by Yessi Smith
Dee pats Jill’s shoulder while my mind comes up with the perfect plan, befitting of a cheating bastard.
“Do you still have the soup you made him?” I ask, smiling back at Dee and my new friends.
“Yeah.” Jill grins back at me, while Dee squeezes my arm with an almost silent squeal.
“That’s L.A. Casey!” Dee whispers excitedly in my ear.
“Go finger her,” I whisper back. “Then bring her back over here,” I say more loudly. “She can help us with our mission.”
Dee nods at me while Jill and Kelly look back at me curiously.
***
“More!” I shout over the giggles bouncing off the walls in our hotel room.
“More what?” L.A., better known as Lee, asks. “Wine?”
“Laxatives.” I pass three more tablets to Kelly for her to smash and put in the ex-douchebag’s chicken soup.
“We don’t want to kill him,” Dee warns and I roll my eyes at her.
“We’re not gonna kill him. Just give him severe diarrhea,” I declare, sending the girls into another fit of laughter.
“One more tablet,” Jill compromises, taking it from Kelly and crushing the last tablet finely before mixing it into the soup. “And… we’re done!”
“Before you go, a toast.” I make sure everyone has their wine glasses in hand. “To douchebags everywhere.”
“May they forever shit themselves,” Lee adds.
“And think of us, the women who destroyed them, as they pray to the porcelain goddess.”
We raise our glasses and drink in celebration to our womanhood and overall superiority before we part ways for the night.
Dee was right! I think we killed him…
Still drunk, I laugh at the incoming text from Jill, but Dee nudges my ribs hard, so I try to put on my serious face.
What???
Dee replies to the group text.
Going to ER. Will keep you posted.
“We should meet her at the hospital,” Dee, always the rational one, tells me.
“Okay,” I agree, quickly sending a text to the whole group asking what hospital they’re going to so we can meet Jill there.
After a few minutes, Dee and I are in the car heading to the hospital and I can’t help the laughter bubbling up inside of me while Dee’s face remains serious. Rarely one to over indulge in alcohol, Dee’s state of sobriety is both annoying and reassuring, because lets face it, I couldn’t walk a straight line right now if my life depended on it.
“Chill, chick,” I tell her between the laughter. “We didn’t kill him.”
She narrows her eyes at me as she drives, unwilling to see the humor behind any of the diarrhea jokes I’ve made.
Once at the hospital, we run into Kelly in the lobby who, like me, is finding it difficult to keep a straight face. Which just goes to prove things can’t be that dire, especially if Jill’s good friend is laughing.
“You two are ridiculous,” Dee declares with a small smile as she hunts for Jill.
Not wanting to crowd the patient room, Kelly and I sit in the back of the waiting room while we wait for word from Dee and Jill. Time passes swiftly as we get to know each other and gossip about the drama that surrounds the indie publishing community. And believe me, there is a lot of drama. Enough to write hundreds of full length books on.
I’m just glad Dee has been able to stay away from all of it. I’d hate for us to have to go back to our crazy roots and show these chicks how we scrap at the nut farm. Not that I actually use the word scrap, or that there were very many fights, unless you count the time Dee got her ass handed to her by Samantha. Poor chick can’t fight. I probably can’t either, but I’ve never actually tested out that theory one way or another.
From the corner of my eye I see a creepy looking man staring at us and I grab Kelly’s arm.
“We should go find Dee and Jill,” I whisper as the man stands up and starts walking in our direction.
Kelly and I quickly get up and start to make our way towards the security guard to get our visitor’s passes so we can go inside the rooms, but the man puts his hand on my arm, stopping me.
“I have chlamydia,” I blurt out.
“And crabs.” Kelly nods.
“Yeah,” I agree when the man removes his hands from my arm in disgust. “Big, hairy crabs crawling out of my clam trap.” I lean down and scratch said vagina for emphasis and high five Kelly when the man runs away.
Hayley one, creeper zero.
