Cougar's Victory (2 page)

“Who ate the last of the cheesy poofs?”

Effie rolled her eyes hearing Cassie bellow from the kitchen. Not that Cass needed to yell, their apartment, if you could call it that, was the size of a shoebox. Okay, maybe not a shoebox, possibly a toaster oven. Wait, how big was a toaster oven? Effie had no clue, toaster ovens were a luxury item in her world. Food came out of boxes that were tossed into a microwave. That was the extent of her culinary prowess.

Any money she made went to hair products and kick-ass clothes. She had a bit of an addiction. Luckily her amazing computer that she worked on from home was a gift from her last foster parents. Once a month she still had dinner with them even though she’d moved out five years ago. They were the only other constant in her life outside of her BFF.

But it took money to keep her hair dyed the inkiest of blacks. And her penchant for nice red lipstick meant funds were always running low. Not that the tiny studio apartment her and Cassie rented from their sleazy landlord was worth any money at all. The girls were sure this closet was probably against about a million building violations, but it was in a building with a business below and no real neighbors.

Sure their apartment tended to smell like cooking grease and bacon most of the time. But having a greasy spoon downstairs with an owner that liked them meant they usually didn’t go hungry.

Effie and Cass had managed to cover most of the faded paint and water stained walls with posters and band flyers. They were liberal with the application of air fresheners and incense to mask the general dankness of the place. For two single girls, barely scraping together a living, it beat the alternatives.

“You ate them, and you know it! Don’t try to blame that on me. Your orange fingers are evidence of your crimes. You’ve been caught orange handed,” Effie yelled back.

Flopping onto their broke down couch that they had found abandoned on a street corner with a free sign, Cassie let out a dramatic sigh. “Let’s go do something,” she moaned.

“I can’t and you know it. This is a potential real life client. Which means real life money, you know the kind that buys cheesy poofs and those little pizza roll things you like so much,” Effie reminded Cassie.

“Hhmph, well, they are delicious. But I don’t have a shift at the shop until tonight. Stupid Bryan is covering cause they didn’t have any appointments scheduled until later.”

Cassie worked as a receptionist at a tattoo parlor. It was a nice one, the kind with fancy furniture and didn’t smell like old biker guy. Plus the guys at the shop were awesome and always gave Effie and Cass a discount. Effie got her first tattoo the same week she visited her mother for the last time. It was a week of firsts.

The broken heart on her shoulder reminded her that she only had herself to rely on. Her destiny was whatever she made it to be. The following years she’d added to her collection. Whenever something moved her or she wanted to celebrate a milestone she added to her ink.

She had a hand drawn abstract design she’d made herself running up her bicep. That she got after she completed her first year in art school. It was free form and had all the colors of the rainbow.

There was the black crow that she had put on her shoulder blade that reminded her of the four months she slept in her car and a noisy crow would wake her up early in the morning. The little bastard would sit on the power line above her car and caw so loud she’d bury her head to try and get a few more hours of sleep.

That crow followed her whenever she had to move her car so she wouldn’t get noticed. It had to have been the same crow, because it was an asshole every morning. It did motivate her to get an apartment that’s for sure.

She had a few smaller tattoos too. One on her ankle that matched one on Cassie’s. It was their initials intertwined with barb wire. A little cheesy but at time it seemed like a solid idea. Effie had been thinking up a new tattoo for a while. But she would need the cash to finance it. Besides rent, she had her priorities.

“How about you go out and have a great time. Get some guy to buy you a whole mess of nachos. Then bring me home a doggie bag?” Effie suggested, not turning from her computer.

“But I don’t wanna go by myself! And don’t tease, you know I don’t have the rack to score free nachos. Only your tits have that super power,” Cassie snorted, then chomped down on a poof.

Cassie looked like a pixie. She was tiny, five-foot-two on a good day, and even though she usually scored a few extra inches wearing crazy platform heels, she was still short. And no matter how much she ate, still looked like a twig. She barely had any boobs to speak of, which allowed her to wear any style of clothing she wanted. This usually consisted of cut-off band shirts, and home-made daisy duke shorts with thigh high socks. Her style was eclectic, kind of a cross between, rockabilly, punk, and goth, with just a dash of homeless chic thrown in.

