by Amie Gibbons
“I was just…”
“Uh, huh? What was that? Just what? Who says something randomly mean about someone’s mom if they aren’t trying to go for the jugular? Huh?”
“How is that so bad? I was just saying you get that anxiety bubble from her,” he said.
“And that isn’t bad? News flash, you want to go after me, that’s one thing, attacking my mom is something real freaking different, and it’s a sure sign you want to have a smackdown. Everybody knows you don’t insult someone’s mom. That’s why your mama jokes are… the your mama jokes!”
“I… I don’t even know what you’re talking about!”
“I’m talking about the fact that you keep trying to blame this all on me, not taking responsibility for your own actions, and the fact that you were being a dick!” AB’s free hand flew out and she smoothed back her frizzing hair. “You wanted to end this friendship, you made it clear that night! Because, guess what, most people actually like their moms!”
“You’re the one who posted all that shit on Facebook!” he said. “You were posting your misunderstanding about what I was saying for everyone to see, except me! I wouldn’t even know about it if it weren’t for people sticking their noses in and saying I deserved to know. You were talking behind my back to the entire world! You have any idea how bad you made me look? You unilaterally destroyed this friendship, not me!”
Um, if they were friends, then wouldn’t fixing their issues be more productive than placing blame?
“There we go again,” AB said, voice breaking. “Making you look bad. Because it’s allll about you. Doesn’t matter what I’m going through. Doesn’t matter what I’m feeling. It never did, right?”
“I never said that!”
“Yes, you did!” she yelled. “You said it in everything you did! You said it in leaving me after I lost it to you. You said it when I tried talking to you about it. You said it whenever we talked, and you just kept saying you couldn’t make feelings, so you didn’t know what I wanted from you. You said it when you went and married that thirteen years younger than you blond! You said it with everything!”
I could practically see his mouth working on the other end.
“That was seven years ago!” he yelled. “You can not possibly still be holding that against me! When are you going to let that go?”
She snorted. “When the Jews let it go.”
“Really?” he asked. “You’re comparing us sleeping together not working out to the Holocaust. Really?”
“It’s a joke, jackass. And culturally appropriate here, don’t ya think? Fine, you want to stick to the present? How about you treating me like crap after your divorce was finalized? You were being cold, you were snapping at me over nothing, you jumped down my throat when I was trying to get you to talk about it, since I could tell it was eating you alive. Then, then you went and fucked the blond bimbo.”
“I can fuck whoever I want! It’s none of your damn business!”
AB’s face froze and her eyes went hard.
“You’re right,” she said in a low voice, “you owe me absolutely nothing. You have made that abundantly clear since the day after we slept together. There is no connection here. I thought there was because you acted like it when you were chasing me, but after you got me, well, that went away, and hey, it’s all my fault because I was stupid enough to fall for it, right?”
“Stupid? You… I don’t understand you! Sex went bad. It happens. Nobody’s good their first time. We stopped seeing each other. Seven years and a marriage later, you’re pissed at me because I slept with a woman. And you were getting pissed off any time I got along with a woman. You keep saying all this stuff like it’s my fault our friendship died. It’s yours!”
Why did I feel like they weren’t really making progress here and we should end this call?
Not that it was my call.
Then again, I wasn’t exactly walking away either, was I?
“You posted that shit on Facebook, drumming up drama for no reason,” Thomas said, his voice low now. “I don’t know if you found it entertaining or what, but in case you didn’t notice, I don’t need extra drama in my life! I have enough of it dealing with my divorce! Now, if you could drop the drama, we could-”
“Drop it?” she said, voice hollow. “Like I mean to do this? Like I was doing this on purpose for the fun of it! Like I want to be this way? Are you fucking kidding me! Drop it!
“You… do you have any idea of the hell I went through back then? Any idea how badly you fucked me up? Guess what, asshole, I’m still messed up because of it. I wasn’t creating drama! I was trying to let out some of the emotions I couldn’t fucking handle.
“I’m not making stuff up. I’m not drumming up drama. I’m trying to deal with it.”
She sniffed. “And what was that you were saying about a real friend would be happy for you when you got some? Are you kidding me? Like I don’t have feelings? Or like they don’t matter?”
He didn’t say anything.
“That wasn’t rhetorical,” she said. “You really think I did that to stir up trouble? I was trying to deal and not explode after I found out you slept with her. I was trying to keep myself from calling you and screaming at you.”
“Who I sleep with is none of your business.”
His voice hit that cold, sharp note that made her flinch.
“Yep, you’re right,” she said, sniffing again and wiping under her glasses with her thumb. “Because you have made it quite clear you don’t care about me. I asked you if you cared at all, and you know what, Thomas, you didn’t answer.
“Not answering is an answer, by the way. I told you if there was nothing here to salvage, if there’s no caring on your end, that we have nothing to talk about. And all you said to answer was say the stuff I’d done, and then that you did treasure and care about my friendship when I wasn’t making up drama.
