See? All men were scum.
I wasn’t a bitter, twisted spinster. I’d put myself out there and I had reasons to think that, what with my choices, Sissy’s choices and my sisters’ choices, not to mention my fucking Dad, who’d left and never came back, that all men were scum.
* * * * *
After Noah took off, Dom started to flirt with me right in front of Sissy. I couldn’t believe it and did my absolute best not to rip his face off with my fingernails. However, there were a lot of times I wanted to rip Dom’s face off with my fingernails, not just when he was flirting with me but when he’d ask Sissy if she really should be eating that second slice of pizza, giving her a shitty look when he didn’t quite like the outfit she put on causing her to go and change it, getting pissy when he was served leftovers and the like.
Sissy ignored the flirting. So did I, passing it off as a joke.
Dom took this as a challenge. Dom was the kind of guy girls responded to mainly because he was really handsome which sucked, I figured he could use a scar or two, put there by my fingernails of course.
When I didn’t respond, he flirted more, started touching and, just two weeks ago he backed me into the corner of their kitchen and kissed me, open-mouthed.
I bit his tongue.
“What the fuck!” he hissed, hand swiping at his mouth and glaring at me.
He was hot – all macho, Italian bad boy, dark, wavy hair, dark eyes, slim hips, broad shoulders.
When we’d first seen him, Sissy and I had both fallen in lust. Sissy had been over the moon when he asked her out. Sissy had never been heavy, she had blue eyes and strawberry blonde hair and was pretty, petite and dainty, like a gown up, human-sized fairy, without the pointy ears.
“Get away from me,” I snapped at Dom.
His face changed from angry, to calculating. “You want it, Ava, you know you do. I’ve seen the way you look at me.”
Like I said, he was hot, so he probably wasn’t wrong. But he was also my best friend’s husband.
“Get over yourself,” I told him.
“I’d rather get on top of you.”
I wanted to laugh in his face. That was a really bad line. Dom, I knew, because I’d seen it, could do a lot better.
Instead, I said, “Fuck off, Dom. Sissy’s in the other room!”
“I get what I want,” he said and something about the way he said it kind of freaked me out. He said it like he meant it and he was looking at me in a way that made my scalp tingle and not in a good way. I didn’t know what he did for a living but I didn’t think it was good and Sissy never talked about it which was concerning, Sissy and I talked about everything. He struck me as a bad guy, not only because he was a cheat and a jerk but also for other reasons.
“Dom, fuck… off,” I snapped, but he kissed me again, arms going around me, tongue sliding in my mouth. I struggled, pushed and Dom pinned me against the wall, his hand going up my shirt.
Then we both heard a noise, Dom let me go and stepped back and we saw Sissy standing in the door.
“Sis, girl…” Dom said, his voice conciliatory and I wanted to kick him. I mean, what did he expect to happen?
I didn’t kick him though mainly because I was horrified and scared through to my fucking soul that I might have just lost my best friend.
But Sissy looked at me and said, “Ava, would you help me pack?”
Then she walked out of the room.
Halle-fucking-lujah.
I shoved Dom’s shoulder as I walked by him and glared but he just repeated, staring at me with an intensity that I did… not… like, “Ava, I get what I want.”
I rolled my eyes, left the room, helped Sissy pack and she moved in with me for a few days. She cried a lot and I listened a lot and I quietly seethed a lot more. Then she went to her Mom’s place in Wyoming. But not until after we’d hatched our plan.
Sissy was going to move away and I was going to get the goods on Dom so Sissy could divorce him and take him to the cleaners.
That was the plan.
I wasn’t sure how to get the goods on Dom, that was where tough guy, mercenary, bounty hunter, private eye Luke Stark was supposed to come into the scenario.
* * * * *
Sissy knew Luke, had met him several times and had stood beside me at my bedroom window checking him out on numerous occasions while he lifted weights in his Dad’s garage.
She also knew how I felt about him (read: big, huge, twenty-one-year old crush).
Dragging Luke into the deal was her idea.
Sissy also knew about the funeral, what happened there, in fact, she knew everything about Luke.
