Just Her Luck (31 page)

He sighed sadly from his end of the line when I didn’t answer and clicked off.

I stared at the phone and pursed my lips, glaring at it like this was all the phone's fault.

Who was that woman?

Is she a friend?

What kind of friend?

Why the hell do I care? I'm mad at him,
I tried to remind myself.

I eyed the phone.

Maybe I should smash it like I did the other one earlier.

That might make me feel better.

Hah.

But then I wouldn't have any more portable phones left, this one having originally been in the spare room.

The kitchen one was an old corded phone I'd picked up at a vintage store. It was a very eye catching lime green, but leaned more towards thick, bulky and stationery.

I looked around my room.

I don't think lime green would look good in here anyways.

I
could
always text him and ask him.

Wouldn't that seem kind of needy though?

Aw, fuck! This is exactly why I don’t do relationships.

I don’t know how to do them.

I’m just damaged goods, horrible with this shit.

And I can’t handle all these rampant feelings assailing me at any given time over any little thing.

Like say, jealousy over a mystery woman.

I pulled out my cell phone and sent him a quick text.

Who was the chick?

His response.

What chick?

"Ugh!"
I grumbled, feeling my hackles rise.

Don't you play dumb with me! The woman who was calling your name a minute ago. I am not deaf!

He texted me back immediately.

Are you jealous?

I texted right back.

Are you going to answer me?

I tapped my phone case impatiently while I waited for his response.

Are you?

My response.

No.

His.

Then, no.

"Oh!" I huffed and my fingers whizzed across my phone.

Fuck you!
I sent in return.

I shut my phone off and tossed it on the bed.

"Stupid... incompetent, fancy phone using... ease dropping..."

My house phone rang and I checked the number.

It was the ranch, so it must be Bowen.

"Ha!" I said smugly, "let's see how he likes this!"

I recorded a new message for my answering machine and turned it on.

The phone immediately rang and rang again and then the machine kicked on.

"Hello," my voice called sweetly from the little box, "You have reached the Ferguson residence, if you are anyone but a certain jerk off, who shall remain nameless, who ease drops on their brother getting his rocks off, then blasts it across an intercom for god and everyone to bear witness, then please leave a message.
P.S. Bowen, I hope your balls shrivel up and fall off."

The machine clicked, letting me know that whoever had called didn't want to leave a message.

Ha ha!

I harrumphed and went about getting my things done for the day, trying not to let all my insecurities and life’s worries crush me.

I’ll deal with it later,
I kept telling myself.
Much later. When I absolutely have to.

I won’t let this shit pull me down. No.

Oh, yeah, and I also made a mental note to find a dull pair of rusty scissors with Bo’s name on them.

You know,
just in case.

****

A few hours later, and bags all packed, my house phone started ringing.

I smiled at my message, grinning as it played again.

I really need to change that before I leave.

Curious, I peeked to see who was calling.

It was the ranch again.

Oh, Bowen, you sad, sad, little man...

I could do this
all
night.

The machine clicked, letting me know that someone was going to come on.

"Oh, now, dear heart, give the boy a chance," Ruthie tsk-ed on the machine, "He looks like someone just ran over his horse! It's not his fault he's inept!"

I picked up the phone.

"Ruthie?" I sputtered incredulously, "What are you doing at the ranch?"

"Why I'm havin' a grand old time!" she called out cheerfully.

"I can tell," I muttered dryly, hearing music coming from somewhere in the background.

"Not as much fun as you, mind you.
Obviously
."

"Ruthie!" I exclaimed, cheeks burning like they were on fire.

"Oh, hun, you should have seen Ephraim's face when he walked in the door..." she giggled like a fifteen year old, "If I hadn't heard you makin' him holler like that...
Whew!"
she let out a loud breath, "Well, even if I
hadn't
heard, the look on that boy’s face said
it all!"

"Auntie!" I cried, spluttering, then laughing incredulously at the
way
she’d said it.

Leave it to Ruthie.

She snorted.

"It's nothin' to be ashamed of, Vieve," she tsk-tsk-ed some more, "Why... if I was several years younger, I would have asked you for pointers! I don't know what you were doin' to him, honey, but..."

"Oh, my god! Not even on a good day!
Lalalalala!"

She stopped, and then I stopped, glad that it was over.

Well, I
thought
it was.

Stupid me.

This
is
Ruthie we're talking about here.

"Why birthday or no birthday, that boy is the envy of the night, I swear!"

"GAH!" I groaned. "Please," I whispered, "Please stop!!!"

It just made everything so much worse.

"Oh, alright." She sighed heavily. "I don't know when you became such a prude, dear heart, but..."

"Is everything alright, Ruthie?" I butt in, cutting her off. "Did you need anything?"

"Oh, yes. I need
you
," she said simply.

"Uh, you do?" I mumbled, surprised.