“I wasn’t making it up. I am a real person with real feelings, go figure. And you never said you cared about me. You said you cared about what I could do for you as a friend.”
“No, I-”
“Not those words, but you said it. You said it, and I may be aspie, and I may suck at reading people, but you don’t have to be psychic to get that someone doesn’t give a shit about you when you ask them outright and they don’t answer the question. So, that’s the answer, fine, we have nothing to talk about.”
He snorted. “You don’t get to bash me like this and expect me to just take it. I don’t have the energy for it. You’re the one throwing this away.”
“Throwing what away?” she asked, voice hollow. “Someone who never cared about me and never will? Someone who still won’t give a straight answer to a simple question? Someone who is more focused on placing the blame on me than trying to fix what’s wrong?”
Ah, so she had noticed that.
“You’re the one creating drama!” he said. “You’re the one stirring all this shit up! I’m trying to fix it. I called, didn’t I? But you know what, I don’t need this drama you’re making up.”
“That I’m making up?” she sputtered, staring over the phone at me.
“You’re the one who seduced me, you asshole!” she screamed, making me jerk back. “You took our friendship and you trashed it because you wanted to get laid. You pretended to be my friend to get my guard down so you could make a move. You’re the one who created the drama, you fucking hypocrite!
“You’re the one who decided to sleep with me. Guess what, when you fuck someone, you create drama. When you fuck them over, you create more! You’re the one who created this drama to begin with. And when you go around screwing whatever will let you, guess what, you stupid, blind jackass, you’re creating more drama! You are a walking, talking, fucking soap opera. Pun intended!
“You were a Grey’s Anatomy character back in med school, sleeping around and pretending that was okay and that girls’ feelings don’t matter, and you haven’t grown up one bit in seven years. You’re still the sam
e using, self-centered jackass. You still use women and throw them away, you still think everything is all about you, and you still don’t take anyone else’s feelings into account.
“You don’t get to sleep around and pretend it means nothing, then throw a bitch fit when, guess what, drama ensues, and then pretend it’s the girl causing it! You’re the whore here! You’re the one creating drama!”
He was being so quiet, I was honestly wondering if he’d just hung up by this point.
“We’re not friends,” she continued. “We never were. I was a girl you pretended to befriend so you could fuck her, and then you wanted to go away. And you spent the next few years trying to keep me from going off on you while you were around me. You only apologized to get me to stop telling people what you’d done.
“We were never friends. You’d just chat and catch up, doing the temperature check thing when we ran into each other. Had no problem flaunting your girlfriend in front of me, or checking out other girls and saying how hot they were in front of me, or making out with that skank you married at a party in front of me. You didn’t care. You never did. Then you just left.
“Then when it was convenient, when you were divorced and had just moved back, and I could do something for you, you were okay with using me for that. That’s all you’ve ever done. Use me. You have never cared about me. You made that so obviously clear.
“All you wanted to do was use me and lose me, Thomas? Well guess what, mission accomplished. You finally got rid of me.”
She hung up.
I opened my mouth to say… something.
She hauled the phone back and hurled it across the hall at the closed bathroom door with a scream.
It bounced off the door, protective cover keeping it from shattering, and fell halfway between the door and us face down.
And she broke down in sobs, wrapping her arms around herself and crying so hard she bent over.
I grabbed her and pulled her into a hug, petting her hair and whispering to her that it was going to be alright. That everything was going to be alright.
“Looks like I got here just in time,” a voice said.
I jerked up and pulled away, hand automatically going to the gun at my hip.
“Oh, relax,” the voice said. “I was told you wanted to speak with me. I'm Karma.”
She appeared in the archway. No flash of light or crack of displaced air or anything you'd think would happen when a demigoddess popped in.
And she so did not look like a demigoddess.
She looked like a Japanese school girl.
Short as me and AB, but much slimmer, maybe nineteen years old, with big eyes and straight black hair down to the small of her back, and wearing jeans and a green silk kimono top.
She propped her hands on her hips and looked at the sacrificed phone.
“I know we have bigger issues and all that,” AB said, face still red and puffy as she pointed at the phone, “but what the hell did I do to deserve him?”
“I'm afraid I didn't have anything to do with that, honey,” Karma said, voice taking on a Southern lilt. “That was your own poor judgement. I can say he got his though. Now, I've been asked to speak to you ladies, and I even know why. I think we can work something out.”
“Work something out?” I asked.
“In four days, on election night, your father is going to die, dear,” Karma said. “It's fated. But, you do some work for me, and I'll work in a pass for him on Tuesday.”
I froze.
What did she just say?
“Oh shit,” AB said, pushing the little escaping hairs off her forehead. “And suddenly my problems... don't seem like problems. What do you need us to do?”
I was glad she was taking charge.
Because my brain pretty much stopped the second Karma said my daddy was gonna die.
“I need the psychic to figure out and fix whatever has fucked up fate in this town,” Karma said. “Because I've been all over it, and I can't figure out what did it, or how to balance it out. And if this continues, if the forces aren't balanced, they're going to keep spiraling outward.
