by Ami Snow
Courtney's smug smile faltered, her lips tightening as she folded her arms across her chest, leering, “You think you've got this all figured out, don't you? Here's –”
“Oh, are you about to 'school' me? Is that what the city kids are saying these days?” taunted Piper, crossing her arms over her puffed up chest.
Courtney pressed on, her eyes narrowing, “Here's a little news flash – I've actually worked my ass off for everything I've ever owned, to get to this exact spot I'm standing in, right here, right now. I've had to slave away behind my desk just barely making it through the next day while you're making googly eyes at the boss and getting paychecks out the ass for it.”
“Spare me the sob story,” sputtered Piper coldly, rolling her eyes, “You're just jealous 'cause someone other than you is doing well for once – you just can't bear the thought of the spotlight shining on anyone else. And don't even get me started with your uncontrollable urge to fix everything – for once, I'm not broken.”
“Yeah?” Courtney shot back, her eyes wild, “You know what? Maybe I oughta ring up your momma.”
Piper cocked an eyebrow as Courtney dropped her overdone, haughty accent, her thick inbred twang sputtering out of her lips. The corners of Piper's mouth twitched, a full-bodied, fruity laugh pealing out of her lips. Courtney burst into a hearty fit of giggles, doubling over as her cousin's contagious laughter rang in her ears. After all these years, she still found it hard not to be inflicted by Piper's natural, infectious warmth.
Courtney placed her hands over her stomach, the smile on her face dissolving. Her features mellowed, raising the corner of her lip apologetically, “I'm sorry, Piper. I know how long you've wanted out of that place, and you're right – I was – I am jealous of how well you're doing, but at the same time, I really am happy for you, too. I know it doesn't show –”
“No,” Piper interjected, sighing deeply, “I'm sorry too, Courtney. Maybe you're right, Mama's been trying to drill the same thoughts in my head – I'm just in over my head. I don't really belong here –”
“Okay, new plan,” said Courtney, rubbing Piper's shoulders, “Why don't we both stop the sob-fest, because this can't possibly be a good look for either of us. You and I both know we've got too much potential to squander away in Chestwood. Maybe wanting out, wanting a chance to explore, maybe not a better, but a different life isn't so bad, but you're right – I won't – I'm never gonna let myself forget where I'm from, ever again.”
“I hate it when you start making sense,” grumbled Piper, blowing a disgruntled raspberry in the air.
“Which is all the time, you mean?”
“Whatever.”
“All joking aside though, I trust you, Piper. I know you always do the right thing.”
Piper glanced up at Courtney, her bottom lip quivering. She nodded slowly, lowering her eyes, “I know.”
Chapter Eight –
“Tomlinson, not now – oh, Piper. Come in.”
Piper quietly shut the door to Seth's office, her heart hammering against her chest. She halted in her steps, awkwardly folding her hands over her stomach. Seth was hunched over his desk, absentmindedly toying with his curled bottom lip, hovering over the small, cramped typeface printed across the stamped pages on his neat pile of official-looking papers.
“Sorry, I can come back another time,” whispered Piper, retreating towards the door.
“No – that's fine. Sit, please.”
A brief shiver tingled down her spine at the odd, but soothing softness of his command. She took a seat across his desk, fingering the high collar around her neck, the fabric seemingly more constricting than ever. Seth wrinkled his forehead, his eyes narrowing in genuine concern.
“Listen, Piper – I apologize, I should've locked the door. To be quite blunt with you, this whole thing's quite the embarrassment for me as well,” explained Seth, dropping the tone of his voice. He noticed the fleeting crestfallen look in her eyes, adding hurriedly, “Not that it's about you in any way – I don't know if it helps, but whatever we've got going on here, it's not something I require of all – or any other employee, if you catch my drift.”
“Sir?”
“I suppose what I'm trying to say is – I'm not exactly sure what I'm trying to say here, but at the risk of rambling on any further – I just don't want to cause any bad blood between the pair of you. I hate to cause conflict.”
