by Cole Savage
Raven’s Peak
A Cold Hard Bitch
Cole Savage
CHAPTER 1
SATURDAY
At twenty-nine years old, Nicole Tillman had been tattooed by scars and battered by a pain no human being, at any age, should have to endure. About the only thing Nicki had going for her was her two kids— Tyler and Cole, and the beautiful physical attributes the cosmos had blessed her with. A woman instilled with a poet’s sense of wonder— the very embodiment of love, and what people didn’t understand about Nicki, after first impressions, was that she wasn’t a cookie cut, basic white Bitch. She belonged to that category of woman whose beauty radiated out through her pores, beauty that had little to do with the physical attributes of her birth.
Divorced after two years, she had been prey, the last ten years, to loneliness and nameless melancholy, something she kept to herself.
Living in Franklin, West Virginia, Nicki was Cinderella waiting for the glass slippers because you couldn’t hide her physical excellence. She toted long, raven black hair, well past her shoulders, and green eyes; a smile that melted the hearts of men and gained the scorn of women when she and her mother, Karen, made the trek to Richmond once a month for sundries and groceries. But it was her golden Bronze skin that set her apart from the garden variety citizens of Franklin, attributed to Blackfoot Indian that swirled somewhere in her roots. Everything about her was, in some fashion, a contradiction. She dressed randomly, off the rack from Goodwill, until Karen, her mom, started sewing again.
Sitting in Maylene’s parlor, on a couch that looked like it had regurgitated last night’s supper, Nicki had two feet firmly planted on the floor, wearing a short-sleeved, bright pink, low-cut dress that barely covered her panties, and cowboy boots, her hair in a messy low-bun with a braid. She was too young and pretty for the damage the world had done to her. Nicki had read, studied, and loved a doomed man, and somehow, through it all, had maintained a permanent outrage at the world for failing to live up to its stated principles.
Nicki was bringing her turbulent life to the forefront, talking to Maylene Whitely, a therapist who made her living in Richmond, who had attended high school with Nicki and Nicki’s former husband, Kyle Tillman, now a firefighter in Morgantown. Wearing a white Taylor Swift shoulder strap, knee length dress and cowboy boots, Maylene was a study in personal misery. The cat with no lives left. The nerd at school with pie on her face. Had Maylene been granted Nicki’s powers of seduction and magic, there would be hell to pay for whoever had pissed in her pond during high school. Maylene was a ginger in every aspect of the word and looked as lonely as the town of Franklin. Maylene was tall for a woman— five-foot ten, long red hair done up in a ponytail, and freckles covered every inch of her fish-white skin. Maylene had invited Nicki to Richmond, the night before, for a mental health event that included a dance at the Hilton, followed by breakfast the following morning, and they had just returned to Franklin where Maylene owned a small house she inherited from her mother when her mom died last year.
Maylene retrieved the mail and closed the front door.
“Nicki, in the name of Heaven, I don’t know why I invited you to my company’s shindig. Last night I felt like I was in high school all over again, where I was invisible to everyone whenever you were around… Hell, sister. Even my best friends were bird-dogging you like they’d never seen a perfect ten outside of a magazine. Then, I think, okay, breakfast will be better—Cinderella will revert to the Franklin country-bumpkin with the personality of a log, but no, you wear that damn pink dress that makes you look like a neon sign saying, look at me I’m Sandra Dee…Did Karen run out of fabric, or do you always wear your dresses like your waiting for the second biblical flood? Jesus, honey, shouldn’t your dresses, in the least, cover those perfect whoopee cakes? And let’s not talk about the black dress you wore last night.”
“Did you have an issue with the length of that one, Maylene, because I buy all my dresses at the Salvation Army in Charlottesville, unless Karen sews them?”
“No, not at all. That ridiculous dress covered your fuck-me pumps perfectly adequately. But here’s what I want to know—did it take the seven dwarfs to help you put it on, or did you buy an extra-large, then use a blow-dryer to shrink wrap it around your ass?”
“Mayl”-
“No—don’t say anything, Snow White. That dress was so tight I could see a pimple on your ass.”
