by CY Jones
I mentioned this once to The Turd, and he laughed it off like I was the crazy one. I may have five different personalities and can be a little paranoid at times, but each one agrees with my assumption that that man hates us. The Turd doesn’t see his father like I do. In a way, he’s still the little boy who put his father on a pedestal as his hero. I bet the man is laughing it up right now. He has finally accomplished his goal of breaking us up. Maybe that's the real reason he gave The Turd my exclusive. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s been plotting to set his precious son up with what his idea of the perfect bride is the whole time. A pretty little drone whose job is to be arm candy and keep her mouth shut unless sucking on The Turd’s cock. He does love his blowjobs.
My cell stops, but seconds later, it starts to vibrate again and I stare at it like I have superpowers and it’ll explode any second now, but, of course, it doesn’t. I’ve never had anything fun happen to me like being bitten by a spider or given supernatural powers after sticking a paperclip in the electrical socket. I shit you not, I’ve tried that and only got shocked for my troubles. Grumbling, I leave the living room defeated, trying to convince myself, I don’t have telekinetic powers, as my phone chases me away. Maybe tomorrow we can go toe to toe, but like the meme says, ‘Not today, Satan’.
By midafternoon, I’m bored out of my damn mind. I went out to the beach to get some air, but there’s only so much saltwater going up your nose one can handle. And sunbathing left room for my thoughts to wander. I drifted off contemplating the two complications in my life: The Cheater and The Turd. After returning from the beach and taking a long shower, where I couldn’t help diddling my fiddle while I pictured The Cheater’s hot body, I decided that maybe it’s best that I leave the house before I do something stupid, like conduct a thorough search for The Cheater’s phone number or address. After the way I left things, I had neither. And when he was driving me to Harrison’s, I didn’t pay much attention to where he lived. “You’re such a killjoy. Playing detective sounds like fun,” Nancy comments.
“Bitch stay in your lane. Not today Satan. I repeat… not today.”
Knowing my brother wouldn’t mind and not caring if he did, I grab the keys to his Aston Martin. With no destination in mind, I turn on the open highway and just drive. The air blowing in from the windows feels good as well as the smells of the brightly colored flowers that line the median. The weather in California is always wonderful and it’s one of the things I miss living in New York, especially in the winter when I’m freezing my cute butt off wading through snow up to my kneecaps.
Where to go? Where to go? It’s been a while since I was home last. Once I got accepted into NYU, I didn’t look back. The distance killed any friendships I’d made in high school and I didn’t come home much on breaks when New York is the city that never sleeps, the city meant to explore as a young single woman. The atmosphere, restaurants, shopping. New York had everything to offer. I’d FaceTime my brother, but not often. After I graduated with my MBA in journalism, I was too busy working my butt off and making a name for myself. It might sound selfish, but I put myself first and I don’t regret it. I wasn’t going to be one of those college failures who fucked away their opportunities, left with no other choice but to go back home with their tail tucked up their butt crack. Or to have a fancy diploma and still be a failure at adulting. Being Harrison’s little sister put a lot of pressure on me but I prevailed, shining like a diamond in the rough. Granted I’m not as successful as him… yet.
When a stray hair blows in my mouth, I know just where to go. I wasn’t in the wedding, but I did get ready for the event with the bridal party at Paige’s bestie Chaz’s salon. We were all pampered like princesses, him being the biggest besides the bride. You should have seen the look on my face when I found out that, that Hot Pocket of a man was gay. I may have shed a tear for all us single ladies. Chaz may even be hotter than Justin, I haven’t decided yet. I hope he’s working today and doesn’t mind taking walk-ins. A swanky place like that usually works by appointments only.
Feeding the meter, I look both ways before making a dash across the street. Traffic in Cali is not as intense as in New York where you take your life in your hands when crossing the street. I swear, I always feel like I’m in the Hunger Games every time I’m at a crosswalk. ‘May the odds be ever in your favor’. Making a mad dash across the street is a habit I’ll probably never be able to break.
As soon as I walk into the salon, a pretty blonde with a Colgate smile beams her sparkling whites at me before greeting me. “Hello, do you have an appointment?” I open my mouth to answer when Chaz pops out like Houdini and kisses me on the cheek. With his lips still pressed on my skin, he grins mischievously. “Bombshell Betty, what can I do for you?”
“I hope you don’t mind me just dropping in, but my hair requires your talents,” I answer, slightly turning my head so that our lips nearly touch. Two can play this game. Sex kitten Shelly wants to rub against him like a house cat, but I hold her and fuck it Nancy back before they make me do something to embarrass myself. In my experience, it’s better to tease and leave them hanging.
He pulls back, shocked at my boldness, but keeps his grin on his face. “I knew you were a tiny ball of trouble. I still can’t believe you’re Harrison’s little sister. Were you adopted?"
“Nope,” I reply, popping the P.
“Switched at birth?” he continues.
“Nuh-uh,” I say, shaking my head with a small smile.
“That you know of. I still can’t believe it. Harrison is so straightlaced and you’re so, so… you,” he finally says, throwing his hands up for effect.
