by C. A. Harms
“I don’t remember half of these.”
“Of course you do.” Shrugging, she lowered her latte and leaned in closer. “I just spiced them up a little.”
“A little?” More like she rewrote every item in Darcy form. “Get a tattoo, are you serious?” Smiling wide, she nodded her head. “My father will kill me.”
“Which is why I said in a secret hidden location.” Rolling her eyes, she reached over the paper and pointed to that exact wording. “Like in your nether regions.”
“Excuse me?”
“Please, you act like your vagina would be the only one a tattoo artist will ever see. Believe me when I say they’ve tattooed and pierced more tits and girly bits than they can remember.”
“Speaking of girly bits.” I placed my finger on #2 and then scrolled over #5, #9, and #10. “Can I ask why half this list consists of tasks related to my vagina?”
“Sweet, sweet Ruby, that would be because she really needs someone to look out for her.”
“And you call this looking out for her?” Why was I friends with this person?
“Waxing only hurts for a short time and the aftermath is well worth it. Believe me when I say the sensation is ten times better without the forest to sift through.” She gave me an over-exaggerated wink. I looked around to ensure our conversation was not on display for anyone else inside Starbucks. “Second, dancing without panties is exhilarating, and the thrill actually might break down some of those towering walls you have built around you. Third, I never said you had to get a tattoo on your hoohah, I was thinking more like on your hip, but hey, if you want to go there, I won’t judge. Tattoo a mouse near your kitty for all I care.”
Covering my face, I felt the heat rise to my cheeks.
“The piercing, you could go for the navel, but again, if you want to be adventurous I won’t stop you. Let me know if that bitch hurts too bad though, because I could never get the guts up to allow someone to shove a needle through my cli—”
“Okay.” Holding up my hand, I prayed that she stopped there.
When her words faded, smothered by her laughter, I peeked through my fingers at her. She was loving this.
“Number ten, that one is a must, a need to get it and get it good. We fall back to the fact that you are wound so flipping tight you squeak when you walk. You need to loosen up.” I arched my brows upward in surprise and it took her a second to register the words she’d spoken. “Oops, sorry, bad choice of wording.”
This gained laughter from me as well, because come on, it was too fitting.
“You said you were tired of being invisible. You said you wanted to do all the things you’ve never done because you were to afraid. This is it. We follow this list, even with my well thought out additions.”
Well thought out, my ass.
“By the end you’ll be thanking me.”
I wasn’t so sure about that, she was a mess, a fun, easy going, living-her-life mess.
***
Stepping up to the front door of my house I paused, taking a few extra minutes to ensure I was presentable. One deep breath in followed by a slow exhale, I placed the key in the lock and twisted.
The soft click echoed, or so it felt. One should never feel this type of pressure when coming home. It’s supposed to be the place of escape, one of comfort and security. Only to me it was more like entering a courtroom where I would once again be placed on the stand to prove my innocence. The thing was I never knew exactly what I’d been charged with each time until the questions began. Home to me was stressful, it was nerve racking, and a place I hated. It was almost like I was trapped, caged like a wild animal that should be allowed to run free.
“Ruby.” I had not yet closed the door when my father was already calling out for me. “Running a little late, I see.” Stepping out of the den where his office was, I could already see the disapproving glare in his eyes. “I hope whatever it was you were doing after class was something productive and not simply a waste of valuable time.”
“I was at the library.” I no longer felt bad when I lied to him. It had become a means of survival. No matter what I did or said, however big or small, he’d always found something wrong in it. “I have a paper due in class next week.”
“Which class?” He wasn’t asking because he was interested. He was asking so that he could test me. But if the years alone with my father had taught me anything, it was to always be prepared.
“Professor Miles, International Relations,” I said with conviction. Silence fell over us as he watched, as if waiting for me to crack. I didn’t.
With a simple nod, I was dismissed and moved toward the staircase, fully intending to hide out in my bedroom. Only his booming voice stopped me. “I have dinner tonight with several faculty members, so I will be out late. You will have to fend for yourself.”
