Chapter 8 Taji Sloane #2
“Um—I’m not sure!” I snapped. “I could me hallucinating. Did it feel like this?”
I punched her again—this time harder.
This was in retaliation for the years of torture in high school and for staring at Trucker as he worked all those days before.
“You hit me again!”
“Surprise!” Sarcasm rich in my voice. “I’m over you and your abuse—got that? If you put your hands on me again, I won’t be pulling my punches. And each time, I’m going to make sure you see it coming and suffer. Got it?”
“You hit me!”
“Are you broken?” I demanded. “Are you stuck on stupid?”
Blood covered her hand now and she was mortified when she looked at her palm only to cover her nose and mouth.
“You started it! I will make time for you now. Because I’ve done nothing to warrant you picking on me.”
“He’s mine!” She growled, pushing to her feet.
I knew precisely who she was referring to.
“Did you ask him what he wanted?” I demanded.
“I don’t have to. I’m not some dirty little slut like you.” She spat. “When he finds out, he won’t want anything to do with you.”
I caught her by the hair and brought her face down—hard—against one of the shelves before releasing her. Though her words hurt, I took great pleasure in the blood dripping through her fingers, from her nose into her palm.
Instead of withering in a corner like I would in high school when she flipped her dirty blond hair over a shoulder and proceeded to make my life hell, I lifted my chin.
No, this time I stalked her, like she was prey.
“Better a slut than a chemical toilet.” I countered. “But here we are.”
Esther reached for me.
I side-stepped and popped her in the nose again.
She screamed.
More blood pooled from her nostrils.
“I’m not going to fight you over a man.” I told her, measuring my tone. “If Trucker wants you then there’s no accounting for taste, you can have him.”
“You have no right to talk to me like that.”
“But until then, you come for me when I don’t call for you and I’ll do more than bust your nose.”
“I’m having you arrested.”
“Do I look scared?” I stepped toward her.
Esther gasped and backed up.
“Take a fucking good look.” I leaned in. “Do I look scared?”
“W-what are you doing?”
She backed up again.
I was not going to pussy-foot around anything with this bitch anymore. If she wanted a fight, I’d give her one and made sure I play dirty.
I grabbed a pack of magnum condoms from a display next to her. Glancing down at it, I tapped it into my palm to make sure the box was sealed.
Teenagers had started opening them to steal one then putting back the unsealed box on the shelf. It was easier to steal them.
Sure, they could get them from the clinic for free, but we lived in a small town.
People talked and the last thing the kids wanted was for news to get back to their parents.
I ensured she saw me do it, then sashayed my fine ass toward the end of the aisle.
When I was out of her view, I exhaled the haughty breath I’d been holding, swallowed the lump in my throat and continued through my day.
Trucker had said he wasn’t interested in Esther.
But how could I believe that?
Aside from smelling like an overused ashtray, Esther was pretty. The smell could be taken care of by better hygiene.
She’d always been pretty with her perfect hair and perfect face.
In high school, she used her looks like a kid who’d found their dad’s loaded gun.
She’d flirted with the boys, no matter if they were single or not. She’d seduced them, not because she wanted or particularly cared for them. She’d done it because she could and very soon afterward, dumped them.
Christian Morrison was just a toy she took because Angela Milligan accidentally bumped into her at the lockers. The same day Christian’s head was turned, she dumped him publicly right before second period.
His parents moved away soon after that.
Some said it was for work—but we knew the humiliation had broken him.
Angela became different afterward.
She died at eighteen from cancer.
Esther was a horrible child, with equally disgusting parents who never called her out on anything. They had money too and held it over people’s head like the hammer of God. When they lost it all, people in town were happy.
I was young but even I knew that if they were on fire no one would even piss on them to put it out. The made everyone miserable.
I had to admit, I was happy to see her fall—her father wound up in federal prison for fraud and the last we heard, her mother was still on the run on one of those no extradition islands.
The only thing that saved Esther, as that she was a minor.
But she still acted as if the world was her oyster and whatever she wanted was hers.
The women whispered behind their hands as I paid for my groceries. They talked as I wandered in and out of other stores, picking up a few other things. And by the time I stopped at the bakery, they weren’t even trying to hide it anymore.
I didn’t try hiding my disdain for them.
Don’t let them see you cry—ever.
Trucker’s husky voice came back to her.
You can cry when they’re dead.
Show them you’re a bad-ass bitch.
His encouragement gave me strength and I lifted my chin.
As I walked by them, I swung my hips as fiercely as I could, showing them I didn’t give a damn what they thought.
But at the post office, I was beyond being the bigger person.
“How much weight did she gain?” Marigold Johnson asked Theresa Chambers, the mayor’s wife. “Do you see how sexy that man is? He deserves a woman who is in shape, who will look good on his arm. I can’t imagine a fit fireman like that would want her this way.”
I cleared my throat from behind them.
“Excuse me.”
When they faced me, I smiled.
“Am I sitting on your face?” I demanded.
“What?” Marigold gasped.
“Am I—sitting on your—face?” I repeated.
“Well, no.” She replied.
“Then my weight is none of your business.” I snapped. “I repeat. My weight—is none of—your business. Did you get that?”
Theresa gasped. “How dare you?”
“How dare I?” I stepped forward.
They backed up.
“How dare I.” I scoffed. “Un-fucking-believable.”
Leaving them, I went home, packed away the groceries and climbed into bed.
I curled my body into a ball and pulled the sheets over my head.
It was exhausting pretending not to be impacted as the entire town threw stones at me.
It was exhausted being a bad bitch.