Diary of a Mad Fat Girl

by Stephanie McAfee

  The phone rings and I rush to pick it up, ready to sacrifice all my dignity and beg him to come back, but it’s not him. It’s Lilly.

  “Gloria Peacock just called,” she says. “Richard Stacks just regained consciousness.”

  41

  “Here’s the plan,” Gloria Peacock says, “Lilly is going to create a distraction and you,” she looks at me, “and Chloe are going to slip into Richard Stacks’ room and get him to sign these papers.”

  “Is he going to do that?” I ask, trying to hide my skepticism. “Sign the papers, just because we ask him to?”

  “I’m not asking him,” Chloe says. “I’m telling him.”

  Lilly and I stare at Chloe and I see a smile creep across Gloria Peacock’s face.

  “Okay,” I say to Chloe, “you, uh, seem really confident this will work, so?”

  “So,” she says, “you know I took his laptop from the house?” I nod and she continues. “It took me several hours, but I went through every file and what I found, in addition to being appalling and disgusting, would be quite embarrassing for him should it go public.”

  “And what was that?” Lilly asks.

  “Pictures of him with that pork chop penis in his hand.”

  “We have a picture of him in a dog collar,” I point out. “What’s the difference?”

  “The difference, my friend,” Chloe continues, “is that these photos were used in a chat room,” she takes a deep breath, “where men go to chat with other men.”

  “How in the world did you find that out?” Lilly asks.

  “I have the chat log,” she says. “Just call me Chris Hansen.”

  “Okay,” I say and can’t think of anything to add to that because this entire situation is getting really weird.

  “Trust me,” Chloe says, matter-of-factly, “he’ll sign the papers or I’ll have the pictures and that chat log sent to his fat ass mother’s front door step.”

  I barrel laugh at that feisty little comment. “Oh Chloe, I’m so happy for you and so sad for you all at the same time,” I say. “This is crazy!”

  “Why can’t Chloe just walk in there and act like she’s there to see Richard?” Lilly asks.

  “Because,” Gloria Peacock answers, “in cases of domestic violence, an automatic restraining order is issued against the perpetrator.”

  “Chloe, you’re a ‘perp’,” I say and giggle a little. “How ridiculously ironic is that?”

  “Yes, I am, which means I go to jail if I get caught anywhere near him,” Chloe says, getting up and when she does, I notice that her hair has been pixie trimmed and highlighted and looks much better.

  “Ladies,” Gloria Peacock says, “no time like the present.” She hands Chloe and me a pair of scrubs, hospital name tags, and clipboards. Then she gives Lilly a hospital gown, white leggings, and some really nice looking house shoes. She tells us to change quickly and meet her in the garage and we do as we’re told.

  When we get to the garage, we find the golf cart driver standing next to a jet black Mercedes-Benz with jet black tinted windows.

  “Is that our ride?” I ask, way more excited than the other two because they drive luxury cars every day.

  “Yes, ma’am it is,” the chauffer says, “and I’m your driver.”

  All I can do is grin like an idiot. Gloria Peacock comes into the garage with a handful of electronics and gives each of us a walkie-talkie the size of a pager and a wireless ear bud.

  “I feel like James Bond, for real,” I say as I slip the communication device into my ear. “Is this some more magic from Omega Systems?” I ask Gloria Peacock.

  “Good guess, young lady,” she says with a wink. “Girls, I wish you the best of luck. Remember, stick to the plan. Get in, get out, and alert George if you hit a snag.”

  We go over the plan one more time before we leave, then ride to the hospital in silence. George drops us off at a side door that Gloria Peacock arranged to have unlocked. Apparently when you donate millions of dollars to an organization, multiple favors are only a phone call away.

  We take the stairs up to the ICU and Lilly steps into the hallway first. She gives us an “all clear” and we creep into the hallway and stay a few feet behind her. I watch Lilly duck into an unoccupied room and Chloe and I keep walking. The challenge is getting past the nurses’ station and with each step toward it, I get more and more nervous.

  “Lilly,” I whisper, “all set?”

  “Ready,” she whispers back.

