by Brynne Asher
The last thing I see is Paige flinch at my outburst before I turn to leave and get out of there as fast as I fucking can. I can’t escape quick enough. I just shit where I lived with my neighbor’s sister because I’m a selfish, motherfucking asshole.
Chapter Ten
Blue Ribbon of Bitchery
Paige
I’m irritable. I’m irritable because I’m exhausted and angry.
I tossed and turned most of the night, finally falling asleep for only a short time. I was up early, not able to wait another second to get out of my sister’s house and far, far away from Athica Lane.
I know I’m being a bitchy scorned virgin at the moment, but I can’t help my anger. And I’m riding out the angry virgin as long as I possibly can—feeding and nurturing it with every memory of Campbell Montgomery being an asshole that I can drum up. If I don’t feed the anger, I know down deep the hurt will take over and I can’t handle the hurt right now. I’d rather be angry than hurt. And really, I don’t deserve the hurt just because I’ve never been in a serious relationship. It’s not like I’m holding out just to hold out, but I guess this is what I get for not wanting anyone.
Yes, I’m holding on to my bitchy anger and wearing it proudly, like a blue ribbon from placing first in the hula hoop competition on Field Day. I used to rock the hula hoop, I could hula for hours, out-hula-ing everyone and I’d always come home with the blue ribbon.
So today I’m wearing my blue ribbon like a champ for being bitchy and angry.
And scorned.
And, surprise-surprise, still a virgin. Not that it was my goal to give it up last night. It wasn’t, but I’ve never felt the way I’ve felt in the past week and I’ve been riding my emotions like a rollercoaster.
When I’m pissed my adrenalin skyrockets, producing all kinds of extra energy and, for some reason, it always morphs into cleaning. Last night when Cam stormed out leaving me sitting on the counter with my dress unbuttoned, my bra pulled down, and my panties lying on the floor, I tucked away the hurt and found my anger. And through my anger, I went to town on all of Sophia’s bathrooms, dusted most of her house, and vacuumed everywhere that wouldn’t wake the boys. Then I organized her pantry and Tupperware, because really, Tupperware never stays organized no matter how hard you work at it. In the midst of my cleaning spree, I did three loads of laundry.
During all this, I fed my anger by taking a trip down memory lane. I remembered how Cam dumped his drink on me and ruined my favorite tank, never apologizing. In fact, how he never apologizes for anything. How he’s an ass over text and I really enjoy texting, especially banter. How he assumed not nice things about me just because I drive a nicer car than I should, even if my parents gave it to me and I really did need another car. I even decided it pissed me off when he told me we were going to dinner and what we were eating—even if it really didn’t, because I know he was trying to be nice and was busy at work. Then I made fun of him in my head for having a name like Campbell—not that he chose his name and I can’t help but wonder about the people who gave a name like Campbell to a baby. And hello, the biggie amongst the bigs. How when he had my panties on the floor with his hand between my legs and I felt like I should let him know something personal and private about myself during an intimate moment between us, he went ape-shit and stormed out leaving me humiliated—not to mention hot and bothered.
Okay, maybe I could’ve handled it differently, but he could have too. And during my trip down memory lane, I did my best not to think about how I wouldn’t be in this situation right now had I only listened to my eighty-five-year-old friend and kept my legs together and my mind on Jesus.
What I did not do was think about Cam being sweet, Cam being hot, or Cam being a good dad. I didn’t think about how when he asks me something about myself, he listens with rapt attention, like he really wants to know. I did not think about his bright blue eyes or how it makes me feel when he aims his lush goateed grin at me, not to mention what that goatee feels like on me. And I absolutely didn’t think about how he makes me feel when he touches me. If I could’ve washed my brain with bleach during my cleaning frenzy to delete this information from my head, I would have.
After my two hours of sleep, I got up, showered, packed all my things and roused the boys early. They complained, but I told them we were going to early church with their grandma and grandpa. I never go to early church, but I also hardly ever wear my blue ribbon of bitchery. Early church meant escaping Athica Lane with purpose, in turn, escaping any chance of seeing Cam, the asshole.
