The Firsts Series Box Set

by M. J. Fields

  “What are you doing?” she asks as I latch her in.

  “Our father and I were in an accident. I was buckled. He wasn’t. I hung upside down for a couple hours, unable to free myself, and I watched him die.” I sit back and look at her. She looks horrified. “I’m mostly over it. I just insist everyone buckles up.”

  She reaches over and grabs my hand. “I’m sorry.”

  I squeeze hers in return. “I’m sorry you didn’t get to know him.”

  She shrugs. “I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted to.”

  “I’m sure the sober Troy Fields with his life together and not worrying about all the secret parts of his life would have loved you in his final year, as he did me.”

  She nods. “Can we do a little less talking about dead dads and more about how much I can’t wait for you to meet Karin Jean and her pup Lola?”

  I smile and nod. “Of course.”

  Silence, and then we both start laughing.

  I look up to see Clive looking at us through the rearview mirror then back at the road.

  In less than ten minutes, we have talked about what our plans are for the day. Normally, when Mom and I do this, it’s talk about the previous day, but we are too busy talking about breast pumps and booby milk.

  “So, after hair, we can do manicures, pedicures, and get our eyebrows waxed before having lunch. Does that sound good?” I ask as Clive pulls up in front of the brick building. The exterior first floor is painted a deep purple.

  “We’re gonna wax here if that’s okay. I sent Karin Jean a message. Luckily, she can get us both in,” she says over her shoulder as she gets out of the car before Clive has a chance to even open the door. When I get out, he’s there.

  “I’ll text you.”

  He nods.

  “Thanks, Clive.”

  I walk into the building behind Keeka and immediately come face to face with a suit of armor standing next to the reception desk and think, Interesting. I see Keeka sit on a couch to my left and pat the seat next to her.

  “She’ll be here soon. We’re early.”

  It’s then that I see a silver, headless manikin with a pink apron adorned with clips, brushes, combs, and all sorts of tools used by a hair stylist. She even has a pink strapless top with two bright yellow color tint mixing bowls with colorful gems hot glued to the bottom, and two-color application brushes sticking out.

  Apparently, I have stared too long because Keeka asks, “What do you think?”

  “I think she either lost her head over the knight over there, or he cut it off.”

  She smiles as I sit down.

  “I also think this place is much cooler than the places Mom and I go. I like it.”

  “Do you need to use the bathroom before we wax?” She stands.

  “Um, sure.” I stand and follow her down the long corridor, taking in all the rare and beautiful art. There are more mannequins dressed in different fashions and beautiful chandeliers over the stylist’s chairs.

  Past two rooms to another sitting area and to a doorway, I follow Keeka down some stairs into a brick basement where there are more manikins, but they are dressed in leather and studs.

  “What is this place?” I ask.

  “They use this for fashion shows every now and then.”

  “What kind of fashion? S&M?”

  She laughs and points to a doorway. “You use that one. Make sure you wipe good.” With that, she disappears into the one next to it.

  “Wipe good?” I laugh as I step inside.

  When we walk back up the stairs and into the fortress of beauty, which is amply named, I see a tiny and adorable little dog skipping toward us. Yes, skipping. And dare I say, smiling?

  “Hey, Lola.” Keeka bends down and pets her.

  “Who’s first?”

  I look from the cutest little pup to see who is probably Karin Jean. She’s tiny, with beautiful dark hair, perfect makeup, and a smile that is warm and inviting. I immediately like her.

  “You wanna go first?” Keeka asks.

  I shrug. “Sure.”

  I walk into the room behind Karin Jean and see it decorated with beautiful crosses hanging everywhere.

  “I’ll take your coat.” She smiles as I hand it to her. As she’s hanging it on a hook, she tells me, “Everything off from the waist down, except your socks.”

  “Excuse me?” I ask, needing clarification.

  She turns and looks at me. “Oh, Keeka didn’t tell you?”

  “Tell me what?”