“Mr. Maxwell, sir, everything's fine – it's just –”
“I could give Courtney a bonus –”
“No,” said Piper firmly, “Mr. Maxwell, sir, with all do respect –”
“We're just talking here right now, Piper. Just call me Seth.”
“Alright, well, Mr. - er, Seth –” said Piper, trying again, wrapping her fingers around the armrests of her chair, squeezing tightly for support, “Courtney doesn't need hush money. She's got more integrity than that – if anything, she's been a fine, loyal employee for your company for two years now, and from what I can see, she deserves a long, overdue raise.”
Seth licked his lips, nodding briskly as he agreed, “Of course. I'll talk it over with her direct supervisors, I'm sure we can come up with something –”
“And Mr. Maxwell?”
“Seth.”
“Mr. Maxwell,” Piper persisted, her voice quavering, “I'm sorry but I'd like to turn in my two weeks notice.”
Seth's eyes widened, his brows furrowing. He frowned, leaning over his desk, lowering the tone of his voice, “Is this a decision you've made based on our, uh, special arrangement? If that's the case, we could have you switch over to one of our departments – they're short on receptionists, I hear –”
“No,” Piper declared unwaveringly, hastily undoing the top button of her collar. She took a calming breath, her lips stretching in a faint smile, “Mr. Maxwell, I need you to know – whatever we had going on – I've never felt more alive, and I don't know if I ever want to let that go, cause all I'm feeling is a whirlwind of contradiction – every fiber of my physical being craves for it...”
Piper paused, peeling her eyes off his tempting, slightly parted lips.
“But I have to leave Maxwell Creative. I'm gonna start fresh, Courtney's going to help me with the job hunt – it's gonna be a grueling ride but I'm trying this new thing – optimism.”
“It sounds like you've made up your mind. I understand.”
“Well, alright, I guess I'm gonna head back to my cubicle now –”
Piper rose from her chair, straightening the hem of her skirt over her knees. She gasped, the familiar blur of silver and gray whizzing past her ear. Seth peered up at her, the corner of his mouth raised in that arrogant, cocky smirk her knees melted for.
Piper fixed the topmost button of her high collar, fastening it around her waist. She dropped on all fours, raising her voluptuous behind, wagging it in the scrunched up, concentrated expression etched across Seth's face. She peeked over her shoulder, yipping compliantly. She swooned, the world around her hazing as she stared into his daunting, power-hungry eyes.
Piper's heart fluttered in her chest. It was at that moment she knew that though what they had was certainly offbeat, and may even be even be perceived as downright diabolical to others, and it was at that very same instance, she realized she could not have cared less. With a silent, meaningful smile playing on her lips, Piper crawled towards the pen, half-hidden underneath the display cabinet in the far corner of his office...
THE END
Problem with My Dad’s Best Friend
TABOO ROMANCE
By: Amanda Bolton
Problems with My Dad’s Best Friend
Chapter One –
Tegan Underwood sat cross-legged upon the plush, beige carpet of her bedroom floor, desperately ignoring the vibrating, flashing screen of the cellphone next to her. She turned it over, sighing as she realized flipping it over had only intensified the vibrating. Sitting across from her was her best friend of seventeen years, Aaliyah Mathis, casually twisti
ng a metal grinder in her hands as she sang along to the atrocious pop song blasting on Tegan's computer speakers.
Aaliyah was a spunky, slender young woman with an alluring set of smoky, dark eyes and gorgeous sepia brown skin with cool undertones. Her long, naturally afro-textured hair was wrapped up in a stylish tangerine turban. Tegan stared at Aaliyah, cueing a fleeting twinge of jealousy at her seemingly flawless beauty. They had been inseparable for as long as she could remember, but aesthetically, they were almost complete opposites. This prompted several malicious comments and bouts of bullying as the pair entered adolescence, the brunt of the jokes often being Tegan. As a teenager, Tegan had been frizzy-haired, husky and had severe acne – all of which made her the perfect target for her cruel, ignorant teenaged peers.
