheepishly and flashed her a grin. “I think I could help you.”

  Anne glanced his way, exhaled then shot her friend a tired look. She turned to the man. “You really think you can help me get a drink?”

  “I do.”

  “And in return, what?” she asked in a slightly condescending tone. “You want a blowjob?”

  “Well, um, we could start with dinner and see where it leads.” He shrugged.

  “Okay.” Batting her lovely light blue eyes, Anne added in a put-on sweet voice, “But I’m in the mood to bite down.”

  The man gave her a nervous smile. “Okay.”

  She returned an icy glare. “Hard!”

  His smile evaporated immediately. “I think I have to go.” Picking up his beer, he slinked away from the bar.

  Anne turned to her friend, closing her eyes for a moment before exhaling deeply. “Where were we?”

  “Bowling, I think.” Melanie flipped a wisp of her long, red hair over her shoulder.

  “That’s right. He told me he bowled a perfect game.” Anne let out a humorless laugh. “Do you know how hard it is to bowl a perfect game?”

  “I—”

  “Just another lie.” Anne pointed at Melanie’s shot glass. “You going to finish that?”

  “No.”

  Anne snatched up the glass, downed it then banged the glass on the bar. She closed her eyes for another moment before opening them wide. “Whoa.”

  “You should really slow down a little,” Melanie warned.

  “No, I’m good.” Anne waved her hand at her. After pausing, her eyes brightened. “Oh, yeah and I really don’t want my nipples to be in the wrong place.”

  “What?” Melanie’s brown eyes flew wide open. “How’d we get from bowling to nipples?”

  “Did you want to keep talking about bowling?” Anne asked, sarcastically.

  “Um, no, but—”

  “Good. So, Cindy Watson got a divorce, and now one nipple is higher than the other.”

  “What happened?” Melanie looked at her as if she was out of her mind. “Why?”

  With her eyelids weighing heavily, she explained, “After she found out Brad was sleeping with his assistant, they got a divorce. Then she had her breasts done and…and her doctor botched it somehow.”

  “You’re getting breast implants? Since when?”

  “If I want to date anyone half decent I’ll have to.”

  The bartender rushed over and pointed at the two women just as Anne blurted out, “I like where my nipples are.”

  The bartender with his biceps bulging out of his tight, short-sleeve shirt looked at her while holding back a laugh. “What?”

  “I like where my nipples are,” Anne repeated.

  Tilting his head, he gazed at her chest. “I can’t really see them, but I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Believe me, they’re in the right place.” Pulling her shirt out, Anne tucked her chin to her chest and peered inside. “Even and symmetrical and everything.”

  He leaned in for a glimpse, and Melanie put her hand up to keep him back. “Hey!”

  “She invited me,” he grumbled, frowning. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Vodka. Two more.” Anne slid a shot glass toward him a little too hard. It fell off the edge, tumbling into the sink.

  He gave her a scolding look.

  “Sorry.” She lifted a shoulder apologetically.

  “I don’t want another.” Melanie held up her hand. “I don’t think you should be having any more either.”

  He asked, “So what will it be then?”

  “What’s your name?” Anne turned her attention to the bartender.

  “Rick.”

  “Rick, if you had me waiting for you at home would you be banging some skinny, boney”—she made quote marks with her fingers—“fitness instructor from the gym?”

  “I, uh…” His brows drew together. “No.”

  “Mandy’s her name.” Anne chuckled, rolling her eyes. “Mandy! I don’t like that name. Do you?”

  Melanie gave her a sympathetic smile as Rick rubbed his forehead, giving the two an exhausted look.

  “I had sex with him. Lots of sex,” Anne announced, slurring her words a bit. “Like multiple…times per week…sex.”

  Rick sighed and said in a tired voice, “Now would you ladies like the shots or not?”

  “Yes. She’s drinking with me.” Nodding, Anne patted her friend’s arm. “We’re still drinking, right?”

  “All right. Just one more and that’s it,” Melanie replied.

  After refilling their glasses, Rick headed away.

  Anne picked up her shot and turned to her friend. “There was that six-week period where I didn’t really feel like doing it, but other than that I was always there for him.”

  “I know. I know.” Melanie gave her arm a supportive squeeze.

  “You don’t think I’m too old to have children, do you?”

  “You’re only thirty-two. You have a lot of years left.”

  “We tried for a few months, and nothing happened. Maybe my ovaries are all dried-up and…” Anne threw back the shot then sucked in a breath through her teeth, cringing.

  “It was probably Michael’s fault.” Melanie gazed into her glass, looking as if she were dreading the next sip.

