by Grace Risata
Ignoring my geeky comment, Ranger licked his lips and asked me if I wanted to put my money where my mouth was.
“What?” Is that some veiled reference to a blow job?
“You mentioned betting on Solo in the wing contest. If you really want to do that, I’m the one that takes the money.”
Pulling Roman off to the side, I asked if that was a good idea.
“They’re not going to kill me, are they? Or take my money and run?”
“How much are you planning on betting, Andi?”
“Ten bucks.”
“I think you’re safe. If you whipped out a roll of hundred dollar bills, then that might get their attention a bit more and we’d probably have an issue.”
Discreetly pulling out a ten, I handed it over to Ranger. Even though I hadn’t yet seen the other contestants, I was confident about my bet.
“So, Red, how are you feeling today?” Roman asked the man that had been standing a bit off to the side. He didn’t look sick, so I hoped that nothing was seriously wrong with him.
“I’m feeling hungry.”
“That was all I needed to know, buddy,” my traitorous companion replied with a devilish grin while whipping out a twenty. “Ranger, put this on Red for the win.”
“What the hell?” I mumbled, feeling like there must have been important information that no one bothered to tell me.
“Sorry, Andi,” Solo apologized sheepishly. “You probably should have asked about my record before betting on me. I’ve come in second place every single time I enter an eating contest. Red always wins.”
The brute shrugged nonchalantly as if to say it wasn’t his fault that I probably just threw my hard earned money in the trash. Lovely.
“Are you two together?” he asked Roman while pointing in my direction.
“Absolutely.” In order to prove this, a hand was quickly wrapped around my shoulders to claim ownership and pull me closer.
“Then why did you let her make the bet?”
“She’s highly competitive and it makes a man feel good to win sometimes,” Roman explained gleefully while dodging the elbow that I threw to his ribs.
An announcement was made over the loudspeaker and everyone clamored to find the best spot to view the wing eating contest. Roman led me over to a quiet table in the corner and began nuzzling my ear.
“I hope you’re not mad that I bet against you, Andi.”
“All is fair in love and war,” I responded. “If it looks like Red is winning, I’ll just call his name and hike up my top to flash him in order to divert his attention from the wings.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Try me. You know the Cartwright girls can get pretty cutthroat when it comes to winning.”
Taking a moment to contemplate this latest development, Roman paused and then shouted, “Come on, Solo! You can do this!” at the top of his lungs.
Tonight was shaping up to be pretty damn enjoyable after all. Who would have though a dive bar could hold such entertainment value?
Along with everyone else in the crowd, we shouted until we nearly lost our voices cheering on the wing eaters. Let me tell you, the competition was not for the squeamish or faint of heart. Those guys shoveled in wings with such reckless abandon that bones were flying, they got completely covered in grease, and I honestly expected someone to start choking to death.
After five minutes, it became apparent that one man had taken the lead by a mile. It was some barbarian named ‘Thor’ who steadily broke away from the pack. The crowd began to murmur and talk amongst themselves, and I couldn’t quite figure out why. Instead of rooting for the guy that seemed to be kicking everyone else’s ass, they got angry and started to point and curse him out.
“What’s going on?” I asked in confusion. “Are they really all such poor sports that can’t handle a loss?”
Suddenly someone rushed behind the large table, grabbed Thor by the throat, and yanked him backwards. Ripping off the guy’s shirt, the audience member revealed a hidden bag where chicken wings were being stashed instead of chewed and swallowed. The remaining participants decided they would rather exact vengeance on the crook instead of continuing the competition, and the contest ended with no clear victor.
“CHEATER! CHEATER!” the enraged throngs chanted before he was dragged off for an unknown punishment.
“Are they going to kill him?” I wondered aloud. This appeared to be a rough crowd and I didn’t think Thor’s little stunt would go over very well.
“It’s hard to say,” Roman replied. “They don’t take kindly to outsiders coming in and trying to pull a scam on them. We tend to stick up for our own and shun everyone else.”