Without wasting anymore time, we go through security and find Dee, Jill, and a very blotchy ex-boyfriend. Unable or unwilling to suppress it, Kelly and I are overcome with the giggles once again. I mean, he looks like he did a head dive into poison oak and the sounds coming from his stomach are unnatural.
But like the mature adults that we are, we sacrifice our joy and eventually suppress our laughter while he glares at us.
“So you two must be the remaining co-conspirators,” a very handsome doctor with whitish blond hair and dark green eyes says from beside Blotchy’s bed.
“Guilty.” I raise my hands in defeat and do my best to look apologetic.
“We didn’t mean to kill him,” Jill whispers, looking at everyone but Blotchy.
“He won’t die,” the doctor chuckles, but quickly hides it with a cough. “He’ll be uncomfortable for roughly twenty-four hours, but he’ll live.”
“Unfortunately,” Kelly whispers, while Blotchy starts to scream about us trying to poison him.
“You’ve got other things to worry about,” I tell him as I sit on the foot of his bed.
“Like what?” he wants to know.
“Venereal diseases,” I reply and his eyes widen until there is nothing but two large saucers staring back at me. “You know, from your side pieces of random ass.”
“My…”
Jill bursts out laughing as Blotchy’s face reddens further and I quietly pat myself on the back. Mission accomplished.
“I saw you,” Jill says quietly from the corner of the room. She looks at us, her girls, and seems to find her strength as she walks toward his bed. “I took you soup this afternoon because you said you weren’t feeling good, and I caught you sleeping with another girl.”
“Jill-” he starts to say but she holds up her hands and shakes her head at him.
“It doesn’t matter.” She smiles and cocks an eyebrow at him. “We’re even now.”
“You girls are trouble.” The doctor shakes his head as he heads out. “But I like trouble.” He narrows his eyes at Jill and smiles a lopsided grin that leaves me wanting to remove my panties and throw them at his face. Or maybe I should forget the panties, and just throw my vagina at his face. I am after all single again. There has to be some perks to my new status.
“Well, hell,” I huff out before he can leave. “You have to have some sort of prescription for trouble.” I put my hands on my waist and wait for him to nod.
I slide my eyes towards Jill and hope I haven’t misinterpreted what I saw pass through them. If I’m right, it’d be a real kick in Blotchy’s balls and I, for one, want to witness it.
He reaches into his coat and takes out his prescription pad where he quickly scribbles something down. As he hands Jill her prescription, his hand brushes over hers and I swear I can hear her heartbeat accelerate from across the room. He licks his lips just as quickly before leaving and I squeeze my thighs tightly together as I watch his ass disappear.
“What’d he give you?” Dee asks once Doctor McHottie is out of earshot.
“His number.” Jill grins from ear to ear as she shows us his prescription for trouble.
On the top of the prescription pad, we could see his name was Devon Haughtry, followed by his phone number and the following message:
Prescription: A night of reckless fun and kissing.
Dosage: Repeat as needed.
Side effects may include hot flashes, feelings of extreme sexiness, and chapped lips.
“Chapped lips?” Jill
licks her lips nervously and looks at us.
I pucker my lips together and begin to blow kisses in Jill’s direction as her eyes widen. Oh, there would be lots of kissing. I could feel the heat rising from my toes and almost envy Jill and her upcoming date with Dr. Devon Hottie.
“Get the hell out of here!” Kelly shouts, but covers her mouth when we all stare at her. “We want details, Jill. Lots and lots of details after your date.”
“Still in pain,” Blotchy mumbles, but none of us care.
Yeah, I’d say payback was a bitch. Or rather payback was four crazy bitches, at least one of which was tired of men and their small-minded bullshit.
I managed to get a shower at the local community college before heading to Starbucks, which is a plus in my corner considering the employees at Starbucks wouldn’t let me in if I smelled and looked like I did this morning. Less than twenty-four hours and already I can smell myself in a not so great way.