  “She made you an appointment for a Brazilian and didn’t tell you?” She shakes her head and opens the door. “Keeka, will you come here a minute?”

  When Keeka walks in, she looks at me curiously. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie.

  “Is this your first time?” Karin Jean asks me.

  I nod. “I normally shave, but—”

  “If your hair isn’t at least a quarter of an inch long, it—”

  “Well, it’s been a while,” I admit.

  “Then we should be fine, right?” Keeka asks Karin Jean.

  “As long as she’s sure, then yep.” She smiles.

  Uh, God, am I sure? I think to myself. Then I think of what Logan said last night.

  You need to think about getting prepared.

  “London, if you don’t want to—”

  “No, really, it sounds fun.”

  Fun? What the hell is wrong with me?

  “I’ll go first,” Keeka says, dropping her pants right there.

  When I turn around, she laughs.

  “I’m pretty sure you’ve seen me before. Remember the delivery room?”

  “Oh, my gosh! That’s right!” Karin smiles at her. “Wow, you don’t even look like you had a child.”

  “A little girl, Leddie Lou.” Keeka smiles as she says her name, and my heart melts...momentarily. “But when you get a load of the mess I have down there, I bet I look a hell of a lot like a woman who stopped taking care of herself, so I apologize in advance.”

  “Oh, don’t be silly.” Karin smiles. “Hop on up there. And London, this should put you at ease a little bit.”

  At ease? Oh hell, what have I gotten myself into?

  Thankfully, Karin is positioned so I’m not getting the entire view of my sister’s vagina...again.

  I’m a visual learner. Whatever my mom or a teacher hasn’t taught me, I’ve learned on YouTube. So, if I take away the fact that this is my sister and my who-ha being next, I should feel more confident.

  Her legs are spread eagle, knees bent and flopped to the sides, and her heels are touching. Oh dear, my stomach knots thinking about when Mom took me to the OB/GYN for the first time and how terrified—no, mortified—I was, but I survived.

  You can do this, I tell myself.

  I look now at Keeka’s face. She’s chatting away like it’s no big deal as a wooden spatula of hot wax is spread over her pubic area. Next is a strip of cloth, just like those used to wax eyebrows, only bigger, is placed on her. Then Karin Jean pulls it away.

  I look from the hair speckled cloth as it’s tossed into the trash can to quickly looking up at Keeka, who looks totally fine.

  They continue chatting, and honestly, I am glad she went first because my anxiety is not as high as it was when I realized what was going on.

  After about fifteen minutes, she is done with that area, and then I watch as Keeka flips to her stomach and then pushes up into what I would describe as the child’s pose.

  I look away when a new wooden spatula nears her butt and Karin Jean asks, “Eyebrows, too?’

  “Might as well.” Keeka laughs.

  When she hops off the table, she’s fine, absolutely fine, and I tell myself I will be, as well.

  Being a little more modest or maybe it’s self-conscious, I turn my back and shed my leggings and panties. Then I sit on the table, and Karin Jean drapes a small cloth over my exposed center, which gives me a little more privacy, and for that, I’m grat
eful.

  When the hot wax hits my skin, I take a deep breath.

  “Are you okay?” Karin asks.

  I smile and nod. “Of course.”

  When she applies the wax removal strip and rubs it against my skin, I feel a little bit uncomfortable. When she rips it off, I feel like I’m on fire and may die. However, her cool, gloved hand immediately covering my heated flesh eases a little.

  “You okay?” she asks as she reaches for another wooden spatula.

  I have yet to catch my breath, so speaking isn’t an option.

  She looks back at me. “Do you need a minute?”

  I nod.

  She smiles and says, “So, London, is that a nickname or your real name?”

  “Real,” I squeak out.

  “That’s a beautiful and unique name.”

  Aside from the fact that she just ripped hair from my body, I think I love this woman. She is so personable and professional that, if it didn’t hurt, it wouldn’t be awkward.

  “Shall we start again?” she asks. My eyes widen, and she nods. “Maybe you’d like to try another time?”