“You saw that pesky thing?”
“Actually, no. I saw that pimple on your ass this morning, at breakfast, when you bent over to throw your leftovers in the garbage, along with every guy there. Your body is a human lighting rod— it sucks all the energy around everyone and into your vortex.”
“Tell me you’re sassing me, May. Please tell me that people didn’t see my butt. Are you lying?”
“I wish I was, honey, but no, there was no shortage of guys biting on their hands while you gave them a preview of the twins. Did you really expect that dress to contain that much baggage without leaking out? You weren’t the least bit suspicious when you heard the breaking of glass and clattering of silverware on the floor, behind you? You know, the sound that comes from wires short-circuiting in imbeciles’ heads because they can’t process a vision like that without going into a pussy coma… Nicki, you need to wake up. You’re just lucky I was there to fend the horde off with my stick. But you know what chaffs me more than anything else about last night?”
“What?”
“You could have dressed down and allowed me my fifteen minutes of fame with the scraps off your table, because heavens to Betsy, you blew every guy off at the dance, including, I might add, that next level hunk with the ponytail that train-chased you all night. He did everything to get your attention but show you his tattoos. I’ve never felt so small and so pathetic. Early in the night some guy with Jesus hair was so focused on your money-maker, he shrugged me with his shoulder, practically threw me on to the buffet table, and didn’t even acknowledge my existence by saying something cultured like, excuse me, or pardon me— like I wasn’t even there.”
“I’m sorry I put you in a bad spot, May. I’ll try harder to cover up,” Nicki said crossing her legs and flattening the front of her dress onto her thighs. “I didn’t think my limited wardrobe was creating such a ruckus in your inner circle.”
“You ever wonder why I forgot to invite you the last five years to the company junkett?”
“I didn’t even think about it.”
“Since you went the first time, seven years ago, I made that seminar a playground worthy of my skills, then, fast-forward seven years and you swoop in like an angel of death, leaving in your wake a-hundred Zombies with hard-ons and another hundred damsels in distress, who are burning up the suicide hot-lines today, because after seeing your loveliness they’ve given up all hope and have no further reason to live.”
“Do you always sensationalize your stories with such thespian fashion, May?”
“Listen here, sister. If you’re still around next year, you’re not going unless you sell us as a two-some or a family plan,” Maylene said, sitting across from Nicki, putting both legs under her butt, on a tattered red velvet wing chair.
“I don’t mean to be crass, Nicki, but holy hell, I’ve never seen men act like such Neanderthals. I can’t remember a time when so many drinks were spilled because of the presence of a woman. It’s disconcerting for me, because I always felt like a seven when you weren’t around. Last night I didn’t even register on the scale.”
Maylene put her feet on the floor and readjusted her back.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself, May, you looked lovely last night.”
“Whatever, sister. My trashed evening asid
e, back to what we were talking about”, Maylene said, swatting a fly by her nose. “It’s important you tell Tyler and Cole about the Cancer, and it's time you came to grips with your situation and made arrangements to leave guardianship with someone qualified to raise your kids properly,” Maylene said, shuffling through the mail she retrieved from the street-side mailbox, earlier.
“I know, I know, but I’m running out of options, May.”
“You have time to think about your options, but right now you owe it to your kids. They need to know,” she said walking to a tiny kitchen covered in white cupboards. “You want some Tea?”
“No, but I’ll take a twelve-pack to drown my sorrows,” Nicki said, sitting rigid on the sofa, putting one leg on the floor, the other one under her butt. “It’s too much to process for me right now… Hell, May, I just quit my job and I’m still trying to figure out how I’m gonna pay the bills next month. Momma is dying and it took everything I made at the diner just to pay for her medications every month… I just don’t have the heart to tell the boys right now.” Leaning against the wall by the kitchen, Maylene watched the rise and fall of Nicki’s ample breast.
“Maylene snap out of it.”
“Sorry, honey, I was thinking about something else.” Maylene came back in the parlor stirring a glass of tea.
