by Tara Sivec
“SON OF A BITCH!” she screams, shaking out her hand in pain as Vincent stands there with an irritated expression on his face.
Cindy pushes Ariel out of the way when she spots me standing wide-eyed in front of the fireplace. “Oh, my God, Belle! Are you okay? What’s going on?”
“Are you being held against your will?” Ariel adds, glaring at Vincent before looking back over at me. “Blink once for yes, twice for no.”
“What the hell? I’m fine! What are you guys doing here? I told you to wait an hour,” I complain, finally moving the rest of the way across the room to where they’ve all congregated.
Cindy and Ariel are still standing in the open doorway, and Vincent is blocking their way into the house by crossing his arms in front of his chest with his feet shoulder-width apart. It’s how I’ve seen him stand at the door to Charming’s on a few occasions. The poor man has become a bouncer in his own home because of my crazy friends.
“You sent us a text with just a strange address and come in an hour,” Cindy states. “We thought you’d been kidnapped.”
“I still think she’s been kidnapped. No way in hell would she go with this Neanderthal willingly,” Ariel adds, shooting another angry glare in Vincent’s direction.
He lets out a sigh and finally drops his arms down to his sides and moves out of the doorway for them to come in.
My friends immediately rush over and start touching my hair, my face, and my shoulders, then they push up the sleeves of my dress and study my arms.
“She doesn’t have any bruises or rope burns.”
“He could have roofied her. Belle, what do you remember of the last twelve hours?”
“Good grief, I wasn’t kidnapped!” I tell them with a roll of my eyes, yanking my arms out of their hold. “I’m fine. Everything is fine, and you can stop treating me like a child now. Vincent, can you give us a few minutes alone?”
Cindy and Ariel share equal looks of shock as they look back and forth at the two of us.
“Vincent?!” they shout at the same time.
The man in question reaches his hand up and pinches the bridge of his nose, something I’ve now learned he only does when he’s really, really annoyed.
“That’s so . . . normal,” Cindy mutters.
“I thought for sure his real name was Wolverine. Or maybe Conan the Barbarian,” Ariel adds.
“Rules,” Vincent growls, staring me down from across the room when he finally drops his hand from his nose.
In my head, I quickly go over the small handful of house rules that he set, and I wince.
“I didn’t invite them over for a sleepover, just a little chat. And technically, you just said my two annoying friends. You didn’t specify which two annoying friends. I mean, for all I know, you could have been referring to Mrs. Potter or Harold, the cashier at my favorite bookstore. You really should be more specific about your house rules,” I inform him, pushing my glasses up on the bridge of my nose.
And there’s that mouth twitch of his again. I guess I’m not in danger of being kicked out for breaking a rule after all.
“Hey, we’re not annoying! We’re a fucking delight!” Ariel complains.
I hold my breath and wait for Vincent to either toss my friends out, or toss me out. After a few tense seconds, he lets out his signature sigh of aggravation and stalks through the room, moving right past the three of us without another word.
“What in the fresh hell is going on?!” Ariel explodes as soon as Vincent disappears down the hallway and we hear the slam of his bedroom door.
“Sweetie, if he really did coerce you and this is some sort of Stockholm syndrome, it’s okay. You can tell us. We won’t judge you,” Cindy says softly, rubbing the side of my arm.
“There was no coercion. Well, there was, but it was really sweet after the initial obnoxiousness. And no, I don’t have Stockholm syndrome. I think we should sit down for this.”
Grabbing my friend’s arms, I pull them over to the couch and we all flop down, with me in the middle.
“Did you know the term Stockholm syndrome is from a bank robbery that happened in Sweden in 1973, when the robber took four employees and held them in the bank vault for one hundred and thirty-one hours, and after they were released they appeared to have formed a bond with their captor and they told reporters they saw the police as their enemy instead of the robber?” I ramble nervously.
