How Hard Can It Be

by Robyn Peterman

  “Oh my God, I almost forgot about that. Do you want to go together?” I asked.

  “Yep. I’m feeling a little addicted right now. I’m considering going to work with you today,” he chuckled. “Although, apparently I have a meeting about a major donation to the Police Department at the O’Hara estate around six. So I actually will be stalking you at your place of employment.” He smiled. “We can leave for the party when I’m done.”

  Shit, shit, shit. I still hadn’t told him about Evangeline wanting him for her concubine. “I have to tell you something.” I sat up and got a wonky feeling in my tummy. I wasn’t the one who wanted to blackmail him . . . why did I feel so weird? “Jack, there is no major donation.”

  “Right.” He grinned, trying to cop a feel of my ass.

  “I’m serious.” I swatted his hand away and quickly yanked on a T-shirt and panties. This was not a buck-ass naked conversation we were about to have. “There is no donation,” I repeated.

  “Okay,” he said patronizingly, “if there’s no donation, why am I going there?”

  I crossed my hands over my braless chest and for a brief moment considered not telling him. Letting him show up totally unprepared to be hit on by an eighty-year-old bag of bones with obscene titties and a face that would scare small children. No . . . I couldn’t do that to my worst enemy. “Evangeline is going to try to blackmail you into giving her stud services.”

  Jack threw his head back and laughed so hard, I thought he might choke. “Oh my God, Rena.” He pulled on his jeans and tried to swallow his grin. “That is just so wrong.”

  “I’m serious,” I said.

  “Uh huh,” he chuckled, pulling on his shoes. “Okay then, after I have sex with my great-great grandmother, we can go to your parents’ party.”

  “This isn’t a joke,” I insisted. “You’re being set up by Sergeant Santa and Herbie the Cop-Dentist.”

  “Rena, stop.” His laughter disappeared. “It was funny for a minute and now, not so much.”

  “I’m not trying to be funny, Jack. Santa and Herbie are on her payroll and she wants to play hide the salami with you, so they are going to frame you for something and force you to . . . you know.” I put on some sweats, thinking he might take me more seriously if I was dressed.

  “Enough,” he said, running his hands through his hair. “I get that you hate that I’m a cop. With your colorful past that makes sense, but this is ridiculous. I am a cop. I love what I do. If you have a real problem with that . . . we need to have a talk.”

  “Is that what you think this is about?” I said louder than I intended. I was trying to save him and he was treating me like I was a cop-hating jealous idiot.

  “What in the hell am I supposed to think? You just informed me that my boss and a fellow officer are going to blackmail me into sleeping with the most grotesque woman I ever had the displeasure to meet,” he yelled.

  “It’s not my fault you work for ass-monkeys,” I yelled back.

  He shook his head in disgust. “We are not having this conversation right now. I have to go.”

  “You’re not going anywhere until you believe me.” I ran to my bedroom door and stood in front of it.

  “Rena, I love the crazy part of you, but you’re starting to sound like your Aunt Phyllis.”

  I was this close to having an aneurysm. “You did not just say that.” My anger practically choked me. “Take it back.”

  “Rena . . .” His voice was full of warning signals that I chose to ignore.

  “I am not my Aunt Phyllis and you’re not the only one Evangeline is blackmailing,” I hissed. “Don’t for a minute think I didn’t know you were trying to get the scoop on the jewels I stole. I knew you were snooping around, trying to sell me down the river so you could get a big fat hairy promotion.”

  Jack dropped back down on the bed, flabbergasted. “You stole jewels?”

  “No! I didn’t steal any fucking jewels,” I shouted. “She planted them in that package I was delivering when you arrested me. And now she has me by the balls and I’m not even getting paid for it.”

  “What are you talking about?” He threw his hands up and looked at me like I was insane. “The box was empty. There was nothing in the box, Rena.”

  My head spun. The box was empty? Fucking empty? The realization hit with a sickening thud . . . I didn’t owe that viper anything. She didn’t have a damned thing on me. I didn’t have to go back there, ever.

  “Rena, I think we have a problem,” he said, sounding distant and uncomfortable.