Now twenty-one and just a semester away from graduating with a Psychology degree, she was well past her awkward phase. She learned to tame her hair with expensive European hair serums and her skin had cleared up dramatically. Throughout her vastly improved college years, she explored a vibrant world of fashion and make-up, developing a borderline obsession with slimming colors and concealing her flaws. Although she looked nothing like the tanned, sculpted swimsuit models that grazed the glossy posters plastered on her walls, she had grown into her shapely curves. Still, despite the fact she had been asked out on several dates and had a few short-term relationships, years of torment had effectively warped her sense of self-worth.
“I can't take it anymore,” groaned Tabitha through gritted teeth, snatching the phone off the floor.
“Girl, don't do it,” clucked Aaliyah, reaching for the multicolored stained glass bong stowed behind Tegan's bed.
“Shit,” breathed Tegan, tears springing to her eyes. She chucked the phone on her bed in disgust.
“How bad is it?” asked Aaliyah, packing a palmful of pulverized, dusky herb into the bowl, the apparatus tucked between her legs.
“That bitch Rima,” gasped Tegan, smudged mascara staining her cheeks, “sent it to everyone on campus. I swear to God, that's the last time I go out with someone out of my league. It's like high school all over again.”
“Oh baby girl,” Aaliyah cooed, handing her the bong, “Here, hit this. It's a one-hitter.”
Tegan held a flame over the bowl, burning the herb slowly, inhaling deeply as she released her finger from the carb. She leaned back against her closet, wisps of smoke drifting out of her parted mouth and nostrils. She shut her eyes for a moment as she waited for Aaliyah to take her turn. Feeling slightly light-headed, her lips curled into a subtle, placid smile, the stiffness in her shoulders slowly ebbing away.
“Let's switch it up, I need me some chill beats.” Aaliyah staggered towards Tegan's laptop, sluggishly clicking around her music library. The warble of a love-sick woman was abruptly cut short, and was instead replaced with a mellow hip-hop instrumental. Aaliyah plopped down on Tegan's mattress, instantly crinkling the crisp salmon sheets.
“So what's been happening, Tegan? Talk to me. It's been a real minute.”
“It has been ages,” said Tegan wistfully, “Don't get me wrong, you know how proud I am you got into the best dance school in the United States, but does it have to be halfway across the nation? I need you, girl.”
“Aw, honey. You got friends where you at, don't you? Well, probably no one as intelligent, stylish, and fine as yours truly, but I'm sure they got some alright girls over there,” quipped Aaliyah.
“Well, of course I do, I just – you're right, no one like you.”
“Oh, Teegs, I know what you mean,” agreed Aaliyah, sighing, “I can't kick it with anyone like I kick it with you. So tell me, what's this all about? Who the hell is Rima?”
“I made the mistake of dating her ex-boyfriend, this guy Lance – God, Aaliyah he was hot – I don't know, I sent him a very, very private picture, and she'd somehow convinced him to send it to her. She sent it to everyone. That shit's out there,” said Tegan, burying her head in her arms.
“I mean, these names they come up with, it's not even clever – Ginger-vitis,” continued Tegan, “Ginger-ella, sometimes just straight up Fat G.”
“Honey, I'm so sorry, I –”
“I should have never gone out with him. I knew he was way too hot for me.”
“Girl, don't even start,” snapped Aaliyah, her eyes flashing, “You know you're beautiful. Girls would kill for your hair, your skin, your body, your mind. People are fucked up, plain and simple.”
“I –”
Tegan was interrupted by a loud knocking on her door. She wiped her cheeks with her sleeve hastily. Her father, Henry Underwood, popped his head through the frame. He was a portly, sharply dressed man with an ashy, neatly-trimmed beard and a round, friendly face. He was one of the nation's most prolific investment bankers in infrastructure development, and throughout the years had acquired an impressive net worth.
“Hey girls, hope I'm not interrupting anything. Can I come in?”
“Sure, dad.”
“Hon, I know you've been pretty down lately, so I'm gonna make it up to you. I'd like to take the whole family out for a three-day hiking bonanza – and guess what, Aaliyah and Ezra are joining us.” said Henry excitedly, beaming.
“No, come on, Dad – wait – your dad's back?” blurted Tegan, turning to Aaliyah.
“Yes...why?” Aaliyah cocked an eyebrow.
