Deranged Delusions

5. A Topsy Turvey Exit

Would you think any less of me if I told you that the sex wasn’t that great? Okay, it was all right I guess. I mean she wasn’t exactly Alyssa Milano or anything but she was okay. Melissa’s sweet enough and she’s really easy on the eyes but would I ask for a second ‘date?’ Probably not. But right now I’m not really concerned with second dates or the awkward, “I’ll call you later,” conversation that I know will happen with Melissa and I.

Actually I’m more concerned with the nuclear warhead that’s running the path through my house, wailing at the top of her lungs about how I’m the scum of the earth and should be castrated. Really, I must be the best looking scum of the earth she’s ever had the audacity to talk down to.  But I cut her some slack, I’m too hung-over to actual refute any of her catty remarks.

“You are the biggest jerk off on the face of the planet! I can’t even stand to look at you right now and I’ve never liked you anyway. You have a huge nose and your eating habits are atrocious and all those times I said you were an okay guy and a good person was a total lie!”

Okay now she’s just trying to hurt my feelings. All those things aren’t true and she knows it. So I’m a messy eater, I’m a guy; those two things kind of go hand in hand. I try to explain this to her but she holds up a hand to stop my verbal advances.

“I don’t have to hear you explain yourself; I’m done being your little Jimmy Cricket. Because if you didn’t hear me the first time, I quit.”

“You can’t quit!” I yell back and I bring a hand up to the side of my head. Yelling hurts this early in the morning.

“I guess you have to clean out your ears because like I said all of five minutes ago, I quit. Therefore I don’t have to listen to your pretentious bullshit,” she bites back and I stop in my tracks before I roll my eyes and continue my pursuit. I have no idea why I’m chasing her; all I know is that she can’t quit because who’s going to take my stuff to the dry cleaners today? It isn’t going to be me and I can’t just wake Melissa up and ask her to take care of my shit. That would be rude, and the last time I checked, I’m not an ass to the people I sleep with.

“I need someone to take my clothes to the cleaners!” I point out desperately and she rolls her eyes before picking up some random basketball that’s sitting in the middle of my living room. Now I really have to get on Trace’s back about picking up his shit.

“Oh my God,” she yells before she turns around and looks at me. She looks bad. Her face is all splotchy and red and there’s this little vein in her forehead that looks like it’s going to start pulsating at any minute. Eww, hardly attractive at all, “Why don’t you get Trace’s ass out of bed and have him do it? Last time I checked you were the one who hired him as your assistant, not me.”

“Yeah but its Trace. He doesn’t do that girly, domestic shit. When have you ever seen him pick up around here or vacuum, or go to the grocery store?” I question and she rolls her eyes as she grips the basketball with her tiny hands tighter and tighter.

“Well its time for him to learn,” Lauren snaps and as if on cue Trace stumbles into the living room looking like the Crypts have just beaten him up. Boy looks like shit and I kind of feel sorry for him because no one should be subjected to The Wrath of Lauren at quarter to seven in the morning.

“Do you mind keeping it down to a dull roar, Lo-ho?” Trace mumbles as he rubs the sleep from his eyes, “I mean seriously, I’m running on two hours of sleep, you wanna…” and suddenly Trace becomes more awake as the basketball Lauren had been holding onto goes sailing towards his head. He ducks just in time as the ball goes sailing past him and into the wall, leaving a dent. Holy shit the girl’s got an arm.

“Jeez, what the fuck was that for?” Trace asked as he holds onto the top of his head for dear life, looking absolutely bewildered and scared out of his mind.

“You should be lucky you’ve got stubs for legs you little ass monger!” Lauren hollers as she advances on my poor best friend, “Don’t you even get me started on how you are the worst personal assistant in the whole world because I don’t have all day to sit here and spell it out for you. I’m done with both of your shit and I’m out of here.” And before I have a chance to tell her that she can’t do this and she’s overacting, she’s out the kitchen door. I hear a large crash coming from the garage and my heart leaps up into my throat as seconds later, Lauren is in Bentley and blasting some music (I can only guess it’s Queen) before she peels out of my driveway.

“What,” Trace says slowly as I start to rub my head in disbelief, “the fuck was that all about?”

“You so don’t want to know,” I mutter and I watch as Trace goes to inspect what the loud noise was in the garage. I lean against my couch and inspect the dent that Lauren made with my basketball. I hope she knows I’m going to be sending her a bill for that. Seconds later Trace comes back into the living room, white as a sheet.

“What?”

“Um…” he starts nervously, “I wouldn’t go into the garage if I were you. She kind of…well,” Trace mumbles as his eyes shift around the room.

“Spit it out,” I snap and he looks up at me with frightened eyes.

“She…uh…well she kind of knocked over one of your bikes.”

