Rebel Soul Final, page 7
The gorgeous redhead lifts her bottle in a toast to mine. “Now, that’s something we have in common!”
“I’m sure you’re tired of talking about this, but how is everything going?”
And just like that, Stacia deflates. “It’s…really rough. I know this sounds incredibly first world, but it’s like my entire life was ripped away in the blink of an eye, and processing it has been really hard. Add in this bullshit with Dad’s lawyer, and I just…feel kind of hopeless.”
“What’s going on with his lawyer?”
She turns to me with fire blazing in her eyes. “The pompous jackass said he couldn’t risk the scandal of representing him. Never mind the fact that Dad has been his loyal client for as long as I can remember.”
“Shit, Stacia. That blows.”
“Tell me about it,” she laments, burying her face in her hands. “Feels like we’re being fucked by the long dick of the law.”
An idea dances on the periphery of my mind—maybe I could ask Colton to help her out. But just as quickly as it appeared, it vanishes. I mean, even if I could get—coerce—him to agree to it, she would never accept his help. Those two are straight-up oil and water; I don’t think I’ve ever seen two people clash right off the bat like the two of them did.
“You know what you need?”
“What?”
“A distraction. Let’s watch a movie.”
Stacia licks her lips. “I did notice some popcorn in your pantry.”
“Why don’t you pop it, and I’ll pick out something to watch?”
“Ooh, you’re asking me to place a lot of trust in you, Mr. Larson.”
I blanch. “That’s my dad, and he’s a jackass. But, we’re roomies now…so, c’mon, let me pick.”
“Fine! But you better not mess this up. I would hate for our first movie night to be our last.”
Not wasting a second, I sprint to the living room. Television on, and Prime opened, I wrack my brain for the perfect movie. Finally, as the microwave dings, the perfect movie pops into my head.
Stacia enters the room right as the first notes of Too Hot to Stop by the Bay-Kays starts playing. “Oh my God! Superbad! I love this movie.”
I grin. “I figured as much.”
“How?” she demands, tossing a handful of buttery popped kernels into her mouth.
“You almost verbatim quoted it a minute ago. The long dick of the law…sound familiar?”
She smacks her palm into her forehead. “Good ear. Now, pipe down.”
We both fall quiet as Jonah Hill’s character calls Michael Cera’s to discuss the Vag-tastic Voyage. We’ve just reached the part where a drunk Seth passes out and accidentally headbutts Jules.
“Did you know they say fuck one hundred and eighty-six times in this movie?” Stacia blurts out randomly. “Which is insane, because it’s only one hundred and thirteen minutes long; that’s literally more than one F-bomb a minute!”
I stare at her for a second like she’s an alien. And hell, maybe she is; what other woman loves and knows fast cars, drinks beer, openly admits to not being able to cook, and can quote movies like a boss, all while looking fine as fuck? I know I can only think of one.
Sputtering, I ask, “How do you know this shit?”
Stacia shrugs and draws her feet up under her, the motion moving her a little closer to me. “I don’t know. My brain is a whole cache of semi-useless information. But I kick ass at trivia!”
“We’ll have to go out and play sometime.”
“Sounds goo—” A yawn cuts her off, and we both fall back into an easy quiet as the movie plays on.
Toward the end of the movie, Stacia nods off and her head tips onto my shoulder. It pains me to move her, but I know sleeping sitting up is not an option—not if I don’t want to be in a world of pain tomorrow.
Carefully, I ease out from beneath her and cradle her sleeping form in my arms. The trip up the steps is a little more daunting, but I manage to make it to her room, where I deposit her into her bed. With the quilt tucked around her as she sleeps peacefully, I’m struck by how fucking gorgeous she is in this moment—makeup free, dolled down, totally natural. Her red hair fans around her like a fiery halo, and though it’s not the first time I’ve thought it, I can’t help but wonder what it’d feel like if she was mine.
And I don’t mean for a night, but for long-term—months, years, forever. While I’ve always said I’d never settle down, if I ever did, Stacia’s the exact kind of girl I’d want to do it with.
