Mind Games - A Bad Boy Romance With A Twist
Page 148
“Nonsense. ‘Personal moisturizer’ is just what everyone calls it these days.”
“Oh do they? And what does it moisturize? Your person?”
My Aunt Carol is the black sheep of the family, although with her fierce dyed-red hair and massive hippie earrings, she’s more like the red sheep. It didn’t used to be like that. A few years ago, my uncle died and left my Aunt Carol a ton of money, which she promptly used to fuel a long and obnoxious journey of sexual self discovery.
While my mother and other aunts watched in horror, she went to Spain and probably, I don’t know, did things, and then she dyed her hair and started to wear chintzy stone jewelry to channel her inner goddess; these days she was peddling lingerie and “personal moisturizers” from a company called “Oh! So Good” that made my mother’s ulcer tingle.
“Don’t decent people sell Tupperware anymore?” said my mom, drawstringing tired lips round her cigarette, looking for some strength there since God never seemed to give her any. My aunt’s hippie earrings were flapping now as she shoved all her goodies back into a branded tote bag.
“Just forget about it. Jesus,” she said.
It was a Saturday morning, one of those boring domestic scenes where you just drink coffee and wait for some activity to suggest yourself. Living at home was fine, I guess, except for these little moments of drama.
Aunt Carol had been given a decent amount of leeway, as a widow you know, but my mom was steadily losing patience. My aunt’s gift of the bestseller, “Sexual Freedom at Fifty and Beyond” didn’t sit well next to “The Beauty of the Chaste Woman” and found its way into the trash. My aunt packed up her bag of tricks - all those things that the brains behind Oh! So Good thought would make the average housewife happy – and made for the door.
“I should go anyway. Some of us have lives to live, you know?” she said, with a flick of her beet-red and newly liberated hair.
“Ooh! Aunt Carol! Am I still housesitting for you this weekend?” I asked as she reached the door.
“Yes! I nearly forgot. Get your mom to drop you off. Jared and I will be leaving at around 9 on Friday to catch our plane, so come then and see us off.”
“Jared? Is this a new one?” my mom said, freshly judgmental, smoke blowing out her nose like a dragon.
“He’s not a ‘one’, he’s a very nice man I met at gym, and he’s coming with me, and we’re both consenting adults” said my aunt, slowly.
“Consenting adults? Oh, well, I hope you and your person have fun with him,” mom said.
I giggled, and Aunt Carol left, not about to let family or advanced age prevent her from enjoying her youth.
“What’s the bet she’s paid for his ticket and everything? He’s probably less than half her age and twice as evil,” mom said, who was really very good at virtue accounting.
My mom had been mad at Aunt Carol’s indiscretions before, but this one had her particularly riled up. There was some extra energy in the way she spoke about this “one”.
“Have you met him? This Jared?” I said.
“Never. But Alice told me he can’t be a year or two older than you. It’s disgusting.”
Of course it was. Utterly disgusting.
So disgusting, in fact, that I had to find out more.
Chapter Three
Now, don’t ask me how, but I’m not a complete stranger to boys. Even still, meeting Jared in person was …surprising.
I arrived at my aunt’s on Friday evening, ready to see her and her inappropriate lover off on their vacation. I brought a backpack with my laptop, some clothes, a book, a box of pop tarts. I would feed Buttons, maybe get stuck into an essay that was due on Tuesday.
It was all planned out.
The moment I stepped through my Aunt’s front door, though, something instantly let me know that all my plans were about to be disrupted somehow. It could have been the intense stinking cloud of cologne I walked into, or it could have been the loud, laughing voice that seemed to fill the whole house. Or it could have been something else entirely. Buttons was well-known, for instance, for being able to judge when earth-tremors or quakes were coming because he’d scamper under furniture and meow and meow till it hit. Maybe it was like that. Maybe some part of my brain sensed a disturbance in the force, you know, and I could tell a quake was coming.
I slammed the door shut.
“Mel is that you, sweetie? We’re in the kitchen!”