“She did WHAT?” I screech before I haul ass into the garage my heart pounding up into my throat. I swear to God I am going to hunt her down and kill her. No worse than that, I’ll key Bentley and egg the damn thing within an inch of its life. I turn on the lights and almost scream in panic when I notice my brand new, 2006, not even released into the stores, Harley bike on its side, the left side mirror bent into oblivion and scratches all over the paint.

I am going to murder her and her immediate family.

Tenderly, I pick up the bike and stroke the seat lovingly for a moment before I hear Trace yelling into his phone. It seems like he’s already called the Harley dealership to tell them about the messed up bike. I want to call Lauren up and laugh at her for calling Trace a horrible assistant! See, he’s doing something for me and he’s getting it done. Put that in your pipe and smoke it Lo-ho!

It isn’t until I’m back in the kitchen and watching Trace continue his argument that I realize he’s on the phone with his mother who is probably giving him grief about not calling her yesterday. I think it was his parents’ anniversary or something…I don’t remember. I can’t even remember what I did last night…

Oh shit. Melissa.

I leave an apologizing Trace in the kitchen and race up the stairs praying to God that she’s still asleep or oblivious to the fact that her best friend almost tore my house down out of sheer spite. How embarrassed would I feel if I had to explain that to Melissa? I don’t even want to think about it. All I want to do is curl up on my couch and drown my sorrows and hangover in the love and grace of Robin Hood.

She’s still snug as a bug in my bed and snoring lightly no less. Good lord how that woman was able to sleep through the Apocalypse is beyond me. She’s a heavier sleeper than I am and I’m the kind of person that can only be pulled out of bed by the sound of a forty piece marching band going off by my ear. Either that or a pissed off ex-personal assistant. What am I thinking? She isn’t my ex-assistant. She’ll be back before the end of this weekend. Watch.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed I watch Melissa sleep for a moment. She looks so peaceful and so well put together after such a wild night it makes me wonder if we did anything at all. Then I remember the thing she did to my ear and suddenly it all comes rushing back to me. Okay so maybe I lied. Maybe she was on the plus side of great in bed. I can’t really remember that far back.

“Hey,” she purrs and I look up to notice one of her eyes is cocked open and watching me. I smile and pat her long legs that are tucked underneath the covers.

“Morning sunshine,” I say with a huge smile plastered on my face. The whole argument with Lauren is thrown out the window when she returns my smile and that weak knee feeling is back again.

“How long have you been awake?”

Well I’ve been awake long enough to have your best friend rip me a new one and also have her practically destroy one of my most expensive modes of transportation. And this is all before my first bowl of cereal.

“A while,” I say out loud and she smiles wider as she sits up in my bed. And let me tell you, she looks good in it.

“Last night was…” she starts and my grin is somehow wider than when it started.

“…amazing,” I finish for her and she laughs.

“I was going to say mind blowing but amazing works too.” Mind blowing, really? Well a pat on the back to me then. She stretches her arms up over her head and I use her moment of relaxation to quickly steal a kiss. I don’t care that we both have morning breath because hearing the small moan in the back of her throat makes the thought of tasting hours old alcohol and random bits of finger food all worthwhile.

“Stay right there,” I say quickly and she looks at me with confused brown eyes.

“What are you...” she starts but I silence her by bringing a finger up to my lips as I walk towards the bedroom door. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to bring you breakfast,” I say boldly and her smile, if possible, grows wider as she leans against the bed frame and watches me as I pull a tank top over my bare torso. I can see the glimmer of disappointment in her eyes and I mentally pride myself in the hours I spend at the gym.

“Really? Like eggs and bacon and all that stuff?” she asks and I can hear the impressed tone in her voice. I inwardly scoff at her for even suggesting that I know how to cook. I’m twenty-four years old and I’m not Martha Stewart.

“Erm…” my voice fades away as I lean against the doorframe. If Lauren were still working for me I’d make her whip something up really quick in my kitchen, or I’d have her go out to the nearest breakfast joint to pick something up to-go. But since she quit all of ten minutes ago, I can’t exactly do that.

“Let me guess, you can fix up a mean bowl of cereal?” Melissa quips, apparently amused at my lack of cooking skills. I laugh and rub the back of my neck, something I only do when I’m embarrassed or put on the spot. When did I feel like this around any girl I brought home, let alone someone like Melissa? This girl has some kind of power over me and I don’t like it at all. If I had been feeling this ten minutes ago I would push her far, far away until she was just a memory of last week but, for some odd reason, I don’t like it when anyone, especially a woman, has that kind of mental power dangling above me. But part of me wants to try this out to see where it goes.

Besides, if you think about it, me continuing to see Melissa will piss the shit out of Lauren. And payback is a definite bitch.

