Messalina: Devourer of Men (40 page)

I adopt the “Oh, really?” stance that I do when I’m about to go apoplectic on someone’s ass. I believe Jared senses this too.

“That’s enough, Sarah.”

“I don’t think so, Jared. It’s time someone told this woman it’s bad enough that, through
you
,” she says, flashing her steely blue eyes on him, “the world now has images of what this thing could look like while rutting like some fat slug.”

“
What
?” I couldn’t keep my voice from sounding like fingernails running down a chalkboard. “Listen, bitch, I’ve had enough of you talking about my size.”

“Oh, please.” Sarah scoffs. “How can one not?”

I am vaguely aware of others coming into the room, because they keep their distance.

“Sarah,” I say, “your problem is that you’re shallow. Your tiny view of people is proportionate with the rest of you. This is not about size, this is about substance.”

“You certainly have that, my dear. All night you’ve been trying to strut your stuff like some pork sausage in a bright red casing.”

I put my hand on my hip and lean in. “Little girl, I’m not gonna tell you again. Knock it off about my weight.”

“Sarah,” Jared says. “Leave it alone.”

“Why are you defending her?” This time it’s Sarah’s turn to screech. “Look at you. Holding hands.”

Jared and I both look down not realizing this was the case.

“Why do you keep
hurting
me so?” she whines, making my skin crawl.

I stare at her heart-shaped face and quivering, apple-red lips. Her icy blue eyes have melted and brim with tears and her pale, powdery complexion contributes to her waif-like appearance. If I didn’t know the monster that lies beneath, I might actually feel sympathy for the wretched woman-child.

“Jared,” Sarah says, squaring her shoulders, her voice suddenly showing no trace of frailty, “you are not going to embarrass me again with this—this thing!”

“Sarah,” he replies through barely moving lips, “you are only embarrassing yourself.”

“Maybe I am.” She gives a short but hysterical laugh. “I am embarrassing myself by being seen with a trailer-trash bastard like you.”

I shall call what happens next as “The Slap Heard ’Round the Room” because Sarah does a roundhouse that connects with Jared so hard, the resulting welt starts forming before her hand leaves his face. The people in the room all take in their breath and I’m amazed we don’t get sucked into the vacuum it creates. Then, to my surprise, Sarah pivots, faces me, and builds up to give me the backhanded version. The next thing I know, my cheek gets in the way of her palm and I feel the heat and sting of her slap.

Now I may talk tough but I am not a violent person. I make Sarah the exception and haul off and punch the bitch square in the jaw.

Perhaps it’s the alcohol still flowing in my system that makes me giggle as Sarah does a pirouette, arms outstretched, like some kind of ballet princess, and falls face down on the floor, looking like a crumpled mass of white tissue.

“Hey!” Carnie’s voice booms from the entryway. “What the hell is going on in here?”

* * * *

I walk out into the backyard and to the farthest, darkest corner away from the house and the party lights. We’ve been lucky with the weather this week and it hasn’t rained; nevertheless, I am starting to get cold in my outfit, but I’m not about to go inside.

Tony and Carnie have the luxury of big, mature trees that must be at least eighty years old and next to one particular tree is a wrought iron bench. I take a seat and close my eyes. Leaning forward, I reach up to cover my face and a sharp pain shoots through my right hand.

“God damn it.” I sigh and shake my hand. It’s stinging and I think the ring on my finger cut me where my fist connected with Sarah’s face. I try to remove the ring, but the digit is already swollen. When I put it in my mouth I can taste blood.

“Fuck.”

I can’t believe I actually fought over some man. Well, not just any man, to be fair. But he’s not my man anymore, so why should I care if someone insults him?

Because I still love him, that’s why.

As I try to work the ring off, I hear footsteps approach. Looking up, I see movement in the shadows and ease back into the seat. The figure stops in front of me.

“Are you okay?” Jared asks.

“I’m fine.” I try to look around him. “How’s
she
doing?”

“Carnie got an ice pack for her.”

He sits beside me and drapes his arm behind me on the seat. For a long while, we say nothing and look at the action going on behind the kitchen curtains. People are milling about, probably waiting for round two. I’m just waiting for the inevitable.

“I don’t think the cops will come out for this,” he says, as if reading my mind. “At least six people can say she took a swing first. But if you’re talking lawsuit,” he says, clicking his tongue, “it’s hard to tell with Sarah.”

I turn to look at him. “What are you doing out here, Jared? Trying to cheer me up?”

He gives a noncommittal shrug. “Just checking on you.”

“Well, I’m fine. You can return to your date now.” I return focus to my hand. Perhaps I should ice my knuckles.

“Trey’s been telling me about your lunch dates . . . and what you’ve been dealing with at work.”

I say nothing.

“And Tony tells me you’re thinking of leaving Colorado.”

            I keep silent and massage my finger.

“Don’t go.”

Sighing, I lean forward to rest my arms on my legs. “Jared I am tired.”

“I can imagine. I’m sorry.”

“Aw, Jesus, what the hell for?” I scowl. I’ve had enough apologies for one evening.

“For everything,” he replies softly.

Then I feel the wool lining of a bomber jacket, warm with body heat and smelling of Obsession for Men, going around my shoulders. My longing for him stabs my heart and I bite my lip. His hand lingers on the small of my back. I look up at the sky for a moment, taking in the darkness and actually seeing a few stars. I smile to myself, at the sky.

“Jared, for a long time, I’ve been unsatisfied with my life and didn’t know why. Then I admitted that I was letting people define me so I wouldn’t have to.” When I laugh, it’s full of relief and when I see his concerned look, I rein it in. Sitting back, I look up at the stars again.