She knew, when I was nine and was walking home from school, that three boys I detested had caught up with me, calling me Fatty, Fatty, Four Eyes (not original but it hurt anyway). She knew how Luke, thirteen and already a tough customer, came out of nowhere and punched one of them in the nose, bloodying it and making all three run away. She also knew after that was over that I made some smart comment making Luke laugh because, being teased all the time for being fat and ugly, one only had two choices, go silent and shy, or become a smartass, I chose the latter, and he’d walked me home.
She also knew, after that, no kids ever teased me. Not ever again.
Further, she knew about when Luke was fourteen and I was ten, he’d had one of many humdinger fights with his Dad that I heard all the way across the street. He’d torn out of the house and I’d gone after him. I found him in a park, ass to the ground, back against a tree, head bent, wrists resting on his cocked knees. I’d sat beside him and started telling jokes until he came out of his mood and started laughing.
She also knew about when I was twelve and Luke was sixteen and Luke, his Dad and Mom had come over for dinner. My mother, an aging beauty queen who still had two shelves full of trophies and ribbons from “the good old days”, got tipsy and announced to the table, “I’m so lucky. I have two beautiful daughters and one smart one.” Marilyn and Sofia grinned at each other. My father got red in the face and looked like he was going to hit the roof. Luke’s Dad chuckled uncomfortably in a way that sounded strangled but his Mom stared at me with concern.
I squirmed.
Luke leaned back in his chair, looked at Sofia and said, “Congratulations, you must have made the honor roll.” Sofia’s mouth dropped open in horror (I wasn’t the only Barlow girl with a crush on Luke, all three of us had the hots for him). I immediately stopped squirming and laughed so hard at Sofia’s horrified expression, I snorted.
Sissy also knew about the time, only five days before he graduated from high school, when I was fourteen and Luke was eighteen and it had become clear my Dad had left and wasn’t coming back – I was sitting on our front stoop, you could hear my mother crying and carrying on inside while my sisters argued with each other over a curling iron or something idiotic. I saw Luke come out of his house on his way to his motorcycle. He saw me, changed directions, crossed the street and sat down beside me. He didn’t say a word and neither did I. I just stared at his boots and wished he was my boyfriend, not for the first or the last time. It would have been a lot easier to cope with losing Dad if I’d had Luke as a boyfriend or anyone for that matter, but especially Luke.
I was close with my Dad, I thought we had a bond. I always thought it was the two of us against the other silly bitches in the house. I knew he found it trying to his patience, my mother, flighty, naggy, demanding, wanting a better life, house, car, curtains, whatever and always going on about it and going on about all the men she didn’t chose so she could be with Dad, rubbing his nose in it constantly. I knew, too, that he lamented where he went wrong with snotty, bitchy, catty Marilyn and Sofia though, he didn’t have to look too far, my Mom was a good teacher.
Dad had come into my bedroom late at night the day before he left and said, “Sorry, Ava, darlin’, but I just can’t take it anymore.” He’d woken me up and I didn’t know what he was talking about. He didn’t explain and he didn’t say anything
more.
The next day he was gone.
“I thought…” I said to Luke and then stopped because I didn’t know what I thought.
Luke slid his arm around my waist and pulled me to his side. I put my head on his shoulder and we sat there a long time before Luke bumped his foot against mine. I got the hint and pulled back. He got up, leaned down, touched my nose then he was gone.
A few days later, like my Dad, he was really gone.
Luke came back every once in awhile though, visiting his Mom, fighting with his Dad and popping by to say hi to me.
Then he disappeared for eight years. I didn’t know where he went and his mother wasn’t talking or I would have found out because, normally, she told my mother everything.
Lastly, Sissy knew about Luke’s father’s funeral. I was twenty-four, Luke was twenty-eight. After the funeral, still at graveside, the Barlow Girl Brigade walked up to Luke and his Mom. Hugs and cheek kisses were passed around, both Marilyn and Sofia going for the gusto with Luke but his body went stiff when they pressed against him, which was embarrassing for me, having to watch it and knowing they were my sisters. As gorgeous as they were, Luke was totally aloof from the Bombshell Barlow Girls. That was until his eyes moved to me and I leaned in to kiss his cheek. His arms came around me and he pulled me into a close hug, pressing his bearded jaw against my temple.