Me?

Why?

"I need you to come get me. Barry was supposed to but he hasn't shown up yet."

He what?!!!!

I didn't voice it aloud, unwilling to upset her about it.

I’m gonna be what she needs.

What she
needs.

"Don't worry, Aunt Ruthie, I'll be right there."

And I'm going to murder Barry
, I added silently.

"Oh, thank you, hun! I've begun to feel so tired and I thought about having someone else do it…” something from her end of the line suddenly made a crinkling noise and she dropped her voice to a hushed, scandalized whisper, “
but there's alcohol being served!
”

I found myself grinning at the sound of her voice.

“How do I know they haven't imbibed?" she rushed to add.

"It'll be fine. I'll be right there,” I glanced at the clock, contemplating the drive, “As soon as I can. Okay?"

“Oh, thank you, hun. I knew I could count on
you!”

We said a quick goodbye and hung up.

I grabbed all my stuff and rushed out to my bug.

I'm comin' Ruthie!
I thought, starting the engine.

Barry better
run
when I see him!

I gunned it down the drive, everything else taking a backseat as I fretted over the thought of her sitting there waiting for me, dozing off in a chair in the middle of the party.

Hopefully she’ll go into the room I use and have a rest there if it’s too much.

“Oooh,”
I growled,
“I’m going to kill Barry!”

And he better be wearing a cup!

The dreaded reality of where, specifically, I was headed finally sank in when I got stuck at a red light.

My stomach churned, wracking me with anxiety.

Oh, if it was anyone but Ruthie...

I mentally shook myself.

No. no. She needs me.

I’m doing this.

I sucked it up, unready, but unable to avoid the very awkward, very public-
thanks a lot, Bowen
- way things were probably going to play out.

Please let the party have died down when I get there.
Oh, please, please!
Please!
I prayed.

Party Crashin’

It was past nine when I pulled up and parked, but there was still music coming from somewhere in the house.

I hurried up the steps, reminding myself to just act natural and play it cool.

I
can
and
will
do this.

It’s going to be fine.

I opened the front door and walked inside, glancing around for Ruthie.

"Ruthie?" I called, walking down the hall quickly to put my things in my room.

I opened the door and squeaked.

There was a very large, very naked man on my bed.

I gaped openly, stunned, my eyes about to pop out of my head.

Holy fuck.

The naked man was so wrapped up in what he was doing,
erm, ahem
, he hadn’t noticed me yet.

He was having hard, bed squeaking sex with a petite blonde, who was currently biting her lip to keep from calling out, fingernails digging into his muscular, tanned ass.

The blonde noticed me when I tried to say something and an odd croaking nose escaped me instead.

The dark, very short hair on the man made me think he was Bowen at first, until his head swung around and chocolate brown eyes flicked up at me, set in the face of a man who had to at least be in his fifties.

I slapped my hands over my eyes, finally snapping out of it, mortified.

"Oh, sweet baby Jesus!" I spluttered, hurriedly backing out, tripping over my feet in the process, slamming the door shut as fast as I’d opened it.

I couldn’t close that shit fast enough.

Ack and ick.

I stumbled down the hall and tried to get the image of the older couple porking on my Aunt Ruthie's quilt out of my brain.

They were really going at it, and I cringed.

Ugh.
That was
my
bed.

They were doing it on
my
bed.

It burns! It burns!
I thought helplessly, trying to get the image from searing itself into my subconscious, burning into my irises.

Ew! Ew! Ew!

"Gah!"

"Genevieve?"

I looked up and cringed harder when I saw Reeve walking up to me.

Straightening to my full height, I waited until he got closer to speak.

"I'm here for Ruthie," I said curtly and stepped around him, not bothering to look at him as I marched off to the living room. "And I don't appreciate you letting your guests fuck like bunnies in my room!" I called hastily over my shoulder.

I'm going to have to bleach the sheets!

Bleh!

The doorbell rang and I ventured into the kitchen, wondering where the heck my wayward Aunt had gone.

"Hey, I'm Barry, I..."

There was an odd gasping sound as I rounded the corner.

I was just in time to see Reeve sock Barry in the gut.

"NO!" I Bellowed and ran over.

Barry grimaced and tried to stand back up, bracing his hand on the door.

He wasn’t looking to steady on his feet.

"Get the fuck off my damn property!" Reeve snarled, fists raised up to do some real damage.

“No!” I shouted, “Barry, get back!
Reeve!
What are you doing?! Stop!”

They both ignored me.

“Stop it!” I bellowed, and hopped onto Reeve's back, trying to give Barry a chance as I tried to get a grip on Reeves’ upraised fist.

Undeterred by his
latch-on
, aka me, Reeve reared up to punch my poor, stupid cousin again.

Why is Barry still standing there?

Doesn't he have any sense of self-preservation?