It’s funny how some things fall into place as if they belong there. In my old life, I took to the streets as if it were an extra appendage – as if it had always been there but I had somehow missed it. I hadn’t missed any of the comforts from home, not even the certainty of food.
Everything changed when I met Hayley. For the first time in years, I found myself wanting more. And that wanting turned into needing, because I needed to be the kind of man that could provide for his girl. What caveman instincts drive each man to be a better version of himself when he meets the right girl? I still want to be that man for her even though she’s no longer a part of my existence.
Now, I can’t fathom a day without the simplicity of a shower. Even without Hayley, I know I have to work and be the kind of man she can continue to be proud of. Her pride in me fills me and drives me to work harder. To be something and someone. Missing her washes over me in dangerous waves until I’m certain I’ll drown in my longing for her. But life pulled us apart and I have to live knowing that I made the right decision for her.
I stand in line for a fancy cup of coffee I really can’t afford, but I’ll pay for anyway knowing I won’t be allowed to take up their Wi-Fi if I don’t pay for something. That little rule will be their downfall when my empty stomach retaliates to the sudden onslaught of caffeine.
No longer accustomed to the ache of an empty stomach, I also order a muffin and then sit in a chair furthest away from everyone and plug my dead laptop into the wall. There was a point in my life when I actually enjoyed the hunger because I felt like it redeemed me. Softened by two years of living in comfort and with the guarantee of food, my body couldn’t tolerate a full day without food and water now.
I rub the bruise on my chin and run my hand over the small scratches on the surface of my laptop. Some young shithead tried to steal my laptop last night, probably thinking I was an easy target. The one bruise on my body and the many on his, will hopefully serve as a reminder to him not fuck with strangers.
It’s inconceivable to me how someone can just try to ransack a person without knowing their weaknesses first. You have to study your victim, know their routine, and their strategies, so you can anticipate their moves. That way, you can either block them or land the first blow. How else do you stand a chance of survival?
But he was young and far too eager. I almost felt sorry for him when I finally allowed him to limp away, muttering curses and empty threats my way. But my pity would teach him nothing and he’d go on feeling entitled to things he hadn’t worked for. Besides, he scratched my laptop—my livelihood. For that alone, he deserved a thousand more beatings.
Immediately after opening up my laptop, I get to work on my current web design. Professional but quirky, with a touch of femininity. This client was specific on the layout of her template, which made it easier to work with. I like a client with a feasible and clear vision, but one that also grants me access to my own creativity. Usually the two of us working together can create something to be proud of.
As the hours tick by, the scenery changes with all types of people coming and going. I ignore them all, my only goal is to finish the first draft of the design today so I can get my client’s approval and then fine tune what is left. Mentally satisfied, I send her the link and then do a quick search through stock photos to send to another client for a cover design.
After I back up my work online and put my laptop into my backpack, I fill my coffee cup with water from the bathroom sink and step out into the hot humid air and look at the darkening sky. It was going to be a wet night tonight. I better hurry up so I could claim a spot under the overpass I slept close to last night.
I look at the ground as I walk, rather than the people walking alongside me, out of fear they’d see right through me and see me for who I really am.
Where was the man who didn’t care about such nuisances? He was gone, weakened by the girl who took my heart without my approval. He’d come back though – stronger, harder, and a lot more bitter. And I’d be better for it.
I wish someone would have told me what happened when love was stripped away from you. How defenseless you’d become, how vulnerable you’d be.
It was stupid of me to care about what others may think of me when they see me in passing. So stupid. But each person I pass is like a crux to my heart, damning me to a lifetime without everything I didn’t even know I wanted. As I walk past my spot from the night before, I’m not in my right frame of mind. I’m only thinking of Hayley and the many scars forever etched on my heart.
