Bad Seed

by Rye Hart

  “You’re fantasizing about high school, a time in our lives where we wore blue mascara, put way too much hair spray in our hair, and had horrible back acne. It wasn’t that glamorous,” Ana said.

  “You had back acne?” I asked.

  “You didn’t? The point is this cruise can be a fresh start for us both.”

  “You just want to see if Tommy’s going to be there,” I said.

  “Sorry. Your ex’s best friend was hot back then, so I’m sure he’s hot as hell now. But Rhett probably looks a wreck. I bet he’s bald and fat now. Don’t get your hopes up.”

  “So, Tommy’s a stud and Rhett assumed to be a nasty piece of trash.” I asked.

  “Yep. That’s karma when you break my best friend’s heart. He’ll always be that in my eyes,” she said. “Now, please tell me you have a bikini to show off that body of yours. We’re going to be sunbathing, baby!”

  “I have three,” I said.

  “Oh, yes. You can have a drinking bikini, a lounging around bikini, and a swimming bikini.”

  “Can’t I just use all three for all those activities?” I asked.

  “Ew. No. Girl, you still have a lot to learn about being a female. But luckily, you have me as your best friend.”

  “I’m twenty-seven years old. If I don’t know how to be a girl now, then it’s not going to happen,” I said.

  “You’ve got curves in all the right places, sweetheart. You’ve got that long brown hair and those light blue eyes. I see men staring at you no matter where we go. I know what’s underneath those clothes. We hit the gym every damn day. But you don’t know how to dress yourself. It’s all jeans and T-shirts and the occasional pencil skirt that looks awful on you.”

  “Awful? Pencil skirts look awesome on girls with curves,” I said.

  “Yes, when you’re in your thirties. But when you’re still living it up in your twenties, it’s an entirely different sense of fashion. Plus, if you’re going to win big at the auction, you’re gonna need to spice your shit up.”

  I stopped what I was doing and stared at Ana. “Uh, what ‘auction’ are you referring to Ana?”

  Ana smiled deviously and batted her eyelashes at me. “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I signed you up for the charity date auction. You know, you get on stage and hot guys fight over who gets to spend an evening with you?”

  My heart stopped in my chest and my mouth went dry. “Ana! Why the fuck would you do that?”

  Ana rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “Because, you need some sort of fun in your life. Plus, it’s for a good cause. All the money raised is going toward Jeff Banks’ medical bills.”

  “Wait, Jeff Banks? The guy from the class below us that had cancer?” I asked.

  “Yep. You don’t want to be a dick and not help your fellow man, do you?” Ana asked, knowing damn well that I couldn’t say no now.

  I sighed and shook my head. “Fine,” I said.

  Ana giggled and clapped her hands like a little girl. “Good. Trust me, you’re gonna thank me for this later.”

  “I doubt it. Still, auction or not, I’ll stick to my jeans and T-shirts,” I said.

  “For the love of fuck, please don’t tell me that’s all you packed.”

  “It’s not all I packed,” I said, grinning. “I’m just playing with you.”

  “So if I pull open your drawers, I’m going to see all your jeans in there?” she asked.

  “I packed a couple, but it’s not the bulk of my suitcase.”

  “Unzip it,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Open up your suitcase. I’m checking your shit.”

  “It’s a good thing we don’t live together. I’d have killed you by now,” I said.

  I stepped off to the side and let Ana rummage through my things. She was tossing everything I had folded and packed for myself as I rolled my eyes. I loved her to death, but we were completely different people. She was obsessed with makeup and fashion and Louis Vuitton heels, and I couldn't have cared less what I wore on a regular basis. I dressed up for work and to go out, but the rest of the time was spent in very comfortable jeans and shirts I could breathe in.

  Not shirts that hiked my tits up to my chin.

  Ana started rifling through my closet as I sat down. She was going to single-handedly repack me for this cruise, so I let her have at it. I had a separate backpack already in the trunk of my car, packed with jeans and my most comfortable off-the-shoulder shirts. I grinned as she packed skirts and dresses, heels I didn’t even remember purchasing, and panty sets that made me roll my eyes.