  Keeka laughs. “And leave her with a bald patch?”

  I think I like Karin’s idea.

  “I could shave.”

  Both Keeka and Karin look at each other and giggle.

  Now I’m mortified.

  Karin looks back at me and apparently sees that. “Oh, honey, we aren’t poking fun at you.” She smiles.

  “It’s me,” Keeka says. “I had a razor incident that landed me in the ER and in desperate search for another way to groom.”

  “Meaning?”

  Keeka stands up and walks right next to my head. “I had sex for the first time with a guy who apparently had never seen a woman with a full bush. It embarrassed the hell out of me, so I shaved.”

  “And you ended up in the ER?”

  “After two weeks, I had this bump. I was sure I had gotten an STI from the asshole, so I forced myself to put my tail between my legs and get tested. The nurse practitioner told me that she was sure it wasn’t an STI, that in fact she’d seen it several times and it was caused by an ingrown hair getting infected. Apparently, razors harbor bacteria and, well, it’s not the most sanitary way to clean up our lady parts.”

  “Don’t stop there.” Karin giggles.

  Keeka shakes her head, rolls her eyes, and sighs. “In order to fix the issue, I had to have a procedure.”

  “A procedure?” I ask while thinking how lucky I have been that all the years I have shaved the bikini area I never had such an issue.

  She nods. “And it was a hell of a lot more painful than a Brazilian wax. I dare say it was equivalent to childbirth.”

  “What did they have to do?”

  “A shit ton of novocain to the outer vagina lips hurts almost as bad as lancing the bump so the infection could drain. Oddly, none of those two were as embarrassing as the voicemail I left the guy, blaming him for giving me an STI and calling him a piece of shit.” Keeka shakes her head, and Karin Jean chuckles.

  “So, London, you still wanna pussy out?” Keeka asks.

  I shake my head. “Wax away.”

  Karin starts again about five inches from my belly button, and it’s not as bad as the first strip.

  “I will tell you that, if you do this on a regular schedule, it begins to be less painful,” she tells me as she rips away the next sheet. “Unlike shaving, your hair grows back less coarse and much slower.”

  That’s a relief, and then...Rip!

  Oh God, this is awful, I think to myself.

  “The summer months, your hair will grow back faster.”

  Rip.

  “But honestly, you’ll get used to it.”

  Rip.

  When her fingers now spread me a bit, I grip the sides of the table. The hot wax is more sensitive here, but not painful.

  Phew.

  Rip.

  “Shit!” I cringe.

  “Almost done,” she says as I hang on for dear life.

  When she has removed all my hair, she sprinkles baby powder on me.

  “Okay, now flip over.”

  Dear God, let me not pass gas or something equally as embarrassing as this is, I think to myself.

  Hot wax, cloth, pressure, burying my face in the pillow, and...Rip.

  I sigh.

  “We’re all set,” Karin says, and I lower my ass immediately.

  “Was it that bad?” Keeka asks.

  “Honestly, the butt was the easiest.”

  She laughs. “I’ll make sure to tell Logan that.”

  I gasp. “Oh no, you won’t.”

  “Logan? You’re...” Karin pauses and looks at me, smiling almost sadly. “Logan Links?”

  I nod.

  “So, you’re London Fields.” She nods.

  “Yes, but—”

  “Butt,” Keeka jokes. “See? She’s still talking about the butt.”

  Karin puts her hand over mine. “What happens here, stays here.”

  “Thank you.”

  And just like that, she asks, “Eyebrows?”

  I smile. “Might as well.”

  Preparing To Heal

  Logan

  Walking around the second floor with Leddie, looking at the makeshift tables, I look down at her.

  “There are good people in the world. You’ll be one of them. I’ll be sure of it.”

  I laugh, looking at what we threw together when everything started coming in. We used plywood and saw horses to create the assembly line of tables to hold it all. I’m in awe of how generous this community has been.

