Slut (2 page)

CHAPTER TWO

With the previous night’s misadventure firmly out of my head, I planned to go out again. I wanted to give Brant and Claire the apartment for the evening. I’d already ordered and paid for Chinese, Claire’s favorite, and chilled a hand painted bottle of Perrier-Jouet. I wanted them to have a special night. If anyone deserved it, they did.

Karlie Packer had invited me to her twenty-second birthday party. Her daddy had rented his princess a riverboat cruise. All night. It’d be a real party barge—a frat house on the water, I was sure.

And it was just what I needed.

I’d disappear into some room with someone who would touch me, use me, and make me forget about all the things that hurt.

Thornton wouldn’t be there, that would be too plebian a scene for him.

Claire’s friend Rosa—I guessed she was kind of my friend now too—had asked if she could come if I decided to go and I figured why not? Maybe even my friend Ryan as well, but he was probably mooning over that guy J.D. Fain. More power to him, I’d moon over Fain too, if I thought for one second he’d be into me.

Ryan thought his obsession was a secret, but it wasn’t hard to see.

I called Rosa.

“Hey, I’m going to that riverboat thing. You still want to go?”

“Hell yeah. Should I bring my own liquor?”

“No, it’ll be open bar.”

“Now, the most important question. What do I wear?”

“Anything Claire designed.” Claire had her own clothing company called
Chubbalicious
and she made beautiful clothes for bigger bodies. Her marketing was brilliant too. She’d had all her male stripper friends pose with her models and she’d even posed herself. It made me wish I could wear her clothes.

Part of me wondered if I’d known a woman like Claire before if I’d have still had the bariatric surgery and then all the procedures after to get rid of all the loose skin, lift my breasts, and straighten my nose.

I’d woken up with the new nose. My father had thrown the procedure in as an extra surprise—a gift because he was so proud of me.

I hadn’t thought there was anything wrong with my nose. It was his nose. But he said it was too prominent on a woman and his plastic surgeon friend had agreed.

When I looked in the mirror, even eight years later, I still didn’t recognize the person staring back at me. She was a stranger.

“Okay, pick me up at four. I’ll text you the address.”

As soon as we hung up, I called Ryan too. “Hey, be ready at four thirty. You’re going out tonight.”

“No, I’m not.” He sounded as if he were already exasperated with me.

“Yes, you are. We’re going to Karlie’s party.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because Fain is going.” I sing-songed.

“I don’t care if Fain is going.”

“Oh, please. Yes, you do.”

“How would you know if he’s going or not?”

“Because I asked him.”

“When would you ask him? You don’t even know him.”

“We sit next to each other in statistics.
He’s going
. The whole football team is going. Did you miss that in practice?”

“Maybe…” he drawled.

“Too busy eye-fucking Fain.” I laughed. “Look, nut up or shut up, Ryan.”

“What time?”

“Good man. Four thirty. I’ll see you then.”

I sharpened my claws on Ryan all the time. We flirted and did the dance, but never seriously. I don’t know what it was about him, but he was safe.

And not just because he was obsessed with J.D. Fain. Ryan had his fair share of girlfriends and a healthy sexual appetite. He’d always struck me as omnisexual—preferring instead the connection rather than the actual sex.

He was the complete opposite of me. Maybe that’s why Ryan was safe.

I chose a pair of skinny jeans, kitten heels, and a shirt that had sparkles on it in the shape of bones and a ribcage. The back was a miasma of knotted fabric, so it might as well have been non-existent.

I didn’t do much with my hair or makeup. I brushed it out, and my father had spent so much money on my face, I might as well wear it
au naturel
.  I wasn’t sure if it was because or in spite of, but I figured I’d just ruin it anyway. I hated the drive home in the morning with mascara running down my face, looking like a hung over raccoon. If I didn’t wear it, problem solved.

“Hey, where are you off to?” Claire asked me from the living room when I emerged.

“I’m going to a birthday party on a riverboat.”

“Riverboat?” Claire bit her lip and blushed.

I raised a brow. “You dirty girl.” She must’ve done something dirty with Brant on a riverboat. I had to remind myself to get the story later.

“Maybe.” She grinned. “You want some company?”

“I’m taking Rosa. And you my dear, are staying here.”

“Oh really?” Claire seemed surprised by my answer.

“Most definitely. I arranged it with Brant last night. He’ll be here in about an hour. I ordered you Chinese. You’ll have the apartment all to yourself tonight, sweets.” I flashed her a big smile. “All night.”

“Yeah, no pressure or anything.” Claire made a high-pitched sound that might have been a nervous giggle.

“Why are you nervous? You two are so obviously meant for each other. Relax. It’s not like you have to bang like monkeys on Viagra just because I’m gone. But you know, the option is there.” I smiled. “And it’s not like you haven’t had sex before.”

Claire sighed. “I know. It’s just… this is important. I don’t want to screw it up. Everything has been going surprisingly well for me and I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. Correction: not just drop, but hit me in the head.”

“There’s always another shoe. Always. Life is good and bad, so roll with the good and eat it up while you can. Then remember that when it’s bad too because whatever happens, the good times will come around again.”

If only I could take my own advice.

“And I just keep trying to keep the carousel from turning. I guess I can’t.”

“Neither of us can.”

“Oh hey, those came for you today.” She pointed to a bouquet of a dozen lavender roses.

Dread tightened in a knot in my gut. “Does the card say who they’re from?”

“Has your name on it, doll. Not mine.” She flashed a playful wink.

I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to look. If I didn’t look, I didn’t have to think about Thornton.

His name was apt—he’d really become a thorn, a pinprick to my memory and I couldn’t get him out of my head.

