Page 9 of Wicked Little Secret
“What do you want me to say, asshole?” she snipes with a laugh. “You have just about the worst taste in women? Didn’t I warn you about her a gazillion times already?”
This is true.
…but far from what I want to hear.
“Why do I even call you?” I ask, voicing my rhetorical question aloud. I’ve walked down the stairs to slide on my running shoes so I can begin my morning workout. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“Iamon your side. It’s not my fault you’re attracted to crazy like most men.”
“And you’re not crazy?”
“But I’m a lesbian. So I’m kinda off the table for your entire gender. Anyway, I’ve got to go. As you know, it’s the first day of the semester, which means I’ve got plenty of college kids nagging my ass about their housing problems.”
“I’m still astonished they’ve entrusted you with an entire building.”
“Whatever, asshole. Dad’s rec certainly helped get me in good with the building owner, the father of that nutty ex of yours. But let me know if Fatal Attraction comes around again. You know I’d love to smack a bitch. Even if I lose my job.”
Theo hangs up like only she can, without a real goodbye, cracking a crude joke.
It’s enough to set me straight. Remind me that Veronica isn’t worth the trouble.
Her tantrums are just that. A hissy fit worthy of a toddler.
On that note, I finish my morning ritual, ready to start the new school year.
“She gives good dome, bro,” guffaws Lucas Cummings, his freckled face lit up. “She came over after that pool party Driscoll threw. Took me fifteen minutes to get her to suck my dick.”
His grin spreads as he recounts the crass story in line for a coffee at the student union. He doesn’t care that he’s loud and others overhear. As he and his friend Samson Wicker take up more space than they should, he feels invincible. They twirl their rugby ball and wear their letterman jackets and stand wide and immovably, blocking passage for others.
Including myself.
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Wicker replies, laughing too. “The chubby ones are always easy.”
“Dude, that’s your sister!”
“So what? Doesn’t mean she’s not a slut. Katie’s always been a doormat. I don’t care if you mess with her.”
“What about you and Oliver?” he asks. “She cave yet?”
“Working on it. Any day now.”
“Don’t bother with the prissy bitches. Once you turn them out, it’s boring.”
I clear my throat, forcing their attention. They both glance over their shoulders, surprised anyone in the student union has the audacity to interrupt them.
I remain nonplussed.
Stoic and unreadable.
Though on the inside, irritation simmers to a boil.
I’ve had my fill of listening to idiotic jock banter about which college girls they have and have not screwed.
“Gentleman,” I say in a tone that’s calm yet underscored by authority. “How about you step aside if you’re more preoccupied with your very colorful conversation than ordering a coffee? Some of us would like to carry on with our mornings.”
Cummings’s brow furrows in primitive anger until Wicker slaps a meaty hand to his shoulder, recognizing who I am at a glance. The blond does the opposite of his slow-witted friend—he cracks a smile at me and then steps aside.
“Yeah… of course, Professor. Right on.”