Maybe it’s the whole opposites attract thing, with her bright hair, inked skin, and piercings and me being a clean cut, everyday kind of guy. Or maybe it’s just that she’s a fucking good person, with insides every bit as stunning as her outer shell. Fuck if I know—other than the fact that the girl’s been under my skin ever since I laid eyes on her that night at Quixote’s.
It’s probably pretty pathetic that I still even think about that night. It was well over a year ago, and we didn’t even speak. While my cousin was hyper-fixated on Abby Jane and their weird little love-disguised-as-hate thing, all I saw was her.
She was so damn alluring—different than any other woman I’d ever been with. She was wearing blue lipstick, for Christ’s sake. And even though she wasn’t the woman I took home with me that night, she’s definitely the one I thought about as I came.
Finally, I lean down and feather a kiss across her forehead before retreating downstairs to my bed. The urge to rub one out to memories of the way she danced that night in her black leather miniskirt tempts me. Add in the details of our hot and heavy make-out session that happened a few weeks later, and I’m harder than I’ve ever been. But I refuse to beat my dick to thoughts of her while she sleeps under my roof—at least on her first night here.
Chapter Thirteen
Stacia
I’ve settled into living with West far easier than I thought I would have. He and I…we just gel, like we’ve been living together for years and years instead of a week.
Unfortunately, my successful cohabitation is pretty much the only good thing in my life right about now.
My dad is still in jail—and judging from his downtrodden tone, Ken Kellan is not suited for life on the inside. And don’t even get me started on Mom. She pretty much never leaves the couch in the rental cottage, and I’m pretty sure my grandparents are at their wit’s end with her.
The pressure to bring Dad home is weighing on me heavier and heavier every passing day, but I’m stuck. So fucking stuck. I’ve even started searching for a second job, and while a few listings look semi-promising, none of them are going to bring in enough extra money for me to pay a retainer to a lawyer—much less to post Dad’s bond.
Not to mention, today’s the day I have to let Maren know I’ve been looking for other jobs. She has a firm non-compete in place, but I should be okay, seeing as I’m looking at desk jobs and retail. Hopefully she gets it and isn’t upset. Fingers crossed.
Tired of my downtrodden and mopey thoughts, I crank the music in my car, drowning my anger and hopelessness in some Brand New. By the time I make it to work, I’ve played half of the album; I don’t feel any better, though. I drain the last dregs of my coffee—here’s to fake smiles and hoping making people pretty does the trick.
“Hey, girl, hey!” Joy greets as I enter the studio. Her infectious smile lifts my spirits a little. “Maren added a bride to your book after lunch—she’s having her bridals done, and her original girl came down with the flu.”
“Yes!” I do a little happy dance. “Not that I’m celebrating someone being sick, but more money is always a good thing.”
“Yeah, girl. Plus, if you end up wowing her, and she books her actual wedding with you, I think she said she has like eight girls in her party that will all need their makeup done as well.”
“She’ll book.” I sound cocky, but it’s called confidence when you have the skills to back it up, right?
Joy updates me on the rest of my day—two expectant mothers, a woman who is announcing her retirement, and a handful of date night-ers. Oh, and my bride.
I head back to my station and start prepping my supplies. Even though we don’t technically open for another twenty minutes, there’s a sort of energy flowing through the space, the kind that amps you up and renews your kickass attitude. Or maybe that’s just the Billie Eilish Maren has pumping through the speakers. Either way, I’m ready.
Six hours later, I’m dead on my feet, but…the bride booked me not only for her wedding but for her engagement pictures, shower, and rehearsal dinner, as well. Cha-ching.
“Maren,” I say as I pass her to finish cleaning my brushes. “Can we talk really quick?”
“Sure.” She pops a bubble with the gum she’s always chewing. “Come find me in the back when you’re done.”
After stowing away my brushes, wiping down my station, and cleaning my mirror, I head off in search of Maren. “Hey,” I say, as I walk into the breakroom where she’s playing on her phone.