I found my aunt there, even more animated than usual, fussing with some snack bars and a tiny cooler bag, hippie necklace flapping over her big shelf of a bosom. “I’m just trying to pack some nibbles in case we get hungry! Although how many should I bring? Will they give us a snack do you think, babe?”
She turned to look at the guy standing beside her, a young guy who was eyeballing her closely. He was clearly the source of the cologne, the laughing I heard a second ago and all the disruptions that were about to hit my innocent, good girl life.
He was smiling. A kind of mocking smile, one filled with cockiness and spunk, and he stood there with both hands on his hips as though he had been transported straight from a beer commercial into my aunt’s middle aged life.
“Babe, babe, no snacks, ok? Come on what do you want snacks for?” he said in a voice that sounded unnervingly young.
He was right.
If there was anything more lame and middle aged than packing seed bars for a plane trip, I couldn’t think of it. I usually think my mom exaggerates with most things in life. For instance, I’m pretty sure that anal sex doesn’t mean your children will have cleft palates, and that soy isn’t a crop invented by the communists to make good people resist the teachings of Jesus. But still, staring at this young guy and my ridiculously red aunt, I had to say: this was quite something else.
Was she paying him? It didn’t make sense. Why would a guy like this do a thing like that? And why would my sweet, goofy aunt do a thing like that, for that matter? He looked no older than me, it was true. And immediately feeling embarrassed, I wondered if I should have worn something a little nicer to judge him in.
He threw the seed bars back in the cupboard and shrugged, laughing.
“You’re right! You’re so right. Why am I packing them? God, I don’t even like them. This is what I love about you, Jared, you’re so carefree,” she said, smiling a big flushed smile at him. Jared beamed right back at her. Gross. My eyes scanned over my aunt’s matronly figure, over her freckled hands with her wedding ring still attached (“It’s water weight! I’ll take it off once the swelling goes down!”).
My aunt was an elegant lady, of course, and I loved her to bits, but she was also fifty-four years old.
I glanced over at him, trying not to dwell on his branded hoodie and squeaky clean trainers. Did they …you know …? I shuddered to think. Just as I had pushed the thought out of my head, he leaned over and pecked her on her cheek, just like that, right in front of me. I swear, if they ended up an item I would not invite them to my wedding. No sir. My aunt’s maroon hair alone would be enough to ruin the color scheme, for sure.
I cleared my throat and plunked my bag down onto a kitchen stool. I took out my laptop and plugged it in, getting ready for a long weekend where I could pretend that I was actually a grown up who lived alone.
My aunt began to fuss with a few more things in her bag. Jared turned his attention to me, eyeing my laptop.
“So you’re Mel? I’ve heard all about you.”
“And I’ve heard about you too,” I said, unconsciously taking over my mom’s work in her absence. He didn’t respond to this, but kept eyeing the laptop.
“What’s that for? Don’t tell me you’re going to study?! It’s the weekend, girl, loosen up!”
I hated him. Settling down and putting Buttons in my lap, I casually replied, “No, no work, but I have other things I wanted to get done this weekend…”
He grinned at me. “Other things, eh? Looking at naughty things on the internet I bet.”
My face
burned. Aunt Carol absentmindedly swatted his meaty arm, “Oh leave her alone, babe, she’s a good girl.”
He stood there, the fool, staring at me full on. He winked, cracked a bubble of gum between his teeth. “Yeah, no, I’m sure she is,” he said in an arrogant voice.
I wanted to hit him. I couldn’t decide what irritated me more. The fact that my aunt was so dismissive about me, or the fact that this meathead had technically guessed one of my two big secrets within 5 minutes of meeting me. Nevermind, he would never know how right he was, and I certainly would never let him know my other secret.
I hugged and kissed my aunt goodbye and they hauled their luggage out to the car.
Hadn’t he gone to school, like a decent, normal boy? Where on earth did my aunt even find him? Why was any of this happening, for that matter? It was annoying, to say the least. What was the point of anything if idiots like him could just swan in and take advantage of a vulnerable widow like me dear aunt? Although honestly, at this very second she didn’t look quite so vulnerable as I would have liked.