“What about that mud dog you see occasionally? Can’t he take the kids?”
“Ew, May. Now I know you’re clean out of your mind. I wouldn’t leave my hounds with that cave-dweller. I’d rather cuddle up with a spool of Constantine wire or pour liquid fire down my throat.”
“Well, you certainly don’t mind painting the town red with him,” said Maylene, placing her tea on a tired end table, perching herself on the edge of the chair.
“It’s either Bo, or Catfish Crowder, and I’ll be honest, May, With Catfish, I can’t get past his smell, and I’m pretty sure he’s got several species of Lice growing in that long beard.”
Nicki picked her frame off the couch and walked to the front door, to retrieve her phone from her purse that was resting on the floor. Maylene focused on the hem of Nicki’s dress, exposing a small white triangle between her thighs, and she gave Nicki a catatonic look, followed by an audible gulp that spilled into the stale air of the room. Nicki seemed surprised by the look and eyed Maylene suspiciously; feeling Maylene’s eyes boring under her dress. Maylene scratched her head and sighed.
“Are you okay, May?”
“I’m good, honey. A thought just stole my breath.”
“Anyway, I know you’ve seen the slim pickins’ in this town, and a woman can’t live on bread alone. So, as much as it pains me to date a smelly Neanderthal like Bo, a woman has to do what a woman has to do, even if it means lowering her standards a smidge.”
“A smidge. Jesus, woman. Have you plum lost your mind? Calling Bo a smidge is a complement. Does he even know what a bathtub is used for?” Maylene stood and walked to the kitchen.
“As a matter of fact, he does, May,” Nicki said taking Maylene’s absence as an opportunity to look at the dated décor on the walls. Old pictures of horses, a dated Victorian era gas lamp in the corner, next to a brick fireplace with missing bricks that had been whitewashed, and a hardwood floor that had seen better days, like someone had taken a chainsaw to it and dragged steel I-beams over it.
“He thinks it’s for washing his hounds. It never occurred to him that a bathtub was also a functional item for the human species.”
“Honestly, honey, I’d rather slather in bed with a farm animal than that backwoods, foul-smelling yocal.” Listening to Maylene stolidly, from the couch, Nicki watched Maylene return from the kitchen with two Budweiser’s. She handed the beer to Nicki then sat on the tortured over-stuffed chair across the filthy couch that Nicki was firmly nestled in. Nicki straightened her legs, again exposing a white lace panty, and planted both feet on the hardwood, an event that Maylene had the presence to see, while Nicki put one beer on a weathered coffee table, where several copies of Psychology today were scattered, and a coffee cup that Maylene gave her as a gift yesterday, that says in bold letters, ‘Death is nothing to us. To spend your existence in the grip of anxiety about death, is a mere folly. It is a sure way to let your life slip from you incomplete and unenjoyed’ Lucretius. Nicki popped the tab on the beer and released a long sigh, watching the foam spill over the edge.
“Now this is what I hope waits for me on the other side, May.” Nicki took a long hard sip, then wiped her lips with the back of her hand.
“Don’t be so optimistic, Nicki. The best you can hope for is that Jesus still likes wine.”
“Listen, May. I was thinking. What do you think about calling the boys dad?”
“You mean, Kyle?”
“No, May, their other dad. Of course I’m talking about Kyle.”
“Do you even know where he is? I mean, Nicki, for all you know that dreadful man has already fathered ten children from ten different women—he probably has a full plate. I’d be surprised if he’s not sitting in a jail cell for killing someone, or everyone…Or even better, he’s probably a bouncer at one of those sleazy hot-pillow joints. His wealth of experience in the erotic arts is undeniable and legendary.”
“Yeah, that son-of-a-bitch had a nasty disposition, didn’t he? I haven’t heard about a mass killing in Morgantown, so I’m assuming he hasn’t killed anyone yet, or they haven’t caught him.”
“Jesus, Nicki. Nasty disposition is someone who doesn’t open a door for a lady. What Kyle has is rage, schizophrenia, and a dangerous sexual addiction. You’d be better off leaving the kids with Bo, the mephitic muttonhead.” Nicki readjusted her legs and Maylene couldn’t keep her gaze from the spot between Nicki’s legs.
