Leaning near Blake’s ear, I whispered, “My mom fucked my boyfriend. I spent the night in jail. While I appreciate the fuck-it bucket, Blake, I need to take Vamp for a ride and release some birthday steam before I blow up your dorm at school. Okay?” They weren’t calling me Firestarter for nothing, I thought.
“Fine,” his eyes narrowed. “But if anything happens on the way home, I’m not to blame. I don’t need Taddy coming after me.”
“Deal!”
We shook on it.
Then I reached in the bucket and pulled out some Sour Patch Kids. “There’s nothing better than this watermelon flavor.” I popped one, two, three, four pieces in my mouth and chewed.
Closing my eyes, I felt a slight rush. I chanted, “sugar” to myself, as I had “cock” in my dream.
“Hahaha,” I laughed, thinking about my Ford fantasies. Wouldn’t that be nice if they were real? I swallowed and then popped more pieces in groups of two’s, four’s, and six’s in my mouth. I needed a fix. I didn’t care. I couldn’t eat the candy fast enough.
“Aren’t you going to ask me about Birdie?” Blake adjusted the air vents.
“Heck no. Kelle and I are done. I’m outta jail. Mom is alive. Dad can deal with her. Case closed. I’m gonna eat my candy and go for a ride on Vamp. Who know? Maybe I’ll end up in Canada today.”
“Say what?”
“I’m gonna ride Vamp till I run flat out of gas.” I took an orange Sour Patch Kid and stacked up a green one, then yellow, and lastly, red. I glared at Blake’s beautiful blue eyes and then bit their heads off, hoping to make my point.
“Birdie is very sorry Lex. She wants to make it up to you.”
Shaking my head, I chewed, then swallowed. “Oh no siree…don’t you start defending her. Hey, I know. Why don’t you try being her daughter for a few weeks and see how it feels. I’ll take Paulina Morgan as my mom, and you can have Birdie.” Admiring the sneakers which had started to become more comfortable on my feet, I crossed my legs.
“Fuck no, my mom rocks.”
“Paulina totally does. You’re the only one, out of the four of us, who has normal parents. I love your daddy too.” I popped two more pieces in my mouth then tore into a box of Nerds. Strawberry. Grape. Deliciousness.
“Thanks,” Blake said faintly, almost as if he were afraid of my candy-eating capabilities.
The gummy texture stuck to my teeth. With my nail, I discreetly scraped, swallowed, and said, “Okay, let’s hear it. How did you get Mom to change her frickin’ mind?”
“Well—”
“Wait.” I held up my hand. If I was going to listen to this dribble, a real sugar buzz was totally in order. Flipping the lid back, I downed the entire box of pink and purple irregular-sized bits. I crunched. Dang this tanginess is sweet. My heart sped up. “Alright, go.”
“Blackmail,” Blake grinned proudly.
“Meaning?” I buckled my seatbelt. I always forgot. Riding motorbikes does that to a person.
“I told Birdie that you wouldn’t tell Eddie that she’d screwed Kelle if she held a press conference and admitted to starting the fire.” Blake put his seatbelt on too. “Birdie told the Fire Marshal that she was upset you were moving out. Distraught, she burned your dress and some pictures you’d left behind.”
“Genius! I still can’t believe she took the blame.”
“You told me to do exactly that.”
“Hello, I was complimenting myself.” Patting myself on the back, I then dug my nails into a Mallow cup. I licked the chocolate shell. “Mmm. The hint of coconut gets me every time.” Then I slid the whole piece between my lips and sucked out the creamy center. Again my mind flashed back to Ford and his cock.
“Well, I tacked on rehab to your press conference idea.”
“Rehab?” The marshmallow confection nearly lodged in my throat. In between coughs, I asked, “Whaa?”
“About two hours ago, after the conference, Eddie drove Birdie upstate for a month-long detox and a new way of life program.”
“Nooo!”
“Yup. Birdie wanted to go.”
Un-freakin-believable.
“Blake she’s never gone to rehab before. Heck, she refused to go to AA and NA meetings. What the fudge did you say to her?” I pushed the bucket and wrappers to the side and turned my body toward Blake’s. Grabbing his hands, I felt hopeful for Mom. Maybe she’d get herself together once and for all.
“Well, this was when Birdie was starting to come down a bit from her high.”
“She was cranky?” I recrossed my legs.
“Very. She kept calling me Don Juan.”
“He’s her dealer.”
“I know. She thought Kelle was Don Juan too. We’ll get to that in a minute. So, how I got her to agree to rehab was I told her I’d call the reporter at People Magazine.”
“When I called you from jail, we didn’t discuss this strategy. Why would you do a thing like that?” Wanting some air, I cracked the window.
“Birdie needed a zinger to snap her out of it. She was nutty as hell. The idea came to me, I’d seen it on a past episode of The Bold & The Beautiful. I ran with it. I told Birdie you’d give the reporters, from prison mind you, a full exposé confessional on how she fucked your high school sweetheart while trashed.”
“Come again?” I gripped onto the seatbelt, feeling a tummy ache.
“At first, Birdie thought I was kidding. She laughed and had agreed to take the blame if I didn’t tell Eddie. I knew shutting her up was a Band-Aid. But sobriety was the real fix. You know us gays, we love our dramatics. So I picked up the phone and called 411 and got the Time Inc. building. I started to leave a voicemail for a reporter. Gave them Birdie’s hospital floor number and everything.”
“Mom must’ve died.”
“Birdie sprung outta bed so fast. She threw a vase of flowers at me.”
“Hahaha. Good ‘ol Mom.”
“That happened after she’d spoken with that brawny, inked-up cop. Man was he hot. Anyhow, she sobered up quick when I called the magazine. Pretty sure it was the realization that you and all of your friends were done covering up for the misadventures of Birdie Easton.”“That we are.” I licked my lips tasting a trace of coconut. “You got big balls, Blake.” Why did my mind suddenly jump to Ford’s nuts? Lord, I’m horny. Quickly I glanced out the rear window. Blake did too. “Dang, the white SUV is right behind us.”