Huh? ‘Our own’ what? Was this some sort of secret society or something? What the fuck had I gotten myself into now?
Deciding that I should make good choices in an effort to save my ass, I whipped out my phone and texted Hailey.
“In case I turn up missing, please know that I went out with Roman to some dive bar called ‘The Bottomless Pit.’ I just witnessed an epic chicken wing eating contest, but I don’t know anyone here. It’s a rough crowd. Avenge me if need be. Love you! P.S. I’ll text you when I get home so you know I’m not dead.”
I knew I could count on my sister to have my back in any situation. When my phone pinged two minutes later, I figured it was a funny reply from her with a promise to chat later.
It was nothing of the sort. Instead, it was from Cara.
“Where are you? Tyler just dumped me! By text! That bastard didn’t even have the decency to tell me to my face!”
Naturally I had to re-read that three times before it finally sunk in. Due to the serious nature of the subject, I immediately sent back a response.
“What? Are you kidding me? What happened?”
I didn’t want to tell her where I was and who I was with. That might be awkward considering the circumstances.
“The last time I saw him was on Saturday when we went bowling. He had a family thing Sunday, worked late Monday, and now I get this fucking text today!”
They seemed perfectly fine at the bowling alley. Tyler was all over her, as usual.
“Were you fighting about anything? You can’t just break up with someone and not give a reason.”
Holy shit. What if he was pissed I didn’t want to go out with Duke?
“No fight. I got off work half an hour ago, went to check my phone, and there was one text waiting for me. I’m in shock!”
Yeah, she’s not the only one blind-sided by this. Before I could reply, she sent another text.
“This is his message: You’re obviously desperate and clearly obsessed with me, but I’m really not into you. I’m better off alone. Let’s end this before things get messy. I’m out. Tyler.”
What the fuck? Was it really necessary to be so cold and callous? And to sign his name? As if she didn’t know who the text was from. Idiot.
I knew Cara would be livid, so I offered my outrage in solidarity.
“How in the hell were YOU obsessed with HIM? Every time I saw you two together he was hanging all over you. If anyone was the clingy one, it was HIM.”
The situation made no sense. No sense at all.
“No shit! HE was always the one that called and begged ME to see him. Told me I was the best thing to ever happen to him, and had to know where I was and what I was doing every single second or he’d freak out. He’s a pathetic loser!”
Wow. I knew he seemed controlling, but not to that extent.
“You’re better off without the prick. How did you respond to his text?”
I hope she cussed him out and told him exactly where to shove it.
“I didn’t bother to waste my time replying. I don’t want to look ‘desperate.’ Tyler can fuck off as far as I’m concerned. He’s dead to me. I’m going to drown my sorrows in a pint of ice cream…or cherry wine. Where are you?”
Shit. I’m Cara’s best friend. It’s my moral obligation to share comfo
rt food, help plot revenge, and give her support during this difficult time. While I contemplated an appropriate response, she texted again.
“You’re not with Roman, are you?”
Busted.
“Yes, but I can leave. Girl code = I’m there for you.”
I’ve known Cara since grade school. Therefore, she had my loyalty.
“Not necessary. See if you can get any inside information on what the fuck is going on with his dumbass cousin, okay? Report back later. Be careful, Andi. There were warning signs with Tyler that I should have seen earlier. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
What the hell did that mean? Fully freaked out, I glanced around only to find Roman staring at me intently. I guess he must have noticed my furious texting and wondered what was going on. I decided it was in my best interest to share this newfound knowledge.
“Your cousin just dumped Cara. Out of the blue. By a text message.”
“Are you sure?” he asked skeptically, as though I just told him I was really not human, but instead half woman and half unicorn.
Before I could open my mouth to explain, we were joined by a lady that promptly tapped Roman on the shoulder in an effort to attract his attention.