“From now on, I’m going to be the sex goddess I keep telling myself I am. I’ve never admitted it to anyone, but I love sex. I
am
a sexual being!” I start laughing because I sound so corny. “And I’m not going to be ashamed of my appearance, either.” I turn to face him. He sits there, mouth slightly agape, his expression perplexed.

“You may have forced the issue, but life is short . . . Thanks for the kick in the ass.”

He remains frozen as if I just admitted I was pregnant by an alien.

“Besides,” I say with a shrug. “I’ve been a bad girl since the last time you saw me.” I smile and that’s when I notice the slightly flared nostrils, and the deep, steady breathing. My smile turns into a grin. He’s getting turned on.

“Yes,” he drawls. “I’ve heard how you put Neil in his place. I’m impressed.” He adjusts his position and uncrosses his legs. “Not that I ever doubted your ability to be bad. If anything, I admire your creativity.”

It wasn’t hard. Changing Hollister’s grades and having the forms already filled out and stashed in an envelope in my purse was easy. It’s not like Hollister is a rocket scientist. It was Tony who contacted Gator and the Girls, but what they did to Neil was all down to me. I took the pictures and video, and I had fun doing it.

“Evadne, please . . . don’t go.”

“Why should I stay?”

“There’s your career, for a start.”

I laugh. “You should know that my ‘career’ may no longer be an issue.”

“Maybe there’ll be a reason for it not to be.” He sits up so he can touch my face.

“Care to explain?”

“Sure. I have years of making up to do and would like you with me while I do it.”

This statement of intent earns my full attention and I turn towards him. In the dim light, I can make out his lips and their fullness reminds me of their softness. I can also see and feel his eyes on me. 

“Jared, are you—”

He nods as his long fingers start smoothing my jaw and massaging the back of my head and neck. Closing my eyes, I lean into his caress and feel him move in close. I am about to experience a luxury I have come to miss.

The kiss is a short peck that soon deepens and he pulls me onto his lap. His jacket falls to the ground, but it’s no longer needed as I’m engulfed in a warm bear hug. My hands go around his neck, beckoning him even closer.

“Jared? Are you out here?”

Carnie DeLuna’s voice calling from the back door makes us freeze. I don’t know about Jared, but I’m praying she doesn’t turn on the patio light and illuminate the situation. Our mouths part with a sigh.

“Yeah, Carnie. What ’cha need?”

“It’s Sarah. She’s asking for you.”

“I’ll be there in a minute.”

I hear Carnie return indoors and I try to stand, but Jared holds me fast. I take one of his hands and kiss his palm. He moans and brings me in for another kiss, but despite our desire, we keep it restrained. This is not the time to get carried away. I stand up.

“Cool it, Jared. This evening has become too much like high school already. Go and take your date home. I’ll wait for you.”

He gives me an embarrassed glance and I smile. He gets up, still holding my hands, raises them to his lips and kisses all my knuckles. I wince when he gets to my right ring finger.

“One more question,” he says, looking at me while taking my right hand, and then kisses my sore knuckle again. “Why’d you do it?”

I free one of my hands so I can stroke his cheek.

“Because I knew you couldn’t.”

* * * *

By the time I return indoors, Jared and Sarah have made their exit. The remaining guests are mellowing out and starting to eat breakfast, but I feel some may have lingered just to get one last glimpse of the ruffian in question.

“Damn, girl,” Ana says and pops an aspirin. “I haven’t seen that right hook since you clocked Teri Vaughn in the eleventh grade.” She pops another aspirin and winks at me. “We saw you out there. I hope Jared knows what kind of hood rat he’s getting.”

“Good thing I civilized her,” Tony says and grins.

Chapter twenty-two

“The Ever After”

So, there you have it.

It’s five months since the party, we are in Curacao and after making love for the
nth
time, I am ready to pass out, but Jared, although tired, is ready for something more active and strenuous—like a stroll on the beach. As I lie on my back, arm stretched above my head, Jared slides down to kiss my stomach and my navel.

“See you in nine months.”

“Ha! You think so, do you?”

He looked up at me with a wolfish grin.

“Oh yes.”

Smug bastard. He must’ve known something because it doesn’t take long before I am sick as a dog. A big dog.

And I am carrying twins.

At least I don’t have the need to purchase a certain feminine product promoted by a certain bitch for the next several months. The engagement ring Jared gave me is a sizeable amethyst surrounded by diamonds.

“The eyes of Jared are upon you,” Talley sang when she saw it.

“Exactly,” he said. “There’s no way I’m letting her out of my sight again.”

It not like I have anything to do apart from preparing for the arrival of the twins.

The photos I took of Hollister cavorting with Gator and the Girls came out better than I ever imagined, so I have decided to develop my hidden talents as a photographer. I’m starting by making a scrapbook for the kids with captions like: Where Mommy and Daddy first met, Daddy at work, and Where Mommy used to work.”

Before classes started in the autumn, I wasn’t surprised when I was called up before Dean J. Paul Mathis and other senior faculty to discuss the situation concerning Neil Hollister’s grades.

Was I aware that this would mean the Chancellor’s nephew would finish considerably lower in his class than expected?

Yes, I was aware, but there was no need for concern. I had made an error in my calculations and felt it important for the correction to be made. It was my responsibility to uphold academic integrity and the student’s responsibility to make the effort. Neil Hollister did not make the effort until it was too late. Also, I resented the implication that his class ranking was my fault or a reflection of my teaching ability. If they wanted to dilute that honesty and keep the incorrect grade, that was their choice.

This was not the response the forces at Bellingham College expected. They were hoping I would beg for mercy and forgiveness, but they were not in a position to argue. After paying a huge out-of-court settlement to the pregnant student and Terrence Hyde, if news got out that they were giving grief to Hyde’s “protégé,” they would never get the whole sorry affair behind them. They offered me tenure. I declined.