How Hard Can It Be

by Robyn Peterman

  “Yes, I am,” he yelled back.

  “No. You’re. Not.” I stamped my foot and stuck out my tongue. Shit, shit, shit. That was so junior high.

  “Yes. I. Am.”

  “Alrighty then, I guess I’ll leave you two lovebirds to work out your misunderstanding,” Shoshanna laughed and shamelessly slapped Jack on the butt.

  She turned and gave me the thumbs-up.

  “He’s not my boyfriend,” I insisted.

  “Uh huh,” LeHump said with a grin, “good luck with that.” With a parting wink at the man meat, she hightailed it to her car, laughing all the way.

  Thirty feet separated us. I put my hands on my hips and raised an eyebrow. He chuckled. I wanted to smack him almost as badly as I wanted to jump his bones. Strangely, I thought he would enjoy both. He crooked the pointer finger on his right hand and beckoned me to him.

  No way. I will not go to him. He’s an omitter. I will stand my ground . . . I will not jump when he says jump. If he wants to talk to me, he can get his ass over here . . . and beg, preferably on his knees.

  He made noisy kissy lips and I giggled. He was nuts and he was mine. No, no, no, I had to lose that fantasy. He was not mine. He was just a cop with an awesome butt; they were a dime a dozen. I would walk to my car and I would leave, but I wanted to stay . . . Nope, I was gonna leave. Now.

  Apparently while I argued with myself, like a schizophrenic, he crossed the street faster than the speed of light and stood inches from me. I looked up startled, and my traitorous inner slut squealed with delight. Just as the ho-bag trapped inside my body tried to wrap herself around his hot bod, I came to my senses. Taking three steps back, I clasped my hands tightly in front of me. They simply couldn’t be trusted.

  “Did you have fun today?” Jack inquired warily, probably waiting for my umpteenth personality to emerge.

  “Maybe,” I answered.

  “You, um, seem kind of mad.”

  “You think?” I shook my head in disbelief.

  “Yep.” He grinned.

  “You think that’s funny?” I yelled, itching to slap the smirk off his face.

  “No. I think you’re sexy when you’re mad.”

  “Oh.” What in the hell was I supposed to say to that?

  “Rena, tell me why you’re mad. I don’t like this.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. I wondered if he didn’t trust his hands either or if he was simply freezing. It was, after all, twenty-two degrees outside.

  “You really don’t know?” I sputtered. How could he not know?

  “I really don’t know.” He smiled and waited.

  “You’re my neighbor,” I said, teeth chattering. Damn, it was cold out here.

  “Yeah, and?”

  “What the hell do you mean, ‘Yeah, and’? You never told me,” I said sharply.

  “Are you serious?” He looked at me like I had two heads and laughed.

  “As a heart attack,” I snapped. How could he think this was not a big deal? Was he a total douche? I was shaking like a leaf now. Part of it was the cold and part of it was my need to kick him in the nuts.

  “Come with me.” He grabbed my hand and dragged me across the street to his car.

  “What are you doing?” I gasped, ducking to avoid knocking my head on the door as he dumped me onto the passenger seat. And if I wasn’t mistaken, he copped a major feel of my butt before he went around to his own side.

  “I’m ensuring neither of us gets frostbite. I have plans for you. You can’t die on me yet.” He grinned and ran his fingers across my trembling lips. “Now explain how my being your neighbor disqualifies me from being your boyfriend.”

  “You didn’t tell me,” I huffed, playing with the buttons on the dash. Oh my God, he had seat warmers. That was so cool. I flicked it on and waited for my butt to get toasty. I could listen to any bullshit he wanted to spout as long as my rear end was warm.

  “Well, I guess I assumed you knew. I was inside the building when I met your mom and Aunt Phyllis and I’d already met Kristy.”

  “Oh.” The heat crawled up my neck. I prayed it wouldn’t reach my face.

  “So that’s why you were ready to dump me?”

  “Um, yeah.” I hung my head in embarrassment. His explanation made sense and my behavior did not. Shit. I supposed this was where he was going to dump me. Maybe I should explain myself further . . . “I thought you moved into my building to frame me for a crime I didn’t commit. And that you were looking for proof to arrest me and lock me away for the rest . . .” I petered off, realizing I sounded deranged. The look on his face indicated that maybe I should have stopped several sentences ago.

