“I know. It must be the effect my manhood has on you ladies—fighting over me,” he sighs and they laugh. Suddenly I feel very small and inconsequential. To my face, he defends me; but now I know what he says when he thinks I can’t hear, and I don’t think I like it. My eyes water and I bat the tears away. I refuse to look so needy in front of her. Once my eyes are dry, I leave the kitchen about to show her what a bitch really looks like.
I bring Vicky, the two-bit floozy, her juice, a fake smile plastered on my face. Brad smiles at me. He is oblivious to what is about to happen. I neatly tuck my left foot under the rug and continue on with my right. As my left foot catches, I lean forward-- planned shocked look on my face-- as the She-Devil's juice flys out of the glass, drenching her perfect bosom.
"I'm so sorry!" I screech, playing the part of the apologetic host. I don't offer her a napkin as she whimpers and tries to wipe down some of the mess. "Your poor thing," I lay it on thick, "you must be used to having jizz--" I contain my giggle, "I mean juice all over you."
"And why would she be used to that!" Brad snaps; his voice thick with rage. I shrug, though inside I’m upset. He should be on my side.
"Oh, well," I say innocently, "I must have heard James wrong, then," and I rush out of the room to clean the few drops of juice that landed on me. I sure do hate to be sticky.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
(Colleen)
… as cheesy porn music starts to play.
BRAD STALKS INTO the room. He is absolutely livid. Oh well, I’m not real pleased with him, either. “What the fuck is your problem?” He growls, making his way to the sink. He grabs the nearest hand towel and wets it.
“I’m mortified, you asshole. What was this, all a ploy to embarrass me?” His scowl turns to a frown.
“No,” he whispers. “I’m sorry. I asked Vicky to stop by earlier when I was pissed. I didn’t know you were going to maul me when you got home.” I don’t miss the smile forming on his lips. Brad likes to be mauled. I’m saving this for later, you know, when I don’t want his nuts on a stick.
“I know. But this is embarrassing,” I mutter. My anger is waning. Part of me wants to be angry with him; the other part of me wants to drag him back upstairs. I feel really bipolar right now.
“Colleen,” he says, moving to my side. “This was all a ploy to make you jealous, pretty girl. I know how possessive you get.” He chuckles. I scoff. I’m not that stupid. I know that man and the amazing Mac have been around, and if he thinks he’s going to convince me that bringing Veronica here was for the benefit of our… relationship… he can just kiss my somewhat perky ass.
“You’re a big, stupid liar!” I snap and march through the living room and up the stairs into our bedroom. Vicky is still in her spot on the couch. Sticky slut. I slam the door when I get to our room. Because, you know, I’m mature like that. Brad brings out the worst in me, he always has.
I sit on the bed and sulk for a while. I can hear Sir Moron down there apologizing to Sticky Slut. He doesn’t take long sending her off. I really don’t want to see him right now, so I quickly gather a change of clothes and rush to the bathroom down the hall. Right now I wish we had more than one bathroom so he won’t be tempted to come in for any reason.
I hop in the shower and turn the water on hot. I don’t know what I’m trying to wash away: the hurt or the humiliation. I had stupidly believed that sex would change things between us. Just as I’m getting comfortable under the spray, the bathroom door swings open. I peek around the shower curtain to see Brad’s chest heaving.
“You can’t just go around being a bitch to whomever you want!” he yells.
“Oh yeah? Watch me!” I laugh and stick my tongue out. Slowly, he walks into the bathroom and rips off his pajama pants. My rueful laugh turns to a horrified squeak. If he thinks he’s getting in this shower after the humiliation I just suffered he’s damned mistaken.
“Brad!” I warn, shifting my weight from my left foot to my right. “Do not even think about it.” His eyes twinkle and I know I’m completely screwed. Okay, maybe not completely screwed yet, but by the grace of God, I’m about to be. Oh, Mac!
“You know you want me, baby” he coos, stroking himself. Mac grows instantly. Oh no you don’t!
“After that spectacle?” I ask, annoyed. “Not even you’re that good, pretty boy.” He takes a few more steps forward. If I don’t do something soon he’s going to be in the shower with me. I lean down and grab the first thing I get my hand on—a can of my shaving cream—and throw it at him. He lets go of Mac and blocks himself as best he can. The can bounces off of his upper thigh.