15. THE ONE WITH GRIM
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
THE ONE WITH GRIM
Comment: Omg I bartend at a club downtown and they were there together last night!
Comment reply: Say you swear!
Comment reply: TELL US EVERYTHING!
I don't care how far behind Enzo’s schedule we are… If they want me at this show tonight, they’ll wait for me to shower.
It’s the least he can do after jumping to conclusions about me, which he apologized for, but I’ll still take the extra time to sit with the absolute insane decision I’d made.
Frankie packed my bag for me, and now she’s braiding my hair while I stare at myself in the mirror like the ghost of a Victorian child.
“Am I crazy for doing this? Is this fucking crazy?” I ask in a hushed tone. There’s no way West or Enzo can hear us, but I’m still not taking any chances. “We don’t even know these guys, and I’m just going off with them all by myself.”
“Well, you already went off with one of them, and all he did was give you six orgasms, so I think you’re safe,” Frankie says, fluffing my braid to give it some volume while it dries.
“I also think your shitty parents abandoning you fucks with you so bad that you don’t know how to enjoy spontaneity.
You never have.” She throws the braid over my front shoulder.
“I said you’ve gotten uptight, but you’ve kinda always been this way.
” Frankie grimaces lightly, as if she’s been holding in a life-changing secret.
I stare at her beside me in the mirror, half ready to cuss her out and half ready to hug her… I’ve always been afraid I’ll be a disappointment and people will compare me to them—but to who? A man no one knows, not even me, and a mother I haven’t seen in over twenty years?
Frankie gives me a smile that says she’s sorry when I sigh. “When are you ever gonna be this hot, this smart, or this young again?” she muses.
Never.
Wallowing isn’t on today’s agenda, so I quickly throw on a pair of black biker shorts, an oversized sweater, crew socks, and a pair of old checkered Vans.
I was dolled up last night, waking up with a piece of that Jo still lingering. This new one is washed and ready to look at this with a business eye.
This weekend is about making a little in between money and figuring out what the fuck I’m going to do about HexedHeroine. That’s it. That’s all. Nothing more.
I can’t even think of opening any of my social media accounts right now. All of this is too fresh.
What Frankie said about me was right though… I have let my childhood trauma scare me into living a pretty boring everyday life, especially after the added emotional damage of my ex and his fucked up family.
Maybe this is me starting over, and it just took me three years and nine months to get here.
West and Enzo are playing Mario Kart on my original Nintendo 64 when Frankie and I return to the living room. “If I run into one more of your bananas!” Enzo complains with a gruff accent.
“Banana, banana, banana!” West pumps his fist in the air when the screen lights up and announces his first-place victory.
“I’m embarrassed. As your best friend, I’m so embarrassed that I’ve allowed you to be this bad at Mario Kart for all these years.
” He pats Enzo on the back when he comes in last place.
“This isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I promise to do better. ”
What the fuck am I getting myself into, and how many more times am I going to think that over the next two days?
West stands and puts the Nintendo controllers back in their place and stretches his arms over his head, yawning.
I can’t help my eyes travel to the small bit of his exposed torso.
Not only does he have a pretty face, but the body he plasters all over social media is ever better in person.
He pulls the backwards hat off his head to run a hand through his soft and shiny hair, and I silently pray to any god who will listen that he puts it back on the right way…
He doesn’t, so I cuss all the gods out instead.
He catches me staring, but thankfully chooses to comment on the sweater I’ve had since freshman year of high school. “Ah, Harvard. You’re like the emo Elle Woods. Where’s Bowser?”
Frankie and I both cock our heads in the same direction at the same time, except I say, “huh?”
And she says, “you mean Bruiser?”
West draws his brows together. “Wait, you mean he’s not named after the character from Mario?”
“Have you never seen Legally Blonde?” Frankie scoffs.
Frankie has played Elle Woods twice. Once in high school, and then once again her senior year of college at Boston University where she majored in Performing Arts.
West doesn’t look like the kind of guy who spends his night watching chick-flicks and memorizing their pets' names. I’m not sure why she’s so shocked.
“Fuck,” I murmur, interrupting Frankie’s indulgence of her fourth favorite musical—behind Little Shop of Horrors, Hadestown, and Hamilton. “Frankie, you’re gonna hate this…”
She already knows, and she’s doing her best for my sake not to show how much she doesn’t actually want to do it. “I’ll feed Grim tomorrow.” The words make Frankie swallow what I’m sure is bile.
“Grim? Do you have a cat?” West looks around for the sign of a pet.
“She’s definitely nicer than a cat,” I admit.
Frankie groans, “just nowhere near as fluffy or cute.”
I lead them into my second bedroom, turned filming room, slash library and office. One wall is covered in masks from floor to ceiling. Mixed in with the most recognizable of the horror characters are some more niche choices most might not know.
My personal favorites are the custom Hex pieces I’ve gotten made over the years.
The opposite wall is filled with shelves of books and a built-in glass enclosure spanning two shelf spaces.
Inside the small walk-in closet is a desk fit to size and storage for props and filming equipment. I needed a quiet place to work on days when I didn’t go into the office, and this was the coziest place to do it with no distractions.
I reach inside the glass enclosure and pull out my piebald ball python, Grimoire. She curls around my wrist, looking like I woke her from a pretty important nap. “I rescued Grim as a baby about ten years ago.”
Frankie stands with her arms crossed at the door, never wanting to be too close to my snake-daughter—her literal niece. “Correction, she stole her from a pet store. Jo fucking slipped her into her pocket and walked out.”
She had no idea until we got back to her car, and I whipped a snake out of my hoodie.
“They were starving her! Was I supposed to leave her there?” Grim flicks her tongue out a few times, making me smile. I love the creepy crawlies others think are scary and gross.
Enzo takes a step forward. “Can I hold her?”
“Held many snakes?” I ask.
“My uncle had a ball python named Bowtie when I was a kid.” He smiles when I pass Grim over and she curls up in his palm.
“You would be a snake girl,” West chides with a laugh.
We don’t spend long with Grim, Enzo bound to keep us on track despite the snake-holding detour.
Frankie walks us out, nodding lazily while I repeat what she’s heard a million times before. “Go to the pet store right outside Cambridge and get the baby mice. They’re a little more expensive, but they’re better for her and won’t bite if she doesn’t eat them right away.”
She smacks me on the ass as we walk down the front porch and through Hilda’s garden. “Stop worrying about your snake. I can do this. I’ve watched you feed her a couple times now. That’s progress!”
Watching and being the one delivering a mouse to its death is different though… I’m a vegetarian but am not ignorant enough to think my carnivorous snake should be.
I stop walking. “Frank—”
“JoJo, it’s fine. I’ve got this. You worry about yourself and figure out where you want to go next. The world is your oyster. Go make a pearl or whatever.” She wraps her arms around me as I hear the approach of a vehicle from behind.
I pull out of our hug and glance over my shoulder, met with a newer looking Class C Motorhome.
I’m sure it’s coincidental it pulls up at the curb where West said they’d pick me up… Until the door flies open and he’s the one who climbs out.
“Welcome to life on the road, Joey baby.”