Her hair was blonde originally, at least that’s what Effie remembered from camp. Now it changed with Cass’s moods. She kept it in a short jaw length bob and today it was orange. Like cheesy poof orange.

“This is true. But I try to only use my powers for good not evil. This Dax Hayes fellow is the real deal. I looked him up as soon as he emailed and he and his family are real life millionaires. Which means this could be our golden ticket to regular employment and regular shopping,” Effie said, looking over her shoulder.

“I need to wow his pants off and get this account, and you should be a supportive friend and help me,” she said, turning back to her computer.

“Fine, fine, is he at least hot?” Cassie whined from the couch.

Without a word, Effie pulled up the minimized screen she’d left at the bottom of the page. It was Dax Hayes on the cover of a wine connoisseur magazine. She pushed herself back from the desk so Cassie could see the Adonis she was trying to land.

“Ephrata Valentina Parks, that man is smokin’!” Cassie squealed. “I’ll totally help you wow his pants off. Then his shirt, then his boxers, I bet he wears boxers.”

God, Effie hated when she used her whole name. Yes, she’d changed her last name, but she’d always liked Effie so she kept her first and middle name. She should have never told Cassie what it was. Now she was doomed to suffer it for eternity.

“Please don’t call me that,” Effie sighed.

“Hah, no way. Your name is hysterical and I’m never going to let you forget it. That’s what best friends are for. Besides, not my fault your crazy-ass mother named you after the town she got knocked up in and that it was sometime around Valentine’s Day. Which is totally whack by the way.”

“Yup, totally whack,” Effie agreed, pulling herself back to her keyboard. She wasn’t really mad at Cassie. Her name was terrible. At least the Buckley part was gone. Effie gave a shudder as she thought about her former full name. Gag.

Turning back to her computer, she heard Cassie click on their sad little TV that only got a couple of channels off the antenna and start flipping for something to watch. She stared at her computer hoping for inspiration.

Her thought process was easily distracted whenever she eyed the picture of him. When she’d looked him up she found pictures of him on all sorts of California society pages. Fancy galas where he was wearing a tuxedo and had a beautiful model thin woman on his arm. Pictures of him playing polo and posing with horses and trophies.

There were even photos of him inside what looked like a private jet. Not a lifestyle Effie could ever relate to. But his eyes kept drawing her back. Fancy rich guy aside, he was more than handsome. There was something magnetic about him. Handsome yes, rich yes, but it was something else that made Effie’s heart tug oddly when she saw him.

Dax Hayes hadn’t given her much to go on. He said it needed to be hip, modern and local. After looking at his picture for a while she couldn’t believe how golden tan he was. Tan in Washington usually meant spray on. His golden blond hair shone brightly in the picture, giving him a halo effect. He looked like a golden lion to her. Proud, confident and sexy. Realizing that she’d visited Tiger Mountain as a kid on a field trip she felt like she could run with that idea. Tiger Mountain Winery. It was local and he hadn’t given her a company name to work with. Maybe he was open to ideas.

She’d started out with an outline of a lion, then morphed it to look like a mountain range. She kept the colors metallic gold and brown, adding just enough shadowing to enhance the effects. She worked up a website banner, then a bottle label and added a mock-up of stationery and business cards. It wasn’t a finished product, but hopefully it would catch his eye enough that he’d be willing to work with her.

After about an hour, she leaned back to show Cassie what she had.

“That is righteous my sista!” Cassie gave her a thumbs up from the couch.

Luckily, Effie knew that Cassie was the first person to tell her if she thought something was crap.

Typing up a quick, but hopefully professional sounding email she sent the proofs back.

To: [email protected]

Subject: Proofs for potential logo design

Dear Mr. Hayes,

In response to your email request, I have provided a mock-up of a potential logo. Additionally I have incorporated the logo into a website mock-up, letterhead and bottle label. If you are interested in my services please feel free to contact me with any suggestions or changes.

Sincerely,

Effie Parks

Victorygurl Designs

The knot in her stomach was not unusual. She was usually a nervous wreck waiting for someone to hire her. There was also the possibility that people were out there soliciting work to steal. But that was not something she could dwell on too much.

