Better Late Than Never
Page 1
BY
GHISELLE ST. JAMES
Copyright © 2020 Ghiselle St. James
All rights reserved.
Table of Contents
License Note
Better Late Than Never (Blurb)
A Word From G…
BLTN Playlist
DEDICATION
Prologue – He Who Shall Not Be Named
PART ONE: AN AWKWARD DANCE OF WILLS
Chapter One – The Day I Fell on My Ass
Chapter Two – Must Be Something in the Water
Chapter Three – Besties: The Point Of No Return
Chapter Four – Ruiner of Dreams
Chapter Five – Is This the End?
Chapter Six – Hello, Heartbreak, My Old Friend
Chapter Seven – He Loves Me, He Loves Me Kinda
Chapter Eight – What Doesn’t Kill You Will Probably Make You a Whore
Chapter Nine – This Is It!
Chapter Ten – Although We’ve Come to the End of the Road
Chapter Eleven – Say It Ain’t So!
PART TWO: THE LONG WAY HOME
Chapter Twelve – The Girl with the Crazy Hair
Chapter Thirteen – And, Apparently, the Shits…
Chapter Fourteen – Tongue Enough For Ten Rows o’ Teeth
Chapter Fifteen – One Big, Ole Awkward Reunion
Chapter Sixteen – Haunting You For Life Sounded Just As Good
Chapter Seventeen – This isn’t a Conundrum…This is a Clusterfuck
Chapter Eighteen – Popozao
Chapter Nineteen – Let the Games Begin
Chapter Twenty – Should’ve Brought My Toothpaste and Toothbrush For This…
Chapter Twenty One – A Little Fairy…
Chapter Twenty Two – Sometimes I Go Deaf In One Ear, It’s The Strangest Thing
Chapter Twenty Three – Attica! Attica!
Chapter Twenty Four – This Tea is Piping Hot!
Chapter Twenty Five – A Rabid Terrier, Foley!
Chapter Twenty Six – My Eyes! It Burns!
Chapter Twenty Seven – Farting is Such Sweet Sorrow
Chapter Twenty Eight – I’ve Waited This Long. I Can Wait A Few More Seconds
Chapter Twenty Nine – Like a Not-So-Cliché Plot Twist
Chapter Thirty – Better Late Than Never
Epilogue – Plus One
Acknowledgments
About Ghiselle St. James
CONNECT WITH THE AUTHOR
More From Ghiselle
Coming Next…
License Note
This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of it may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed, electronic or mechanical form, including photocopying or recording, or by information storage or retrieval system, without the expressed, written consent of the author. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or any other means without the permission of the author is illegal and punishable by law. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorized editions. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are purely the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental or is used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, movies, music, and/or bands, referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Better Late Than Never (Blurb)
Savannah
Since we were fifteen years old, my best friend, Kyle Moxam, has been a constant in my life. We’ve argued, fought, blocked each other – well, I have – and made up over Pop Tarts and purple soda. We’ve been on a cycle of will they/won’t they/should they since then. We should because of our history…we can’t because of our present circumstances. And, boy, what circumstances they are! I may be on the verge of losing the only person I’ve ever truly loved. Or am I…?
Kyle
Since I was fifteen years old, Savannah ‘Savi’ Carpenter has played the role of my best friend, while my heart – and other parts of my anatomy – ached for her. Our friendship has been tested over the years but we’ve always come out stronger through it all. Not this time. I may have pushed her too far and I don't know if we can come back from this. Can we survive this latest test with our friendship and heart intact? I sure as hell hope I don't lose her…because that would suck.
Better Late Than Never is a quirky tale of friendship, love, sacrifice and hope. Follow Savannah “Savi” Carpenter as she navigates life, love, and everything in between, with her best friend, Kyle Moxam, and the rest of the gang.
A Word From G…
Dear Reader,
Better Late Than Never has been three years in the making. Yup, three years. Writing this novel was truly a shining example of that title for me. After losing my husband and mother-in-law within a week of each other, and then my best friend weeks later, I didn’t think I’d ever write again, honestly. It took almost a year before I could start typing a few words here and there.
The writing momentum picked up a few times before losing wind soon after, but it was always there – that need to write this book. And then it happened. Words were flowing! As soon as I caught my groove and excitement started to bubble in my veins as the words started pouring out of me, however…my mom died.
I thought for sure I was going to throw in the towel. I mean, who wouldn’t at this point? This story, however, needed to be told. It was quite different from the stories I write. Almost wholesome. Almost. The characters had no dark past, no tragic circumstances, no chaotic coupling. It was almost too syrupy; but as it turned out…I needed that.
Better Late Than Never became therapeutic for me. Two years of devastation needed to be combated with light. And so, I wrote. I wrote and I smiled, and I laughed, and I teared up because…I was going to be okay. It would take some time, maybe even more time than it took to write this book, but it was going to happen.