I zoomed past Cam’s house with the boys and all my stuff, trying not to think about never coming back to hang out with Jordy and Cara. The thought of breaking my word to little Cara was like a stab in the gut, so I decided to blame that on Cam, too. More nutrition to feed the anger. Damn him.
After church my parents insisted on taking us to brunch, where my mother asked me about three million times why I was grumpy. I gave her one point five million excuses, mostly me being behind on my blog before I started to ignore her completely. This strategy worked because she offered to keep the boys until Lanny and Sophia got home this afternoon so I could catch up and, as my mother put it, “Put on my happy panties.”
The mention of my panties, happy or not, nursed my anger to a level of being topped off. I stormed out of their country club where we were having brunch—but not before giving Noah and Cayden hugs and loves, we did have a fun week together after all.
I went straight to the grocery store, bought enough food to feed a Carpino Army and then some, came home and started experimenting. I wouldn’t let myself buy blue cheese, even though it looked good and I had some ideas, but just looking at the blue cheese fed my anger. Instead, I wore my blue ribbon proudly, switched it up with feta, and decided to go Mediterranean.
Maybe I should pull out the blue ribbon more often because I’ve been on a roll today, if I do say so myself. I ended up with Greek Meatballs and after browning them for a few minutes, sautéed them in a basic marinara sauce with Kalamata olives, basil, and a shit load of garlic. Instead of pasta, I served it over lemon couscous with a yogurt sauce lightly drizzled over the top. It was delicious, pretty, and not that difficult. I even threw together an easy cucumber dill salad to go with it. I usually make cranberry phyllo triangles at Christmas, but it’s summer so I filled them with fresh raspberries and blackberries for dessert. They’re light and crispy—aside from all the butter—perfect for warm weather.
I had to take pictures up close since I’m at my ugly apartment, but that’s okay. I threw out a pretty table cloth and let my kickass platters do their job. They turned out great. I rode my wave of anger, edited the pictures, wrote the article, and filed it away to publish later in the month. My apartment might be ugly, but it smelled great.
Shutting down my computer, I start toward my room. It’s late evening, my anger is wearing off, and the exhaustion is setting in from my few hours of sleep last night. But I’m stopped from heading off to bed when I hear a knock at the door. My apartment is weirdly quiet, I usually have music on or the TV going. I tiptoe to the peephole hoping they will just go away, only to find Brian standing there looking perturbed. Damn.
I don’t have the energy for anyone right now so I stand here silently praying for his retreat. I’m still pissed at how he behaved in front of Cam the other night when he stopped by Sophia’s. He had no right to touch me and try to make it look like we’re something we’re not.
Another knock.
Then banging.
More banging and he yells, “Paige, open up. I see your car, I know you’re home.”
I sigh and lean my head against the door before I turn the locks to swing it open. Brian is glaring with his arms crossed. I glare right back, snapping, “What?”
He frowns. “Where have you been?”
I frown back, not moving out of the doorway. “I’ve been around.”
“I’ve been calling and texting you all day. You haven’t answered.”<
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“Oh,” I huff, turning and move to my purse. I turned off my phone after texting Sophia to let her know the boys would be with our parents. I had no desire to talk to or hear from anyone today.
“What’s wrong with you?” He follows me in and throws the door shut.
“Nothing’s wrong. Everyone needs to quit asking me what’s wrong. I’m tired. I’ve been cooking and working all day after a busy week. Can I not have a quiet day to catch up? Why does something have to be wrong?” I clamor as I power up my phone.
“Chill out, Paige. I was worried about you, you always answer. What’d you make? It smells good and I haven’t had dinner.” He goes straight to my fridge to rummage.
“I’m not happy with you. What was up with you the other night at Sophia’s?” I demand. “You touching me like that? The next time you do that, I’m gonna knee you in the nads.”