  He threw his head back and burst out laughing. “Oh my God, I moved into your building because it’s a great spot, and I was only subletting my old place. I didn’t know you lived there. I signed the lease a month ago and just haven’t had the time to move.” He was having a difficult time suppressing his laughter, and I was having a difficult time not dying of humiliation.

  “Oh well,” I muttered, “sorry about all that. I’m just going to go and . . .” I reached for the handle and tried to get out. There was nothing more for me to say. I’d already shoved my foot so far into my mouth it was coming out of my toasty warm ass.

  He leaned across me and pushed down the lock. He was so close . . . I wanted to bury my face in his neck and sink my fingers into his hair. I closed my eyes and waited for him to move. He didn’t. “You’re not going anywhere,” he whispered, sending tingles down my spine and calling my lady bits out from their slumber.

  “But, I thought . . .” I mumbled.

  “Don’t think,” he chuckled. “Thinking gets you in trouble.” His breath tickled my cheek and his scent was making me crazy. “Moving into your building is the most fortuitous coincidence that has ever happened in my life.”

  “Really?” I asked. I tried unsuccessfully to rip my eyes away from his mouth. It was a work of art and meant to be stared at, so I did.

  “Really.” He brushed my lips with his. If I wasn’t already sitting, I’d be on the ground. “So here’s how it’s going to go down. We are dating. We will not sleep together until you trust me. I implore you to trust me soon, because keeping my hands off you is going to kill me.” He gave me a lopsided smile that made me dizzy.

  “Can we still play kissy face?” I asked, moving in for the kill.

  “Only if you beg.” His voice was husky and his eyes flashed with amusement.

  “Please,” I begged, my lips inches from his mouth. “I want you to kiss me . . . please.”

  “Oh God,” he moaned, claiming my lips and crushing me to him. Those were the last words either of us uttered for quite a while.

  “Truth or dare?” I giggled, watching him through lowered lashes.

  “Truth. I’m not sure I’m equipped for your dares.”

  “Oh, you’re definitely equipped,” I purred, watching him squirm.

  “If you’d like to find out for sure, just say the word,” he shot back. Now I was squirming and my inner slut was break-dancing in my panties. I stared at my hands and made an attempt to pull my mind out of the gutter. We were trying to take it slow. Good luck . . .

  We ended up at the coffee shop next door to our building. We agreed our apartments were a bad idea. They both had beds in them . . . The coffee shop, on the other hand, had no beds. It was warm and cozy, filled with overstuffed chairs and mismatched antique tables. After a make-out session that had curled my toes and had me secretly naming all of our unborn children, we decided we needed to get to know each other better. Hence the question-and-answer session over hot drinks in neutral territory.

  “Okay, truth,” I said, playing with the whipped cream on my hot chocolate. “Why did you become a cop?”

  Jack took a deep breath and expelled it slowly, and the light sexy atmosphere we shared disappeared. He ran his hands through his hair and studied his coffee cup. “Both of my parents and my brother were killed by a drunk driver when I was twen
ty-one. I was in my senior year at college. Back then, I still didn’t know what the hell I wanted to do . . . I was kind of a fuckup. The guy who killed my family got off because of shoddy police work. He got to walk away and live his life . . . My mom and dad and brother didn’t get to do that. I thought about finding him and killing him myself, but I had an amazing person in my life who convinced me otherwise . . . So”—he looked up and gave me a smile that didn’t reach his eyes—“I became a cop. I didn’t want anyone else to suffer like I did. Watching that son of a bitch walk out of the courtroom was the worst day of my life.”

  “I am so sorry,” I whispered. Tears blurred my vision, and I felt an overwhelming need to comfort him.

  “Me too,” he said. “It was a long time ago, but I miss them. So that’s why I’m a cop.” He smiled again and took my hand in his. This time it reached his eyes. I was falling hard for this beautiful man. “It’s your turn. Why did you go into accounting?”

