Chapter 7
Chapter
Seven
PEARL
P earl swirled cranberry juice and cornstarch together on her cheap saucepan. This was her second try making edible fake blood. She’d woken up early with a vision for a Halloween party she’d throw for AB this fall and needed to get it right.
She moved the whisk slowly in the bubbling, pink mixture. If it boiled, it’d be ruined. She savored the stillness of being the only one at home, as Reed had a tendency to jog back and forth.
He’d gone out for an early morning run, the freak.
They’d officially start working together tomorrow.
It probably wouldn’t be a disaster.
Anthrax raged in the background over her phone speakers. Thrash metal hit a sweet spot in her brain when she was tired. As her playlist switched to a Megadeath hit, a loud beeping sounded outside, like a recycling truck.
But it’s Sunday . She peeked out the kitchen window.
A large tow truck was backing up to her car, and Beulah, in her ogre-esque glory in a faded silk robe and cigarette in her mouth, stood there with a smirk and measuring tape.
Hatred and spite fueled Pearl’s speed as she grabbed her keys and dashed out the door.
“Two inches this time.” Beulah smirked. “So your car is being towed.”
“No the fuck it’s not,” Pearl screamed.
A greasy-looking man with thinning hair and a stained undershirt slowly got out of the tow truck.
“There is no property line on the road, Barf-lah . People can park wherever the fuck they want.” She towered over Beulah’s tiny, toad-like height.
The heavy metal drag of towing chains sounded as the man moved to hook up her car. She didn’t have the money to get un-towed, and the guy looked like he just wanted to be paid.
“Jesus fucking Christ on a Christmas fucking cracker.” Pearl dug in her pocket for her keys. “Fine. I’m moving it.”
“Told you I don’t fuck around,” Beulah snarled in her garbling, weaselly voice.
“Wish you’d fuck off the top of a tall building,” Pearl called over her shoulder.
She slammed her body into the driver’s seat, hit the keys of the ignition just so, and the car turned on with a sputter.
She’d backed up a solid foot, just to be safe.
Beulah hobbled back inside. She took great pride in her front landscaping and ugly-ass concrete gnomes. Pearl had made a game of hiding the stupid things.
To date, Pearl’s greatest achievement was Beulah sliding all the way into her own trash can, feet dangling out like a cartoon character, trying to grab the concrete gnomes inside.
Oh shit, the cranberry juice.
Pearl dashed back into the kitchen and sure enough, the mixture had started to bubble and harden, turning sticky.
Still looks like blood though, even if the consistency is fucked.
Then Pearl got an amazingly awful idea.
She took the pan outside, and with the type of happy abandon that made one frolic in a spring meadow, she threw the fake blood all over Beulah’s gnomes.
They looked like chubby concrete stand-ins for Carrie . Streaks of red ran down their little demonic smiles.
Honestly, it’s an improvement. She regretfully went back inside to get ready for her wedding server gig.
Ten minutes later, after several raging screams underneath the cool water of the shower, she felt better.
When you were twenty-seven, you were supposed to have your shit figured out. You shouldn’t be mortal enemies with the old bat next door.
People in their late twenties host dinner parties. They’re kind to their friends. She snorted. They probably had friends.
I’d need that first.
A crash sounded outside the door.
“Hello?” She poked her head out of the shower curtain.
Goddamn it. Did Beulah break in?
More crashing, like things tumbling to the ground.
Joke’s on her, we don’t have any shit worth taking . She turned off the shower and reached for her towel…
That I fucking forgot.
The towels were in the closet outside the tiny, shitty bathroom.
She poked her head out the bathroom door. “Hello?”
Silence answered.
She strained her ears, listening for any other sounds, peeking right and left, making sure no one was in the house.
Stark naked and dripping, water running into her eyes, she gingerly walked to the hall closet.
She was about to reach the closet when a flash of bare skin, black shorts, and neon orange headphones dashed out of Luca’s bedroom.
She screamed in fright as a man slammed into her, and she started to topple backward toward the staircase.
“Faaaakk—”
She grabbed anything on the wall to save herself, but a hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her back to avoid sudden death. Arms wrapped tightly around her.
“Sonofa—” She smacked back into a chest. Their arms and legs grappled for purchase as his damp skin slipped on hers. They slammed against a wall.
It registered that the naked man under her was Reed as they hit the floor. His arms were wrapped around her, one hand squarely on her left tit.
The scent of his sweat surrounded her, and music blared out of his headphones at top volume. She would’ve appreciated his selection of The Dead Kennedys if she wasn’t currently wet, naked, and pressed against his body.
They both screamed.
“Get off of me!” she yelled, and his hands sprung free, only to give him a perfect view of her tits over her shoulder. “Oh my god, that’s worse.”
“Sorry.” He slapped his hands to his eyes as she army-rolled onto her belly.
She scrambled to the hall closet. “Didn’t you hear me calling?” She grabbed a towel from the closet and wrapped it around herself with a vengeance. Her entire thigh and hip were still uncovered.