  “I’ll bet you’re right.” Anne leaned to her and whispered, “You know, his balls were really, really small.”

  “Small?” Melanie barely tipped the glass to her lips.

  “Tiny. Yeah, for a big guy everywhere else they were tiny.” With one eyebrow raised, she curled her thumb and index finger together into a circle the size of a grape.

  “Wow, that’s um…”

  Anne announced loudly, “I wonder if Mandy notices his balls?”

  Melanie glanced to the person sitting next to her, apologetically then replied,
“Probably.”

  “She must have.” Anne shook her head. “He wouldn’t let me take that job at the publishing company. I shouldn’t have listened to him.”

  “Maybe it’s still available.”

  “It could be.” Anne exhaled and her eyelids dipped closed. She flailed her hand around clumsily. Hitting into the empty shot glass, she knocked it over without noticing. “You’re a good B.F.F. friend. I can always count on you.”

  “Of course you can.” After stopping the glass from rolling off the edge, Melanie took hold of Anne’s hand and returned it safely to the bar. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “Yes, why?”

  “Well, normally I’m the dirty-mouthed one. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say the word balls or nipples before—certainly not in public.”

  “What? I’m sure I have.”

  “I really don’t think so.”

  Anne waved her hand around. “This is just the new me.”

  “I think it might be the alcohol.” Melanie scrunched her face up.

  “Maybe you’re right, but I plan on saying a lot more inappropriate things from now on. It’s more fun.” Anne laughed.

  “I doubt it.” Melanie held back a laugh. “But okay.”

  “Anyway, I don’t want to date. I mean, who wants to start that whole process again? Meeting someone—waiting for them to ask you out. Then you find out they’ve been divorced twice, live with their mother, and collect action figures, which they modify in some way.”

  “Modify?”

  “I saw a few minutes of some TV show about guys who customize…” Anne’s face contorted strangely as if she might throw up. She paused a moment then opened her eyes wide as she continued, “I’m okay. What was I saying?”

  “Guys with action figures.”

  “Oh, yeah they customize them. They swap heads and other parts, attach weapons, paint them or…I don’t know. It’s just bizarre.”

  “That sounds nerdy.”

  “Tell me about it. How would you like to crawl into bed with that guy?”

  Melanie said, “Well, all men have their quirks. Last week, Dennis was flipping channels obsessively. I came downstairs in something really sexy and started rubbing his shoulders. You know what he did?”

  “What?”

  “Nothing. He didn’t notice. He kept on flipping until he landed on some show about fishing.” Melanie made a face. “And he doesn’t even fish!”

  “They’ll watch anything.” Anne sighed.

  Melanie nodded slowly. “As I was walking away he asked me to get him a beer. And believe me, he doesn’t need another beer.”

  “Ah, the famous beer belly.”

  “Yes. It’s big, but it’s hard.” Narrowing her eyes, Melanie lifted her palms up. “What is that? How does fat get hard? I mean, it’s fat! It’s not muscle. He hasn’t done a crunch since college.”

  “It’s visceral fat.”

  “What’s that?” Melanie made a face.

  “It’s stored around the internal organs in your abdomen.” Anne grimaced. “It’s not a good thing. It can lead to heart problems or high blood pressure.”

  “Well then, maybe my second husband will actually notice me.” Melanie chuckled, and the two friends shared a laugh.

  “I’m kidding,” Melanie began. “I love him. I just miss the way we used to be.”

  “Tell me about it.” Anne exhaled deeply and nodded wholeheartedly in agreement.

  1

  Six Months Later

  Anne stood in the crowded waiting area of the busy restaurant next to Richard, her short, balding, heavy-set blind date. He appeared to be in his late-thirties. At five foot three, Anne was about an inch taller than her companion was in her heels. Had his profile been accurate she would have worn flats. She flashed him a hopeful smile then spoke loudly over the chattering crowd, “We could go somewhere else.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  “Why not?”

  “I have a coupon.” He patted his pocket. “It expires next week.”

  Had his profile mentioned coupons, she might have declined the date altogether.

  “Oh.” Her face sank as she glanced down at the restaurant pager in her hand. “Okay.”

  “Want some peanuts?” He dug his hand into the huge barrel, pulling out a meaty fistful and depositing them into a tray.

  She shook her head, cringing. “No, thanks.”

  “There’s a seat,” he cried out as he took off toward the newly empty space, leaving her behind. He plopped his wide frame into the corner of the bench and went to work on shelling peanuts. After gobbling half a dozen, he finally raised his head to discover she remained standing near the door, shooting him an exasperated look.

  After pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, he waved her over. When she didn’t move, he popped another peanut into his mouth and waved again.