  The university donated season tickets to both male and female basketball games next year, and season tickets for football, as well. Some of Dad’s old NFL contacts have donated trips with tickets, hotel rooms, and airfare. Maddox and Brody have Steel Total Destruction coming to open and close out the show with them, as well as at least a hundred travel packets to concerts donated from record labels and individual artists themselves.

  I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket and pull it out. I see the picture of Mom and I and hit decline. I just can’t allow her in my life, and I sure as hell can’t stay angry at her. She made a choice, and it wasn’t us.

  I look up when I hear laughter from the elevator. It’s not London or Keeka, but it is female.

  When I see a few familiar faces, I realize it’s London’s theater crew.

  “How can we help?” I hear a male voice. I know this one. It’s Fletcher.

  He walks around the group, and I force myself to be grateful that they want to help, and not annoyed that he’s here. Hell, I invited the guy here last week.

  “Thank you for coming, I’m not sure what else needs to be done.” I walk to the boardroom table that’s been pushed to the other side of the room. “I know there’s a list over here somewhere.”

  I look around the mess, hoping to find it, when Fletcher clears his throat.

  “This it?” He holds up a clipboard.

  I nod. “Appears so.”

  “All right.” He smiles as he looks down. After a moment, he nods and looks up. “It appears these baskets need to be taken to the Dome.” He looks over at the tables as he hands me the clipboard then scratches his head. “That’s a lot of Ubers.”

  “We can walk,” one of the girls suggests.

  “It’s twenty degrees outside and windy as hell.” I chuckle. “I thank you and appreciate the offer, but I suppose I could take a few trips myself when London and Keeka get back.”

  “We have four vehicles here,” I hear my dad say and look up. “A couple trips should do it.”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Maddox says as he and Brody enter the room.

  It goes silent, then a few giggles erupt.

  I look at Fletcher. “I’ll grab the diaper bag.”

  “I’ll help them gather their wits.”

  I nod. “Good luck.”

  Four trips in four vehicles loaded with college girls who love music and are no d
oubt swooning over Brody and Maddox, and the room is empty of over one hundred baskets to be given to people who spend one hundred dollars to spend the day celebrating Each Moment. Fletcher rode with me and Leddie each trip, and surprisingly, we are still alive.

  When we return from the final trip, Dad orders pizza and wings to be delivered for everyone.

  Twenty minutes from that time, all hell breaks loose when a tall, dark-haired girl walks into the room and asks who’s in charge.

  “We are,” I tell her, and she looks around.

  “Aw, Brody and Maddox Hines.” She smiles as she shrugs off her coat. Then she quickly walks to them, holds out her hand, and says, “I’m Isabella Steel, my uncle Xavier manages Steel Total Destruction. They’re checking into their hotel and would love to come over after they get settled.”

  “No way,” one of the girls whispers.

  Brody nods to her. “Of course.”

  “How is security?” she asks, pulling out her phone.

  “Tight,” Maddox assures her.

  “And these people?” she asks, looking around.

  “They’re my daughter’s classmates and volunteers,” he answers.

  “Have background checks been conducted on them?” she asks, eyeing them suspiciously.

  “Of course they have,” Maddox answers.

  “They have?” one of the girls whispers to another.

  “Oh God, I hope not.” She giggles.

  “Alexandra Sanford,” Maddox says, and her head spins in his direction, her mouth agape.

  “You know my name?”

  “He knows everything.” Dad laughs, trying to make light of the situation.

  “Wow,” she says.

  “Are you security for STD?” Maddox questions Isabella Steel.

  She shakes her head. “I’m public relations for all of Steel Incorporated. Their last PR rep is...on vacation, and I thought it would be a fun trip.” She hits a few more buttons on her phone then looks at London’s classmates. “Do you suppose you could keep your shit together and help me sell this event out?”

  “They’ve kept their shit together thus far,” I answer for them.

  Isabella Steel looks at me and cocks her head. “I know you. You’re the one who ran through the building in that bad-ass truck.”

  “There was something inside I needed to get to.”