A Dose of Pretty Poison: Chapter 3

After eight hours of teaching ice skating lessons, you’d think I would be exhausted. Most of these kids really shouldn’t be trusted to walk on their own, let alone balance on ice with metal blades attached to their feet. Don’t get me wrong, there are a few who are promising. A few kids I’ve even moved up to higher age levels to challenge them more. But for the most part, it’s hours straight of kids gripping the wall for dear life and falling on their asses when I finally get them to let go.

And yet I’m still dressed up and ready to go out.

I run my fingers through my damp hair as Mali pulls up in front of the rink. The bass from her sound system vibrates the windows as she belts the words to Since You’ve Been Gone. With the way she’s singing it, you’d think she’s fresh in the angry healing stage of the world’s worst break up.

I open the door and stand there, staring at her and wincing at the way she fails to hit the high notes. After a minute, she rolls her eyes and turns the volume down—knowing I won’t get in until she does. I’m all for blasting some music, but Mali does it in a way that will have me shouting all night like a stubborn old man who refuses to admit he needs a hearing aid.

“How you manage to not get pulled over is beyond me.”

She gives me her best fuck you smile. “I do get pulled over, but a little cleavage goes a long way, Laiken dear.”

“Right.” I nod. “That’s how you ended up on a date with that cop who wouldn’t stop comparing the size of his gun and his dick. I remember now.”

“Ugh!” Her nose scrunches as she pulls out onto the road. “That whole experience still depresses me. He was so hot, but the second he opened his mouth, I wanted to claw my way out of the restaurant with my bare hands.”

“And yet you still sat through the whole date.”

She scoffs. “Well, duh. I’m not a bitch.”

My brows raise. “Really? You’re not?”

“Okay, I’m not a total bitch. And besides, he was already going to be disappointed about not getting laid. I didn’t want to ditch him, too. Talk about a rough night.”

Oh, Mali, Mali, Mali. “Could’ve just had me fake an emergency.”

The car comes to a stop at a red light, and she turns to give me a no-bullshit look. “Please. You would have laughed at me and then shown up at the restaurant to watch my misery.”

I chuckle because she has a point—that sounds like exactly something I would do. Friends are there to get you out of situations you don’t want to be in. Best friends, however, laugh at you when you get yourself into said situations and only step in when absolutely necessary.

“You’ve got to live and learn, baby girl.”

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. Tell me about how shit went this morning with Hayes. How did he end up with your phone?”

I shrug, knowing she’s hoping for a much juicer story than the one she’s going to get. “It fell out of my pocket.”

“While you two were getting hot and heavy in the back seat?” She bounces her brows suggestively.

“No, coo-coo-bananas. While I was reaching into the back seat for my bag.”

Her smile quickly morphs into a frown. “Well that’s no fun.”

A laugh bubbles out of me at her disappointment. “I’m sorry. Would you rather I tell you we fucked on the table of the restaurant in the middle of breakfast?”

“Wait. You went out to breakfast?”

Shit. “You would pick up on that.”

“Of course, I would!” she shouts. “You went on a date with Hayes, and you didn’t lead with that?”

“No, because it wasn’t a date. We simply grabbed breakfast before he dropped me off at work.”

“Who chose the restaurant?”

I roll my eyes. “He did.”

“And who paid?”

“He did.”

“Laiken, baby.” Her sickeningly sweet tone tells me to prepare myself. “I know you can be a little naive sometimes, but that’s a date, sugarplum.”

I shake my head and look out the window, wondering if this is even an argument worth having. As long as Hayes and I know it wasn’t a date, that’s all that matters, isn’t it?

Then again, I wouldn’t put it past Mali to refer to this morning as a date to Hayes himself, in which case I would die and make sure to take her with me as I go.

“It wasn’t a date, and even if it was, Craig interrupting us in the middle of it would make it the worst date I’ve ever had.”

Her eyes widen. “Ouch! I thought he saw you at the mechanic or while you were waiting for Hayes to pick you up.”

“Nope,” I reply. “Came up right in the middle of us eating and all but begged me to talk to him outside.”