“Is that a clinical diagnosis, Doctor Whitely, or do you have an axe to grind because Kyle didn’t sleep with you in high school? And please talk to me in English, I’m not one of your egg-head associates, nor am I bi-lingual.”
“Sorry, dear. Mephitic means smelly…Aren’t you an English teacher?”
“I teach third graders, May, so just pretend I’m in third grade and talk to me in two-syllable words.”
“Sorry, dear. Underneath that smoking façade I forgot you lack a semblance of intelligence for an English teacher in the backwoods of West Virginia. I forget that we grew up in the arm-pit of America, and people from these parts are slightly prehistoric. But my diagnosis is a little of both. It’s not like I didn’t try to seduce him a time or two before he was dating the most beautiful, and hottest girl in school. I went as far as telling him that my magic box granted three wishes to the first fellow that pushed his thumb-buster in there.”
“Jesus, May, you really did that? You really told Kyle that.”
“I most certainly did, sugar–pie… In high school I couldn’t give my virginity away, even if I paid someone to take it.”
“Who are you talking about when you said Kyle was dating the hottest girl in school? I thought Kyle only dated Mirna, Summer, Tina, and Brook Huxtable, and none of those girls would win a participation ribbon at the West Virginia State Fair, unless they were in a bovine contest. And since we’re on the subject, what did Kyle say when you offered him the keys to your magic box?”
“You don’t need to worry, girl. He wasn’t dating you at the time. He was on a rebound from Tina Strobridge. I saw it as my opportunity to weasel in a grudge screw, if for no other reason than to make Tina jealous.”
“Don’t sass me, May, what did Kyle say?”
“He declined politely.”
“Bullshit, May. Polite is not in Kyle’s vocabulary. His idea of polite is saying excuse me when he burps so loud the windows shake… What did he say?”
“You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you? You insist on destroying the last residue of my dignity.”
“I want to make sure you’re not on his greatest hits list, because if you are, you just bought yourself a five-gallon bucket of whoop-ass.”
“Relax. If you must kn
ow, he said, no thank you I’d rather put my dick in a blender. Are you happy now?”
“Now that sounds like the Kyle I knew…I’m so sorry, May. He can be totally insensitive.”
“Don’t apologize for him. Kyle was one of my more gracious rejections— if that’s possible…Sex for me in high school was a sort of impolite staring. Besides, I found a whole new world of people that like gingers for the red fuse wire experience.”
“Red fuse wire? You lost me.”
“Red pubic hair, you Bimbo.”
“Oh. So were you talking about Melissa Cartwright when you said Kyle was dating the hottest girl in school? She was the hottest girl that I remember. Were you talking about Melissa?”
“Well, now we know that Kyle didn’t marry you for your brains… You’re so dumb they had to burn the school down to get you out of the third grade.”
“How so?”
“Earth to Nicole…You empty-headed, Bimbo. Who do you think I’m talking about? You, you were the hottest girl in school,” Maylene said leaning forward, both hands on her thighs. Nicki covered her mouth and said, “oh”.
“No one was even in contention, girl. In your shadow everything wilted and everyone hated you. I tolerated you because I was happy to take your rebounds, though not many were biting. For that matter, there wasn’t many guys looking for the ginger experience in high school. Oh well, their loss because I would have done anything to keep one of them around for more than five minutes.”
“I’m sorry, Maylene, but sarcasm aside, I have been thinking about calling Kyle to take the kids.”
“Honestly, honey, what choice do you have? Assuming he’s not dead or held up in a prison somewhere,” Maylene said standing and pushing the wrinkles out of her dress.
“You want some chips and salsa?”
“What the hell, a good figure isn’t gonna help me where I’m going,”
“Nicki, that’s an awful thing to say. Stop it. Geez, girl, I have more hope for you than you have for yourself.” Maylene stopped to look back at Nicki. “You like your sauce hot?”
