“In the closet. I almost crapped my pants when he went into the bathroom, girl. Where’d you hide?”
“Behind the door.” I giggle, covering my mouth as hysteria threatens. “I was this freaking close to being made when he heard a noise, though.”
That has Percy giggling and throwing me a wink.
“My pleasure, bitch. Getting out of the closet and running for the kitchen was not easy, what with my belly weighing a ton with this baby.”
“That was you?”
“Well duh! You think a cat would have chosen a priceless vase to hurl at the floor after opening a window?”
“I love you.”
“I know. Now come on. I just about pissed my pants when he came back out and started searching the place. I need to get on home and change my undies.”
***
The sound of guests mingling and praising the food is a dull murmur as I check the door to Althea’s home for the twentieth time and mutter curses under my breath.
Where the hell is Jones and why the hell hasn’t he at least called Jack yelling about the little gifts Percy and I left for him to try on?
Tonight is Althea’s mother-in-law’s fiftieth birthday party, and despite all appearances, the old goat is mean as a snake when she thinks someone may not show up. That, alone, had me banking on Woody braving this shindig no matter what. Plus I checked the guest list and he RSVP’d.
“Stop staring at the door and mingle with the food before Jack comes over and starts worrying you again,” Callie hisses, shoving a tray laden with mozzarella puffs at me.
“I want to be the first to see him,” I argue, slapping at her hands when she tries to tug me away.
“And make it that obvious? Come on, Indie! If he’s coming you can see him from the living room anyway. It’s not like you’d miss that.” she giggles, making me smirk.
I guess that’s true and it’s the only reason I stop loitering around the door and follow her deeper into the melee as people grab handfuls of eats and stuff their mouths.
If I had to make an assessment of tonight’s turnout I’d say we’ve done a fantastic job, right down to Dot planning the layout and e-mailing it all to us since Althea refused to hire a planner and instead let us do the whole thing from color schemes to the wine list.
On the heels of this success is what me and Percy did today, something that is definitely a phase two, torture-Woody element of my plans.
The night drags on for the next two hours and I’m just about ready to call this one a bust when he walks in, looking fit to be tied and red in the face.
His hair on the other hand…
“Christ! He must use a lot of shampoo,” Percy howls when Woody clomps over to our group.
I want to laugh and crow like the ass I am, but I stifle the urge and just manage to bite my lips when Freddie chokes and starts guffawing loudly.
“Hey, man, uh, new look?” Marks wheezes while we all stare at him wide-eyed and take in the horror I wreaked on his gorgeous hair.
No Goddammit! Something is wrong with my fucking shampoo.”
Not wrong. I just dumped a shit ton of peroxide in the stuff. As for his face? It’s bald as a newborn’s ass since Percy put hair removal cream in his aftershave.
You have to understand the humor here. Woody is the type of guy who rocks the designer stubble and trims his facial hair as opposed to going smooth. The fact that we just messed with his stubble, which may or may not grow back all spotty, is hilarious.
“Wrong? Dude, you look like you shoved your head in a bleach pot, and your face…” Marks chortles.
Did I forget to mention he’s allergic to strawberries and I added some—the tiniest smidgen—to the smoothies he drinks every night?.
Well I did, and not only is his face baby smooth, he looks like he’s fifteen and suffering from an acne breakout.
My work here is done.
“I don’t know what happened. I walked out of the bathroom and it just started blotching. I have a date after this!”
Santa, I already got my gift, thanks, you’re off the hook, I think as I continue to stare and bite my lips, squeaking out a giggle when he turns to me and goes redder.
“Stop laughing! This isn’t funny,” he whines, making my squeak turn into all-out giggles as he tries and fails to melt into the wall behind him.
“Wood, you look like you fought a hairstylist with a grudge. You have no Goddamn facial hair and your breakout is way nasty, man.” Percy laughs, so loud people turn to look and wince when they see him. “Welcome to puberty y’all!”