“Good to see you, Ava,” he murmured and it sounded like he meant it.
“You too, Luke,” I said, pulling back a bit and looking at him. “Hanging in there?” I asked softly.
His eyes were warm, his face was hard and he was so fucking handsome, it took my breath away.
He kept his arms around me and looked down at me. “Yeah,” he answered.
“Wanna get drunk?” I asked, mostly teasing.
“Yeah,” he answered, definitely not teasing.
“I can probably arrange that,” I told him, still trying to keep the tone light but wanting to help ease his pain all the same. He and his Dad never got along, I knew that. Still, his Dad had been youngish and it was a shock. Massive heart attack. Not good, even if they didn’t get along.
“I’ll take you up on that,” Luke said. Then his eyes moved to his mother, he let me go and touched my nose. “I’ll call you.”
I nodded. “It’s a deal,” I promised.
Then we moved away and more mourners moved into our space to offer their condolences. I walked away slowly, wanting to be in his presence for as long as I could drag it out.
It was later I overheard my sisters talking in our living room.
“God, it was sick, seeing her pressed up to him like that. All her fat, like, bulging,” Marilyn said.
“I know, I think I threw up a little bit looking at them. He could barely get his arms around her,” Sofia replied.
“I came all this way just to see him and he barely looked at me. But he hugged Ava. How fucking weird is that?” Marilyn went on.
“Maybe he’s gay,” Sofia suggested.
Then they’d laughed, thinking they were hilarious.
Okay, it was safe to say that not only weren’t my sisters and I close, I kinda didn’t like them, as in really didn’t like them.
But for me, hearing what they said, that was it. The final straw.
That was when I made my decision, my vow, that the next time I saw Lucas Stark and if he hugged me or touched me, no one who was looking at us would think it was sick, gross or throw up a little at the sight of us.
That was why I didn’t take his calls and go out and get drunk with him like I promised I would.
Instead I went and found a personal trainer, had a mortifying fitness test, was put on a program, dumped all the shit food out of my house and started reading Self and Shape magazines religiously. I lost twenty pounds in the first month (water weight), the next fifty-five were a lot harder. My trainer changed my program every six weeks and drilled me like a Nazi. His name was Riley, he was always tan (not sunbed tan, he’s outside a lot, even in the winter). He had blond hair, brown eyes and a great body and he told me I was going to be his Mona Lisa. I wasn’t going for Mona Lisa, I was going for Jennifer Aniston but I decided not to share that with Riley.
Riley was a good guy, though likely a total jerk to his girlfriends, how was I to know? Regardless, I didn’t want to let him or myself down. I was dedicated and motivated and living, cycling, treadmilling, stair climbing, ab curling and weight training for the day when Luke saw me again.
Though it didn’t turn out like I’d planned. Mainly because, even with partial bombshell status, I became an asshole-magnet and realized it wasn’t just Sissy, Marilyn, Sofia and Mom’s bad taste it men. It was just that men weren’t worth the effort.
So by the time I was ready for Luke, mentally and physically prepared to seek him out, I’d gone off men. I made a new vow that I was dedicated to just as much as fitness.
I was never going to get tangled up with a man again, no matter who, no matter what.
* * * * *
After Noah cleaned me out, Sissy and I went to Pandora’s Box on Broadway, I stocked up and got myself a rabbit vibrator and a smooth, sleek silver one (so I could have variety) and enough batteries to last a year. Once I got them home, out of their boxes and loaded up with batteries, I vowed ever-lasting fidelity to my vibrators.
That was that.
Seriously.
The end.
So there I was, now a dedicated, bitter spinster with revenge on my mind. Not revenge for myself but for Sissy and every other woman who’d been fucked over by a shithead guy.
* * * * *
I stopped cleaving at the cucumber, tossed it into a bowl with the arugula I’d already nearly annihilated and had started on the onion when the phone rang.
I threw down the cleaver and picked up the phone.
“Yo,” I said.
“Yo, yourself,” Sissy said to me. “How’d it go with Luke?”
I could hear the anticipation in her voice. She thought he’d fall in love with me on sight and put a ring on my finger within the hour. She loved me and thought I was funny and cool, what could I say? It sucked to disappoint her.