She places it on the table, screen down. “What’s up?”
I suck in a deep breath and bite the bullet. “First, I wanna thank you for the extra appointments.”
She arches a perfectly sculpted brow at me. “Uh-huh. You’re welcome.”
“But I still need to make more money, so I’m looking for a second job. I wanted to be totally transparent with you, and I promise it won’t interfere with my time here or breach my non-compete.”
“Did you think I was gonna be mad?” Maren asks, sounding almost a little hurt.
“No. Yes. Maybe. Everything feels so topsy-turvy right now for me that I don’t know up from down.”
“I hate this for you.”
I shrug. “Maybe I’ll land a part-time job that pays crazy good?” She casts a dubious look my way. “Hey, a girl can hope.”
“You know,” she says, pausing dramatically. “If you really need funds, I might know of something.”
Eagerly, I pull the free chair closer to her before plopping down into it. “Tell me more—everything. Tell me everything.”
She clasps my hands in hers. “You’ll have to keep an open mind.”
“As long as you’re not suggesting prostitution or stripping.”
Maren rolls her neck. “Not exactly.” I start to protest, but she stops me. “Hear me out! There’s this app called Virtual Kitty. It’s like…I can’t really explain it.”
“Try,” I deadpan, just desperate enough to stick around for what she has to say.
“So, it’s like a porn app. But like…gah! Okay, let me just show it to you.” Maren grabs her phone, unlocks it, and passes it to me. “Click here.”
I tap the icon, and the entire screen goes black before a little animated cat pops up, followed by the words ‘pick your kitty, watch her purr.’
Mildly intrigued, I tap the enter button. The screen immediately fills with what looks like a grid of social media-ish profiles—all women. Tatted up, pierced, stunning women. Beneath each picture is a username, along with a series of symbols and abbreviations. I notice some women have a camera, while others have a video camera or a microphone, followed by things like DP, BBC, BBW, CFNM. Literally, the only thing there that makes sense to me is SOLO; the rest is gibberish.
“What in the hell does all of this mean?” I ask, a little overwhelmed.
Maren peeks over at the screen. “Oh! Those are the types of videos they do. DP is double penetration; BBC is big black—”
“Got it!” I shout, feeling like a freaking prude, which I’m certainly not. I watch as much porn as any other twenty-something-year-old woman with a healthy sexual appetite, but I’ve never paid attention to stuff like that. I just click what looks good and suits my mood, get off, and get out.
However, my brain keeps going back to solo. “And solo is…”
Grinning, Maren explains, “It’s exactly what it sounds like. The woman all by herself. Masturbation, strip teases, showers, that kind of stuff.”
“And there’s no guy or sex or anything?”
“Nope, not with solo. Some girls even just do dirty pictures.”
“Huh.” My mind is reeling, and as much as I hate to admit it, thoughts are wheeling around and around in my brain. Things like how much do these women make—how much is enough for me to…
“Well, I’ve got a hot date tonight.” Maren pops up from the table, derailing my runaway train of thought. “Wanna do my makeup before you go?”
“Um, yes!” I say, freshly cleaned brushes be damned, because Maren hardly lets anyone make her up. As cheesy as it sounds, it’s an honor that she asked me.
The following morning, I wake to a text from AJ, asking if I’m down for a mani-pedi after we hit up Benny’s. My natural inclination is to say hell yeah, girl, and let’s hit the mall but that was before. Now, instead of feeling excited, a lead weight sits in my gut.
With trembling fingers, I log into my bank account app and check my balance. While it’s not necessarily a number to frown at, I know it won’t get me far now that I’m not living under my parents’ roof—not that they can call it theirs anymore.
As spoiled as it makes me sound, I need to learn to budget and fast.
As I head downstairs and make some coffee, I do a quick tally, estimating what I’ll owe West for this month as well as the next. Add in gas, my cell phone, and car insurance, and yeah, things are tight.
Me: I think I can only swing brunch today if that’s cool.