  “I like numbers,” I said shyly, wiping the tears from my eyes. Talking about accounting made me feel like the nerd I truly am, but if we were going to be honest, he might as well see the real me. “I adore math, and logic and number puzzles . . . Although, I don’t fit in well at my office.” I grinned. “Number nerds tend to be upset by foul language.”

  “I’ve never heard a bad word cross your lips,” he deadpanned and I punched him in the arm. “Have you ever thought about going out on your own?”

  “I have”—I nodded—“but that takes money and contacts. Neither of which I have.”

  “How is it that you’re able to do this bizarre writing gig with your regular job?”

  “I have three weeks of vacation,” I muttered, hoping he’d drop it.

  “But you’re getting paid,” he pointed out.

  “Um hmm.” If he only knew the half of it . . . I wanted to tell him the whole story, but at this point it wasn’t my story to tell. I could destroy the lives of four lovely old ladies, my roommate, and my dad if I talked. Not to mention I could end up in jail for grand larceny. Shit.

  “I really like this honest stuff,” Jack said, rubbing his thumb across my knuckles.

  “Me too.” In a moment of sickening clarity, I realized I had become the omitter. The sin I’d been willing to break up with him over. I felt a little better by promising myself I’d be able to tell him the whole story soon. Right after I figured out how to save everyone and destroy the Viper Bitch.

  “Back to the subject of me being your boyfriend . . .”

  “I didn’t realize that had been a topic of conversation,” I replied dryly.

  “Oh, but it is. A very important one.”

  “Please, do go ahead. I’m all ears.” I grinned.

  “Well, since I am your boyfriend. Your only boyfriend . . .” He stopped and waited. Rolling my eyes, I nodded in agreement. “I want you to know I’m going out of town for a few days.”

  “Why?” Maybe he was going to Iceland.

  “Remember I said there was an amazing person who stopped me from doing something that would have ruined my life?” I nodded and he continued. “It’s my grandpa. He lives in Wisconsin, and he’s having gallbladder surgery tomorrow.”

  “Is he going to be okay?” I asked.

  “He’s as tough as nails; he’ll be fine. He just wants someone there with him. I’ll be back on Thursday,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “I want you to call me while I’m gone, and I’ll call you.”

  “I don’t have your number,” I said sheepishly.

  He pulled his card out and laid it on the table in front of me. “That’s what this is for. Do you think you’ll be able to refrain from eating it?”

  “Probably, unless you make me really mad.”

  “I have a better idea. Give me your phone.” He put his hand out. I dug through my bottomless Hello Kitty bag and obliged. He put his name and number into my phone and handed it back.

  “Can I still have your card?” I asked, wanting something that was his.

  “Are you going to eat it?” he teased.

  “Only if I get really hungry.”

  Chapter 17

  “No fucking way.” Shoshanna let out a long low whistle and dropped heavily onto the desk chair in our poufy pink, pornographic statue-filled office.

  “What?” I asked, looking over her shoulder at the computer. It was entirely too early on a Monday morning for LeHump to be dumbfounded.

  “She can’t do this. It’s not possible.” Shoshanna’s dazed expression made my stomach flippy.

  “Can’t do what?” I asked more forcefully than I intended, startling Shoshanna out of her stupor. Was the Walking Botox Experiment going after one of the girls? Was she going after me, or my dad, or Kristy? Had she announced her new lover, Jack, on her website? Speaking of . . . I didn’t tell Jack about that. Oops. That was a fairly large omission, but I didn’t want to worry him when he needed to focus on his grandpa . . . I’d tell him on Thursday when he got back.

  “She’s going to release the book at the end of next week.” Shoshanna looked up at me with eyes as round as saucers.

  “What book?” I asked. A small whoosh of panic settled in my stomach and started a slow waltz.

  “The pirate book. Your book.”

  “What?” I yelped. “It’s not done. I don’t even know what else is going to happen in the damn thing. And how in the hell can you release a book that fast?”

  “I guess she’s going to self-publish it. If she went through traditional New York publishing, it would take a year to eighteen months,” Shoshanna said, staring at the computer as an evil smile slowly spread across her face.