  I said nothing. I couldn’t speak. The pressure in my chest was building rapidly, and I knew if I opened my mouth I would scream, further proving his case for my insanity.

  “If you really think I was trying to have you incarcerated and you insist on libeling my boss . . . I don’t know what to say . . .” He dropped his head into his hands and sat silently on my bed.

  “I want to say I’m sorry,” I whispered. He raised his eyes to mine, hopeful. “I should have trusted you and I do now. I don’t have any problem with you being a cop. Just like you don’t have any problem with my rap sheet.” I gave him a lopsided grin. The beginnings of a smile pulled at the corners of his mouth. “But I’m serious about your boss and Evangeline forcing you to be her boy-toy. I heard the whole thing go down. Herbie even offered to do her, but she was having none of it. She told Santa he was shriveled and . . .”

  “Goddamnit, Rena.” Jack’s smile was gone and his voice turned hard. “I can’t do this. You need some help and I need to go.” He stood up and moved me from the doorway. “It’s probably good it didn’t go any further than this,” he said coldly, referring to the best night of my life. “I guess I’ll just . . . see you around.” With a final look of anger and pity, he left.

  He walked out of the door and out of my life.

  My legs gave way and I crumpled to the floor. I pressed my head to my knees and sat there. For a long time. Never, never again would I give my heart to anyone. I couldn’t anyway . . . the one inside my chest had just shattered into a million pieces.

  Chapter 23

  Going back to hell wasn’t an option. For two weeks, that viper whore-bag had had me living in abject terror of spending years in the slammer. She could shove the partially finished Pirate Dave novel up her skinny ass.

  I spent two hours packing all my belongings. I was moving out. The thought of running into Mr. Giraffe-back was more terrifying than spending five years in the pokey. I had horrible visions of me begging for another chance and him laughing in my face. Or even worse, running into him with some hot babe attached to his fine ass. To avoid that humiliation, I decided to move to another state. Far away. Accountants are needed everywhere, even in Russia.

  I called Shoshanna and explained what had happened and why I wasn’t coming back. She was quiet for a long time, and then she told me that she loved me and she was glad I was free from the skank. She even offered to let me stay at her place. That made me feel like a piece of shit, but I held on to my resolve. Her concern for my well-being when I was leaving her to drown was mind blowing. She was a far better person than I was . . . or ever would be.

  “What are you doing?” Kristy asked.

  “Shit,” I screeched, dropping all my high school yearbooks. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  “I didn’t. I repeat, what are you doing?” She folded her arms across her chest and eyed the hurricane that used to be my room.

  “I’m moving.”

  “I can see that.” She nodded. “Where to?”

  “Not sure yet,” I admitted. “But it will be far away. Possibly Iceland.”

  “Interesting,” she said. “Any reason for the abrupt departure?”

  “Yep,” I said, shoving all my underwear into a shopping bag.

  “Want to share?” she asked, pushing my box of high school cheerleading trophies over and plopping down on my bed.

  “Nope.”

  “Considering that I am your roommate and
best friend and the simple fact that I can’t afford this apartment without someone paying the other half of the rent . . . I suggest you spill, or I’m going to call your mom and tell her you’re moving to Iceland.”

  I gave her my best pissed-off look. She laughed.

  “Fine,” I huffed. “Jack broke up with me because I’m insane and the Viper-slag doesn’t really have anything on me because there weren’t any fucking jewels in the box. So apparently I’m being blackmailed for nothing. The crooked cops are going to force Jack to screw the Viper-whore and he didn’t believe me when I tried to warn him. It turns out Poppy’s a man, LeHump was married to a homosexual, and Nancy thinks her cooking was behind salmonella-gate. I don’t know what the hell Joanne’s problem is and I’m scared to find out. All these women are going down and I can’t save them. Aunt Phyllis expects me to attend Bigfoot meetings, and I’ve discovered I know more terms for the word penis than should be humanly possible. I will never listen to Oprah again because visualizing my future was what got me into this fucked-up mess to start with. But mostly I hate Jack. So I have to move.” I crumpled to the floor, for the second time that day, and burst into tears.

  “Oh my God.” Kristy was on the floor instantly. She wrapped her arms around me and rocked me like a baby. “I didn’t follow a lot of that, but I understand the impulse now.”