“Oh, thank God,” Ariel says with sigh of relief. “She’s fine. She’s totally fine.”
She pats my knee and gives me a smile.
“You do seem fine, but seriously, what is going on? Why are you at Beast’s house? And how in the hell does a guy like him have such an amazing house? It’s beautiful,” Cindy adds, looking around the room.
“He’s not exactly what he seems. I’m getting to know him, and he’s not an animal. He’s sweet, in an overbearing way,” I tell them with a shrug. “And he kind of rescued me.”
I look down into my lap so I don’t have to see the look on their faces for the next part.
“My dad kicked me out of the house a week ago, and I know I should have told you guys, but you both have a lot going on in your lives right now and I didn’t want to add any more to your plates. I’ve been kind of, sort of, been living at the library, and Vincent figured it out, and he pretty much ordered me to come home with him last night because he didn’t want me sleeping there anymore,” I tell them in a rush, ripping it off like a Band-Aid.
I decide to leave out the part about how I was sleeping on the floor, because that will just make them feel even more guilty than I know they do right now.
“And I don’t want you guys to feel bad or feel like you’re shitty friends because you aren’t. You’re the best friends I’ve ever had, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what was going on. Please, don’t be mad at me.”
My eyes fill with tears, and I finally lift my head and look back and forth at them. Cindy has tears running down her cheeks, and Ariel looks like someone just kicked her dog.
“Jesus, we suck. I knew something was going on with you, but I thought you were just stressed like the rest of us,” Ariel says, wrapping her arm around my shoulder.
“We really do suck, and I’m sorry too, Belle. But we’re going to make it up to you right now. Pack your things. You’re staying with me,” Cindy informs me.
“Fuck that. She doesn’t need to watch you and PJ bang on every available surface of your house. She’s staying with me. I haven’t accepted any of the roommate applications yet, so it’s perfect,” Ariel argues.
The two of them lean forward and start bickering with each other until I finally put two fingers in my mouth and let out an ear-piercing whistle.
The both immediately shut up and stare at me in shock.
“Heh, heh, is that how you call Beast to dinner?” Ariel snorts.
“Shut up. He’s not a real beast. I told you, he’s sweet and, you will be surprised to know, a perfect gentleman. And I love you both, but I’m staying here.”
They open their mouths to argue, and I hold up both of my hands in front of their faces.
“No. This is final. Vincent told me I can stay until I make enough money to get my own place, and I’m going to take him up on his offer. And the best part is, I’ve decided to use this opportunity to my advantage. I need experience with men before I can dance at Charming’s and then start booking my own parties, and I now live with a man who can give me that experience and knowledge.”
My friends immediately throw their heads back and laugh.
“Dude, have you seen the size of him? Your first time can’t be with a guy like that. He’d snap you in two, and you’d never want to have sex again,” Ariel chuckles. “He wouldn’t just pop your cherry, he’d make a cherry slush.”
“I didn’t mean that kind of experience! If something happens it happens, but I’m not going to use him for sex! I meant just getting to know more about men and how they think and what they want. And this is the last tim
e I’m going to tell you guys this: I am NOT a damn virgin!” I’m annoyed and throw my hands up in the air. “I had a guy best friend in high school who was as big of a nerd as me, and we made a pact that if we were both virgins by our senior prom, we’d be each other’s dates and, you know . . . do it. So, we did it. In the back of his mom’s Honda Civic. Those cars are not roomy, let me tell you. Anyway, it was awkward and messy and over in about thirty seconds, but it still happened.”
I blow a frustrated breath of air out of the corner of my mouth, fluttering away a long strand of hair that had fallen into my eyes.
“I don’t know whether to laugh or cry right now. That’s the saddest thing I’ve ever heard,” Ariel says with a shake of her head.
“At least my first time was with a guy who knew what he was doing and it was quite pleasurable,” Cindy adds.
“Your first time was with the douchebag, babysitter fucker you married who screwed you over and took all your money. How is that in any way pleasurable?” Ariel asks her.