He turns to glare before continuing to pull food out of my fridge. Well fine, he can consider himself warned. I certainly don’t want to talk about it, but I’m still mad and don’t want to be around him right now.
“I’ll send some home with you but I don’t want you here. I want to go to bed, I’m wiped,” I say, looking down at my phone as it beeps like crazy—texts and voice-mails rolling in like mad.
“Sounds like everyone was trying to get hold of you today,” Brian mutters, pulling containers out of my fridge, ignoring my demand to leave and helping himself to fill a plate. And not a plate to go—definitely a plate to stay.
“Let me get you a container, you can take it with you,” I try, but he doesn’t stop heaping piles of food for himself.
“What is all this?”
“Greek meatballs over couscous. Seriously, Brian. I want to be by myself,” I mumble looking at all my messages.
Yes, everyone, or almost everyone, has been trying to get hold of me today. I have a million texts and voicemails.
Brian: When does your sister get home? I’m taking you to dinner tonight.
Figures. Another man telling me I’m going to dinner with him instead of asking.
Sophia: Got your text, we just landed. We’ll get the boys when we pick up Isabella at mom and dads. I’ll call later. You’re the best for taking care of them all week. Miss and love you!
She would be chipper. She’s been in Hawaii for a week lazing on a beach, probably having lots of sex.
Rosa: You didn’t call me and you said you
Rosa: Rats it sent too soon you didn’t call me so now I’m having to talk into the text how was burgers with that cam fellow call me soon you know I don’t like to do the text bye
I finally smile and it’s my first one all day. Rosa uses the microphone to text and it never inserts punctuation, not to mention she always ends on a “bye”. A text from Rosa always makes me happy.
But I frown when I get to the next one.
Cam: Where are you?
See? Asshole.
Brian: Where are you?
Seriously?
Sophia: Girl, you cleaned my house? Now I feel bad I didn’t bring you a nicer gift. Got you Hawaiian coffee. I’ll bring it by tomorrow.
Well, at least there’s that. I love Hawaiian coffee.
Leigh: Do you have time to make pumpkin cookies for Tony’s birthday tomorrow? I know it’s summer and you only make them in the fall, but he loves them. Don’t worry if you’re too busy. Can’t wait to see you tomorrow. I have news!
I smile again because I love my new sister-in-law. She’s awesome and she makes my brother happy, but now I have to go to the store again because I don’t have any pumpkin. At least I have cinnamon chips in the freezer. They’re hard to find in the summer.
Cam: Call me. I need to talk to you.
Asshole.
Mom: Why aren’t you answering your phone? I need to talk to you about Tony’s party. You must be on your cycle. I’ve told you not to binge on junk food, it will only make you feel more cantankerous. Drink lots of water and eat a banana. You never listen.
I roll my eyes at my mother calling my period a “cycle” and talking to me like I’m a teenager. I don’t binge on junk food—at least, not as much as I used to—and I’m not even on my period. Plus she thinks water and potassium fixes everything. If she only knew why I was irritable.
Brian: Call me!
Whatever.
Cam: Don’t make me ask your sister where you live. I’ll find you.
He wouldn’t dare.
Sophia: Um, why was Cam Montgomery just on my doorstep asking where you lived?
Oh hell, he did not. Double asshole!
Mom: And I just read an article that if you double up on ibuprofen it will make your bleeding lighter.
Oh, gross.
Sophia: And why did he look mad???
Dammit.
Leigh: I feel bad I even asked. You’re probably busy. Don’t worry about the cookies. See you tomorrow. By the way, I just finished Spartacus. So good, but now I’m sad it’s over.
Oh, for heaven’s sake, I’ll make the cookies. And I’m sad Spartacus is over, too.
Brian: Screw it. I’m coming to look for you.
I guess he found me.
Sophia: Damn you, Paige Elizabeth Carpino! I want to know why Cam was looking for you and I want to know now. ANSWER YOUR PHONE! You’re ruining my vacation buzz and Lanny will not be happy. Call me!
Hmm, I wonder what would happen to her vacation buzz if she knew what happened on her kitchen counter last night.