Fucker.

A part of me just knew they were from him. No one else would send me flowers. Unless it was that doctor who was back in town for another conference and wanted to see me again—but last I heard he’d worked things out with his wife.

“Are you going to open the card?” Claire asked me.

“This is other shoe territory.” I shook my head.

She sighed heavily as she got up and brought the flowers in the kitchen to me. “Either look at the card, or cram them down the disposal.”

“What?”

“If you don’t want them, get rid of them. But if you do want them, shouldn’t you at least read the card?”

I didn’t know what I wanted. Well, maybe that was a lie. I knew that I wanted them to be from him, but at the same time, I didn’t.
Yeah, schizophrenic much, Rebecca?

Throwing them away wasn’t an option because I’d never gotten lavender roses before. Red ones, sure. All the time. That was easy, but lavender took some thought, consideration.

Every color had a meaning and I didn’t know what lavender was, but I knew that Thornton would have taken the time to consider.

I opened the card, taking my time. If I didn’t look, the possibilities were infinite, but as soon as I read the card, reality became stone.

Claire typed quickly on her phone. “Lavender roses are for enchantment. Or love at first sight.”

I raised an eyebrow and dumped them in the sink and dropped the card, half-opened.

“Well, I guess that takes care of that.” Claire snorted. “Do you think they’re from the guy last night? Maybe he didn’t know what the colors mean.”

“Oh, I’m sure he does. Look, if you want them, you can have them. I don’t want to look at them.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what happened? I mean, not to pick at your tender places, but you’re still upset.” Claire’s face was earnest.

I sighed and my shoulders slumped. “It wasn’t really his fault. He was too nice to me.”

For a moment, I expected her to laugh in my face. She didn’t.

Instead, she nodded. “I know what you mean. When I first agreed to go out with Brant, I didn’t understand him. I didn’t know how to deal with a man who treated me like he did. It was singularly upsetting.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” She nodded. “He’s been my best friend.”

“I have a best friend. Don’t need another one.”

Claire grabbed one of the flowers from the sink and tucked it behind my ear. When I would have squirmed away she said, “I’m the fashion designer here, right? It looks fabulous.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I am not wearing
his
flower.”

“And why would you? Wear
your
flower. Wear it for yourself. Because you’re beautiful.” She bussed my cheek with a light kiss. “Now, fly my pretty.”

I laughed, I couldn’t help it. “Okay, fine. But only because you called me beautiful and pretty.”

The drive to Rosa’s was apartment was short and sweet. She waited outside, and of course, looked fabulous. She wore a pair of plus skinny jeans, with
Chubbalicious
embossed on the rear pocket and a red off the shoulder peasant blouse with matching red, high heeled sandals.

“We’re picking up Ryan, too.” I said when she got in.

“Good. We need some testosterone to—” she shimmied for effect “—shake it up a bit.”

“Hell yes, we do. Poor bastard, doesn’t know what he’s getting in to.” I laughed and headed to Ryan's dorm.

Only it was me who got the surprise when we arrived.

“Hey, uh, Fain’s riding with us,” Ryan said when he opened the door.

And there he was, standing in all his bad boy glory behind Ryan, muscles bulging out of a Five Finger Death Punch shirt.

“If that’s cool with you,” J.D. said, nodding his dark head.

“Sure.” I grinned. “We’re happy to have you aboard the SS Let’s Get Fucked Up. It’ll be a blast.”

He returned my grin. “How’d you talk Ryan into going?”

I shrugged. “Whips. Chains. Promises of hotness.” I didn’t specify what hotness…

“Oh really?” He glanced at Ryan. “Good to know what motivates him.”

The smirk that curled my lips was impossible to fight. Not that I wanted to. “Ryan’s pretty easy.”

“But not as easy as Bex,” Ryan teased.

Rosa smacked him in the back of the head.

“What was that for?” Ryan demanded.

“You shouldn’t say that.” Rosa narrowed her eyes at him.

“It’s just a joke. I don’t care.” I didn’t. Ryan and I teased each other like that all the time.

“No, it’s not a joke. So what if you are ‘easy’?” Rosa snarled. “No one ever says that about men. No one would ever say that about Gavin, or Kieran, or any of the manwhores I know. It’s fine for men, but for women it’s some kind of slur? That’s not okay. It’s demeaning and shitty, and it doesn’t matter who you sleep with or how many times. That shouldn’t be up for public debate and most certainly not for judgment.” Rosa was adamant.

Fain nodded. “She’s right.”

“That’s our thing. I call him a virgin and he calls me a slut. If I’m not offended, you shouldn’t be either.” I rushed to Ryan’s defense.

“
Are
you a virgin?” Fain asked him.

“If it’s not okay to ask about her exploits, it’s not okay to ask about mine either.” But Ryan wasn’t defensive, instead he seemed…intrigued.

“Fair enough.” Fain nodded.

“If it bothers you,” Ryan began. “You know I didn’t mean anything by it. I’ll stop.”

I was suddenly uncomfortable with the turn of conversation. “Ryan, it doesn’t bother me. I’ve got a mouth. I can open it and say if it did. But obviously, never say that to Rosa or she’ll kick your ass.”

“You’re damn right I will. And I don’t care how Rebecca feels about it, if you say that to her again in front of me, I’ll slap you again.”

“He’d like it,” Fain offered and it lightened the mood.

“Yeah, how would you know what I like?”

“You seem to like it when I kick your ass in practice.” Fain looked him over.

“It’s training,” he retorted.

“So, you’re training to get your ass kicked?” Fain wore a thoughtful expression.

“Fuck off, Fain.” Ryan looked away.