  “We’re gonna get you laid on this trip. Mark my words,” Ana said.

  “Have you seen the RSVP list?” I asked.

  Ana sighed as she zipped up my suitcase.

  “I have, yes.”

  “Do you know if Rhett’s name is on it?” I asked.

  “Why do you think I’m packing you all these revenge outfits?”

  “So he is coming,” I said.

  I felt Ana’s eyes on me as I sat back against the wall.

  “Have you two spoken at all since he broke up with you?” Ana asked.

  “Nope. Not one peep out of him in ten years, which was for the best, I guess. I’m just not thrilled about being trapped on a boat with him for a week. I was hoping maybe he wasn’t going to be there.”

  “Even though I know you’re ready to hop on that dick?” she asked.

  “I’m not ready to hop on anything,” I said. “Fuck, Ana. Is this whole thing good idea? Should we back out?”

  “Hey. I upgraded our tickets on this cruise. We get all the top-shelf drinks we want. You aren’t backing out on me now. I need a drinking buddy.”

  “Wait, you did what? How much did that cost? How much do I owe you?” I asked.

  “Chanel, I did this for two reasons. One, we’re going to be in the Caribbean with some serious hunks. And, if Rhett is there and I have to beat his ass, then we can drink the nights away and have a bitch-a-thon. We can curse him out, you can slap his face, and then we can go have celebratory drinks and walk away with him out of your system.”

  I stood and hugged the neck of my best friend.

  “That’s a tad bit extreme, but I love you anyway for thinking of me,” I said.

  “I love you too. Now, get that memory of your breakup out of your head. We’re about to head out for an awesome fucking cruise with shitheads we haven’t seen since high school. It’s gonna be great.”

  “You and I have a very different definition of great,” I said.

  But she was right. The closer we got to the date of the reunion, the more I was replaying that memory in my head. It was like a broken record, skipping on repeat. I couldn't stop it no matter how hard I fought, and the longer I stood there embracing Ana, the bigger the lump in my throat got.

  “What happened that night, Chanel? You still won’t talk about it,” Ana said.

  “Fuck, Ana. It was a nightmare. I still can’t belief it went down the way it did that night.”

  I could remember as if it were yesterday. We planned on waiting until prom night to have sex for the first time, but the week before, we’d gone too far and ended up doing it in the back of his car, quick and dirty. I hadn’t regretted it. I loved him, and I’d been happy he’d been my first. Rhett, however, had wanted to make it up to me. We’d told our parents that we were going to stay at a friend’s house for an after party, and Rhett had his older brother rent us a hotel room and buy us a bottle of champagne. He wanted to make it a romantic night for us – or so I thought.

  I shook my head and looked up at Ana. “I had gone to the bathroom and Rhett had told me to meet him in the limo, so we could go to the hotel. I was so excited, Ana.”

  “I remember,” Ana said, her voice tinged with sadness.

  I took a breath and continued. “When I got to the car and opened the door, Rhett was there with his pants around his ankles and some other girl I’d never seen before in his lap.

  I tur
ned and tried to run, but my damn heel got caught and I fell right on the sidewalk.”

  I rubbed my knee absently, like I could still feel the pain. Part of me always would, I guess.

  “Fuck, Chanel. Is that why you don’t wear heels anymore?” she asked.

  “I’d never felt more weak and vulnerable in my life. I was crying on the damn sidewalk. I fucking hated that night, I hated that dress, and I hated those damn heels. I felt beautiful that night, Ana. Until he ruined it. And, all the beauty in the world didn’t matter because I still lost him.”

  I panned my gaze up to my best friend as she nodded in understanding.

  “Then this cruise isn’t gonna be about starting new,” she said.

  “What?” I asked.

  “This cruise is gonna be about reclaiming what’s rightfully yours. Chanel, we’re getting your confidence back. Plus, who knows, you might get bid on by some super-hot rich motherfucker who will rock your world.”