“You think a couple of accidents and a heart attack are bad? If this isn't stopped... well, let's just say the last time this happened and got out of control was in Atlantis.”
Chapter four
“Ariana?” AB asked, kneeling in front of me. “You okay?”
I blinked at her.
When had I sat down at the table?
When did we go into the kitchen dining area?
“She’s in shock,” Karma said, walking into the kitchen proper. “Are these for me?”
“Yeah,” AB said. “The first two should be done any minute now, but the cheesecake and cookies aren’t finished yet. I’m kinda surprised Carvi got you over here so quickly.”
Me too.
Wasn’t he still gathering ingredients when I spied on him?
AB wasn’t on the phone that long.
“Who’s Carvi?” Karma asked. “I was flagged down by a flying carpet.”
“That would be me,” Carvi said.
I didn’t even jerk in surprise.
He’d done this way too often in the past week. I pretty much just expected him to suddenly pop up now.
And, yeah, I was probably in shock.
“Hello, Karma,” Carvi said, walking around so he was next to the table and I could see him out of the corner of my eye without turning my head.
I wasn’t looking at him, cuz the look on Karma’s face was priceless.
Oh, they knew each other all right.
She stared at him with something like despair mixed with hope, then anger and the urge to run.
Kinda like I’d felt when I had to face Grant a few days ago.
And, come to think of it, like AB had looked on the phone with Thomas.
“Carvi?” Karma snorted, crossing her arms and twisting her face into a sneer. “That’s what you’re going by these days? Cute. What happened?”
“You of all people know what someone can do with your true name,” Carvi said, a warning riding his voice. “You speak mine, you know I’ll do worse with yours.”
Boy howdy, did they know each other.
And something told me whatever it was, had not ended well.
“You ass! Why am I even surprised?” Karma said after a minute. “Of course, you’d be here when Alabama’s about to go up in smoke.”
“Wait, what?” I asked stupidly.
“She’s exaggerating,” Carvi said.
“No,” Karma said, shaking her head and narrowing her eyes, voice a hiss, “I’m really not. And the last time this happened, in this state too, was because of you!”
“I balanced my shit out, and you know it!”
“If you had, I wouldn’t have had to come in and clean up your mess. I suppose you’re going to tell me you have nothing to do with this?”
AB and I looked at each other.
And we thought we had ex issues.
At least neither of ours were demigods.
I shook my head.
Grant wasn’t my ex. Grant had never been anything to me.
We’d never even kissed.
So why was I thinking of him as an ex?
Because he felt that way.
Karma glared at Carvi, arms firmly locked across her front.
“I didn’t do that,” Carvi said, voice a low, careful growl. “I told you that back then. I balanced my forces. That ripple wasn’t me.”
“You time travel and there’s a ripple effect, but one had nothing to do with the other, uh huh, yeah,” she said. “You were full of shit a hundred years ago, full of shit twenty-five years ago, why would now be any different?”
“Fine, don’t believe me. I don’t really care. What are you doing here? How did you even know we wanted to talk to you?”
“Pyro,” I said.
Karma looked at me.
“Name of my flying carpet,” I said, shrugging. “Y’all know each other.”
Karma nodded anyway. “He was a… a mistake.”
“I don’t remember you complaining,” Carvi said, walking forward and resting his hands on the kitchen island, leaning forward. “In fact, I remember some very specific begging. And some propositioning when we ran into each other again the last time.”
Her lip curled up and she narrowed her eyes. “You never could get over your ego, could you? I see time hasn’t changed that.”
He shrugged. “The girls tell you what’s going on here?”
“No, I told them.”
Carvi pushed off the counter and walked around it.
Karma stood her ground.
“What do you mean?” he asked, so quiet I wouldn’t have caught it if he weren’t enunciating very clearly.
“Don’t use that tone with me. It won’t work.”
“Did before.”
“I wasn’t Karma before.”
“Whoa, what?” I said.
So she was, what, a hired Karma, not the Karma?
“Karma is like Death,” Carvi said. “You have one, soon as that one falls, fails, or quits, another is chosen.”
“So you knew her when?” AB asked.
“Back around the turn of the century,” Carvi said. “When she was human. She was a slip of a thing. Still is, obviously. The attitude was acquired later. Not my favorite.”
“You’re causing the attitude,” Karma said. “You… you know what, you asshole, I don’t need this. I’m not a little witch in a small town desperate for entertainment, and you’re not the exotic foreigner. I’m Karma, bitch, and you’ll show me some respect.”
“Or else?” Carvi asked, mocking on his tone. “You already gave me your or else, you backstabbing, passive aggressive, fucking harpy. You think I didn’t know you had something to do with Milo’s death?”
“Ohhhhh,” she said. “That’s what this is about? I was wondering what the fuck you thought you had the right to be pissed about considering you’re the one who left me. Considering you broke me!” She uncrossed her arms and stabbed a finger at him. “Guess what, that wasn’t me.”