  “Why are you smiling?” I asked. The waltz in my tummy increased its pace.

  “This might not be a bad thing.” She clapped her little hands together in glee. “If she publishes herself, the book will be released with every single word you said, including my favorite, pork sword. It will be horrifying,” she squealed, bouncing up and down. “Her website says that she has over six thousand pre-orders. It says here,” Shoshanna read, “that the national morning shows will be in town to cover her. She will do a reading of a chapter on live television. Hmmm, apparently, her going into independent publishing is big motherfucking news. She says it’s her greatest work to date and she dares anyone to deny it. Goddamnit, she’s a psycho,” she laughed. “This is definitely not a bad thing.”

  “How in the fuck is this not a bad thing?” I yelled. “I’m going to have to live here at the monster porno house to get this pile of poo finished.” I paced the small office. I had to move to counterbalance the tummy waltz that was quickly morphing into a violent tango.

  “Oh, oh, oh—” Shoshanna bounced with excitement. “It says here on her site that she’s going to unveil her greatest masterpiece at the Midwest Romance-o-Rama Convention next week.”

  “Oh my God,” I gasped. “Wait, what is the Midwest Romance-o-Rama Convention?”

  “It’s the mac-daddy romance writer and reader convention in the country and this year it’s right in our backyard.”

  “Where?”

  “Let me find it.” Shoshanna pulled up the convention schedule on the computer and couldn’t control her burst of laughter. “This is too good. Every major author, publishing house, and reviewer will be there. She is so going down.”

  “So it’s here in Saint Paul?” I whispered. An icy chill crept up my spine. Getting busted in my hometown so soon after the fucking weather girl disaster was simply too much.

  “It’s at the WMNS TV station building downtown. God, that’s one ugly-ass building.”

  “Are you sure?” Apprehension coursed through me. Could it get any worse? The thought of having to possibly go to that building and get arrested again made bile rise in my throat.

  “Have you seen it? It’s uglier than a hat full of assholes.”

  “Holy hell,” I sputtered, forgetting for a moment that my life was blowing up, “did you just make that up?”

  “Make up wha
t?” LeHump shook her head, clueless.

  “The hat asshole thing,”

  “Oh, no. My mom used to say it all the time. You like it?” she asked.

  “Um, no. But I may have to use that in the Pirate Dave saga.”

  “See? I am good for something.” She stood up, took a bow.

  I pressed my fingers to the bridge of my nose to ward off the panic attack that was hurtling toward Earth and heading straight for me, and I willed myself not to vomit. I had a decision to make and I had to make it fast. It was risky to talk to Shoshanna here at the Viper Bitch’s house, but options were getting slim and time was running out. LeHump needed to know . . . I walked to the door, shut it, and locked it. “Shoshanna, I need to tell you something.”

  And I did. I told her everything. The weather girl debacle, my arrest (both of them), being set up with stolen jewels, being apprehended by Jack, not being paid, Sergeant Santa and Herbie the Dentist Cop’s visit, and Evangeline’s threats to my dad and Kristy and the writing gals.

  LeHump stared at me for a long moment. “I knew you looked familiar,” she chuckled, referring to my fifteen minutes of fame as the idiot on the six o’clock news who thought the criteria for the Sunshine Weather Girl job only required showing up and hanging out at the station for a month. “The skank certainly does her homework,” she said disgustedly. “You were dead in the water the minute you gave her your name.”

  “Shoshanna, have you thought this plan out all the way?” I asked, shifting uncomfortably on the couch.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, even if we destroy her career, what stops her from destroying us?”

  That wiped the smile right off her face. “Oh, fuck.”

  I raced down to Cecil’s office. If we were going to finish the book, he needed to be there taking notes. I had no clue how Evangeline was going to put my frightening brainchild together, and I didn’t care. There were more life-threatening possibilities to worry about. How in the hell had we come up with a plan that still left us as sitting ducks? What if, worst case scenario, people actually liked the book? The movie The Producers kept flashing through my mind. Fuckity, fuck, fuck. I was going to have to pull some atrocious stuff out of my warped brain. A hat full of assholes was probably a good place to start . . .