“Well, not everyone can be as awesome as me. The world would be so boring if they were.”
“Very true,” he hums before taking the crook of my arm and leading me to his chair. If anyone is surprised at our spectacle at the counter, they didn’t show it. They’re probably already used to Chaz’s shenanigans, working for him and all. Did I mention he’s the owner of this fine establishment? I feel blessed to have been here twice now. Even in New York, I’ve heard about this salon. Big time celebrities sing its praises as the place to get your hair done.
“What would you like done?” he asks, snapping a purple leopard print smock open, covering my body, and securing it at my neck.
“I didn’t really come in with a game plan. I was just looking for something to do. Why don’t you surprise me?”
“Ooh, I love it when clients give me free rein,” he says, bringing that mischievous smile back out and rubbing his hands together like a supervillain. I should be afraid, but I know I’m in good hands. I feel a connection with Chaz and not just because he’s hot.
For a bit, he works in silence and I sit back relishing in the feel of being pampered. I almost orgasmed as his talented fingers massaged my scalp while he washed and deep conditioned my hair. They really know how to treat a lady here. After he’s done washing my hair and I’m back in his chair, the pretty blonde receptionist comes over and offers me a glass of champagne, I decline but ask for a Coke instead, remembering the last time I drank the bubbly beverage, and trying to forget. “I like to go on record that you’re the only one who wants to forget,” Shelly says, raising her pointer finger.
“So, besides your hair, what brings you by, and don’t bullshit me. Honey Bunny had that same look on her face when we first met. She was just as lost looking as you.”
He’s perceptive, I’ll give him that, but do I really want to tell him my business? Sure, salons usually are the place to go if you’re in need to talk to someone and can’t afford a shrink, but I sorta know Chaz. He’s not a stranger. I can tell my sins to like a priest. But if I’m being honest with myself, maybe this is the very reason why I came here, to confess.
“Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” I start with a serious face before we both crack up laughing.
“Do your sins have anything to do with that hot piece of ass you left the wedding reception with?” he ask
s, casually.
“Maybe,” I reply, shocked, stretching the word out. I thought we were more discrete. “What do you know?”
“I may have seen a couple who resembled you and Justin, who couldn’t keep their hands off each other while getting into a cab late Saturday night.”
“You saw us,” I groan.
“Yep, sweetheart, and you go, girl. You have nothing to be ashamed of. Even though he’s used goods, Justin is still hot real estate.”
“Yeah, but he’s Paige’s ex.”
“So? It’s not like you live here, and if you did, who cares? There’s nothing written that says he’s off-limits just because he used to be with Paige. You’re not under the bestie code. You’re young and beautiful, and if you ask me, it’s about time that Hot Pocket dipped his dick in someone else’s pool. His lusting after Paige was starting to get pathetic. I think Harrison would have probably murdered the guy soon and buried him where no one would ever find his body. He even made me want to put him out of his misery and I’m a lover not a fighter.”
“That bad, huh?”
“Girrll, you have no idea. I’m sure there’s a rule out there that says someone that hot shouldn’t be so pathetic.”
“It’s not like anything can come of it. I’ll be leaving soon, back to my life in New York. And he’ll still be here, pinning over Paige. I don’t even know the whole story between the two of them except that Justin cheated on her with some bimbo at Paige’s best friend's wedding. When we hooked up, we had no clue who the other was until the next morning. When I did find out and asked him about it, he stayed tight-lipped about the whole affair.”
“I will never condone cheating. It’s the worst thing you can do in a committed relationship, but I'm a fair enough person to see both sides. What he did was fucked up, but he did have his reasons.”
“Which were?” I inquire. Finally, someone besides the source who can spill the beans.
“Sorry, Bombshell Betty. If you want to know the deets, you’re going to have to ask them yourself.”
“Chaz,” I groan. “Why do you have to be such a tease?”
“Sorry, babe, Paige is my people. My bestie. It’s their story to tell, and I won’t betray her. I’m sure if you ask nicely, she’ll tell you the whole story.”
“I’m sure she will too because that’s the kind of person Paige is, but then I’ll have to explain why I want to know and that’s a can of worms I don’t wish to open. The last worm I dangled in the water caught me a big fish way past my skill set to fry.”
“Yes, but what a fish it was? Please tell me he fucked you good. He looks like the kind of guy that’ll leave you walking funny and talking in tongues so badly, your family would want to admit you into the nearest hospital just to see what’s wrong with you.”
“Did he? Hmmm,” I smile and tap my chin as I think back on our night. “Let’s just say, he may have scrambled my insides and they still have yet to find their way back to the right places. He truly is a unicorn, him and his magical dick.”
“See, you had fun. Both of you let off some steam. Soon, you’ll be leaving and if you don’t tell them, it’s not like Paige or your brother will find out because Justin isn’t the type to brag about his conquest. What’s the problem here?” he asks perplexed. “Unless…" he stops, and a look I can’t decipher crosses his lovely face. “You fell in love with him, didn’t you? If not love, you like him enough to want to stay. Enough that you want to swipe right instead of swiping left.”