  I look at Chloe and she gives me a nod and pats the messenger bag with the divorce papers tucked inside.

  “Do you have a pen?” I ask her.

  “What?” Lilly says.

  “Not you, dumbass,” I whisper, a bit too loud. “I was talking to Chloe!”

  “Of course I have pen!” Chloe says and looks at me like I’m an imbecile.

  “Well, excuse me for double checking,” I whisper, then into the walkie-talkie, “Do it, Lilly, we’re almost to the nurses’ station.”

  I hear a table hit the floor and then Lilly yells, “What am I doing in here? Where am I? How did I get here? I’ve missed the school bus again!”

  Everyone within sight jumps into motion and Chloe and I turn our backs as the crowd whirrs by. When I look up, I see the bed linens and the mattress fly out the door and into the hallway. Lilly slams the door shut and, as specified in the plan, rams the bed up against it. Calls go out for security as Chloe and I hustle past the nurses’ station and slip unnoticed into Richard Stacks’ room.

  “What the hell is that noise?” he asks in a rough, scratchy voice. “Tell whoever that is to hold it down, if you can handle that, which you probably can’t because I asked for a glass of water an hour ago and apparently no one here is competent enough to put ice in a cup because I still do not have any water.”

  “Shut your mouth, Richard,” Chloe says and stalks over to the bed. He makes a move to push the call button on the bed, but she slaps his hand away and says, “Now, you listen to me.”

  What comes out of Chloe’s mouth for the next few minutes leaves Richard Stacks gaping with wide eyes and I’m somewhat shocked myself.

  “This is blackmail, Chloe!” he shouts. “Nurse!”

  Chloe reaches into her bag and I think she’s about to pull out the divorce papers, but she doesn’t. She pulls out a knife as long as my shoe and presses it up to her husband’s throat.

  “Open your mouth again and it will be the last breath you take.” She looks at me. “Get the papers out.”

  I hustle over and fumble around till I get the papers out of the bag and onto my clipboard and as bad as I hate Richard Stacks, I’m starting to feel a little sorry for him.

  “Here,” I say.

  “Hold it down where he can sign it,” Chloe orders.

  “I’m not signing anything,” Richard Stacks grunts and Chloe presses the tip of the blade into his neck, drawing blood. “Really, Richard?” she hisses. “Then I guess I’ll have a nice package delivered to your darling little mother first thing tomorrow.”

  “You wouldn’t do that too me,” he sniffles. “Please, Chloe, we can go to counseling, anything, please don’t tell Mama. Please, I’ll do anything.”

  “Then sign the papers,” she says, handing him a pen with her other hand.

  I offer him the clipboard, but the stupid bastard just shakes his head, while the tears pour down his cheeks. The fire alarm sounds and I look at Chloe and say, “We gotta get out of here.”

  She wipes the blade across Richard’s chest and he squeals in horror.

  “I’m just wiping the blood off, you idiot,” she says, “and if you don’t want to sign the papers, fine, but Mommy-dearest will be looking at pictures of your disgusting dick and reading about all the nasty things you want to do to, who was it? ManAss2004? First thing in the morning and that’s if I don’t decide to deliver it to her tonight.”

  “Give me the pen!” he wails. “Give me the pen you heartless bitch!”

  “
Man,” I say, “you are so fucking stupid. You’re more scared of your mama than you are a knife to your throat?” I hand him the clipboard and he scribbles his name across the highlighted lines. Chloe jerks the papers out of his hand and stuffs them into her bag, along with the knife.

  “If you ever,” she says, “come near me or say one bad word about me, you can rest assured that your fat ass mother will not be the only one who finds out about your dirty little secret. Understand?”

  “Yes, Chloe,” he moans. “I understand.”

  “Let’s go,” she says.

  We bolt out of his room and I grab a gurney in the hallway. We run down to the room Lilly commandeered and find it is surrounded by security guards and fire men. Chloe and I pull our medical masks over our faces and push the gurney through the crowd.

  “Sixth floor!” I yell. “Sixth floor, mental health coming through!”