Looking back over my shoulders, I forced a smile. “Okay.”
I hurried to my room, closed the door behind me, and took in a slow, calming breath. Darcy was right, I was a ticking time bomb. One full of tension. The idea that this could be my life for the next however many years it took to complete college and gain a degree I didn’t even want made me feel nauseous.
I’d been told I would be a lawyer, not asked. It had never been about what I wanted, or what made me happy. My mother was the one who cared, she was the one who allowed me to be me. She never forced my hand, she gave me options, then in the end when we made the choice, it was always what I wanted. My father worshiped my mother, but truth be told, he’d never wanted children. He’d only conceived me to keep her happy. I was the one who reminded him he’d lost her.
I’d dreamt of being a dancer, though I knew that would have never been my only joy. I knew I wanted it to play a big part. But after my mother passed, my father took that joy away. Dance lessons were a waste. They were a pastime we no longer needed. I’d been groomed and pressured to be who he needed me to be. My dreams no longer mattered.
I was his robot.
Chapter Four
Jay
“Where are they?”
I remained perfectly still on the couch, ignoring the idiots behind me. There was never a dull moment here, never a quiet time to just enjoy some peace. The fraternity was cursed with a bunch of idiots and now the girls who dared to take on each one longer than just one night. I still found it amazing that those types of girls existed. Who in their right mind would willingly be a part of this group?
“My shoes, you idiot, where are they?” Blake barged into the living room and practically tackled Clayton, pushing on his chest, and kicking at his shins. “If you threw them outside again I swear I will―” She paused as if the words had failed her.
“Well, they aren’t outside.” Looking back, I noticed the blank look on her face and followed her glare toward the entrance to the kitchen. That’s when I could no longer hold back my own laughter. Xavier stood in the doorway holding up a clear bowl of some yellow substance, but there was no way to miss what was buried in the center. Bright red Chuck Taylors, the upper half of the high tops sticking out of the top of the bowl.
“You asshole.” It was more of a growl that ripped from the tiny fireball. Suddenly Blake was on Clayton like a feral cat thirsty for revenge. She jumped up, wrapped her arms around his neck, and fisted his hair.
The sounds that left Clayton were those you would never imagine from a grown man. It was like he was on fire. “It’s just Jell-O, woman. It washes, for fuck’s sake.”
“Red,” he screeched, only Eli did nothing to help him. “Get your woman. Fuck.” Blake was wild and all of us just stood by watching it unfold. Amazed was more like it as she tore into him and he continued to squeal like a baby pig. Loud, high-pitched squeals. “Did you bite me?” Clayton whined, then screamed. I’d guess from her repeating the act. “Holy shit, Eli, she’s fucking biting me.”
“Serves you right.” His chest vibrated with laughter, a wide smile stretched out over his lips. The way Elijah stood proud with his arms c
rossed over his chest was comical. “Those Chucks are her favorite. You fuck with her shoes, you pay the price. I’m not about to interfere with my girl’s revenge. Unless of course you fight back, then I’ll step in.”
“Motherfu—” Clay’s words turned into a cry. “Stop biting, Jesus, woman.”
Suddenly Blake was lowered to the floor and Clayton jumped back, his arms stretched out before him. “I hope you’ve had your shots.” Seriously, the guy just kept tormenting the wild cat. “If I have rabies―” She lunged and he jumped back, knocking over a lamp.
“When are you gonna learn?” Isaac entered the room, took one look at the shoes buried in Jell-O, and then settled on Clayton. “You know that you are never gonna win. You mess with Blake, you trigger a ripple effect. All of the girls gang up on you, even your own. In the end you are crying like a bitch and they have the upper hand.”
“He’s already crying like a bitch.” I settled back into the couch and held my phone before hitting replay on the video I’d just taken without him knowing. “And everyone is now watching it too.”