“Hey, Boswell, how about if I let you buy me a drink,” the shapely brunette purred, hands on her hips, giving him a look that made it perfectly clear she was on the prowl.
“I’m busy right now, Sheila. Go bother someone else,” he replied dismissively.
“I don’t want anyone else,” she insisted. “I want you.”
Okay. This night was quickly spiraling out of control. Sheila looked like a she-devil. The woman was pure vixen with a capital ‘V’ from her low cut black tank top bedazzled with rhinestones…to short shorts designed to show off her shapely legs…all the way down to stilettos with four inch spiked heels. A mess of tattoos covered the length of her arms, leading to hands laden with gaudy rings. I feel the need to also mention her make-up because it was plentiful. Expertly applied smoky cat eyes for a vintage effect, blood red lipstick on her plump pout, and just the right amount of blush made her face stand out amongst the crowd. This bitch had it going on…and she knew it. If you put us next to each other, I was no competition at all.
Unmoved by her attempts at seduction, Roman quickly shut her down.
“I don’t give a shit what you want, Sheila. I’m taken.”
My date chose that moment to point to me, much to my utter horror and embarrassment. If this turns into some sort of catfight, I’m royally fucked. Sheila did not look like the type to give up easily.
“Her?” she asked, giving me an appraising glance and busting into raucous laughter. “Are you messing me with right now, Roman? The one time you’re actually being friendly to someone…and it’s her?”
As if to prove the man was dead serious, Roman scooped me up in his arms, planted a possessive kiss on my lips, and then snapped, “Is that good enough, or do you want more proof that I’m here with Andi?”
Oh, crap. Miss Sheila did not appreciate that little show of defiance. Narrowing her eyes, she got right up in his face and exploded like a bomb.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me, you cocksucker! I wait and wait for Mr. ‘I-think-I’m-better-than-everybody-and-my-shit-don’t-stink’ to finally show interest in a woman, only for you to spurn my advances and hook up with a fucking gorger? When everyone else finds out about this, you’re going to have a major fucking problem on your hands.”
Whoa. Wait a minute. Did she just say what I think she said? Did Sheila just call me a ‘gorger?’ That could only mean one thing, and I knew exactly what it meant…all thanks to my beloved reality TV shows.
My eyes lit up in recognition of her words, but she kept on shouting as though dead set on getting her point across.
“You can go off and fuck one of them outsiders just to satisfy a taste for the forbidden, but you damn well better not bring a gorger to our bars and openly admit you’re together in a relationship! This is blasphemy, Roman! Tyler is going to beat the shit out of you…if your dad doesn’t get to you first.”
“I wouldn’t want you if you were the last woman on Earth, Sheila. Now get the hell out of my face and leave me the fuck alone.”
Without waiting for her to respond, Roman pulled me off to the side with an urgency and hopelessness I’d never seen before.
“Andi, I’m so fucking sorry about all this. You have no idea how pissed off I am right now. All I wanted to do was take you out one night and have a good time. I’m sure you’re confused about what’s going on and don’t understand her words. I can assure you that nothing has ever happened between Sheila and I, nor will it ever. She’s a piece of shit. The reason she’s so upset is that you’re…you’re not a part of our community and it’s frowned upon to…to date outsiders.”
He ran a hand through his hair and let out a deep breath as though trying to find a way to explain something to me…something he didn’t want to confess.
“You’re a gypsy,” I stated, finally putting two and two together and coming to a conclusion that I should have realized a long time ago. From the way he always had to look perfect and didn’t want to be seen wearing dirty work clothes, to his slang use of ‘musker’ instead of ‘cop,’ to the way he was able to give me such an in-depth palm reading, to Sheila calling me a ‘gorger’ which was their term for someone outside the gypsy community.
“What?” he gasped in shock. “How did you know that?”
“I watch a reality television show called ‘Gypsy Wives.’ It’s totally batshit crazy. Their daughters have huge birthday parties and run off to get married really young. All the ladies have to look impeccable with fancy, blinged out clothes. Don’t even get me started on all the drama between the families. It makes for entertaining viewing. I’m addicted.”