  I hear Dr. Sebastian Rain in a heated conversation with Deputy Dax Dorsett who is accusing the good doctor of all matter of wrongdoing. The crowd parts to let us through and I knock three times on the door and then tell everyone to stay back. Lilly opens the door and Chloe pushes the gurney into the room. Lilly jumps on the bed and I fasten the straps and she throws a pillow case over her head and starts singing Row, Row, Row your Boat. I keep my head down as we hustle our “patient” out the room and to the elevator.

  “Excuse me,” Dr. Sebastian Rain yells, “could you please stop a minute and let me see that patient?”

  “No sir,” I say. “Doctor’s orders to get the patient confined and subdued as quickly as possible.” We push Lilly into the elevator.

  “I am a Doctor,” Sebastian Rain thunders and puts his hand out to stop the doors from closing, “and I demand to see that patient!”

  “I don’t give a rat’s ass who you are,” I say and shove him back away from the elevator doors.

  “You!” he growls.

  “You,” I say, “can go fuck yourself.”

  I see fury fill his features as the elevator doors close.

  “Ace, shit!” Lilly yells, hopping off the gurney, “Why did you do that? Now he’s going to call security on us! Why in holy hell can you not ever just keep your damn mouth shut?”

  “He was going to call security anyway,” I yell back.

  Chloe has her walkie-talkie to her face. “Pick us up at the loading dock, George. We are on our way.”

  “On our way where?” I ask Chloe.

  “To the basement and then we have to run like hell to the other side of the hospital, raise the dock door, and jump.”

  “How do you know that?” Lilly asks.

  “Field trip last month,” she answers. “Lilly you better lose the house shoes.”

  When the elevator doors open, we haul ass across the basement of the hospital and I start thinking about every horror movie I’ve ever seen and get really freaked out. Then all of the alarms start going off and I hear people coming after us.

  “Pull that red string!” Chloe yells and she slides to a stop next to the dock door. I pull the red string and she pushes the lock back and the door flies open and I look down at a five foot drop.

  “Shit!” I say.

  “Jump!” Chloe yells and over the edge she goes, followed immediately by Lilly.

  I look back and see the guards rushing toward us then close my eyes and leap into the air. When I hit the pavement, I’m sure I’ve broken both of my ankles and one of my legs, but I get up and run to the Mercedes like a Biggest Loser contestant toward a ten pound advantage prize. We pile in and George hits the gas and we clear the area just as the police cars round the corner. George doesn’t let off the gas all the way back to The Waverly Estate and I finally exhale once we are inside the gates. I’m pretty sure Sheriff Jackson would have hauled our asses off to jail without so much as a smile.

  “Holy shit,” is all I can think up to say.

  “Holy shit, indeed,” George says, and smiles at me.

  It’s almost midnight by the time I leave The Waverly Estate. I drive straight to Ethan’s and call Mason.

  “I’m in the bed,” he mumbles.

  “I’m in the driveway,” I say and in less than sixty seconds, he’s sitting in my car. We don’t say a word all the way back to my house. He follows me back to my bedroom, gently nudges Buster Loo into the hallway, and closes the door.

  42

  When the sun breaks through the curtains, I am wide awake and my heart is churning with feelings I can’t get under control. Most prevalent by far is the crazy, nervous feeling of being madly in love with the snoring man stretched across my bed.

  I reach over and stroke his short blonde hair and my mind spins off in a million different directions.

  What have I done? Why did I do this? How long has it been since I’ve had sex? Who was the last person I had sex with? Why can’t I remember? What if I’m pregnant? What was that weird move he made just before he finished? Do I want to marry him? Should I make him leave or should I cook him breakfast? How many hot young things has he bedded in the past three years? Why can’t I remember the last time I had sex? What is he doing here? Why did I go get him? Would he be mad if I woke him up to do it again?

  I decide to make some coffee and try to sort things out in my head before he wakes up. Buster Loo is standing in the hallway when I open the door and he runs past me without so much as a glance and rocket launches himself onto the bed where he curls up next to Mason. Then he squints his eyes at me as if to convey his dismay at spending the night in the hallway.