Everyone stopped, including Blake as she walked around the couch and stood at my side.
“Up to ninety-two views and growing rapidly. Comments are hilarious too.” Blake leaned in closer. “Listen to the little bitch boy squeal. Oh, and this one.” I pointed to the screen and Blake snickered.
“It’s confirmed Clayton is a pussy, because there is no man I know that can reach that note. #BitchBoy #NoDickClayton.”
I looked back at Clay to find him glaring at me. “You have your own hashtags now, how cute.”
I caught the tail end of his body flying through the air as he tackled me. “You prick!” He placed me in a headlock, but I could barely contain my laughter. He most definitely had the upper hand because I was face down on the couch with his weight pressing me into the cushions further from behind.
I was just about to flip him off of me when I heard his displeased groan and the weight of his body disappeared. But in the aftermath I was showered with a jelly-like substance along my arm and the side of my head.
Blake stood only a few feet away holding her dripping shoes in one hand and a now empty bowl in the other. Clayton was digging in his ear, jumping up and down, shooting daggers at the tiny woman who had once again outwitted him. “It’s just Jell-O,” she said with a smirk, “it washes.” Repeating his earlier statement with a smile, she cocked her hip and dared him to make a move. Of course Eli stood a few feet away, guarding his girl, ready to run to her aid had Clayton furthered the situation at all. One day the guy might learn that messing with Blake was never going to get him anywhere. She had the biggest man in the house on her side ready to bust heads if need be.
Together Blake and Clay glared at one another, neither moving. No words were spoken, only the challenging standoff.
“Holy hell,” Morgan entered the front door and paused, “what did I miss?”
It was the moment that broke the tension-filled stare down and everyone finally took in the crazy that Morgan was seeing. Tipped over lamp and couch cushions tossed around. Jell-O dripping off not only Clayton but me too, and Blake’s shoes. Globs of it piled on the floor around the edge of the couch.
“Jell-O wars,” I finally said, breaking the awkward silence. “We were just about to fill the baby pool and do some wrestling. Wanna join?” Xavier’s nostrils flared and he narrowed his eyes at me. Pushing off the wall, he took a step closer, but Morgan held her hand out to stop him. She maintained his moods so well, the girl had to be a saint.
“You wouldn’t want to challenge me, Jay.”
“And why’s that?”
“Morgan,” Xavier growled, giving her a warning she chose to ignore.
“Because I would embarrass you in front of all your brothers. Getting your ass handed to you by a girl is something a guy never wants to face. You already have so many obstacles to overcome, adding another embarrassment to your plate hardly seems fair.”
Why must the men in this house choose such sassy little shits to love?
“If you and I went to war, you’d cry worse than Clayton, people would video it, it would then be shared throughout social media. Of course they’d use your infamous hashtag so that it would get more hits. Then you would be awarded another suitable one, something like hashtag MaybeTheDickWasFake or hashtag HeHasNoRealDickToSwing.” There were a few snickers of laughter from those standing near, overhearing the hosing Morgan was giving me. “I’d feel bad, though I shouldn’t, because the truth would have come out eventually. You’d end up this lonely guy with four dogs, who picks day-old Doritos off your dirty shirt while watching reruns of The Bachelor, wishing you could get just one glance from a girl as hot as those on the show. And I would be to blame. It would all boil down to the day Morgan whipped the ass of Jay and every single love possibility of yours had to be forced to face the fact that you are in fact a dickless bitch who couldn’t even win against a pint-sized girl like me.”
I stared at her, part of me wanting to come back with a long line of shit, but truth was I was extremely proud. Not only of Morgan but of Xavier for landing a gem like her. The girl was a badass. A take no shit, stand on her on two feet kind of girl.
“I think I’m in love with your girl, X,” I said, offering her a wink. I stood and headed toward the bathroom to wash that sticky shit off me. Mornings, hell days, nights, and all the in between were crazy. You had to always be ready, be alert, because when you least expected it, shit got real.