“I’ll be right back,” I begin in a singsong voice and I take off for the kitchen. Trace is still bitching to his mother and I ignore him as I get together all of the things I’ll need. Bowl, check. Cereal, check. Spoon, check. Milk, check. Soon I’ve got the best bowl of Apple Jacks in the whole world sitting in front of me. I sit down at the counter to take a bite when I realize the bowl isn’t for me.

“Dammit,” I mutter to myself as I take the bowl and start back upstairs. I can hear her humming softly to herself and the sound of her enjoying her time in my room makes me smile. Its good to know that she can’t stop thinking about me. Granted she’s been running through my head ever since I remembered that the cereal was hers and hopefully she’ll be running through my mind a lot more over the next couple of minutes.

“Looks good,” Melissa explains with a smile as I walk back into the room and hand her the cereal. She takes a bite and looks up at me, her eyes filled with gratitude. “You know, I think if Lauren knew you were being this nice she’d die of shock.”

“Really, what makes you say that?” I ask knowing damn well what the answer is.

“Well, don’t tell her I told you this because I don’t want her to get into trouble with you or anything,” Melissa says in a hurried voice and I almost want to tell her that Lauren won’t have a problem with getting into trouble because she doesn’t work for me anymore, but I refrain.

“I won’t say I word,” I promise and she grins before continuing.

“Well she thinks you’re the Anti-Christ.” I snort and look at Melissa with unbelieving eyes. Really, me the Spawn of Satan? That’s cute coming from someone who uses the Lord’s name in vain whenever she can.

“And why would she think that?” Oh this should be good.

“Well…oh man I never wanted to get into this topic of conversation with you. I mean it must hurt your feelings to know that someone working so close with you thinks these things about you!” she says sympathy dripping from her voice. She’s actually really cute when she’s worried about my self-being.

“Oh don’t worry about it. Lauren never has a problem with vocalizing her thoughts. And I have to deal with people who put me down every day. You won’t hurt my feelings, promise.”

“She’s always saying how you never think of anybody but yourself and you’re forever treating her like shit and taking all the things she does for you for granted, which isn’t true because you made me this amazing breakfast,” she explains and I laugh half-heartedly because I want her to continue, “and you’re always doing things for charity. But she says that’s your public persona and your private self is a complete one eighty from what you want the public to see. Lauren says on the inside you’re probably one of the biggest assholes to ever see the sun and its your mission in life to make hers a living hell. I think she also mentioned something about you being a huge dick because you have to compensate for something…”

Well I was going to refrain from sending Lauren a bill for the wall and my bike, but now I’m going to send it out as soon as possible. Maybe I’ll even send it home with Melissa today because I’m ready to call up the little hoebag and give her a piece of my mind. I am not compensating for something and I bet you anything Melissa can confirm that. And if she can’t you can ask Cameron and Alyssa, and…well we don’t want to be here all day.

“Wow,” is all I can say and Melissa gives me a look that’s a mixture of sympathy and masked humor. You can totally tell that she’s trying not to laugh at my reaction to what she’s saying and I have to admit that look is kind of cute and endearing in an odd sort of way. And before I know what I’m doing, my mouth is open and words that I never say the morning after come pouring out of my mouth,

“What are you doing tonight?”

Stupid, Timberlake. In the unwritten laws of one night stands you are never supposed to ask the other party what they’re doing the day after you sleep with them. You’re to assume that someone will do the calling if you want to further explore the budding relationship. None of this asking on the same day business. But since when do I follow the rules?

“Uh,” her voice fades away and I find the thought of rejection something I can’t stand right now. I’ve already been flat out insulted by one of my (former) employees and to be turned down by her best friend is something that I don’t think I can stomach. I don’t do well with rejection and I really don’t want to carry this hangover into Sunday.

“Uh?” I repeat her utterance and she looks up at me with smiling brown eyes and suddenly I have a feeling that everything is going to be okay.

“How about you come over for dinner tonight? You made me this amazing breakfast, I can only return the favor,” Melissa explains with a wider smile before she places the now empty bowl onto the nightstand and wraps the covers around her svelte body. The sheets cling to her body and it takes a great deal of self-dignity to not rip the cloth from her figure.

“Sounds great,” I respond and she grins as she walks around the room and picks up her strewn articles of clothing, looking over her shoulder every so often to look at me and smile. It’s a little bit funny how she has this sort of unspoken power over me, a power that Cameron never really had. I tell you, it’s those damn brunettes. They know how to seduce a man and make him want more, because let me tell you I am wanting to do so many unspeakable things to that girl right now.

“You know where I live right?” she questions and I look at her, confused. I’ve never been to her place as I’ve only met her last night. We didn’t go back to her place and now I’m starting to get a bit nervous that I’m going over to her house for dinner. I shake my head in response and she looks at me in disbelief, “I would think you’d have been there before.”

Now why the hell would I be at Melissa’s place, unless?

Oh shit.

***