  I go to the kitchen and put on some coffee and I’m staring out the window trying to tame my crazed thoughts when I feel Mason’s arms slip around my waist. He pulls my hair back and kisses me gently on the neck. I turn around and he hugs me tight, cradling the back of my head in his hand.

  He pours two cups of coffee and hands one to me. Smiling, he nods toward the patio and we go outside and sit down. Buster Loo bursts through the doggie door and makes a real scene of running around and doing his speedy dog crazy-eights twice as fast as he usually does.

  Mason looks at me and I look at my day lilies and everything in my mind falls away and all I’m left with is a pressing need to spend the rest of my life as Mrs. Mason McKenzie.

  “So,” he says quietly and when I look at him, my insides start to quiver. He cocks his head sideways and says, “What did you say your name was again?”

  I bust out laughing and so does he and we sit and talk like old friends, laughing through two pots of coffee. He helps me make breakfast and insists on doing the dishes while I take a bubble bath. I soak in tub and try not to daydream about happily ever after.

  I hear him start the shower in the guest room and five minutes later, he steps into the doorway of my bathroom, wearing only a towel.

  “Are you gonna flash me?” I ask.

  “No,” he says flatly, “I’m not the kind of man that flaunts my baby carrot.”

  I laugh out loud and say, “Baby carrot, indeed.”

  He raises his eyebrows and smiles, nodding toward the bed. I tell him to close the door so I can get out. He politely complies and I hop out of that tub, wrap a towel around me, brush my teeth, and shake out my hair. I grab my bottle of Sweet Cotton and spray my body down like I’m putting out a fire. When I open the door, Mason is laying in my bed with the sheet pulled up to his waist. His towel is in the floor and his baby carrot has transformed into a cucumber. I saunter around to my side of the bed and he starts sneezing like he just snorted a line of black pepper.

  “What is that smell?” he says, rubbing his nose.

  “Sweet Cotton,” I say, cringing.

  “Oh God,” he says, “It smells great,” he sneezes again, “but I think it’s got my allergies stirred up.” He sneezes sixteen more times.

  I go back into the bathroom, dejected, and shower off half a bottle of Sweet Cotton. When I go back into the bedroom, he’s on my side of the bed, reading Cosmo.

  “What are you doing?” I ask.
/>   “Researching the enemy,” he says and smiles. “Come here, baby, and let me smell that hair.”

  “Better not,” I caution as I slip into bed beside him, “you might have another attack.”

  He rolls onto his side, drapes his arm around me, and leans down close to my face.

  “I might attack you,” he says and pulls me up next to his cucumber.

  43

  After discreetly returning Mason to Ethan’s house, I pull into the Red Rooster and pick up a cheeseburger and a butterscotch shake. I’m about to indulge a big juicy bite when my phone rings.

  “You are not gonna believe this!” Lilly exclaims, before I even say hello.

  “What?”

  “Chloe just called me.”

  “Why wouldn’t I believe that?” I ask.

  “It was a very short conversation.”

  “I believe that too.”

  “Will you just shut up and listen?” Lilly yells and I start sniggering. “Chloe just called and invited us to visit her at 309 Parker Drive.”

  “What?” I almost choke to death. “What the hell is she doing back there?”

  “She said it was moving day.”

  “No shit,” I say and sigh with relief.

  “No shit,” she says. “Can you meet me there in 30 minutes?”

  “I will be there with bells on!” I say and almost run over a car hop getting out of the Red Rooster parking lot.

  When I turn into Chloe’s subdivision, the first thing I see is a 53 foot moving van backed into her driveway. I park on the curb and go into the garage where I find Chloe sitting on the steps of the attic drop door speaking to six men in moving tee shirts. The moving men disperse and I just stand there like a knot on a log, taking it all in.

  “They just got here,” she says proudly, “and I’m taking everything.”

  “Really,” I say, “that is awesome, Chloe.”

  “Not because I want it,” she says with a smug grin, “but because I want the neighbors to see me taking it and I know that’s not really a good reason, but-” she shakes her head and tosses me a jug of weed killer. “Here, would you care to spray the grass?”