  “I ruined everything,” I sobbed.

  “Not yet,” she said.

  “What to you mean?” I sniffled.

  “I mean, you can still redeem yourself with at least part of that list,” she said, stroking my hair.

  “I don’t want to.” I got up and halfheartedly started packing again.

  “Well then, you’re just a selfish bitch,” she said, so matter-of-fact, I thought I had heard her wrong.

  “What did you call me?” I stopped packing and stared at her in shock.

  “You heard me.” She raised her eyebrow in challenge. “You have no heart at all if you leave all those women who love you to be destroyed by that hateful slag.”

  “You’re right about the heart. That got obliterated an hour ago. As far as the rent goes, I’ll pay till you can find a new roommate who’s not a heartless bitch. And the ladies—” I paused. I felt sick to my stomach and I wanted to tear my hair out in frustration. “I don’t know how to help them,” I yelled.

  “When has that ever stopped you?” Kristy yelled back. “You went after the weather girl job and you threw your hat in to be an author . . .”

  “And look where that got me,” I snapped, “arrested, blackmailed, and dumped.”

  “Okay,” she caved. “Maybe I didn’t pick the best examples.”

  “Ya think?”

  “Fine”—she rolled her eyes—“I picked shitty examples, but you’re not a quitter.”

  “Yes, I am.” I zipped my suitcase shut and looked at my best friend. “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears.

  “For yelling at you . . . for being a selfish bitch. For just . . . I’m sorry.” I picked up my suitcase and the shopping bag of undies and made my way to the front door.

  “You’re really leaving?”

  “I have to. Do you mind if I leave the trophies and yearbooks and stuff here until I know where I’ll be?” I asked, trying to hold back my own waterfall.

  “That’s fine,” she said, hugging me tight. “Rena,” she paused, “what are some of the other names for penis?”

  “The two worst ones are skin flute and pork sword,” I said, trying not to giggle. I couldn’t believe after our horrid conversation she still cared enough to try to make me smile.

  “I’ve never heard those before,” she laughed. “Call me when you know where you’ll be. I love you.”

  “I love you, too.”

  I dragged my suitcase down to my car and I left.

  Driving around for three hours with nowhere to go is expensive and stupid. I got lost six times. The talking lady in my GPS got so confused, it was almost funny. Almost. I pressed about four buttons to turn her off and then I couldn’t figure out how to turn her back on.

  Conversations with Kristy and LeHump and the rest of the gals played through my head until it pounded. The worst was reliving the pity and disgust on Jack’s face . . . the memory left me feeling like I had shards of glass in my throat.

  The only reasonable thing to do was to leave. Anyone could see that. My mom and dad would shit. Aunt Phyllis would miss me terribly. And Jenny . . . Jenny would laugh and shake her head, explaining to anyone who would listen what a pathetic loser I was.

  Kristy would be okay and the ladies would move on, hopefully without Evangeline. I planned to send Nancy a letter detailing what I’d found out about salmonella-gate. I hoped that would help. Cecil worried me, but I still didn’t trust him. I could only pray he’d find a way out. Jack . . . fuck Jack, he wouldn’t even notice I was gone. If he did, he’d only feel relief.

  With shaky fingers I had called my accounting firm and asked for a transfer. They’d laughed when I requested Iceland and suggested I stick with an English-speaking area, like Iowa. I told them I’d take it. The job would start in two weeks. That gave me some time to get my shit together before I left. It wasn’t Russia, but it was far enough that I wouldn’t disgrace myself with Jack any further than I already had.

  I decided to drive to the travel agent and book my Iowa tickets. I had nothing better to do. I checked my watch; it was three-thirty. I still had a butt load of time to kill before my parents’ anniversary party. I drove until I found where I needed to go. I slowed the car to a stop, put it in park, and banged my head on the steering wheel. Five times. What in the hell was I doing? I couldn’t go in there. If I went in I would change the course of my life irrevocably. There was no going back. I thought about how great my life was up until this morning, well, most of it, and I stared at the building in front of me. Were the mistakes I’d made too big to overcome? Was Kristy right about me not being a quitter? It didn’t really matter. The look on Jack’s face when he’d left . . . I’d never forget that one.