  “Whatever,” I said.

  “You can ‘whatever’ me all the way to my car.”

  “I thought we were taking mine?”

  “Girl, I know you better than that. I saw that backpack in the back seat of your car. I know what’s in there. We’re taking mine. You aren’t sneaking those ratty clothes onto that damn cruise.”

  “I’m not wearing heels and skirts the entire time,” I said.

  “Don’t worry. You’ve got flip flops in there, and I packed you a few surprises while you were buried in your thoughts. You’ll like them, trust me. Now come on, we’re gonna be late.”

  Chapter 2

  Rhett

  Fuck. Am I really do this?

  “You ready for a fucking good time, bro?” Tommy asked.

  Tom waved for the bartender to order another round of drinks for us.

  “I can’t believe you talked me into this,” I said.

  “Come on. You know it’s gonna be awesome. Think about all the hot chicks we went to school with. You know how hot they’re all gonna be now?” he asked.

  “Or they could all be moms that let themselves go and have four kids and drink like fish just to feel young again,” I said.

  “Oh, yeah. Life of the party over here. You mean to tell me we’re about to take a week-long cruise in the Caribbean, and you’re not the least bit excited?”

  I shrugged my shoulders as I leaned back in my chair.

  “Rhett. Don’t tell me you’re still hung up on that girl you wasted the best years of your life on,” Tommy said.

  “It doesn’t matter. She probably doesn’t even remember me anyway,” I said.

  “You know who I’m hung up on? That girl’s best friend. What was her name?”

  “Ana?” I asked.

  “Was that her name? What’s-her-face’s friend?”

  “Really? You don’t remember any of their names?” I asked.

  “I’m shocked you do. With all the pussy you slayed as a SEAL, I’m surprised you’re letting this chick piss on your good time.”

  “Her name was Chanel, and her friend’s name was Ana.”

  “Fuck. That chick had some curves in high school. You think she’s still got them now?” he asked.

  “Chanel or Ana?” I asked.

  “We are not focusing on Chanel. That girl broke your heart,” he said.

  “Nope. I broke hers.”

  “Then what the fuck’s the problem?”

  The problem was I had left my heart in pieces right next to hers. That had been the worst night of my life. I knew I’d had a lot to drink, we all had. Someone snuck some vodka in and spiked the punch, just like in all those old cheesy 80’s movies. I don’t remember being so drunk that I would fuck some random girl in the limo while waiting for Chanel. I don’t even know who the girl was, I just remember the look on Chanel’s face when she’d opened the door and caught us.

  And worst part of it was I didn’t go after her. I avoided her until after graduation when I left for the Navy. I’d always known she deserved so much more than I could offer. Subconsciously, I knew that she wouldn’t break up with me, unless I first broke her heart.

  In a way, the universe gave me what I wanted – as fucking twisted as was.

  “Well, I know Connie Thomas isn’t married,” Tommy said.

  “Our class president? That woman’s crazy,” I said.

  “And it’s the crazy ones who always have the tightest pussies.”

  “You’ve fucking got that right,” I said.

  “Emma isn’t either. And neither is Lauren.”

  “Emma Deese? The cheerleading captain? I thought she married Brian.”

  “Nope. They were engaged, but he was apparently cheating on her. Poor Emma. I bet she hasn’t rebounded yet.”

  “And I bet you have just the words to comfort her,” I said.

  “Oh, my tongue can do some serious talking,” he said.

  “And who the hell is Lauren?” I asked.

  “You don’t remember Lauren? That chick who was all over you freshman year?”

  “The one with the coke bottle glasses?” I asked. “Have you gotten that desperate?”

  “Desperate? You haven’t looked at the RSVP list have you?”

  “Nope,” I said.

  “Then how did you know Chanel was going to be there?”

  “I didn’t, but thanks for confirming that little tidbit. That’s sure to make this trip a fucking blast.”

  “Dick. Anyway, Lauren’s fucking hot now, a bit thin, but I can work with that. Long as I can suckle on those nipples of hers, I can make do with everything else.”