And it was better late than never.
See what I did there?
Do enjoy this little piece of happy that I found in my sadness.
Love, G.
BLTN Playlist
Stevie Nicks – Edge of Seventeen
Paramore – Misery Business
DMX – Party Up
Daniel Bedingfield – If You’re Not The One
Limp Bizkit – Behind Blue Eyes
Nina Sky – Move Your Body
Backstreet Boys – I Need You Tonight
KoЯn – Coming Undone
P!nk – Who Knew
Foo Fighters – Everlong
‘NSYNC – God Must’ve Spent A Little More Time On You
Gorillaz – Feel Good Inc.
Yellowcard – Ocean Avenue
Three Days Grace – I Hate Everything About You
Uncle Kracker & Dobie Gray – Drift Away
Keane – Somewhere Only We Know
Hinder – Lips of an Angel
Selena Gomez – The Heart Wants What It Wants
Juicy J – Bandz A Make Her Dance (Feat. Lil’ Wayne & 2 Chainz)
Cardi B – Bodak Yellow
Gwen Stefani – What You Waiting For?
Eminem – Sing For the Moment
Katy Perry – I Kissed a Girl
Limp Bizkit – My Way
Akon – Lonely
Jidenna – Bambi
Rupert Holmes – Esca
pe (The Piña Colada Song)
Drake – One Dance
DEDICATION
To myself:
You’ll be okay.
It may not be today and it may not be tomorrow, but trust that whenever it happens, it will be the right time. Just remember: it’s better late than never.
You’ve got this, kid.
Ghiselle St. James
Also, to my mom:
I finished this after you were gone, at a time when I thought I’d given up writing forever. I honor you in this book by giving one of my main characters your birthday. I love you and miss you every day. You were always so proud of everything I did. Hope you are proud of these words too.
The greatest love story often starts with the fear of falling…
Prologue – He Who Shall Not Be Named
Savi – Present
THE WORD KAMIKAZE is Japanese for “divine wind”. It was a crazy “last ditch effort” strategy used by the Imperial Japanese Army in the Second World War that destroyed several naval vessels, killed many Americans…and, ultimately, themselves. It was willing suicide.
It makes one wonder why a person would go to such lengths – such scary, crazy lengths – to protect their country and their pride yet be so careless with their hearts.
Speaking for myself here since, apparently, I keep playing Japanese suicide attempts with my heart in this battlefield we call love. And, let me tell you, Pat Benatar was right as a genius on Jeopardy about that. Because, whether we know it or not, whether we want to accept it or not – and I’m about to be cliché, so watch out – love…
…is the worst fucking thing anyone could aspire to fall in!
Seriously!
Like, you could do anything else with your time: sacrifice a goat, buy a puppy, invest in vibrators, climb Mount Everest, finish college (you fucking under-achiever), eat, pray, but don’t you fucking dare love!
There was this singer, don’t remember his name and I am much too lazy to go Googling it, who sang the most beautiful song ever, and I believe that no truer words were ever so mellifluously sung as Love Hurts. He should’ve gotten a Grammy award for that shit. Because, as I sip my third shot of whiskey – or is it my fifth? – and watch the History channel on the anniversary of Pearl Harbor, in the bar I stumbled into to nurse my broken heart, I can’t help but rue the day I ever fell in love with he who shall not be named.
Even though he is my best friend.
And even though he has the kindest brown eyes with a hint of naughty promise in them.
And even though he is the only person in the world that has ever and will ever have my heart.
In other words, as I down the remaining contents of my glass tumbler and indicate to my new best friend, Boyd, to give me another…
I’m fucked with a capital, “YEAH, GOOD LUCK WITH THIS PICKLE OF A SITUATION YOU’VE FOUND YOURSELF IN, HONEY.”
AN AWKWARD DANCE OF WILLS
Chapter One – The Day I Fell on My Ass
Savi – Past
March 2005
WHEN LIFE UPENDS you, rips you away from everything you know and love and have gotten used to, you never know what to expect. Being a teenager was already a very angsty and tenuous time for a girl, but thrown into a place and period of newness…well, that comes with its own challenges.
Like making sure that I go undetected; or as undetected as I can be with the style, personality and hair color I had.
Yet, despite wanting to fly under the radar, nobody told me about love and what it could do to you. Nobody told me that when you fell in love, it would be the scariest thing I’d ever do. Nobody told me that when you fell in love, you end up getting shit for brains. No, nobody warned me.
And fuck all of you.
I was fifteen years old when I fell in love for the first time; head over tit, ass under feet love. I’d loved before – my parents, grandparents, my crazy terrier, Spike – but had never been in love. At that age, I wasn’t even in love with myself. At that age, I had also fallen in love with bands and actors and some teen heartthrobs – and that one guy from that boy band who wears the black nail polish – but again…not what I’d been referring to.