Everything goes quiet for a minute, and I look over to see Mali pouting. Her bottom lip is puffed out, and she looks like someone kicked her puppy.

“Uh, you good?” I ask her.

She shakes her head. “You finally get your date with Hayes, and Craig goes and ruins it. Now I have to hurt him, and I don’t want to break a nail. I just got them done.”

I pinch the bridge of my nose. “It wasn’t a date.”

Before she can argue further—an argument I have no chance of winning, mind you—my phone vibrates on my lap.

Dad.

Well, fuck. There aren’t many times he calls me as soon as I get out of work. He’s always been the type to have my mom call and ask questions, like if I’m coming home for dinner or what my most recent Facebook post is about.

Psst. The answer is always song lyrics, even when it’s not.

Honestly, the only time my dad calls me himself is when I’m in trouble. And because I know that little piece of information, I’m able to be prepared.

I press answer and put it on speaker. “Hey, Dad.”

“Laiken Rose,” he barks.

Yep. Definitely in trouble.

“Ooh,” Mali sings beside me. “He middle named you.”

I flip her off. “Dad, listen. Before you say anything, you should know my phone only has one percent and is going to die any minute.”

“Great,” he grumbles. “Just another thing you can’t manage to take care of. Whatever your plans were for tonight, cancel them. I want your ass home right—”

I quickly swipe down and put it on Airplane Mode, making it so it says Call Failed and not that I hung up on him.

“Oops. Phone died.”

Mali laughs as I toss my phone into my purse. “What did you do to get in trouble this time?”

“Who knows,” I answer honestly. “I’m sure it has something to do with my car. I can’t think of anything else I did to piss him off lately.”

“Well, judging by the way he sounded, we better enjoy tonight,” she says. “I have a feeling it’ll be your last night out for a couple weeks.”

Leaning my head against the headrest, I exhale. It’s ridiculous, really. I’m eighteen years old. The fact that my parents still have the ability to ground me is insane. And it’s such a double standard. Cam almost went to prison, and all my parents cared about was that their precious baby was okay. But if I blink at the wrong time, the whole world is coming to an end, and I’m responsible for all of it.

“Okay. What did you have in mind?”

Her grin widens as I give in to whatever chaos she has running through her mind. “Well, for starters, we’re getting dinner, because I’m starving. And then we’re going to Jacob’s party.”

“Isn’t Brittany going to be mad we’re ditching her?”

She waves it off like it’s no big deal. “She’ll get over it.”

I can’t help but laugh. “It’s her birthday!”

“And she has one every year,” she says, as if it’s obvious. “Jeez, you’d think after nineteen of them she would realize they’re not that big of a deal.”

Raising one brow at her, the corner of my mouth raises. “So, if I told you I didn’t want to throw our annual joint birthday bonfire this year…”

“I’d tell you to fuck yourself,” she answers without any hesitation. “I said her birthday isn’t that big of a deal. I said nothing about ours.”

“You know, every day you remind me of why I like to stay on your good side.”

“Please. I don’t have a bad side.” She flips her hair over her shoulder. “I’m flawless.”

Shaking my head, I look out the window. “And so modest.”

“Whatever. Where do you want to eat?”

“Anywhere cheap,” I say, only half joking. “I don’t get paid until Monday.”

You’d think I’d know better than to say anything like that to her by now, but I never get over the way it pisses her off. As if refusing to assume that she will pick up the bill is calling her a shit friend or something.

“Shut up,” she groans. “I’ll get dinner, and you can just get me something pretty for our birthday.”

Our birthday—makes it sound like we’re twins. Then again, if I remember correctly, in the third grade, Mali actually had a few people convinced that we were, and that I insisted on staying in for an extra three days. And when they questioned us on having different last names, she told them our mom got knocked up by two different guys around the same time.

She had it all figured out…sort of.

“You know,” I point out, “using your breakfast-with-Hayes logic, that would make this a date.”

Glancing away from the road and over at me, she looks me up and down before scrunching her nose. “You’re a little underdressed.”

Bitch.

