Sugar Rush

by Belle Aurora

  He whispers back, “Sure I can.”

  My nose bunches. I whisper back heatedly, “I’m not a cupcake.”

  Leaning closer, our noses almost touch. His warm eyes look directly into mine. “But you smell like one.”

  James’ eyes dart back and forth between us. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”

  But Max waves a hand at him. “It’s fine. I’m totally cool with it. She needs to learn, and she knows Ceecee, so let’s do it.”

  James looks uncertain. “Well, if you’re sure…” He looks over at me.

  I concede with a nod. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

  James smiles. “Okay then. What did you need to see me about, Max?”

  Max gets right to the point. “I need help with Ceecee. She’s not exercising, not stretching. She keeps getting cramps and spasms, and she tries to hide them from me. I mean, I’m not stupid, ya know? I know what pain looks like. I don’t know what to do anymore, Whit.” He bites the inside of his lip in a childlike gesture. His tone makes my chest pang. “She’s breakin’ my heart, man.”

  James’ face immediately shows concern. “She’s not doing her stretches?”

  Max shakes his head slowly. “Last time I saw her initiate any form of exercise was about four weeks ago, so I’ve been trying to get involved, ya know? Like, I try to make it daddy/daughter time, something we can do together, but ninety percent of the time, she ends up angry with me. She’ll leave in a huff. She barely talks to me anymore.”

  James takes a moment to process this, then nods. “Okay. We need to get her moving again or she’s just going to keep cramping, and that kind of discomfort is bound to make anyone cranky. How about we get her back here twice a week until I see some improvement?”

  Max lifts his arms to rest them on top of his head. His eyes close in relief. “Yes. Yes, please. She’s driving me nuts. She knows what she needs to do, I just…” Surprisingly, he looks over to me. “I just don’t know what to do anymore. She’s shutting me out.”

  I feel the pain in his voice. Part of me wishes I could wrap my arms around him and hug him until the pain melts away with my warm embrace. But that would be insane, so I’ll just sit here, staring back at him with a blank expression on my face.

  Nice.

  James pulls up his schedule. “I had a cancellation this morning. I can get her in as early as tomorrow afternoon, right after school.”

  Max quickly stands and reaches over the desk to take James’ hand in an enthusiastic shake. “I owe you, man. Thanks. We’ll be here tomorrow around three.”

  I don’t even think he realizes he does it, but Max turns, leans down, kisses me on top of my head, and then leaves. The place where he kissed me warms, and I want to feel that warmth on my lips.

  As soon as he leaves, James asks me, “You sure this isn’t going to be uncomfortable for you?”

  I lie through my teeth. “Not at all.”

  ***

  Helena

  Max was on my mind all afternoon. I saved his phone number from the voicemails he left me. I was so tempted to call, or message, or something. I heard his voice when he spoke about Ceecee. He looked right at me. Into me. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I wouldn’t have believe someone like the flirty, carefree Max I had built up in my mind was capable of such deep emotion. And it seriously rocked something inside of me.

  I’m a judgey bitch. That’s what it comes down to. I want to change. I made a vow to myself today. I would stop judging and start accepting. What happened with Max at Nat’s wedding happened. I’m willing to accept I was bitter. My bitterness was caused by rejection, whether he knew it or not. But he was right. Our friends and families are interwoven, and to hold a grudge over something so stupid is, well, stupid.

  We can be friends. I can do this. It won’t be hard. Not at all. So what if he looks like a god and smells like the tears of Jesus? Pffft! No problem. We got this. I just have to make sure he never knows I considered him my fantasy fling for a long, long time. And that will be a cinch. I never told my sisters. Hell, I never told anyone!

  Speaking of dream guys…

  Stepping out of the shower, I wrap a towel around my hair, and then myself. I throw open the door and head over to my hand luggage. The zip comes open with a sharp tug and I see him. I breathe, “Johnny.”

  My hands are gentle as I undo the rubber band securing my main man. As soon as I see his face, I break into a smile. But his face is not impressed. My stomach muscles clench. “Don’t look at me like that. I’ve been busy.” I swear, his brow rises, marginally. I swear it. I huff out an annoyed, “Yeah, well, some of us have jobs, Johnny.” I don’t like the attitude I’m being given. “You wanna stay in the freaking luggage?” If he could roll his eyes, he would.