Jared hoisted up her bags onto his broad shoulders, the spidery edges of some tattoos on his belly peaking out as he stretched upwards. He went out to the car, came back in and then slapped my aunt’s ass as she grabbed her coat, and she both giggle and jiggled, reminding me of a very happy Miss Piggy. Bizarrely, he then spread his arms wide and demanded a hug from me, too. Before I knew it, he was squashing his indecently hard body against mine and squeezing me goodbye as well.
I stammered a goodbye and closed the door, nothing but my own surprise and Buttons’s bored green eyes to keep me company. I sniffed my sweater: I smelled like him now. Gross. I tore it off and tossed it onto the sofa, unsettled by the whole thing. So what if I did look at naughty stuff on the internet? Who was he to judge, when he was running around with a woman more than twice his age?
I opened my laptop, clicking to open a secret browser, looking over my shoulder to see if Buttons had anything to say about it. Don’t judge me, but my favorite these days was “2 tattooed jocks fuck teen” and I had watched it dozens of times before. I know, I know. But at least if I kept coming back to only this one clip, it would mean that I’d only technically watched one of them, which was less terrible than watching a whole bunch of them, right? I’d stop eventually, I was just stressed these days, that’s all. I would give it up one day, definitely. I was a good girl, and this kind of nonsense was definitely not in my life plan. But oh well, it was just me and Buttons here, and I was pretty tired, and it didn’t count since it was just this same clip anyway.
The familiar figures moved across the screen and I watched. Some badly behaved college boys, ink all over their hard chest and abs, roughly passing a girl between them. I was ashamed. My hand found its way into my skirt and I desperately rubbed that shame away. Then it was at the best part – the part where they’re both, well, you know, and she’s completely and utterly, well. You can just imagine. What a dirty slut she was. I sighed. It would all be fine just as long as I never watched anything more than this one clip. It would be OK, I’m sure.
Just then, with a little flutter of horror I realized: they look like him.
I looked closer at the screen and crunched up my face. Yup, just like him. Darn it. The same cocky smiles, the same toned shoulders and rough hands. I sat back, a little irritated. Well, he had completely ruined that for me, the idiot. I quickly closed the window and found Pinterest instead. Maybe the problem was that I was thinking too classic. Too traditional. Maybe instead of petit fours inside the rose desserts, it should be white éclairs? Buttons looked on, completely uninterested in my mortal soul.
Chapter Four
Well, they do say the devil finds work for idle hands, and that weekend, well, let’s just say I didn’t have much of anything to do and hands kept finding their way to where they shouldn’t be. Buttons and I sat around and watched series; I cooked and added a paragraph here and there to my essay, slept in late the next morning…
But each time I shut my eyes, he was there behind my eyelids, stupid grey hoodie half unzipped and a big stupid grin on his face. And without being able to stop it, my mind hit “play” to its own evil little clip where he was somehow melded into my favorite forbidden pleasure. Well, at least it had been my favorite until he had tainted it. Well, tainted it even further. Whatever. You know what I mean.
Anyway the solution was simple; I’d just have to keep my eyes open, then. I fell asleep eventually, but I made sure to keep my hands outside the covers, you know.
Time floated away and soon it was Sunday evening and they came back, much the same way they had left. Jared seemed even more tanned than when he left and my aunt even ditzier somehow, and with more hippie bangles jangling on her arms. They were sorry, the flight was delayed a little, then there was some traffic on the drive back, and they hoped I hadn’t been bored here all alone.
I was happy to leave, shall we say, the scene of the crime, and was hurriedly packing my backpack; my warm and innocent bed only a 10-minute bus ride away.
“Oh don’t be silly, sweetie! Sleep here the night and I’ll drop you in the morning. Your mom won’t mind.”
But will I?
Jared seemed completely unfazed by this suggestion, as outrageous as it was. It was like he just waltzed around all his life vacationing with women his mother’s age and sleeping in houses with …girls.
