Then and there, I’d promised myself I’d never date a douche bag like him. Little had I realized I’d been desperately dating him all along.
Looking at Kelle in the elevator, loving on himself, I realized even if I were to lose this weight he probably still wouldn’t love me. I finally understood what Vive had meant. Men who use woman do it because it makes them feel better about themselves. They will always treat women as they please but only if we let them. I didn’t get that till now.
“Where are you going?” He noticed my trunks of clothes.
“Some place where I’m loved.” Nudging my helmet against him, I pried his hands off the door.
“Later Easton.” He acted too cool for me and released the hold button.
The panel lights flashed.
“Tell Mom, I said, thank you, for this favor.”
“Huh?” Arms crossed, he stood in the foyer.
“Today, I saw many things go on in that bedroom but protection wasn’t one of them.” My grip on the helmet tightened. I clenched my thighs, ready to unleash the nastiest revenge of all. Yes, worse than anything I’d seen on “Oh Snapped.”
“Mrs. Easton’s eggs are already scrambled and fried.” Kelle laughed.
“Spare me.”
“Rubbers don’t fit right. I hate the way they feel.” Without a care in the world, he walked back into the main room all smug. Goading me, he glanced and pointed at the hallway to Birdie’s room, then back to me and invited, “Join in the fun. Mama’ll show you how it’s done.”
I’d sworn I’d never tell. After today, all bets were off.
“Oh Mister Dolley, it ain’t Mama’s eggs or your lover boy comforts, I’m talking about.” Pushing the ground floor button, I finished, “it’s Birdie’s herpes that’ll get ya.”
The Abercrombie wannabe, Senator’s son, peace of Lhaso Apso crap-on-a-stick, pussy car driving, voluptuous-woman hating, coke-sniffing, MILF’s lover boy, otherwise known as Kelle Sterling Dolley, who’d probably just gotten himself an incurable STD gaped.
“Buh-bye now!” I waved, getting all Posh Spice.
The doors closed and so did this chapter of my life.
Or so I’d hoped….
PS, Don’t wanna talk about the flammability of StrawberryNet’s Ultra Mega Super-duper Hold Extreme Hairspray when burned with a poly-blend fabric and photo paper.
Two words: Ka Boom!
Oh My Friggin’ Gawd
Franklin D. Roosevelt East River Drive
“Pull over!”
I could’ve sworn I heard that come from somewhere behind me while riding Vamp north on the FDR Drive. When I looked back, I didn’t see anything except a taupe-colored Mercedes.
My BFF and VBF had helped me load my luggage into the trunk of the limo. We’d made one stop for Vive to pick up some liquor to make her cosmos. Vive’s driver had bought the booze for her. I know!
We were on our way uptown. New location, new life—here I come. No more Kelle, that was for sure. Having my ex call me a fat dumb “c” motivated me to move on in ways I hadn’t anticipated, even more so than him sleeping with Mom. Like uber grossness.
In regards to getting revenge on Kelle, it all seemed overrated. Why put good energy into a bad situation? He wasn’t worth it. I was free to get my adult life started, and I wanted to, right now. Possibly faster than Vamp could even take me. From this moment forward I’d live every day as if it was my birthday. Because this weekend, it was. Hello.
Blue and red lights flashed.
Had the candied dots and spots returned? Or was I hallucinating? I eased my grip on the throttle and glanced in the rearview mirror.
On a Harley Davidson, riding my purple bum, wasn’t the luxury car I saw earlier but a brick-house of a man. I looked closer and realized he was from the New York Police Department.
I checked the odometer.
43 mph.
He changed lanes. The cop wasn’t for me. So I adjusted my Chanel sunglasses over the bridge of my nose, refocused my attention on Vive’s stretch Bentley ahead, and throttled on.
Vive’s rear bumper read: Party with Our Girl Vive! The Farnworth Firewater liquor company, founded by her great grandfather had a logo of two inverted F’s bookending the slogan. It had been Vive’s mantra for as long as I’d known her. She’d been born with glitter and glamour in her veins.
The girls waved at me from the rear window toasting their cocktails. Taddy’s lips moved faster than the wheels on the Bentley.
On my left, the Harley came up beside me. To get a better look at him, I dropped my chin and peered out over my shades.
All I could make out other than his shiny blue helmet and black aviators were his biceps. With python arms wider than my thighs, his body reminded me of The Hulk right before his clothes would shred and he’d turn green.
Hot.
Smothered in ink he sported a tattoo sleeve up and down his right arm.
So hot!
Staring ahead, he held what must be his radio and talked on it.
He couldn’t see my eyes under these shades. Right? I pushed the frames back toward my sockets and winked flirtatiously.
Taddy had mentioned earlier while we loaded up the limo, “Girlie, the sooner you start thinking about other men, the faster that’ll put Kelle out of your horny mind,”
Taking Taddy’s advice, I tried to imagine this cop naked. I could easily gaze at him for hours. When he didn’t look over, I licked my lips and blew him a kiss.
I’d only closed my eyes for a second, and sure enough, when I opened them he stared at me and frowned.
“Ahem.” I cleared my throat. All I needed to do next was crash Vamp into the dog park over there, shouldering the highway because I was too busy cruising the NYPD. Not! I returned my attention to the road.
Sirens sounded.
Eh? I glanced back to Hulk on the Harley.
Those delicious guns, which could easily pin my body down while he teased my Lady V, punched the summer skies. The cop pointed at me and shouted, “Scooter! Pull over.”
“Me?” I shouted back at him, poking my finger at my chest. Come on, dude. I was only teasing. He couldn’t possibly be giving me a ticket for blowing him an air-kiss could he?
He nodded.
Ugh. I slowed down.
Hulk on a Harley sped up next to the limo, motioning for them to do the same.
The Bentley’s brake lights flashed.