Did I? Am I hung up on Justin because I actually have feelings for the cheating bastard? It would explain why I’m going mental, trying to figure out the reason behind his actions. “I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “Anyways, I can’t be obsessing over him. I have my own problems in New York to deal with. My flower bed isn’t exactly weed-free, you know. It hasn’t been watered in days and the roses are starting to stink. In fact, I want to toss one rose in particular in a burning fire and grind the ashes into the ground, never to be seen again.”
“Uhhh… Are we talking about a man here?” he asks confused.
“Yes, what else?”
The look on Chaz’s face is priceless. Like he doesn't understand. Men! All four of my ladies say. It takes him a moment before he speaks again. “Soooo what’s going on with you that you just came up with that batshit crazy metaphor?” he inquires.
“My douche of an ex-finance. He was too much of a pussy to stand up to his dad for me, and selfishly stole my dream away.”
“And does this ex have a name?”
“Andrew Chatworth,” I growl.
“Holy shit. Girl, you have good taste in men. He makes me want to experiment to see how many licks it takes to get to the center of the tootsie pop. That dreamboat of a man has been all over the news, sending me and most of America into a fit of vapors.”
“Fit of vapors?” I querk my brow, making him smile and shrug before I launch into the rest of my reply. “And yeah, I know. That’s the problem. That was MY interview. He stole it from right up under my nose. I’m the one who found the senator and suggested he go public and tell his story, not that turd. Andrew’s father is the CEO of the media company we work for and he gave my scoop away to Andrew, who didn’t argue in my defense and stole my dream right from under me.”
“That… sucks,” he says slowly.
“It does. I broke up with him and left for here to get away from it all, but instead of having a nice vacation, I ran headfirst toward more drama.”
“Did Honey Bunny or your brother ever tell you how they met?” he asks randomly.
“On a dating site, right?”
“Not just a dating site, but the dating site. From Cupid is freakishly successful. I’ve been thinking about signing up myself.”
“Why are you telling me this?” I ask curiously.
“I’m telling you, smartass, because although it may seem like a silly idea now, it might be just the distraction you need to get your mind off your problems. And who knows, you might find the one.”
“No, thank you. I have enough men in my life causing problems. I’m not going online looking for more.”
“It’s not like that. The reason why From Cupid is so successful is because you chat online, both parties exchanging messages as you get to know one another. You’re not even allowed to meet in person for two weeks.”
“That’s crazy. How would they know if you broke the rules? It’s not like they can find out something like that.”
“Probably not, but I’m sure those are the relationships that fail. It’s worth a shot. It did work for your brother after all, and even if you don’t get the same result, at least it’d be a fun distraction. Do I need to remind you of your last distraction?” he questions, referring to Justin.
Maybe Chaz is right. Who knows. I’m so confused. I’ve been avoiding The Turd like the plague, but my vacation isn’t indefinite. Eventually, I’ll have to go home and face the music and judging by the million phone calls, messages, and texts he’s left, he’s made it painfully obvious, he’s not willing to let me go so easily. I was a fool to think he’d forget about me while I was here.
The Turd is picky, an anal asshole. His father does not know his son at all because if he did, he’d know all about Andrew’s dark side. A side Gladis enjoyed thoroughly and Shelly was overjoyed to fuel. I love sex. LOVE IT. Multiple times a day, in any way possible. I’m not the type to shy away from trying something new and The Turd can be very imaginative when he unleashes his dark side. During sex, he’s a whole new man with a different personality. Any stuck-up Barbie his father tries to fix him up with would run away screaming when I, on the other hand, always took what he had to offer and pushed for more. We were sexually perfect together. Too bad he turned out to be a scumbag.
We live together. When I get home, there’s no more avoiding him. I’m going to have to find a place of my own and move out, which is fine, but how long will that take? Then I’ll see him at work. What will I do then? He may not work on
the same floor as us ants, but he’s only one elevator ride away. There’s no doubt in my mind he’ll harass me at work, like he’s doing my phone.
“All done,” Chaz announces, swiping the smock off like a matador. He hands me a mirror and I use it and the one attached to the vanity to look at my hair. He did an amazing job at bringing out the natural highlights in my dark hair and giving me a sun-kissed look. I don’t even mind the couple inches of hair he cut off and surely won’t miss them because they definitely needed to be gone. He even tamed my unruly curls into glossy waves. No wonder celebrities praise this place. My hair is pure perfection.
“You did an outstanding job. I wish I can shrink you and put you in my pocket and take you home with me,” I gush, only slightly teasing. Curses. I knew I should have been a scientist.
“Here’s my card. Call me any time, my petite, Bombshell Betty.”
“Why do you call me that? You know Betty was a blonde,” I tell him, raising my brow which is now perfectly arched by Chaz.
“True, but you’re not uptight like Veronica.”
“Fair point,” I laugh.
I leave the salon lighter than I went in and it’s not just because of the cut hair. With Chaz, it’s easy to talk to him and I got a lot off my chest. I’m not sure if I’ll take up his suggestion about the dating site, but I’ll keep it in mind. I have to think about what I really want first. But for now, I’m going to enjoy what time I have left here before real-life punches me in the face for ignoring it.