“Okay, fine. And your first time was any better?” Cindy snorts.
“Actually, it was. My first time was on my honeymoon, and he put rose petals on the bed and lit a bunch of candles and made me a mixed tape with a bunch of romantic songs on it.”
Now it’s my turn to stare at Ariel in shock. I’m not saying she’s promiscuous, but that’s definitely the vibe she gives off. I thought for sure her first time would have been with like, one of her teachers in high school or something. Knowing her marriage didn’t work out when he was the first man she shared something so special with makes me even sadder now.
“Enough of this dumbass trip down memory lane,” Ariel grumbles. “I’d like to get back to this plan of Belle’s. Now that we know you’re not a virgin—although only doing it one time seven years ago probably means your virginity grew back, but whatever—I might actually approve of whatever you’ve got cooking in that smarty-pants brain of yours. Even though I don’t trust the guy and still think he’s an uncultured animal, I trust your judgement.”
“Thank you,” I tell her with a smile. “I haven’t exactly thought this plan out any further than deciding it was a good idea and asking you guys for advice on how to get him to open up to me and tell me more about himself so I can start this learning process. I’ll be honest with you guys: No matter what you think of him, he gives me butterflies. I like the butterflies. I want the butterflies.”
Cindy gets up from the couch and walks over to the door where she dropped her purse when they first came barging in. She digs around inside it, pulls something out, and comes back to the couch.
“Is that a day planner?” Ariel asks.
“Yes. It’s a day planner,” Cindy confirms, unsnapping the leather flap, flipping the book open in her lap, and pulling a pen out of the elastic holder in the middle. “In order for this plan to work, we need to schedule some meetings so we can go over things. Thursdays at noon are good for me. Then we should come up with a theme for this whole experience thing. I find things become much more fun with a theme. Then we can—”
“For fuck’s sake, this isn’t a PTA meeting,” Ariel mutters with a shake of her head. “You can take the PTA away from the stripper, but you can’t take the stripper away from the PTA. Seducing a guy like that isn’t like planning a bake sale. It needs to be spontaneous.”
“It needs to be planned out. She has no idea what she’s doing! Do you want her to look like a fool and have him reject her? How mortifying would that be?”
“So, what, you want her to make a list of things she should do and refer to them in the middle of a seduction? ‘Oh, yes. Oh, that feels so good. WAIT! I need to check my notes to make sure you’re going down on me right.” Ariel says in a high-pitched voice that sounds nothing like me.
“Fine. We’ll meet in the middle. We’ll give her some pointers and she doesn’t have to schedule it or anything, she can do it when it feels right,” Cindy states.
I’ve done nothing but jerk my head back and forth between my two friends while they argue, like I was watching a tennis match, but this is just too much.
“I told you, I’m not going to seduce him, are you insane?! I just want to get to know him. And if it leads to something more, so be it,” I tell them.
“Jesus, this has bad news written all over it,” Ariel complains.
“I thought you said you approved of my plan!” I argue
“I did. When I thought you were planning on boning him. I know all about teaching someone how to do that. I just think with a guy like Beast, he’s not going to be into the whole hearts - and - flowers, let’s - sit - down - and - talk - about - our - feelings type of thing. If that’s what you really want, you need experience before you get experience, if you know what I mean.”
“NO! I don’t know what you mean! That’s the problem!” I complain.
“It’s the same thing we’ve been saying all along: You have to learn to walk before you can run. You need to go on dates and learn how to actually talk to another man before you try and get deeper with Beast. He’s not just some chump who will be easy to figure out within a few days. If this is what you want, and what you want is more butterflies, you need pre-experience,” Ariel explains.
“Actually, I’ve already sort of scheduled some pre-experience for you,” Cindy says quietly.
“What are you talking about?” I ask her, my head whipping around to face Ariel. “What is she talking about?”