The first blow to my stomach doesn’t even register—that’s how far gone I am. But I feel it the moment my nose makes contact with a fist and it breaks for the third time. It happens slowly at first and then all at once. There are five, maybe six of them. Not very big in stature, but big enough in number for me to know I can’t fight them. Not with their fists, feet, and bats making constant contact with my suddenly battered body.
So I do the only reasonable thing I can think of. I take off my backpack and protect it and its contents with my body. I take the beating without a word, while I protect my only means of survival. As long as I have my laptop, I’ll be okay. I’d come out of this beating just as I had done in the past with previous beatings. This was no different than the others.
I see the boy from last night crouch down in front of me and I sneer at him when he spits in my face.
“Ain’t so tough now, are ya?” he asks and I laugh.
“Says the little shit who needs a posse to beat up one man,” I counter.
I see his foot slowly rise off the ground and feel it when it makes impact on the side of my face. Within seconds, everything goes black.
***
Disoriented, I blink a few times before I push myself off the gravel and wipe the raindrops from my face.
What the fuck happened?
Like a derailed train, it all comes crashing back to me. Hayley, Hanna’s photo, my parents, my need to protect Hayley, and the little asshole I should have killed last night. Pushing myself off the gravel, I stand up quicker than my equilibrium approves of as I look around for my laptop.
Broken. In pieces.
I swear as I sit down next to the useless piece of equipment that had defined my life up until now. It had been my savior. It had given me something I was good at and could thrive on. Kicking it somehow seems wrong. Sacrilegious.
So, I sit down next to it, paying it homage, and letting the rain fall onto my already soaked body. Looking up, I don’t swear to the heavens or curse my fate. I just let the rain fall down my face, maybe removing the blood as it falls. Without much thought, I right my nose quickly and don’t bother wincing when the pain surfaces. Pain is good. Pain is a reminder that I get to live for one more breath, so I inhale and exhale slowly, pondering my next move.
I have very little money left and with my laptop in pieces, I’m limited on how I can communicate with my clients. Going to the library is an option, but I’d have to wait until I no longer looked like a Walker from The Walking Dead. At least I had the forethou
ght of backing up my work on the internet.
On another swear, I get up, picking up the pieces of my laptop and shove it into my torn backpack. I limp towards downtown Miami in the dark of night, only coming across other lost souls like me who ignore me just as easily as I ignore them.
This time – this one time – I don’t bother looking at myself in the reflection of the storefront windows. I don’t need to look at my reflection when I know what I’ll see. Shame, disgust, and some more self-loathing. Instead, I lean on the door of a computer repair shop and pick the lock. I don’t bother congratulating myself when I hear it click with ease.
There’s no pride in stealing what isn’t yours. But sometimes it’s a necessity.
Leaving the lights off, I walk into the store and head towards the back, knowing I’ll find a couple used laptops that have already been repaired and are waiting for their rightful owners to pick them up. Their rightful owners not being me. But desperation calls and I willingly answer.
Uncaring of the brand or how it looks, I don’t inspect the laptops before I pick one up and shove it in my backpack. I get ready to leave, knowing if the laptop is password protected I can easily bypass it, when I hear a cough behind me and the familiar click of a gun.
Of course.
Unable to sleep, I watch the minutes tick by on the clock on my bedside table. It’s three in the morning, I shouldn’t be so restless. Everything had worked out well the night before. I’d had a fun girls night out. Jill had a date with Dr. Hottie. Blotchy had been released from the hospital without a death sentence. Dee had met quite a few readers while at the pool earlier—all of whom loved her books and she was able to do some promoting on the side.
I hadn’t thought of Max. At least not really. Okay I did, but only in passing. Like when I passed a mirror and hoped to see his reflection besides mine. Or when I passed a happy couple and I was tempted to curse them to a hundred years of loneliness.
In just a few hours, we’ll be going to our first ever author signing, although I’d be a lot more excited if Dee were signing rather than just attending. To her surprise, the girls we met during our pool day agreed with me, but then again, she sells herself short while I see her natural talent and the determination to go beyond her dreams.