“Shut up, it’s not fucking acne. I’m having a reaction to the smoothie I drank earlier.”
“Lay the fuck off the smoothies,” Callie trills, laughing so hard she snorts Coke through her nose and Jack has to pound her back even through his own laughs.
“Oh poor Jones, is it hard not being the hottest guy in the room?” I croon, scrunching my nose at the sight of a few yellow-looking hives.
That gets him really mad and I fully expect a good putdown when one of his groupies sidles over and starts pawing at his back. I’d sock her one for the effort but she saves her own ass when he turns and she gets a good look at him.
Now really, the shriek was not necessary, neither is her running away like she just saw a slice of bread she can’t and hasn’t eaten for the last decade.
“I’m ruined,” he mutters, making us all laugh harder at the forlorn tone.
“Meh, I say go home, have a beer, and wait for it to stop swelling or whatever.”
“It won’t stop, Indie! The medication works only so far. I have to go to the freaking doctor to get a shot,” he hisses.
“Yeah, that sucks. So talking about suckage, has anyone seen his apartment lately? Draaaaaaab.” I muse, smiling when his face falls and his eyes widen.
What? I told you all that it’s no use being this mad awesome unless the rat knows the score.
“You did this?”
The pat I give his shoulder is all kinds of condescending, and I particularly enjoy his expression and everyone else’s laughter when I lean in and smile brightly.
“The last guy who hurt my feelings woke up with his Porche stripped and a snake in his bed, Jones. Consider yourself lucky.”
Chapter Five
“I’ll have what she’s having.”
Indie
So the high of two nights ago has well and truly worn off, and being alone with my thoughts on this Monday morning is not a place I really want to be.
But I know a few things now that I didn’t know before. Like the fact that I hate being alone.
Dot’s living the life of a ranch wife down in Wyoming. Percy left Delights, opened her own clothing and jewelry line, and she’s walking on cloud nine these days instead of stomping around grumbling.
I’m the only schmuck left holding the bag, and while I hesitate to make any changes—partly because I am terrified that Luci and Callie will be hurt if I leave—I do realize that at thirty-one, I don’t have all that much time left to pursue those dreams that may be unrealistic but are mine nonetheless.
I can do it, though. I have some money saved up, and what with the rent no longer an issue since Marks bought me this new place, I can so take the plunge and just do it.
But what if I fail?
That question keeps plaguing me the longer I sit here sipping piping hot coffee and nibbling on a muffin from the basket Luci made day before yesterday.
What if I take all my money, quit Delights, maybe hurt Luci and Callie in the process, do this thing and then end up broke and in need of a job? Oh I know I’ll always have a place with Luci and Callie, those two would never let me struggle if I can work at their business, but I don’t want this anymore.
It may be a great job, one I actually really enjoy doing most days, but thinking of myself cooking for the next ten years, serving food to rich assholes and their even worse wives, makes me so freaking miserable I want to drink myself into liver failure.
“Just do it, you dumbass! What’s the worst that can happen? Exactly, you don’t even know because you’re so freaking yellow you haven’t tried yet.”
Talking to myself makes me feel like an escaped inmate but like I said, it’s all me while the rest of my Naughties are off living the life of married women, moms, and blissfully happy individuals.
A knock at the door interrupts me just when I’m about to get my Rocky speech on. I trudge over with a scowl, ready to tell that horror of a neighbor of mine to kiss my ass if he complains about the TV volume again.
The man should watch himself or my bathtub may just get used for more than wine nights and gripe fests.
“What!”
“Well, I was wondering if a certain hot mama would like to go to breakfast,” Finn drawls, laughing like a loon when I throw myself at him and climb him like a monkey.
“Yes! Oh thank God you’re here. I was starting to think deep, and you know how that hurts me,” I huff, kissing his face before pulling back.
Finn is my fake hookup. We just let people think we’re doing the beasts with two backs when in reality, the guy is my buddy who rubs my feet and plays Xbox with me.