“Oh, nothing.”
“I'm so excited for us all to finally spend some quality time with each other, and I can't wait to catch up with Ezra, it's been far too long since I've seen that ol' bastard.” Henry's voice trailed off, smiling as he stared into the distance.
“Jeez, Mr. Underwood, I think you're more excited about my dad coming back than I am,” joked Aaliyah.
“Ah, well – it's gonna be great –”
“Wait, is Asher coming?”
“Of course your brother's coming,” said Henry, frowning, “It's a family vacation, after all. The whole family. Anyway, I'll see you girls later, I need to go tie up some loose ends at work. We leave Friday morning.”
The door swung shut behind him. As Aaliyah started on a charged rant about the boys in her school, Tegan slowly stopped paying attention, her thoughts drifting towards Ezra. She had not seen him in years, but has harbored a small crush on him since she was a child. She remembered him as a sweet man who doted on his only daughter, and was always kind to Tegan. She found herself with a hint of a smile on her face. Maybe this trip wouldn't be too bad of an idea after all.
Chapter Two –
Asher Underwood slouched behind his desk, his steely azure eyes locked onto the flat screen of his computer as he scrolled mindlessly through the forum he frequented. His room was almost always pitch-black, save for the incandescent glow the screen emitted against his dirt-caked, unshaven face. He scratched at the russet tinted fuzz on his chin, gradually moving towards the back of his ruffled, greasy hair. He poked at the tangled strands, yelping in pain as he yanked out an old wad of gum matted with hair.
“Nasty,” Asher grumbled to himself as he pried off the pieces of hair with his bony, cheese-crusted fingers. He sniffed at the gum, his nose wrinkling in disgust. He brought the gum close to his lips. Thinking twice, he stuck it under the edge of his desktop, returning to the screen.
His phone vibrated, the screen blinking twice. He reached over, scanning the text message quickly before clumsily mashing at the keyboard on the screen. He fiddled around his keychain for a golden key, and jammed it into the lock of his bottom drawer, pulling it open. He pawed through dozens of translucent, bright orange bottles screwed shut with white caps, the labels scratched off; a few stuffed bags of compressed greenery; boxes of pill organizers; two pocket-sized scales; and stacks of unused, resealable plastic bags of different sizes. He reached in further to his collection, finally retrieving a small, clear bag twisted at the top, filled with a white powdered substance.
Asher jolted in his seat at the sudden rapping against his door. He stuffed the bag into t
he pocket of his cargo shorts before barking, “Come in!”
Henry appeared at the doorway, his signature toothy grin on his face. His smile faltered, the cheeriness in his eyes vanishing. He cleared his throat, habitually adjusting his tie.
“Hello, son. What you been up to today?”
“Not much, Dad,” said Asher, his voice strained with his blatant annoyance, “What's this about?”
“Well, I was just letting you know about the trip we're taking this weekend.”
“Sounds good, Dad. Have fun.”
“No – son, we're all going. It's a family trip –”
“But I can't go, Dad!” Asher whined, “I have things to do –”
“Oh, really?” Henry interjected, his eyes narrowed, “Just what are these things you have to do that's so goddamned important? You're twenty-six, unemployed, sleeping in my damn garage – you're a cliché –”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever, Dad.”
“You're coming, and that's final. We leave Friday, 5 AM. You get your ass up on time,” said Henry briskly, his eyes lighting up. He slammed the door shut behind him.
Asher reached for his phone, typing into the message box, “Sorry dude, party another time.” Irritated, he grudgingly hit “Send”.
Meanwhile, a few streets over, Ezra Mathis was hunched over the gleaming surface of the ceramic sink in his bathroom. He turned on the faucet, closing his eyes as he listened to the babbling trickle of the running water. He leaned over, splashing cold water onto his face. He glanced up at his reflection in the mirror. The veins in his bloodshot eyes looked like tiny snakes slithering around his dilated pupils. Beads of water dripped down the dark, slightly graying bristles of the trimmed, short boxed beard lining the sides of his face. He reached for a towel behind him and rubbed his face dry as he walked out into his bedroom.