Ariel just shrugs, and Cindy grabs my hand from my lap and gives it a squeeze.
“Don’t be mad. And really, considering you kept this huge secret from us about your living arrangements, we can just call it even. What are you doing later tonight? And tomorrow? And three days from now, and next Friday?”
“Huh? I . . . what?”
Cindy bites her bottom lip and glances around me at Ariel before looking me in the eye again.
“Well, I took the liberty of weeding through all of those emails you were getting from that dating website and . . . surprise! You’ve got four dates lined up!”
Chapter 9: Silver Fox
“I think we should leave. This is a bad idea,” I whisper as we walk up the steps to my dad’s house.
When Cindy and Ariel finished convincing me that going on a few dates is exactly what I need, they also convinced me to let them bring me here.
“I don’t have to shove your ass through a window for once. We can actually walk through the front door like normal human beings,” Ariel reminds me. “Besides, you have a date tonight and you can’t wear that. We need to pack up the rest of your things and hope you have something a little less nun-ish to wear.”
She grimaces at my floral maxi dress, and I roll my eyes.
“There’s nothing wrong with this dress. It’s sweet and pretty.”
“Exactly. If you have any hope of getting more experience with men, you need hot and sexy. Not an ankle-length dress that covers up all the goods. Your dates will think you’re Amish. They’ll take one look at you and want to churn butter or build a barn.”
“Ariel, be nice,” Cindy scolds from behind us.
“This is me being nice. It’s not like I said her date will take one look at her and his penis will shrivel and try to burrow its way back up inside his body.”
“These dates are just to get to know men better, not to sleep with them!” I remind her.
“Pshaw, whatever,” she says with a shooing gesture. “You still need to look hot, or the guy will lose interest.”
I know Ariel is right. I need to get used to being a little more risqué with the things I wear, especially if I want to be confident when I’m dancing for people wearing nothing more than a bra and underwear. My clothes have always been a reflection of myself: Sweet, innocent, and simple. And that is definitely not what I want to be anymore. I’m tired of being sweet and innocent. I want to be wild and reckless. I want men to look at me and think I’m beautiful and sexy, not look past me trying to find someone hotter.
Moving around Ariel, I take a deep breath and turn the handle of the front door, taking a step inside, with my friends right on my heels. I hate that I feel like a stranger walking into this house.
“Dad?” I shout tentatively as Cindy closes the door behind us.
When he doesn’t answer, I start digging around in my purse for my phone, knowing I should have called first, before I just showed up after a week of no communication with him.
I hear my dad clear his throat, and I stop looking for my phone and glance up at him.
All of a sudden, Ariel shoves me out of the way and I stumble into the foyer wall as she races around me, stopping halfway down the hall and getting into a fighter’s stance with her fists up by her face.
“Who the fuck are you and what are you doing here?! I’ve taken several kickboxing classes and I will not hesitate to drop kick your ass!” Ariel shouts.
Pushing myself away from the wall, I hurry up to her side and grab her hands, forcing them back down to her sides.
“What are you doing?! That’s twice in one day you’ve tried to fight men in my life!” I yell at her.
“What in the world is going on?” my father asks, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, glaring at Ariel.
“I’m protecting us! You said your dad is all alone at the house. So, who the fuck is this guy?” she asks.
“Um, that’s my dad.”
Ariel’s mouth drops open and Cindy comes up behind us.
“Oh my . . . he’s, he’s . . . oh my . . .” she whispers.
I have no idea what is happening right now.
“This is your dad?!” Ariel screeches, pointing at my father.
“Yes. What the heck is wrong with you?”
“You said he was OLD and frail!” she shouts.
“I never said that!”
“Well, it was implied! He goes to bed early, he has to take medicine for his back, he rarely leaves the house, blah, blah, blah, that equals old as shit!” she argues, sending me an accusatory look before looking back at my, dad who appears incredibly ticked off at what’s happening right now. “How you doin’?”