I cleared my throat to explain that I was a good girl and so on and that I couldn’t possibly do that, but she was speaking again, rattling off in that excited way of hers.
“We can all watch a movie or something, I’m exhausted.”
I most certainly did not want to watch a movie, and even more so didn’t want to do “or something”. Ok, just relax. Maybe my nasty secret (not that one, the other one) was making me jump to conclusions. I looked over at her two seater couch and imagined how hard I was going to judge this boy if he even so much as tried to get a crush on me, which he obviously would.
“Ok, sure, we can watch a movie. Or have an early night. Whatever.”
Well, I was now in Aunt Carol’s house, with a stranger, a stranger who was probably paid to you-know-what no less. I was irritated that they seemed totally unashamed of themselves. I suddenly had a thought. What if I paid him? He couldn’t turn it down, it was his job basically, so he’d have to do whatever I told him, right? Technically? What a stupid thought. I went and sat on the couch and played with Buttons. My aunt flitted in and out of her room as she unpacked her bags, then, and you won’t believe this, then he came and sat next to me.
“Get all your ‘work’ done this weekend?” he said, teasing me and making two quotes in the air as he spoke. I would later learn that this was one of his most stubborn habits. I couldn’t think of anything to say, and the redder I went, the more it seemed to suggest exactly the answer I didn’t want to give.
“Aunt Carol? Aunt Carol I think I’d better go home actually. I really need to finish this essay for tomorrow and I have classes in the morning anyway. I can still catch the bus …”
He chuckled at me, getting far too close on the sofa.
Aunt Carol stuck her head through the living room door and frowned at me, a half-filled toiletry back in her hands. “Oh sweetie, you’re so studious. Such a good girl. Fine, but why doesn’t Jared take you? Jared just take my car, be a lamb.”
“Yes ma’am” he said, and I wanted to smack him.
Chapter Five
“Seriously, you’ve never had a boyfriend? Not even one?” he was saying.
I couldn’t believe he had gotten this nosy in a car trip this short. Was he deliberately driving slower than he needed to? “No, not one, and I might say it’s not really any of your business, jeez.”
He paused a little. “Really, but not even one?”
I fumed. He was driving my aunt’s car like he owned it, spreading his legs wider than you’d think any human male was capable of, resting his elbow on the lip of the window like a total ass.
“Aw, now what’s that supposed to mean?”
“Nevermind. Whatever.” I looked out the window, contemplating diving out and running home, anything to get rid of this smell of his cologne, filling up the car now. He was pretty hot, okay, if that’s what you were wondering.
“No, what do you mean by that? Someone like me?”
“Jeez, I don’t know. Forget it,” and I wanted to, but before I knew it I was blurting out, “why are you with my aunt anyway? It’s weird.” I sounded like a little kid.
He grinned. “Weird? What’s weird about it? Your aunt’s a beautiful woman,” he said this last piece like a joke, and it made me defensive.
I love Aunt Carol, even though she had bad taste and freckled hands. “Yes, and she’s also inherited a lot of beautiful money, too” I said, thinking this was a pretty good quip, even if I did say so myself. I’m a pretty witty person, it just usually takes me the next day to think of things. The grin fell off his face and he stared at the road.
“Ah, I forgot, you’re only 18. You think that love has nothing to do with money, and money has nothing to do with sex?”
My ears pricked at this word. In my family, we call it you-know-what. “I’m 19, actually, and I’m not an idiot. How old are you? You’re old enough to be her son. That’s pretty disgusting.” To be honest, I didn’t know why I had such a flash of anger towards him, this person I had barely spent 10 minutes with.
He looked like he didn’t know either. “Well, I think it’s disgusting that you think so little of your aunt that you just assume she doesn’t know what she’s doing.”
I opened my mouth to speak but he interrupted me.
“And by the way, have you considered that she may be using me?”
I looked at his smooth, boyish hands on the wheel, his unlined forehead. Nope. He was definitely preying on her; there was no way around it. Besides, I was never wrong on questions of morality, although obviously he didn’t know this yet.