AJ: Why don’t we just do each other’s nails?
“What’s got you smiling?” West questions, joining me at the island in nothing more than a pair of low-slung sweats.
I turn my dopey grin his way and gasp. Holy-dick-print, Batman.
He chuckles and palms his morning wood. “I’d apologize, but it’s a natural reaction.”
Finding my voice, I say, “Noooo. No need to apologize. Everything is great. Fine. Perfect.”
West chuckles and flexes his hips so that his sizable erection virtually leers at me. “You keep staring at him, and he’s gonna think you want sausage for breakfast.”
I tear my eyes away from his groin as we both guffaw at the utter absurdity of what he just said. “Damn, dude. You spit game like that, it’s a wonder women aren’t beating down your front door!”
A scoff passes his highly kissable lips. “Please. You know firsthand exactly how much game I have. As I recall, it landed you in my lap in Brock’s back seat.”
I roll my eyes even as I feel my cheeks heat. “Once, and you didn’t even get to seal the deal.”
He steps closer to me. “Only because Brock and Abby Jane came back. If they’d have been thirty—hell, ten minutes later, I guarantee, I’d have had you writhing in pleasure and chanting my name like a sacred prayer.”
I laugh him off, unwilling to admit that my panties pretty much just burst into flames.
He moves away, and while I feel like I can breathe again, my body misses his closeness. “For real though, what’s got you smiling so early?”
“Uh, it’s after nine. But, I have plans with AJ today. Is it cool for her to come over later?”
West eyes me oddly. “You live here. You don’t have to ask permission for your best friend to visit.”
“Right. Yeah. Sorry.”
He presses the brew button and tosses a wink my way. “No problem. Oh, before I forget, Colton is supposed to bring the contract by for you to sign. I know we should have done it last week, but he’s been working on some big case and we fell to the wayside.”
I scrunch my nose. “I’m shocked. I figured protecting little, old, helpless you from big, bad me would be his first priority.”
West drains his espresso in one gulp. “As luck would have it, I managed to convince him you weren’t an evil shrew.”
I do my best witchy cackle, which admittedly is lacking. “That’s good. Is he always so…”
“Anal?” West supplies.
“I was gonna say uptight, but sure, let’s go with anal.”
“It’s almost like there’s two Coltons—lawyer Colton and normal Colton. When he’s in lawyer mode, he can be damn near unbearable, but the fucker is good at what he does. Like, insanely so.”
“What kind of—” The sound of my phone ringing cuts me off. “It’s AJ. I’ve gotta get ready. See you later!” I dash up the stairs as I answer her call. “’Sup, bitch?”
“Want me to pick you up?”
My brows tug low at her question. Picking me up is totally out of her way. “Why?”
“Well, Brock is doing lessons at the country club, and I figured I’d surprise him after, so I’ll be out your way no matter what.”
As much as this feels like a handout, I accept. “Yeah, okay, if you’re sure.”
“I am. I’m heading that way now.”
I check out my reflection in the full-length mirror hanging opposite my bed. From my gnarly bun to my sleep shorts, I’m a full-blown hot mess, completely unfit for venturing out of the house. “Shit, okay. Let me get ready!”
I hang up without giving her the chance to reply and fly through getting ready. Dry shampoo, a braid, brows, a dab of concealer, and a fresh outfit later, and I’m ready to go. Too bad AJ honked to let me know she was here ten minutes ago.
Chapter Fourteen
Stacia
“Fuuuuuck, this is so good,” I moan as I devour the last of my French toast.
“I know, right?” AJ agrees as she drags her last strip of bacon through the river of syrup on her plate.
While brunch today may be a poor financial decision, it is exactly what my soul needed. Some time to feel normal—like things are the way they’ve always been—has me feeling almost like my usual self.
“So, what’s going on with…everything?” AJ asks, waving her hand in a vague gesture.
Oh, hello reality, how nice of you to crash my brunch. “Things are really…rough.”
My best friend frowns. “You know, I could—”