“Headphones,” he yelled, pulling them off. “Running.” His breathing was ragged. “Was only coming in for a second. Knocked over some books and then some other stuff. Didn’t know you were”—he panted—“very naked.”
She ran into her room and slammed the door. She stood against it, gathering her breath.
The scent of his sweat was all around her.
He smelled so. Fucking. Good.
Cedar and sex and rich cologne curled around her clit and tugged on it like a fucking leash.
That was gross, right? She shouldn’t want some dude’s sweat on her.
Maybe I could go back and roll around on him again…for science.
“Pearl,” he called from the other side of the door. “I’m so sorry.”
“So you just happened to run out as I came out of the bathroom naked?”
“Why were you coming out of the bathroom naked ?”
Touché . “Because I’m a fucking feminist, Reed.” Did that make any sense? No. She was still gonna stand by it, though. “If you have a problem with a woman’s body, you know…go pluck out your eyes or whatever that saying is.”
A huff of laughter on the other side of the door made her lips twitch into a smile.
“Look, I’m going to get some food, and then I’ll be in my room for the rest of the day playing D&D with my cousins on a video call.”
How is somebody that nerdy that hot? It doesn’t make sense.
“You gonna do Mathletes this evening, too?” she called, wandering to her lingerie drawer.
He laughed. It was deep and easy, and she decided to ignore the goosebumps running down her arm,
“No, they had a conflict with the chess club. But my barbarian D&D figurine and I will stay out of your way, okay?”
What a fucking delight to start working for him tomorrow morning.
“If you feel a tingling tonight, it’s me burning your likeness in effigy,” she called.
Heavy steps sounded from the stairs. “Anything for you,” he called back.
She paused. It reminded her of somebody.
An eerie feeling settled over her, like deja vu.
He’d squeezed her like a vise to him, saving her from falling down the stairs, which would have been a bad time for everybody, specifically her spinal cord.
She rubbed her cheek where it had smashed into his warm, firm shoulder. The searing touch of his arms had wrapped tightly around her middle and lingered on her stomach and breasts.
She should’ve said thank you, but it got trapped in her throat with embarrassment and…
Oh god. Oh no. Is this attraction? she thought with genuine curiosity. Couldn’t be.
This was Reed fucking Berry, the dorkiest kid in eighth grade.
The guy who she’d had to save from being beat up in high school multiple times because he was an easy, small target.
The guy who did things like play D&D on a Sunday afternoon on the internet.
A goblin, demonic part of her swiped a finger where his arms had been, searching for a taste he might have left behind.
She licked it.
“Oof,” she whispered, savoring it. She closed her eyes. “Goddamn.”
She’d take this secret to her grave, that she wanted another taste of Reed Berry.
ImpossiblyBookish
so today i was at a wedding
it was going great
until
some old groomsman grabbed my ass
so i turned around and yelled at him
then his WIFE yelled at ME
i guess for having an ass worth grabbing?
in her anger, she tossed my platter of sloppy joe sliders
…which landed alllll over the maid of honor
so i shoved her cake in her face
(the wife, not the maid of honor)
and THEN i took one of the sliders on the floor and pelted her shitty husband with it
which was NOT the move according to my boss
…who was also for some reason at a wedding with me…
total coincidence
ANYWHO
the wife slipped on the sliders on the floor
guess they’re appropriately named
and knocked the flower girl INTO the chocolate fountain
so i yanked her back
(the flower girl, not the wife)
cause fuck that bitch in particular
but i lost my balance and fell toward the table
and grabbed the chocolate fountain as it tipped over on ME
but then I SLIPPED ON THE SLIDERS
AND YEETED THE CHOCOLATE FOUNTAIN *AT* THE MOTHERFUCKING brIDE
i just wanted to you to know you’re one of the only men i don’t hate and it’s a very small list
because jesus fucking christ do i hate men
and today can go suck a giant bag of moldy dicks
Hemingway_cansuckit
…Why did you have a whole platter of sliders?
ImpossiblyBookish
THAT’S your takeaway????
nevermind, you’re off the list
Hemingway_cansuckit
I mean, a platter is like a lot, right? Like maybe 30?
Sorry, got caught up playing a game with some friends
I’m so sorry a man grabbed you. That part is not even a little funny and it makes my blood seethe just thinking about it.
I’d happily fly to Colorado and attempt to flatten him if you wanted me to.
But my body is having a hard time understanding if I’m angry or if I’m happy because I can’t stop thinking about you pelting a lecher with a small sloppy joe and the joy it brings me.
Did you actually hit him with it?
ImpossiblyBookish
square in the face.
Hemingway_cansuckit
That’s my girl.
ImpossiblyBookish
you’d flatten him, huh?
you could…do that?
Hemingway_cansuckit
I mean, I’d try. I’m 6’2, work out a bunch.
I guess if he was a lineman for the Broncos we’d need to get creative
ImpossiblyBookish
he was short and old
Hemingway_cansuckit
Then I’d happily punch his face and/or grab his ass.
Whichever you’d think would be a fair payback.
ImpossiblyBookish
throw in a little balls action and you’re back on the list.
Hemingway_cansuckit
Anything for you, Bookish