  I unravel him and lay him on my bed. I towel myself off. My gaze veers to the bed to find the upper-half of the poster curls up, so he’s looking at my naked body. My nose bunches. “Perv.”

  I dress in jeans and a black tee that reads ‘Classy, sassy, and smart assy’, which was a gag gift from Nina for my last birthday. Being that I’m actually wearing it would bring her to tears. I was mean to be offended. I love it!

  Slipping on my white sneakers and placing my phone in my back pocket, I’m just about to head out the door when I spot the mini whiteboard Max left on my kitchen counter. And my heart sinks. It takes me no more than a second before I pick up the whiteboard and head out of my apartment. I ring the bell at apartment 309.

  Mrs. Crandle opens the door, dressed in a robe with her thick coke-bottle glasses sitting on the bridge of her nose. Confusion crosses her face. “Yes, dear?”

  Taking the whiteboard marker, I quickly write, ‘Am I still invited to tea?’

  I hold up the whiteboard and her face morphs into stunned disbelief. A surprised smile tilts her lips. “Of course! Come on in. I’ll get the water boiling.” She disappears down the hall. For a little woman, she’s quick. I let myself in and close the door behind me. When I turn, it takes me a moment to wrap my head around what I’m seeing. My feet are glued to the spot. I’m so shocked my mouth gapes.

  Three large black and white photographs hang side-by-side on the living room wall. The first is a portrait of a young woman in her twenties, sporting pin-up curls, a lithe body in a revealing but tasteful leotard, and she wears a smile so pretty I have to smile in return.

  The second image is a group shot with approximately thirty people in it. I’m quickly drawn to the third image. The man in the photograph doesn’t smile. Looking to be in his thirties, he scowls into the camera, looking fierce and angry. He wears a crew cut, and the muscles he flexes are bulging ridiculously. He is a tank.

  “Don’t let his expression fool you. He was an absolute teddy bear,” Mrs. Crandle utters from behind me. I almost jump out of my skin. My heart racing, with a squeak, I lift a hand to my heaving chest. She laughs softly. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

  A sheepish expression crosses my face. I write, ‘That’s okay. I scare easily.’ After another peek at the photographs, I write, ‘Your husband?’

  She looks up at the photo and nods. “Yes. That’s my Chester.” She mutters, “He wasn’t just my husband though.” She looks up at me, wistfully. “He was my whole world. I would’ve followed him anywhere.” She shakes her head and chuckles. “In fact, I did.”

  Wiping away my previous writing, I pen with a disbelieving smile, ‘You were carnies?’

  Without answering, she reaches over to gently take my arm. “Come sit, dear. Tea will be ready in just a moment.” As we reach the sofa, she shakes her head in confusion. “I’m sorry, I must have forgotten your name.”

  I shake my head. ‘I don’t think you heard me when I told you. My name is Helena.’

  She reads quickly and smiles. “My, what a pretty name.” Her little feet lead her away, and she calls out, “Tea should be done by now.”

  Cups rattle, cutlery clinks and finally, Mrs. Crandle returns with a teapot and teacups on a
serving tray with cookies. I have to admit, the tea smells lovely, and the cookies look divine. My stomach rumbles.

  Down, girl.

  As I reach forward to pour, Mrs. Crandle intervenes. “I may be a dinosaur, but I can still pour tea, Helena.” She ends on a wink, and I thank God I didn’t make this spontaneous visit awkward.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out and check the display.

  Nat: Dinner’s almost ready.

  Crap.

  Mrs. Crandle pauses her pouring when she spots my phone. Her face falls. “Leaving so soon?”

  I quickly reply to the text.

  Me: I’m running late. Save a plate for me. x

  Then I switch off my phone and put it back into my pocket. ‘Sorry about that. Not leaving. I would love some tea, please.’

  Happiness replaces her expression. She passes me a teacup and the sugar, as well as the cookies. “I’m so glad for the company. I don’t have much of an excuse to entertain these days.”

  I sip at my tea while looking around her living room. That’s when I hear it.