  Reluctantly she walked over and stood, sizing up the tiny bit of space that remained between his wide girth and the unfortunate woman sitting next to him.

  “There’s room,” he mumbled with his mouth full in-between munches.

  The woman seated next to him took in the sight of Richard then lifted her chin as she turned away.

  After giving the woman an apologetic smile, Anne squeezed in next to her date.

  He asked, “Sure you don’t want a peanut?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  As he freed another nut, the shell launched toward her, landing on her jeans. She brushed it off and blew out a long, slow breath.

  After devouring the nut, Richard beamed. “They have bottomless fries.”

  “What?”

  “Bottomless fries!”

  “What in the world is that?” she asked with a puzzled expression.

  “You can get as many as you want,” he replied excitedly.

  “What for?”

  “They’re really good.”

  “Oh.” She scowled. “I usually can’t finish the ones on my plate.”

  He shelled another pair of peanuts then tossed them into his mouth.

  When the pager finally lit up and vibrated, she held it up, forcing a smile. “That’s us.”

  “Good, I’m starved.” He quickly rose to his feet, snatched the pager from her and took off. Closing her eyes, she sighed as she gathered the strength to go on.

  “Good luck,” the woman said.

  “Thanks.”

  Like a dead-woman-walking, headed toward her last meal, Anne reached the hostess station. There she located her date giving her an impatient frown from the center of the restaurant.

  She hurried to him. “Sorry.”

  The hostess led them to a table and handed over the menus. “Your server will be right with you.” She turned and walked away.

  Richard cried out, “Could we get some fries for the table?”

  “What?” Turning back, the hostess narrowed her eyes.

  “Fries.”

  “Um, your server will be right over.” After shooting Anne a look that screamed “Is he for real,” the hostess shook her head then hurried away.

  Anne studied the selections, wearing an unpleasant expression. The menu featured mostly burgers with all kinds of toppings, from fried eggs to chili to onion straws.

  The server walked up to the table. “Hi, I’m Ashley, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

  “I’ll have a strawberry lemonade,” he blurted out before looking at his date. “They are also all you can drink.”

  “That’s good to know.” Fighting a desperate urge to roll her eyes, she glanced up at the young woman.

  “What can I get you to drink?” the server asked.

  “Do you have a house Riesling?”

  “We do.”

  “I’ll have that.”

  “And some fries for the table,” Richard called out, his head still buried in his menu.

  “What?” The server shot him a look.

  “Fries,” he began. “They are bottomless, right?”

>   “Yes, if you order one of our burgers or sandwiches.”

  “That’s what we’re going to order,” Richard said.

  “We don’t normally bring those in advance, but yes, I can bring some. I’ll be right back with your drinks.” Sighing, Ashley headed off.

  After taking in Richard’s sweaty forehead, Anne returned her attention to the menu. A few minutes later Ashley appeared with their drinks and stood beside the table. “Are you ready to order?”

  “I’ll have a cheeseburger. Well done. Can I get the sweet potato fries instead?” Anne held her menu out.

  “Sure.” Ashley grabbed the menu.

  “But those aren’t bottomless.” Richard looked at Anne as if she were making a mistake of epic proportions.

  “I think I’ll be okay,” Anne assured him while wearing a slight frown.

  “And for you?”

  “King Royal rare.”

  “How would you like your egg?”

  “Sunny side up.” Richard held his menu up then scowled. “Our fries?”

  “For the love of God, would you please bring him some fries?” Anne said with pleading eyes.

  “Yes. Sorry.” Ashley scurried away.

  “I thought you were getting a burger,” Anne said.

  “I did.”

  “It has a fried egg on it?” She held back a look of disgust.

  “Yeah, it’s what I always get.”

  She sipped from her wineglass.

  Leaning over, he captured the straw between his lips and sucked up a huge gulp from his oversize mug of lemonade.

  After taking another sip, she placed her glass on the table and drew her finger along the stem. “Have you had a lot of dates through the website?”

  “A couple.” He reached into his mug, pulled out a piece of a strawberry with his fingers and slipped it into his mouth. “Have you?” He sucked on his fingers.

  “This is my first.”

  Ashley dropped off two plates of fries, smiled politely then hurried away.

  “These are the best.” Richard grabbed the red seasoning salt from the table and doused his fries. “I’m starving.”

  “Oh.”

  “I haven’t eaten much all day.”

  Anne nodded. “You didn’t have time or…”

  “No, I had an MRI today.”

  “Is it your back or what?”

  “A prostate MRI.” He shoveled three fries into his mouth and chomped on them while adding, “You wouldn’t believe how they do that.”