“Not good, I didn’t ask him. I’m going it alone,” I tried to make it short and sweet.
Silence for a beat and then, “What do you mean, not good?”
“I mean, not good,” I decided maybe I shouldn’t tell her right now about how it actually went. She had enough on her plate and anyway, I wasn’t ready to relive it. “I think he’s kinda pissed that I didn’t return his calls after his father’s funeral.”
“You should have called him,” Sissy told me and she’d told me this before, like, five dozen times.
“Too late now. Anyway, we go ahead with the plan as it was, just without Luke. I’ll go to your house tonight.”
Sissy hesitated. “I’d be a lot more comfortable if you had Luke with you.”
“That isn’t gonna happen.”
“Okay, then maybe you can call Riley. I think he has a bit of a crush on you, now that you’re hot. Maybe he’ll go with you.”
The idea of Riley, who’d done a body fat test on me seventy-five pounds ago (and one just three weeks ago and about seventeen in between), having a crush on me made me burst out laughing.
“Riley does not have a crush on me,” I said when I quit laughing.
“Riley thinks you’re fine,” Sissy returned.
“Riley has a girlfriend with bleached teeth and a perma-tan,” I told her.
“He broke up with her ages ago. Anyway, you make Riley laugh, even when he’s holding your feet and you’re doing ab curls.”
“There’s nothing to laugh about when you’re doing ab curls.”
This was true, I hated ab curls. I hated exercise and I wasn’t that hot on cucumber, arugula, onion and Bulgar wheat tabouleh. I’d rather have a huge burrito with spiced meat, cheese, sour cream and guacamole and a humungous chocolate chip cookie but I hadn’t worked my ass off (literally) to go back
now.
“Tell me about Luke,” Sissy changed the subject, knowing, after twenty-two years of being my best friend that I was holding out on her.
“Later.”
“Now.”
“Later, Sissy. It…” I stopped, then started again, “wasn’t good.”
“Was it bad?”
“No, it was just… weird.” Weird really wasn’t the word for it but I was going to go with that for now.
“Well,” she said, giving in and her voice had gone soft. “Then don’t worry about Dom. I’ll come home in a few days, we’ll do it together.”
“No!” I said, kind of loud. I didn’t want her to come back. I didn’t want Dom to talk her into taking him back. I wanted her clear of him. I wanted Sissy to come back to herself and for Dom to be out of her life, forever. “I’ll take care of it,” I finished.
“I don’t…”
“Sissy, I’ll take care of it.”
“I don’t like it. Dom’s not really a guy you mess with.”
“I won’t get caught.”
“Crap,” Sissy muttered, her second thoughts clear in her voice.
“I’ll be all right. I’ll go tonight, search the house. It’s his poker night, right?”
“Yeah,” I could tell she still didn’t like it. “Call me when you get home.”
“Okay.”
“Later, honey.”
“Later.”
I hung up, tossed the draining Bulgar wheat in with the other junk, chopped the onions, cried a little bit, threw them in too, mixed it up with a dash of olive oil, lemon juice and salt and pepper. I got out a fork, took a huge bite and said, mouth full, “Blech.”
It wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t a burrito and a chocolate chip cookie either.
You know, you really should listen to Sissy, Good Ava said to me.
I think some breaking and entering will be fun! Bad Ava put in.
Shit.
* * * * *
I was about to head out for my evening’s festivities when the phone rang.
I’d put on dark jeans; a black stretchy, fitted, long-sleeved t-shirt; black flip-flops; and, of course, my silver. I should probably have left my silver out of the equation since it was glittery and would catch the light but I didn’t go anywhere without my silver. And anyway, I’d been to Dom and Sissy’s a gazillion times, all their neighbors knew me and wouldn’t blink an eye that I was there. Furthermore, I had a key (well, not really, but I knew where they hid the spare).I didn’t answer the phone. Night had fallen, it was getting late and Sissy told me that Dom’s return from the poker game was up in the air. If he was doing well, he stayed out late, if he was losing, he cut it short, came home and likely took his bad luck out on Sissy by saying shit to her that made her feel like dirt.
Rock Chick Revenge Page 3