Not that we haven’t given each other a ride or two, but that’s in the past and we’re just not suited enough to be more than friends. Although, with his penis, I must be tripping to be thinking about feelings and shit when I could be screaming the Hallelujah chorus every night.
“Come on now, you only started smoking that one time and I asked you about politics,” he jokes, slapping my ass and demanding I get my shit since he hasn’t eaten since last night.
“Shut up, you. Come on. I feel like a huge breakfast and hearing all the dirt on whoever you did recently. Please tell me it wasn’t the chick with bowling balls for tits, because that was just nasty, even for you,” I mutter as we hit the elevator and make out way to his car.
“Hey, all women need love, Indie. Well besides you, but you’re a borg from the future,” he mutters, strapping me in before shutting my door and running to the driver’s side.
“I am not. I feel things, lots of things. I just keep them in this little dusty box where they belong.”
“I know this,” he answers after a long silence as he turns left and starts driving.
“Hey, I thought you were taking me to breakfast.”
“I am. Mom and Astrid made breakfast, and since it’s my day off I’m spending it with my three favorite girls.”
“What a cheapskate.”
“Not cheap.” He chuckles, pinching my left nipple to make me jump and swipe at his hand. “Smart. The moms want to know what’s going on with you lately, after Percy gave them the whole messy tale.”
“Mouthy skank.”
“And they miss you.” He chuckles, chucking my chin. “Pluuus, I haven’t seen you since we both woke up in my bed, you drunk and smelly, me exhausted and airplane smelly, and you hightailed it out of there like a bat out of hell.”
Which I will never discuss. Ever. I was not drunk that morning. I was messed up with what I was terrified was morning sickness but thankfully turned out to be a bad pretzel from the day before—I kicked that vendor’s ass but good for that scare. But it scared me to think and understand and remember that I’d had unprotected sex with Jones, and yeah, okay, maybe it was a little pre-emptive to start thinking baby, but it scared me and from there on out, I have been on the pill.
“I wasn’t drunk, punk. I ate a bad pretzel the day before and it did not agree with me.”
“Then why not stay and let me take care of you?”
We’re pulling up to his mom’s place as he asks and I flip him the bird before jumping out and rushing for my adoptive mom. I like the other moms in our extended clan, but nothing beats two women who think I’m great just for being me.
“What up, munchers? Oh, Edie baby, is that a new hairdo? Rocking mama,” I coo as they both hug and kiss me and start dragging me along behind them.
“Come along, Finny, the eggs are getting cold. Now, Indie darling, what is this I hear about dear Woody giving you the shaft?”
The two assholes start laughing at Edie’s joke and I find myself reluctantly amused by their gall as they drag me to the huge kitchen and soften the blow with a breakfast that would satisfy three potheads.
“Fuuuunny. Not. He didn’t…”
“Come on. I haven’t heard a good story since Callie called to tell me about Percy and her towel getting caught in the door. Jack still jokes about red thongs and the loss of eyesight.”
Whatever.
“We hooked up, you already know that, so stop clapping your wrinkled old claws at me, perverts. We both got drunk, hooked up in his limo, and then the savage ‘fell asleep’ after the biggest O I have ever had. What a dick.”
“Hey now. Biggest?” Finn grumbles, making them both chortle gleefully and roll their eyes.
“See dear, this is why we do girl love. There aren’t any dreary discussions about penis size and ballscaping,” Astrid muses, making me spit orange juice all over my plate.
“Here, let me fix you a new plate.”
“Hands off, lesbian, it’s my spit. It belongs in my mouth,” I growl at Edie, slapping her hand away. “As for that spiel, I’m all sausage all the way, so quit it. And, Finny? Sorry, the man’s name isn’t Woody for no good reason. He’s packing a freaking tree down that pant leg for sure, and he knows how to use it. Very well.”
“Aw nuts.”
“Yeah, those too. Two big ones.” I laugh, groaning around the bacon.
Me like pig, a lot.
“That’s great, darling.”