I’d just started my new school at Rainier High and was scared shitless. But my grandma, the old lady badass that she is, told me to fake it until I made it and that’s what I did. I’d already stood out with my crazy hair and oddball style of fashion, so I was determined to find my niche at that school, even if I had to carve it out with my granddaddy’s chisel.
I never showed fear, never showed a hint of uncertainty about who I was…until the day I fell in love.
It was our tenth grade formal and they’d needed volunteers to help with the planning. A lover of all things designing and decorating, I jumped at the chance to make this formal an unforgettable one.
We’d all been in Mrs. McConnell’s art studio on the other side of the school trying to come up with themes. I was getting annoyed by all the suggestions by the cheerleading population: Wonderland, Summer Love, Paradise…
Gag.
How guys wanted to sleep with girls with no brains was a mystery to me. But as I observe all the nerds drool and fawn over every airhead word that comes out of their breasts – because that must be where they’re talking from since that’s where their eyes are – I have a small revelation.
Boobs.
Men tripped over themselves because of boobs. You didn’t have to be smart to get ahead, just have a nice rack and you’ll have your house and car paid up for a year, and that’s without spreading your legs. Leg-spreading is another discussion altogether.
In the middle of my plotting the very gory murder of the head cheerleader, Boobs McGhee A.K.A. Sarah-Sue – who names their daughter Sarah-Sue anyway? – an idea pops into my head. A Masquerade Ball. I am not even aware I’ve said it out loud until someone agrees with me.
“I like it. What would you call it?” The voice comes from behind me. It’s deep and smooth and a blush sets up my neck because it feels like he just told me that he wanted me.
I turn around and meet the kindest brown eyes ever and melt. Right there. Like the ice ages, the Big Bang happened, and it was the end of Savannah Carpenter. I think I had a good run. Fifteen years is a good run these days. There are kids in war-torn countries who don’t live to see this age – and something needs to be done about that – but I have. It’s an accomplishment!
I’m yet to have sex, but what’s sex in the grand scheme of things? Said absolutely no red-blooded female ever! And if they did, I’m sure they hadn’t gotten it good, if the gooey face my Mom makes whenever my dad walks into a room is any indication.
Everyone, except the leaders of cheer who are too busy ogling the new guy and plotting how they can kidnap him and harvest his sperm, is staring at me. I either have a booger playing Cliffhanger with my nose, or I was asked a question. I can do one of two things, possibly three, if I play my cards right.
One: I can pick my nose in the off chance that I do have a booger-ninja hanging. If I don’t, I can just lie about having a cold, fake a sneeze and ask him to repeat the question.
Two: I can continue staring like a dumb shit…since that’s working out so well already.
Three…and I think this possibility is the one I’m going to go with: I can demand we blow this joint and go live happily ever after. Who is this person I’ve suddenly become?!
My options are taken from me, however, when one of the cheerleaders pipe up, “A masquerade ball! Like, with masks and stuff!”
Moments like these deserve the slow clap. Cheerleaders aren’t always the smartest tool in the shed most of the time, so when one of them finally gets something, I say that’s an achievement of epic proportions.
“Congratulations, Mimi,” the boy with the kind brown eyes says sarcastically without looking away from me. “You should be on Jeopardy.” The nerds snicker, but cover their mirth, while I grin like the Cheshire cat on Ecstasy.
A guy with my sense of hum
or…I’m in love!
And this is when the apocalypse happens. In my brain, there’s a crazy old lady with my purple hair running through crowded streets screaming, “The end is near!” But like all crazy people, no one believes her; no one even pays her any attention.
The warning signs are there and I should save myself while I have the chance; but this boy, with just a smile and some sarcasm, has taken all of my chances away, like the mean kid who stole all your toys in Kindergarten so you had to sit in the corner and play with Play-Doh for the entire time.
“So, you were saying, crazy hair,” he directs to me and my magnificently purple hair. “What would you dub this masquerade ball?”
Ah, so that was the question.
“Night of a Thousand Faces,” I answer, already plotting out color schemes and décor, because I know a good idea when I hear one. I have them all the time. I suggested this one after all.
He lets out a low whistle that drags my attention to his pouty lips and I see him telling me he loves me with them…
And so much more in the region of God, yes, Savi! But that’s just my overactive imagination speaking.
“Wow, I like it,” Mrs. McConnell praises and I see the heads of the nerds nodding in agreement.
I shifted their attention away from the bazooms of future bankruptcy. That is another win for me. My God, I’m on a roll today!
“Lame,” head cheerleader, Boobs McGhee, challenges, and I want to punch her in her fun bags. “Like, that sounds so confusing and boring. We could so go with Love Under the Stars or something. Couldn’t we, Kyle?” She bats her eyelashes at him, and I want to poke her in them, but I grudgingly thank her silently.
I got his name…