  Meow

  My brow furrows as I look down at my feet. I gasp. “Oh my God!”

  I reach down to pick up the little grey kitten and hold it up high. “Hi there, sweet thing!”

  Mrs. Crandle chuckles. “Oh dear, how did he get out? He’s a little escape artist, that one. And he shouldn’t be away from his mama right now, but he always finds a way.”

  Holding the little guy on my lap, I write, ‘He’s adorable! I love him!’

  Mrs. Crandle grins. “Then he’s yours.”

  My face voids. “What?”

  She must catch what I say, because she shrugs. “I can’t keep any more of them. He and his brothers and sisters will likely go to a pet store in a few days’ time. If you want him, he’s yours.”

  Stunned, I look down at the sweet little kitten with green eyes.

  Meow

  Writing so fast, I’m sure it’s barely comprehensible, I scribble, ‘Yes, I want him! Thank you! Thank you so much!’

  She nods, a shy smile appearing on her face. “You’re welcome. What are you going to name him?”

  I cuddle my kitten close. ‘I like Ted. But I like Woody too.’

  Mrs. Crandle lifts her face in thought. “How about Tedwood?”

  I say it out loud. “Tedwood. Sort of like Edward, but not.” Nodding, I write, ‘I like it. That’s it!’

  She sips her tea then nibbles at a cookie. “I have everything you need for him right here. You can take him home tonight if you like.”

  I smile down at my kitty. He gently bats at my chin. Oh my gosh, I love him already. He’s so damn cute. Smiling up at Mrs. Crandle, I mouth, ‘Thank you.’

  She returns my smile. “I hope you get as much joy out of him as I get from his mama.”

  I know I will. I just know it.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Helena

  “Where are you, you little psycho?” I hiss, crouching on top of the kitchen counter, feet safely off the ground. Why did no one tell me what little jerks cats can be? We never had a cat growing up. We never even had goldfish, dammit! “Teddy?” I call out hopefully. The little worm is somewhere around here, but he’s hiding well. I coax in a false calm, “Come out, honey. I’ll give you a nice little treat if you just come out.”

  Slowly sitting on the countertop, I put one foot down on the ground in perfect silence. Thank God for socks. The other foot comes down to meet the floor. I quietly tiptoe from the counter to the doorway of my room. I peek in. There’s nothing there. Where is he?

  I have so many scratches on my feet and ankles. Over the last day and a half, my toes have become chew toys for my new roommate. I am not enjoying this. I thought having a kitten would be ninety percent cuddles and ten percent making cat-shenanigans—equaling making videos to post on the Internet. This has not been the case.

  What’s worse is Tedwood likes to hide, and then reappear when you least expect it. My heart begins to race. I swallow hard. “Teddy? Baby? Momma would really like for you to show yourself now.” I start to hyperventilate, grip the doorframe, and whisper in a singsong voice, “Momma’s freakin’ out, dude.”

  Oh my God, it’s morning and I am too tired to deal with this shit. I need a shower, stat. I find courage from somewhere deep inside of me. I straighten and roll my shoulders as I storm into my bedroom. “You know what, Ted? I need a shower, and I’m having a freaking shower. Hide all damn day if you want to. I don’t care.” Opening drawers with a racket, gathering my work wear and closing the drawers with a bang, I stomp over to the bathroom, muttering, “I’m not scared of a little cat. That’s all a kitten is. A little cat. Not even scared.” I drag my feet into the bathroom and turn on the light.

  “Motherfucker!” I jump in shock as I’m attacked from behind. Even though I’m wearing thick socks, I still feel his needle-sharp teeth in my ankle and his claws firmly wrapped around my foot. “Arrrrgggh! Get off me you psychotic feline freak!” I shriek.

  With my kitten still attached to my foot, I lift it high and commence project shake it off. I shake gently at first, but he’s holding on tight, his beady eyes all-pupil right now. That can’t be good.

  I shake harder and harder ‘til I wobble on the spot. I lose my balance. I’m falling backward. My back hits the bathroom sink and I feel the breath leave my body in a whoosh. Throbbing pain blooms from my middle as I land onto the tiled floor with a bounce.