“Okay…so…are you upset now?”
“No,” I answered honestly with a shake of my head. Why would I care? I was thirty years old. It’s not like I’m sixteen and he’s asking me to go elope and start popping out babies. “The only thing that matters to me is that you treat me with respect. I’m pretty sure you’re not out to scam me by offering to pave my driveway for some quick cash.”
I smiled while remembering the episode where someone’s husband got thrown into jail for doing an illegal job without a permit, and she tried to punch the cop that arrested him.
Roman stared at me with eyes wide in horror, so I quickly tried to make amends.
“I’m sorry if I’m being rude and ignorant. I’m sure real gypsy life isn’t anything like it’s portrayed on television. That’s all I have to go off of at this point.”
“I expected you to freak out and run for the hills. But you’re not doing that at all. Thank you.”
Roman pulled me into a hug, held me tight, and I felt all the tension drain from his body. Maybe he’d been so closed off and built an emotional wall between him and others because the guy was worried people might judge him based on his heritage. It would be awful going through life while harboring a secret like that.
“Are we good, Andi?” he asked, moving a few feet away in order to give me some space and examine my body language to make sure my words matched my actions.
I looked up, ready to reply, and instantly froze when I saw who was currently headed in our direction.
“Holy fuck,” I mumbled in disbelief. Just when I thought the night couldn’t get any worse, another crap sandwich landed directly on my doorstep. Walking right towards us was none other than Tyler and Duke…both with completely skanky women hanging all over them.
To say that the plot thickens, would be the understatement of the year.
Noticing my expression of terror, Roman quickly spun around and all the color drained from his face.
“Oh, shit.”
Yeah. Let’s see how he explains this!
Chapter Fifteen
Andi
Taking a step in front of me as though offering protection from the approac
hing men, Roman immediately went on the offensive.
“What the hell are you two doing here?” he snarled. “I thought you had to go out of town and pick up some supplies?”
“Last I checked, this was a free country and I could do whatever the fuck I want,” Tyler casually replied, peering over his cousin’s shoulder and giving me a nauseating wink.
“Don’t you mean do ‘whoever’ the fuck you want?” I snapped, forgoing all pretense of being polite. I’d never liked Tyler since the first day I met the guy. Now that he’d dumped my friend, I had no reason to be pleasant.
“Ah, here it comes,” the rat bastard replied. “Mild mannered Andi has her panties in a twist because she talked to her best friend and got a sob story. You don’t know the truth, so you’re in no position to pass judgment, sweetheart.”
“Let me guess, I can’t handle the truth,” I replied sarcastically, quoting the famous movie line. “I’m sure you’re the innocent victim in all this…and the lady currently hanging on your arm is some random stranger you just met?”
Believe me, she was no lady. Now that I knew what I was working with, I could appreciate the fact that these two women were your textbook modern gypsy girls. Both brunettes had long, straight hair ironed flat and cascading over their shoulders, loads of eye make-up, more costume jewelry than you’d find at a Mardi Gras parade, and hardly any clothing at all. Tyler’s love interest wore low cut jeans that unfortunately helped showcase her pink thong undies peeking out the back, a red silk bra festooned with shiny diamonds, and big old hoop earrings. Duke’s special friend was slightly more attractive with her skin tight white bandage dress that pushed a pair of enormous tits nearly up to her throat. Let me not forget to mention the fact that her outfit was nearly see-through…affording me a lovely view of the women’s navy blue g-string. Such class and sophistication.
“Do I look like a stranger, bitch?” Red Bra snarled, stepping forward. “I’m practically his fiancé! Just as soon as Tyler can save up the money, we’re eloping to Vegas and he’s gonna make me his wife. I’ll be Mrs. Tyler Lee and no one can do a damn thing about it. Who the hell are you, anyway?”