She was a small business. Hell, she was microscopic. She needed to become an established business and have examples to show off her work. This was the only way she knew how to do it.

Leaning her head back against her chair, Effie tried to find her happy place. She’d never really found it, but she was always looking. When she couldn’t find a tranquil mindset, she’d start an evaluation, a kind of pro/con life assessment.

Pros, she was living with her best friend. They had food, even if it was junk food. They had a roof over their heads and electricity. Her car was still functioning considering it was mostly duct tape at this point. And the biggest pro was that she had dumped her loser boyfriend Chris to the curb.

He was an asshole. Hot yes, good in bed, sure, at least when he was sober. But that, of course, wasn’t very often. Plus he was a mooch. She’d met him at the tattoo parlor one night when she was hanging out with Cass keeping her company. He’d been funny, charming even. They’d gone out to a local bar, drank and played darts.

Effie took him home, which she totally blamed on dollar drafts. The first night was fun, but then he didn’t leave. Chris had told her he was a mechanic. Cool job, working on cars Effie figured. Turned out he was a part-time mechanic at best. His main source of income seemed to be begging money off of Effie and eating them out of cheesy poofs and beer.

Cassie had hated him and she really couldn’t fault her for it. She’d never liked him and she should have listened to her best friend. She knew he was bad news about twenty-four hours in. But she didn’t quite know how to boot him out. So he stayed, for two weeks he made a serious dent in her sad couch. He went from charming to smarmy in a hurry.

A few months ago, when Effie had gotten fed up with his general suckyness she’d lit into him about getting a job. He would work occasionally at a buddy’s repair shop, but never consistently. Usually he ignored her, but this time he’d jumped off the couch and shoved her against the wall. Effie could still feel his hands as they wrapped around her throat.

He’d been calling her every name he could think of, screaming that she didn’t know the shit he had to deal with. Effie couldn’t get any oxygen in and her world was starting to fade when Cassie came home and clocked the dick over the head with their only table lamp. It made Chris let go and Effie dropped to the floor gasping.

“Not worth my fucking time, bitch.” He finished that by spitting on the floor and stomping out her door. She’d left him a voicemail telling him to never come back and dumped his shit in a box on the curb for him to pick up. She hadn’t heard back from him which was a little spooky, but at the same time she was grateful he was gone.

Effie thought of her con list. Her apartment sucked. Her work was inconsistent. She had recently started doing some online work creating logos and even some business cards, but it didn’t pay much and really didn’t stretch her talents either. Money was money and she was never one to turn her nose up at it.

Another con, she could stand to lose a few pounds. She was average height, a little taller than Cass. According to some government website she was overweight, but what the hell did they know? Effie was gifted with a round butt, wide hips and a big rack. Which looked awesome in her usual choice of clothing.

In her late teens Cassie had dragged her to a traveling roller derby event. The women competing looked like 1950’s pin-ups girls, but cooler. Glossy hair, perfectly curled and pinned. Amazing eye makeup and bright lipstick. Their clothes were a mix of retro and modern. Some called it rockabilly, Effie called it perfect.

Deciding it was time for a change, she dyed her mousey brown hair jet black and learned to make the most perfect victory curls in her hair and developed a serious desire to always wear cherries somewhere on her clothes. Of course even if she didn’t, the cherry tattoo on the back of her neck was her permanent trademark.

Effie loved makeup, her ability to draw the perfect cat eye with liquid eyeliner was legendary among their friends. One thing Effie knew, was that even if you were dirt poor you could look like a million dollars with a little effort and some cheap makeup.

Of course she never skimped on her lipstick. That was something she went all out for. Revlon, MAC, and her only for special occasions Chanel red lipstick. The color was called Pirate and it was lush. Cassie had bought it for her last Christmas, it was the bomb.

The perfect shade of red to compliment her naturally pale complexion was like finding the holy grail. Once a woman located that brand you bought it in bulk. And heaven forbid the day they discontinue your color.

Turning to see Cassie zoning out at the TV, she let out a moan. Life wasn’t horrible, but it could be so much better. She was sure of it.