  Shit. That hurt! Lying on my bathroom floor with a kitten attached to my foot by its teeth and claws, I burst into tears. “Jesus C, I sure as shit was wrong about you.”

  As if feeling my pain, Tedwood appears by my face. If a cat could look concerned, he would. Still crying, I sniffle, “You’re a bad kitty.” He licks my nose, as if taunting me. Slamming my balled fists on the hard tiles, I lift my face and wail, “Oh God, I fucking hate you.”

  He climbs on top of me and sits on my chest.

  Meow

  My body shakes in silent sobs. “Why are you doing this to me? I just wanted to give you a nice home. And you looked cute, like a normal cat that does normal cat things. I didn’t know you were mental.” I look up at him and plead, “Please stop trying to kill me!”

  Over the last twelve hours, Tedwood has quote accidentally unquote knocked over a candle and set part of my bed on fire, chewed open live wires, which I have almost touched with my bare hands, and has hidden in every spot possible, attacking me whenever I least expect it. I have a theory. Don’t quote me on it, but…

  I think my cat is the devil.

  I’m not an expert on the matter, and I will consult with a veterinarian, but I don’t think it’s normal for a cat to try to assassinate its owner. Repeatedly. I close my eyes and cry as I wait for my back to stop aching, but it’s futile. It’ll be aching all day. It’s bruised. I know it. A little rough tongue licks my nose. I push him away gently. “Dude, stop licking my boogers.”

  He purrs and rubs his head against my chin. I still and ask hopefully, “So, we’re friends now? No more funny business, right?” He settles in the crevice between my neck and chin, purring all the while, and I sigh in relief. “Thank you, Lord.” Okay. If he’s cute like this most of the time, I won’t have to find a new home for him.

  Reaching up, I pat his little back. His purr deepens. I lie back, savoring the sweet-kitty side of Tedwood I know won’t last. “This is the calm before the storm, isn’t it?” I ask him. His back arches and he hisses in response.

  Yep. That’s what I thought.

  ***

  Helena

  As I walk down the block to work, I call Nat. She answers on the first ring. “Sup, dawg?”

  Sounding more like a junkie than intended, I whine, “I need you to hook me up. I need a fix, and I need it soon.”

  Silence, then, “And what will you do for me?”

  I think hard. I shrug, even though she can’t see it. “I don’t know. I’ll cook for you.”

  She scoff
s. “Bitch, please. I cook better than you do.”

  Damn. She doesn’t lie. I’m getting desperate. I all but shout into the cell, “I’ll do anything! What do you want?”

  She grumbles into the phone and I know she’s thinking. After a moment’s thought, she answers, “Clean my place.”

  I blink. Is she fucking serious? I am nobody’s maid! I respond louder than expected, “Fuck you, bitch!” The man walking next to me glares at me. I cover the bottom-half of the cell and mutter, “Oh, don’t worry. It’s just my sister.” I didn’t realize it was possible, but he actually looks more disgusted as he walks away. Offended at his misplaced revulsion, I call out to him, “Well, fuck you too!”

  Nat chuckles. “Ah, New York.” Then she bursts into song, “It’s a hell of a towwwwwnnnn!”

  I can’t help but laugh with her. “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

  “Meh. He’ll get over it.” She allows a moment’s pause before trying again. “So you cleaning my place, or what?”

  I sneer. “Hell to the no. I’ve heard you and Ash in action. No way I’m cleaning up after that. I’d require a hazmat kit!”

  She sniffs. “You act like you’ve never come into contact with jizz before. Since when are you a prude?”

  Since college.

  I laugh humorlessly. “I am not a prude. Never was.”

  She returns with, “When’s the last time you got laid?”

  July 4th, 2010. It was a Sunday. The weather was superb; the sun shone all day long. “I don’t know the exact date!”

  “If you’re talking the date, it was longer than a year ago.”

  My nose bunches. “You’re way off.”

  She lets out a sound of exasperation. “Okay, whatever, you don’t have to clean the whole place, just the bathroom.”

  “Yeah, I’m hanging up now.”

  My finger is just about to hit the end button, when she sighs. “Fine. You get a free pass. This time. I’ll send you the details.”