  I knew I’d made the right decision because the weight in my chest lifted. I was free. I might be impulsive and reckless and foulmouthed, but I wasn’t a quitter. I got out of the car, sucked in a huge breath, and prepared to meet my destiny. I slowly walked up the drive and stopped at the repulsive monstrosity near the entrance. I smacked the huge cement butt of the obscene statue I’d hidden behind the other morning and I went in to kick some ass. Evangeline thought she had me, but she didn’t. The tables had turned. She had no idea what she was dealing with now. I had absolutely nothing to lose. I was a dangerous combination of fearless rage and vengeful recently dumped girlfriend. A very bad combo. I still hadn’t ruled out Iowa, but I needed to stand up for the people who loved me, despite the fact I was a selfish bitch.

  Chapter 24

  “You’re late,” it hissed as I walked through the front door. “Yep.” I smiled and flipped Evangeline the bird as I made my way back to the hideous pink office.

  I stood outside the closed door and practiced my deep breathing. I heard several voices and figured they were all in there. My hand shook as I reached for the knob. Would they all be angry at me for deserting them? Did they hate me? Shit. What was I thinking? They didn’t need me. I turned to leave and ran smack into my worst nightmare come to life.

  “Leaving so soon?” the Viper spat.

  Holy hell, what was wrong with her face? Her cheeks looked swollen like a chipmunk’s, and what little eyelids she’d had before were gone. “No,” I said trying to look away from her. “I was just plotting.” Her demise.

  “Good,” she told me, “because it would be a shame if I had to press charges.”

  “It would be, wouldn’t it?” I laughed.

  “You think that’s funny?” she demanded, completely confused by my demeanor.

  “Yes, in fact, I do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. Oh, Evangeline”—I gave her a lovi
ngly concerned look—“you might want to check your boobs. The left one seems a bit smaller than the right one.”

  She shrieked in horror and wobble-ran down the hallway as fast as her spindly legs would take her. Damn, that felt good.

  “Hi honey, I’m home,” I said as I walked back into my life.

  “Praise Sweet Baby Jesus,” Poppy Harriet yelled, smothering me in a bear hug. “Joanne was trying to have Pirate Dave peel the skin off of his secret admirer while Captain Hook pulled off her toenails with pliers.”

  “Rusty pliers.” Joanne grinned evilly. Holy cow, her eyebrows were growing back. Bushy, just like LeHump had said.

  “Welcome back, Rena,” Cecil said with relief written all over his face. Who knew Cecil would prefer double doinkers and blind trolls to skin peeling and toenail removal?

  I scanned the room looking for LeHump. She sat in the corner with a big shit-eating grin on her face. “I knew you’d be back. Life’s just not as much fun without us.”

  “You are correct, Madame.” I grinned back.

  “Shall we get started?” Cecil asked, looking exhausted from his morning with the gals.

  “Yes”—I smiled at everyone—“we shall.”

  Pirate Dave was so depressed he’d forgotten he was a warlock. After eating six bags of frozen Schmiggy’s Potato Fun Balls, he remembered that he could magic off the one hundred and seventy-five pounds he’d gained over the past two weeks. “Son of a bitch,” he yelled, trying to move his lard ass to a wide-open area for the spell.

  As pissed off as he was about having two tallywhackers, he missed looking at them. Admiring his man parts had been a large part of his life until he’d gotten too porcine to see his beloved peckers.

  He was slightly worried about a heart attack. Warlock spells were vigorous and profane. Would his jiggly girth end up being the cause of his death? Wait the fuck a minute. He was a goddamn vampire, too! Vampires didn’t have hearts. What the hell and tarnation had he been thinking?

  Pirate Dave danced in a circle and cussed up a storm. Break-dancing was difficult when you weighed almost four hundred pounds. Lightning ripped through the sky as Dave’s undulating ripped a great big hole in his breeches. A gust of glittering silver mist engulfed him and swirled across the deck of the ship. He swore twice as hard when a clump of the sparkly crap flew up his nose. Slowly he felt his body morph back to the hot, sexy, hairy bastard he’d been before he had used fast food as therapy.