Chapter Six
Ruby
“I can’t do this.” My hands were shaking, my stomach was in knots. “If I get arrested,” I whisper yelled to Darcy and she rolled her eyes. “My father will—”
“First of all, you are not going to get arrested.” Easy for her to say. She didn’t have an unpaid for nail polish in her purse that she was about to steal. “Second of all, that is why you get a shopping cart, open the top of your purse, and toss it in there. It’s just inside, not hidden, so it’s easier to convince anyone that it was an accident. Though you won’t get caught because look at you.” I looked down at myself and wondered what that could mean. “Who in their right mind would think that a girl wearing khaki capris and loafers would steal anything, especially a bright pink nail polish?”
I stared at her with my mouth hanging open. I know it’s meant for an insult, but she was so gentle about it that it was hard for me to get angry. Plus I was on the verge of a panic attack, so then there’s that clouding my defensiveness too.
“Smile.” She elbowed me as we stepped up to the counter. One by one we placed the items on the counter. Pads, tampons, shampoo, and conditioner. Two fingernail polish bottles and even acetone. Darcy chit chatted with the girl behind the counter while the entire time I was chanting in my head over and over for forgiveness. Oh, and a speedy cashier. I just wanted this entire thing to be over.
I missed everything that was said between them, just smiled as if I was pleasantly amused and entertained. The way Darcy kept continuously looking at me, I assumed I was failing, but only because she knew me too well. This kind of thing was hard for me. I’d spent so many years focusing on never stepping out of line that the idea of something like this getting back to my father terrified me―to the point of a panic attack. I was trembling.
“I love this color.” The cashier picked up the bright pink polish that was on the counter and looked at it, smiling. “It’s one of my favorites.”
“Mine too.” I forced the words out when Darcy kicked my foot with her pointy shoes.
We finished checking out, gathering our bags as we turned toward the door. For the first time since Darcy had convinced me to drop the polish in my purse I let out a slow breath. Not that I felt good about the crime I had just committed, but the idea of my father finding out was crippling. We’d just reached the doors and were about to step out when my body went rigid from the sound of my name being called out.
“Ruby.” I gripped the bags in my hand tight
ly and remained frozen in the doorway. So many things were going through my mind. Someone I knew had seen me do the unspeakable and now they were calling me out on it. My father would know, I would be a disgrace. “Is that you?”
Peeking ever so slowly over my shoulder, I came face to face with Vera, an old friend of my mother’s. “Oh my.” Tears filled my eyes and I dropped the bags to my feet as I moved toward her. “You’re here?”
I still felt almost as if I were imagining the entire thing. It had been years since I’d last seen her. Right after my mother passed, she’d transferred to Boston and that was it. I’d lost her too. A woman I’d admired who was always like the perfect aunt you could tell anything to and knew that your secrets would always be safe.
“I thought that was you.” She released me from the tight embrace, but continued to hold my shoulders firmly. “You look so much like her.” That statement both pleased me and made me sad. I knew without a doubt that my strong resemblance to my mother was a huge reason why my father could barely look at me. I was a constant reminder of who he’d lost.
“Are you visiting someone?” I looked around and saw no one near her.
“Actually,” she let her hands fall from my shoulders and smiled brightly at me, “I’ve moved back.”
She was back here. She came back. “Here?” I know that I sounded ridiculous but honestly I was still a little shocked. Vera Wright was the closest thing to a mother that I had left, and when she moved it was devastating to a young girl who had just lost her mother. Now she was telling me she was back, and part of me couldn’t decide if I were imagining the entire thing or if by some miracle something good was happening in my life and I should rejoice.
“I’ve just found an apartment and put a deposit down. Looks like I will be heading up the teaching department at UF Health.” I nodded because my brain was having a hard time catching up with my racing heart. I knew Vera wasn’t my mother, no one could ever take that place, but I honestly felt like a part of my heart was being healed. “I hope that this means you and I will be able to reconnect.”