Cam: I’m coming. You’d better be there.
What?
I check the time on the last text and it was fifteen minutes ago. Shit.
I look up and Brian has sat himself on my sofa with a huge plate, warmed, and resting on his hand, shoveling meatballs in his mouth.
“This is really good,” he says with a full mouth. “Is there cheese in here?”
“Feta,” I answer quickly and move to grab my purse. “I’ve gotta go, I need to go to the store. I need pumpkin.”
“It’s late. You need pumpkin tonight?” he asks between bites.
“Yes, put that down. I’ve got to go. Now.” I try to grab his plate. It only takes ten minutes to get here from Athica Lane. I’m on borrowed time.
He pulls the plate aside so I can’t reach it. “I thought you were tired.”
“I am, but I need pumpkin!” I know I sound frenzied, but I am. I don’t want to see Cam, I don’t want him in my apartment, and I really don’t want to see him with Brian here. It was weird enough the other night. Not to mention Brian looks settled in, he’ll never leave easily if Cam shows up. Not that I want to be alone with Cam, so either way, I’ve got big problems.
“Calm down. Let me finish eating. What’s up with you today?” he asks, frowning.
“Let’s go – ” I start to yell but the second I do, there’s a pounding at my door. Of course he doesn’t even bother to start with a knock.
“I know you’re in there, Paige. I see your car and can hear you. Open the door,” Cam demands.
I should really start parking across the street so people can’t tell when I’m home.
“Who’s that?” Brian asks, frowning deeper and stands to move toward the door.
“Don’t open it, it’s no one,” I whisper.
Keeping on his frown, he ignores my whispered demand and opens the door. I see Cam standing there with a hand high on the jamb, leaning into it. His eyes go to Brian and they instantly narrow into a glare. I can’t see Brian’s face, but I imagine he’s glaring right back.
Cam looks away from Brian and his eyes settle on me, raising his brows. “You’re hard to track down.”
“Why’re you tracking her down?” Brian bites.
Cam quickly glares at Brian before he strides into my apartment, forcing Brian to step aside. He levels his blue ones back on me. “We need to talk.”
I can’t help but feel a tinge of something. It could be hurt, ire, excitement, or even a tiny heart palpitation from having Cam in my space. I decid
e to settle on my ire as I ride my rollercoaster of emotions and put a hand to my hip while leaning forward a tad. “I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Really?” Cam settles back in his stance, crossing his arms. “You sure had something to say last night and we need to talk about it.”
I can’t help myself, I take in a surprised gasp and feel my face warm. I cross my arms right back and declare, “Yes, the time to talk was last night. I have nothing to say to you now. You need to leave.”
“You’re right. You’ve said enough. Tonight you can listen, but darlin’, I’m not leaving,” he says with a warning.
“What in the hell did you do to her?” Brian butts in, moving close to me.
“Brian—” I start.
But Cam interrupts me. “It’s none of your business.”
“If she doesn’t want to talk to you, I’m making it my business,” Brian says.
“Not your job, man. Stay out of it,” Cam advises, his voice laced with a threat.
“Cam,” I call, but I can’t help that my warning comes out as a plea because this isn’t good.
“She wants you gone, you need to be on your way,” Brian tries again.
“I’m not going to tell you again to stay out of it. She made it clear last week where you stand,” Cam states before looking to me. “We can talk alone or in front of him. Your choice.”
I feel my eyes go big. “You wouldn’t.”
Cam doesn’t say a word, but he does raise an eyebrow as he tips his head, communicating to me that he would. He definitely would.
I close my eyes and pull my lips in to take a calming breath. I’ve never needed a calming breath more than this moment.
“Paige?” I hear my name bitten from beside me and look to Brian.
I breathe out and look to him. “I’m okay. You can go, I’ll let him say what he has to say and he can go. Then I can finally go to bed.”
Brian is now glaring, piercingly mad. “What the fuck is going on?”
Cam’s voice turns sharp. “Don’t talk to her like that.”
