|Fun fact: The background colors correspond to Grant's mental and emotional state.|
Guess what color Part 4 will be.
Saturday, June 28, 2014
On the anniversary of Part 2, the 3rd installment of The Windshield Incident is now published and available for download. It's here on Smashwords, and will eventually show up on Apple, Kindle, Nook, and other partnered eBook retail sites. It's like buying me a quarter cup of coffee to keep me alert and typing.
Thursday, June 26, 2014
This story is fucking weird, and in my head the aftermath is drawn out and dark. I'm not sorry."Excuse me?" Chrisette's slender eyes widen in disbelief. "Did I just hear you forbid me from seeing him?"
Should I have just kept my mouth shut? "I'm just saying maybe don't hang out one-on-one."
"Are you kidding me?!"
In a way this is a variation on a theme. I think she's allowing herself to be drawn into a second relationship, she thinks I'm just jealous. I spread my hands. "What kind of a guy takes another—" I don't even finish before Chrisette groans in frustration "—man's fiancée on a date?"
"It wasn't a date!"
"Certainly not a business lunch."
Chrisette folds her arms. "I invited you along. You said you didn't want to go."
"I said I didn't want to see the movie," I correct. "I thought you would go with Sasha or somebody."
"So you're mad because I went with 'somebody,'" she scoffs.
"No, I'm mad because you can't seem to understand that you're essentially cheating on me—"
"Oh my god!"
"—without the sex! It was dinner and a movie and he paid. That's a fucking date! You're about to marry me, and you're dating him."
This was probably the wrong thing to say, because Chrisette jumps off the couch. Is she looking for something to throw at me? "I cannot believe you don't even trust me."
"It's not that I don't trust you," I backpedal. "I don't trust him. That asshole is just waiting for the big fight when you come crying to him, and he finally gets to fuck you while looking like the hero."
I didn't backpedal far enough. Chrisette puts a hand on her hip. "I don't fuck anyone I don't want to fuck," she says through her teeth, "and you should be fucking grateful that I chose you. Nobody's going to be 'seducing' me. Especially not Todd."
Taking a deep breath, I lower my voice. "Please, baby, work with me. I know how guys think. Especially single guys."
"Todd is just a friend," she says, each word getting louder. "He's only single because Emily was a crazy bitch and they broke up. We are not interested in each other." She gives me a speculative look. "Would you be this mad if he were ugly? Like if he didn't dress well, or was a complete Elephant Man."
"Yes! It's not about the whole…" I gesture at my own face, which I hadn't worried about until now. "It's that he is single right now, and that you don't think he's ugly, and you call him when you're mad at me…" Why didn't I shut up? Chrisette's eyes have practically narrowed to slits.
"So I," she says slowly, "can't recognize that one of my friends is handsome, but you can jack off to porn every time I'm gone for more than twelve hours?"
"Baby, that was once—"
Chrisette cuts me off. "Do not. Bullshit me."
It was once, and I had made the mistake of confessing when she jokingly asked. "Chrisette, come on. Just work with me here."
"Work with you? Work with you?!"
I'm on a slippery slope now, and as much as I know I should placate her and save it for later, I try one more time to make Chrisette understand. "This is exactly what he wants! You're telling me, 'Oh, there's nothing to worry about. Oh, we're just friends,' but that's exactly how you and I started!"
"I wasn't dating anybody when I met you!" she yells. Chrisette takes a deep breath, shuts her eyes for a second, and gives me the coldest look I've ever seen from her. "I am leaving," she says. Damn. It. "I might come back tonight, but I might not be back until tomorrow. But I will not be off fucking anybody else, and I will not be masturbating to the sight of fake-tittied botte blondes getting fucked by monster cocks."
She cuts me off with a sharp hand gesture. "I can't deal with you right now. If you want to be a fucking jealous paranoid idiot, do it on your own time. I'll come back when you've cooled down."
I want to tell her that I'm cool, that I'm not paranoid, that I can definitely be dealt with…all of it sticks to the roof of my mouth as I watch her put her laptop in a bag with her toothbrush. If she goes to her mom's house I am toast. I'll be in the doghouse for a week, because her mom thinks Chrisette could do better.
It's only five minutes before I've sent her the first text. Baby, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone off like that. No response. Has she gone to complain to her mother, or to that motherfucker as a "fuck you" to me? I send another. Please just call me.
The lock clicks about an hour later. I haven't moved from the couch, so I'm halfway to the door with an apology on my lips when Todd walks in.
"Oh, hey man," he says casually, striding past me down the hall. "Chrissy asked me to get her phone charger."
Shit. She went to her mom's. I follow Todd into the bedroom, my bedroom, and watch him unplug Chrisette's charger from beneath the desk. "Is she with you?" I ask, trying not to clench my teeth. Count to three. Slowly.
Todd dangles his keyring in front of me. "Nah, she called and asked 'cause I've been working on a house two blocks down. I just used my key."
My brains goes haywire for a second. His key? Did he steal a key and have it copied? That's illegal, right? Would Chrisette defend me or him if I pressed charges? Maybe some of my thoughts are visible on my face, because Todd spreads his hands in a whoa, there gesture.
"It's cool, man," he says. "Chrissy gave it to me."