PARTIES ARE OVERRATED. I know, I know—cue the outrage. I said what I said. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for the weekly bonfire or a small get-together with people I can stand to be in a room with for longer than twenty minutes, but parties aren’t that. They’re a group of morons, most of which you don’t even know, who all come to the same house to get drunk and make a fool out of themselves.

They’ve just never been for me.

But Mali lives for them.

She’s always been the type to walk into the room and demand all the attention, while I’d prefer to blend in with the background. It’s not like I think I’m ugly or anything. I’ve had enough guys hit on me to know that’s not the case. But being the object of everyone’s affection feels a lot like being in a fishbowl. I just want to have a good time and live my life, not put on a show for everyone else.

Mali stands on top of the table, holding up her drink and dancing to the music like she’s the only one around. If it wasn’t for her being as happy as she is, I’d regret letting her choose tonight’s festivities. But as I watch her throw her head back and smile, completely in her element, I can’t even be a little mad.

“So, Laiken,” Tanner almost yells over the music. “What’s going on with you and Craig?”

Just hearing his name makes my skin crawl. After dealing with him at breakfast this morning, I would pay good money to never see or hear from him again. If Cam wasn’t on probation, I’d let him deal with it. Getting his ass kicked might do Craig some good, and I have better things to do than deal with him. But instead, I’m left to handle it on my own.

“Other than throwing up in my mouth every time someone asks me about him?” I sass back.

He smiles, showing that’s exactly what he wanted to hear. “So, you’re single then?”

Ugh. Fuck. “Nope. Haven’t you heard? I’m dating Mali.”

That gets her attention, and she turns to me with mock interest. “Ooh, do we scissor?”

Every guy within fifteen feet freezes and focuses solely on our conversation. You would think they’ve never watched porn, and that two girls are a foreign concept.

“Please say yes,” Tanner begs. “And then say you’ll let me watch.”

“If you sold tickets to that, you could make bank,” Ben adds.

Mali’s brows raise. “I would love a shopping spree.”

“Oh my God,” I mutter, shaking my head. “You’re all incorrigible.”

“You started it, babe,” Mali says with a wink.

Meanwhile, the guys look disappointed. Like they honestly believed I was serious, and in one move I just crushed all their hopes and dreams. Picture telling a kid that Santa Claus isn’t real on Christmas Eve, and then add a little more sulking.

I glance between Tanner and Ben. “As if I’d ever get naked in front of either of you.”

“Why not? It’s nothing we haven’t seen before,” Ben says, and Tanner immediately punches his arm as my blood runs cold.

What the fuck?

Closing my eyes for a second, I take a deep breath, and when I reopen them, the tension in the room is tenfold.

“What do you mean, nothing you haven’t seen before?” I ask carefully.

Mali hops off the table and comes to stand beside me, putting a hand on my back. Tanner gives Ben a look that silently tells him he fucked up, but no one is saying a word.

“One of you better start explaining, or I swear to God, I’ll make everything with a vagina from here to California think you have more STDs than a brothel during a condom shortage.”

“Okay, okay,” Tanner whines. He knows I’m not bluffing. “We may have seen a couple pictures on Craig’s phone, but it’s not a big deal.”

A dry laugh leaves my mouth. Leave it to a man to tell me that having intimate photos of you shown around—photos that were meant to be private—isn’t a big deal. That’s like telling us childbirth and menstrual cycles aren’t that bad.

“He’s right,” Ben chimes in. “They were very tasteful.”

“Mansplain that shit to someone else, but don’t you dare fucking come at me with that,” I growl. “Were either of you going to tell me he was having his own personal show and tell?”

Their silence tells me everything I need to know. In a question of where their loyalty lies, it’s definitely not with me. Then again, being as Tanner was just trying to get with me no more than five minutes ago, I don’t think it lies with Craig either.

Or maybe the threesome he had while I was trying to help my parents bail my brother out of jail showed him that sharing is caring.

Regardless, I need to get the hell out of here before it’s me who is in prison for aggravated assault. I have a feeling I’d be a lot less lucky than Cam was.

