Chapter 13 #2
“This is Bumpy,” Brad proudly says, as he smoothes his hand over my belly to show off the small bump I'm sporting under this dress. Cue the third degree.
“Wait, what?”
“Did you name her fat belly?”
“I didn't know old people could even get pregnant,” sneers one of the clones. They’re all starting to blur together at this point.
“Brad, did you seriously knock this old bitch up?”
“Who’s pregnant?”
“Hey, Shari. Why are you guys naming the baby Bumpy?” Torbyn inches closer to ask.
“The baby isn't going to be called Bumpy.”
“Is she a surrogate?”
“Why would Brad need a surrogate?” Dave questions.
“I don't know! Why else would he have a baby with an old woman?” P Shaped Barbie stomps her foot in indignation, and those bazookas jiggle. Guess they are real after all! Damn.
A small voice pipes up from next to me, “Congratulations, Shari.
Between the two of you, the baby will be an absolute heartbreaker, for sure.
I'm Cassie, by the way,” the owner of the voice – a tiny brunette – grins at me.
She's adorable, basically pocket-sized, with curly brown hair and dark blue eyes that look almost too big for her face.
Like a Disney princess. And the real winner? She seems nice!
I turn to give her my full attention, letting go of Brad’s hand in the process. “It’s good to meet you, Cassie. I can't tell you how much of a relief it is to hear at least one friendly voice in amongst...this,” I grimace as I wave my hand towards the Barbie Bitch Brigade.
Cassie nods with a cringe of her own. “You don't have to tell me. We're in desperate need of some nice around here.” A slow grin takes over her face as she adds, “Trey has been saying from the start that you're the one who'll knock Brad for six.”
“Did I hear my name?” Trey’s deep voice rumbles behind me.
Cassie giggles and blushes slightly – someone clearly has a crush – and they start talking, but my attention drifts back to Brad.
The plastic fantastic clones surround him like vultures, standing so close it's a wonder he can still breathe.
They're cooing and pouting and batting their eyelashes and making me positively murderous in the process.
..but I don't really have the right to say anything.
To do anything about it. Because again, we haven't actually defined our relationship one way or the other.
So, I stand there like an overstuffed lemon and seethe quietly.
Jaime said she knows how to get rid of bodies.
Bet it wouldn't take much to get her to help out with the Triple B’s.
Brad's worried gaze flicks my way, so I give him a reassuring smile, but I fear it must come out as completely crazed because I don’t have the best poker face.
Trey’s arm slides around my shoulders, his attention still on Cassie next to me as they continue their conversation. I’m grateful for quiet support, even as I try to pretend that I don’t need it.
“Ignore them, beautiful. They’re trying to rile you, and Brad’s too damn polite to just walk away. Just trust me, he doesn’t want to be standing there with them any more than you want them near him.”
Brad’s body language does seem particularly stiff. Should I go over there and save him? Would he even want that?
I’m still hesitating when Bianca reaches forward to stroke her hand down his chest, and my blood pressure rockets. The only thing that stops me from storming over and ripping her fake hair off her fake head is Brad snagging her wrist and throwing her hand off him.
He all but shoves the girls away and comes to stand in front of me, looking both pissed off and panicked.
Grabbing my hands, the panicked look in his eyes hasn't abated as he starts his apologies.
“I’m sorry, Blaze. I don't know what's gotten into them today.
They're not usually...quite this bad, I swear.
Please don't be mad or upset. I promise there's nothing going on here.”
“Brad, are you coming to the party tonight? Or do you have to stay in with the old biddy?” This was exactly what I feared. The judgement, the bullying, the very apparent age gap that currently feels like a canyon, if this is what girls his age act like.
Cassie surprises me by growling, “Lisa, don't be such a bitch!” I guess P Shaped Barbie is called Lisa, then.
I grit my teeth. “You should go to the party. You've just graduated, you should celebrate with your friends.”
“I’m not going, I'd rather stay in with you.”
“Brad, there will be plenty of time to stay in once the baby is here. And less time to spend with your mates.”
“Hey, do you give blowjob lessons? Because you must suck like a hoover if Brad’s considering staying in with you instead,” Scouse Barbie – Bianca – snickers with her plastic pals.
“Fucking shut up, Bianca!” Bianca has the audacity to look affronted at Trey’s reprimanding, flicking her hair over her shoulder with a huff.
“Brad. You should go, have fun with your friends. Seriously, I'll be fine.”
“I’ll only go if you're coming with me.”
“What? She's not invited! No OAPs allowed, it’s probably past her bedtime, anyway.”
“Fiona, what the fuck is wrong with all of you today? Don't be such nasty ass bitches or you won't be invited,” Trey interjects once again.
Fiona – plastic clone number three – grumbles under her breath, chastised for the moment.
“As much as it pains me to say it, Desperate Barbie isn't exactly wrong. I'm pregnant, so I absolutely won't be drinking. And I think a house full of drunken twenty-somethings will be...a lot to take when I'm sober and tired and sick and older than everyone,” I lament.
“Then I'm not going, Shari. It's as simple as that.”
“Fuckin’ hell, when did you become such a mug? Can't you see she's manipulating you, Brad?” Oh, Bianca, time to grow up.
Brad’s entire frame is tense, his jaw, his shoulders, his posture in general. It’s easy to see that he hates the way the Triple B’s are treating me, but he’s taking my cue and ignoring them.
However, if I stay any longer to listen to this bullshit, I'll be lucky not to be arrested for the bodily harm I'm on the edge of inflicting on these fucking awful girls.
“You know what? I think I might just go home.
This whole atmosphere is just...not what I need right now, and I'm not really feeling up to having lunch with your family while I feel like this.”
“Blaze, no!” He uses his grip on my hands to pull me closer to him, “Please, love, come on, we'll leave these idiots and go have lunch with my family right now. Please? And then I'll take you home myself. Please, please, please don't leave, I want to celebrate with you.”
Hormones fill my eyes – as is my new norm – and I see Brad's determination wash over his beautiful features.
“I’m taking my woman to lunch with my family, and then I'm taking her home. Where I will stay too. You all have fun at the party,” he calls over his shoulder without breaking eye contact with me.
My heart swells at him calling me his woman in front of his friends and these catty bitches, and it really needs to stop doing that. Or I'll never be able to let him go.