“Eh, no, no it isn’t because like I just said, he fell asleep.”
“All men do that.”
“Hey, Ma!”
“Well except my Finny, he’s a gentleman.”
“Sure, if you say so. Whatever. Jones fell asleep and pretended to be asleep all the while I was trying not to flash his driver my vagina while getting out of the car. I turn around and what do I see? Mr. Tree looking back at me like the ass he is while I have to hobble upstairs with torn panties and shredded self-respect. And then he freaking turns up at the bar where I was trying to drink myself back to normal the next day, and he brings another woman to the table! My table. He spent the whole fucking night chewing on her neck while I just sat there and tried to ignore it. And you know the worst part?”
“What? There’s worse?” Finn growls, his eyes hard as he gnaws his way through his food.
See, this is my buddy and he no doubt would like to rip Jones a new one. I’ll consider it. After I get my groove thing on with the next step of phase two.
“Yes. So he’s sitting at my table and all the Days are there with me, and I had to kiss Wednesday!”
“Noooo!”
“Isn’t he gay?” Finn gripes.
“No. But like that would make a difference. Look at me. I’m so hot I could turn him on a dime if I had to. Nah, I kissed him and poor Thursday starts thinking it’s free taco night! I had to shake him off and tell him the whole story. You know he gossips, Finn.”
Astrid starts giggling, and before I know it they’re all enjoying my misfortune as if it’s a free freaking show with buffet included.
“Callie said you’re working him?”
“You bet your sweet ass I am. Friday night he walked into Althea’s place sporting a freckled bleach job, no facial hair from the hair removal cream we poured into his face balm, and an allergic reaction to the strawberry juice I put in his smoothie. That’ll show him.”
Though God knows I feel like hell about the strawberries.
“Oh dear, I see how hurt you must be by all this, but you should remember that revenge is not always the answer,” Edie says softly, making me feel like a heel.
I do know this. After Saturday’s brunch event that I took on alone to give Callie and Luci both a break and a chance to spend time with their families, I’ve spent the weekend thinking about things.
Hurt
ing Jones isn’t going to make me feel better. Because I love the man and the cold truth is he doesn’t even like me.
“I just want him to feel a little of what I felt, Edes. That’s all.”
“And ruining that glorious mop of brown hair will do that how?”
How? He made me feel ugly and gross that night in the limo. As uncool with introspection as I am, I told ya I’m one of those mentally mature beings. I have a reason for everything I do to him from here on out.
“Well for one thing you should have seen his face when a woman sidled up to him, took one look, and ran like a long-distance sprinter! That was hi-larious. Plus, I got to tell him it was me so he knows that I’m not cool with his brand of tripe either. And sure, alright, I get I’m being immature, but so what? I am who I am and that’s all I have. I need this to make me feel better.”
“Well then, dear, I say good luck to you and I hope you get what you need out of it.”
“Thanks, Astrid.”
I’m suddenly not hungry anymore because all her words serve to do is remind me that Jones is not the one and only aspect of my life that’s kicking me in the dick lately.
I was close to walking out of Saturday’s brunch because I was just sick and tired of it. How lame is that?
Oh, and the doozy! My foster mom’s daughter, Renee, called me yesterday and told me how the old darling is off in hospital and asking for me. As if I’d go anywhere near her poisonous ass!
“So…have you given any more thought to what we spoke about?” Finn asks while Edie and Astrid clear the table and we sip coffee.
“No.”
“Come on, Indie, you know I am right. I know you love your friends and—”
“They’re my family, Finn, not just friends. They are family and I don’t want to disappoint the people who have loved me and stuck by me since I was five and running on the nothing my mom fed me.”
He sighs and I gear up for another one of his speeches, reciting the serenity prayer in my head for forbearance.
“This is bullshit and you know it. What are you going to do, Indie, spend the rest of your life pursuing Callie and Luci’s dreams while you end up with nothing in one hand and regrets in the other?”
THE NAUGHTY ONES: The Complete 5-Books Series Page 52