All it takes is one look at Mali, and she’s grabbing my hand and pulling me out of the house. Calls of my name followed by halfhearted apologies go unacknowledged as we walk out the door and over to her car.

“Are you good to drive?”

She nods. “The beer was warm and nasty. The cup was more of a prop in my hand than a drink.”

As she unlocks the car, we both get in and I curl into a ball. Craig mentioned still having the pictures this morning as we were arguing. Said it’s the only thing he’s able to get off to anymore—like I’m supposed to find that flattering. When the conversation didn’t go the way he wanted, he insinuated spreading them around, but I don’t think I ever believed he was serious.

I was wrong.

Watching me leave with Hayes after refusing to hear him out must have pushed him over the edge. I just hope it was only Ben and Tanner he showed and not the entire former football team. They did say they saw them on his phone, not that he sent them.

“Are you okay?” Mali questions when I’m lost in my thoughts for a little too long.

I look over at her and shrug. “Would you be?”

“Do you want to go back to my house for a bit to cool off, or should I drop you off at home?”

Motherfucker. I completely forgot that my probably-red-faced father is still waiting to read me the riot act. I have half a mind to just sleep at Mali’s, but I don’t think it would do me any good. If anything, it could make things worse.

“I should get home. Take my punishment like a good little seven-year-old.” I pause as Mali chuckles, and a familiar street sign gives me a brilliant idea. “But first, let’s make a pit stop.”

And judging by the way she smirks, she knows exactly what I’m thinking.

IT’S NEARLY THREE IN the morning by the time Mali drops me off at home, which is approximately two hours past my regular curfew and eight hours after my dad told me to get my ass home. The naive part of me hopes he’s asleep. That he had some time to cool down and realized that he has no business grounding his grown-ass daughter.

But I’m not that lucky.

In a way that could put a ninja to shame, I quietly open the door and tiptoe into the house. I even manage to get it closed without making a sound. But the second I turn to head toward the stairs, the lights flick on and I find my dad standing there with his arms crossed.

“You better be real careful what the first words out of your mouth are, because I am not in the mood for your sass right now.”

Between the way he’s glaring at me and the tone of his voice, I know better than to push buttons and choose to drop my head.

“I’m sorry.”

He grunts. “Do you even know what you’re sorry for?”

No, but I can’t tell him that. “Everything?”

His eyes roll as he grabs a paper off the counter and smacks it down in front of me. “That’s the mechanic bill for your car. It needs a whole new engine. And that,” he points to the $7,000 total at the bottom, “is how much I had to pay for it.”

“Holy fuck!”

Okay, maybe that was the wrong thing to say.

“Language, young lady.”

I smile sweetly at him. “Holy fudge?”

He watches me for a moment then shakes his head. “No. Not this time. The cute and innocent act may have worked when you were five, but you’re a long way from that.”

Well, it was worth a shot. “Do you want me to give you my next paycheck?”

“You’re definitely going to be giving me part of it,” he replies as he leans against the counter. “But first, I want to know why you haven’t been getting your oil changed. I make the appointments for you and give you the money for it. All you had to do was take it there and wait twenty minutes for them to do it!”

He’s right, and maybe if the mechanics in that place were hot and not missing half their teeth because they spent too many years on meth, I’d actually go. But I’d literally rather be anywhere else after the one time a guy they call Skid told me he wanted to teach me how to work a stick—and he wasn’t talking about a manual transmission.

“You know I hate going there,” I try to reason, but it’s no use.

“Well, now the only place you’re going is your room.” He gives me a stern look. “No leaving the house for one week.”

“Seriously?” I balk. “I’m eighteen. You can’t hold me hostage.”

“I don’t care. You live under my roof, you abide by my rules.”

Neither of us move as we standoff, until I realize there is no winning this one. With a huff, I leave him in the kitchen and storm up the stairs. Fuck being quiet now. There’s no point.

As soon as I get into my room, I pull my phone from my back pocket and type out a text to Mali.

The answer that immediately comes tells me she’s already home.

I can’t stop the corners of my lips from rising.

She’s right.

There is that.