  “You're a mess,” I said.

  “And you should be one. You’re in the prime of your life. You’re a fucking SEAL. You’ve got muscles I wish I had, and you’ve got that brooding stare that makes women want to fix you. You’ll be drowning in pussy, if not from our high school class, then from the exotic women we’ll be meeting on this cruise, on these islands. Man, get your head in the game. It’s time to get your shit together.”

  I chuckled and shook my head as the bartender brought us another round of drinks.

  “Retired, SEAL.”

  “In all realness, man, I’m glad you’re home for good. This only seeing you when you’re stateside shit was getting old,” Tommy said.

  “You glad to have the dream team back together?” I asked.

  “Yep. And I’m ready to take this dream team on this cruise. It’s gonna be amazing, even though you’re already trying to shit on it.”

  “I’m not trying to do anything. I’m just thinking.”

  “Since when did you start thinking?” he asked.

  “Since I realized I was an adult?”

  “That’s bullshit. This cruise isn’t supposed to have us acting like adults, only indulging in adult whims.”

  “Despite what you think, I am excited about it. Got my shit packed and everything,” I said.

  “We riding separately, or we taking my car?”

  “Why can’t we take my car?” I asked.

  “Because you’re a shit driver. Remember what happened the last time?”

  “What? You don’t like the way I drive my cars?”

  “You drive them like they’re tanks. I’d like to live to see this cruise. I really wanna know what Emma’s pussy tastes like,” he said.

  “Fine. Fine. We’ll take your car. But you’re paying for dinner,” I said with a grin.

  “See? There’s the Rhett I’ve been looking for. Good to have you back, brother.”

  “Good to be back,” I said.

  I was nervous about this trip. I hadn’t even seen Chanel since that night, much less spoken to her. What took place that night was a train wreck. She came prepared for the night of her life, and I broke her damn heart. Hell, I trampled it and left it out on the gutter. I’d replayed that night over and over in my head for years to come, and I still couldn’t come up with a logical explanation for how I ended up under that girl.

  I’d held Chanel close all nigh
t long. I’d danced with her, and kissed her all night long. I’d planned to take her to that room my brother had rented for us, open that bottle of champagne, and make love to her like she deserved, instead of the sloppy fuck in the back of my car we’d had the week before.

  Apparently, sloppy fucks in the back of a car, were my specialty. But with Chanel, it was special. No one else could ever compare.

  I’d tried so many times over the years to figure out what had happened. Had I been so careless and drunk to know who I was with at that moment? Had I sabotaged us, and broken us both in the process in some misguided attempt to let her go?

  She was the smarter girl I knew. A writer with natural talent, and an A student. I was barely a C student, and I only tried hard enough for those grades so that I could still play lacrosse and run track. I knew college wasn’t in my future, and Chanel had a chance to go Ivy League. I didn’t want to mess that up for her.

  But, fuck, could I have let her down a better way?

  Apparently not.

  Of course, I kept tabs on Chanel since high school. I wanted to know how she was doing at Cornell. If she was happy. If she was moving on with her life. She was amongst the top of her class, running the school newspaper and constantly on the front page with shit that affected their college community. She graduated a semester early and took a paid internship with The New York Times. Now, she had her own blog that generated thousands of views and comments and shares. Now, she was selling her own individual voice to online and paper publications.

  She was making something of herself.

  I couldn’t have been prouder of her. Even in my darkest moments in combat, her happiness was the only thing prayed for. She was better off without me.

  Who the hell was I? Rhett Smith. A fucking jock from the wrong side of town, dating the best thing to happen to him and kidding himself all along.

  “Earth to Rhett. You there, man?”

  “Sorry. What was that?” I asked.

  “Holy fuck, really? I’ve been rambling on for the last ten minutes, and you weren’t even listening?” Tommy asked.

  “Let me guess. You were talking about all the pussy you’re gonna eat on this cruise,” I said.

  “Well, that wasn’t all of it. I was also asking you about all those island excursions. You picked yours yet?” he asked.