late for class.
Not like that first day when I’d spilled my coffee everywhere. I shook my head and smiled. I’d been such a spaz that day. I remembered that fat guy behind me who’d been yelling at me.
Bitch…
He’d called me all kinds of crazy names.
Slut…
And he’d practically bitten my face off, he was so mad at me for holding up traffic.
Whore…
What a tool that guy was. Thinking about all of it now brought back Taylor Lamberth and Damian Wolfram, and the roller coaster my life had been for three long years. Was it ever going to stop? I felt like I’d left some crazy loop-de-loop behind me in D.C., but now I was headed into six more.
Agápi mou…
At least I had Christos to ride with me through life’s twists and turns. Christos…
I started to tear up. I wiped my eyes, no longer worried about smearing the mascara I never wore anymore. My life had changed so much in the last six months. But was any of it for the better?
The light at Carmel Valley Road turned green and I drove the rest of the way to SDU.
===
I pulled into the parking lot on the north end of campus and searched for a space. The lot was packed with cars. I turned down yet another aisle and spotted an open space. As I drove toward it, a black Mercedes whipped around the corner at the far end of the aisle and raced for the space. I was closer and reached it well ahead of the Mercedes. The slick black car screeched to a stop as I was turning into the space, jamming its nose in the way of my VW.
“Hey!” I shouted. “What are you doing! This is totally my space! Move your car! I was here first!”
The Mercedes revved its engine. I couldn’t see the driver because the overcast sky painted the front windshield over with a light gray glare.
I held my ground in my VW. This space was mine by right. First come, first served and all that.
The Mercedes’ horn blared at me and the car inched forward like a menacing cobra.
“You’re insane! I was totally here first!” I shifted my VW into park and got out of my car. For a second I thought it might be Hunter Blakeley, the figurative sculpting model who’d been stalking me all quarter. Then I remembered he drove a Porsche Boxster. I knocked on the window of the Mercedes sharply.
The power window whirred down.
“You,” sneered Tiffany Kingston-Whitehouse, eyes narrowed.
“Yes, me,” I smirked confidently. “Move your car.”
“Move my car? You’ve got it wrong, Merry Maid. Shouldn’t you be cleaning up fecal matter somewhere?”
As always, Tiffany looked like a team of stylists had done her hair, makeup, and nails this morning. She was dressed in the latest San Diego winter fashion: a sexy studded leather motorcycle jacket over a white scoop neck T that emphasized her ersatz rack, skinny black jeans, and a rugged belt. A super cute studded black leather clutch with white piping sat on the empty seat next to her. I had to admit, the girl knew how to dress. But it didn’t make her any less of a bitch.
Which was why I was seriously considering grabbing a fistful of her fuck me blond hair and giving it a good yank. Could you scalp someone by yanking? Or did you need a knife to do it right?
“I hate to disappoint you, Tiff, but I was here first. Kindly remove your Mercedes from my way.”
“I’m not moving anything, you shit stain. Get your car out of my way before I push it.” She revved the engine of her Mercedes.
Her blond locks were within easy reach. I flexed my fingers in anticipation. Where was that knife? Screw it. I wasn’t going to need it. I had nails. I was tired of taking shit from Tiffany Buttplug-Nuthouse.
“Go ahead,” I laughed lightly. “Scratch your paint job and mine. I’m sure your daddy pays for the best insurance money can buy.”
She glared at me and revved the Mercedes. “Move,” she growled around gritted teeth.
“No.” I stared her down.
She screamed in my face, “ MOOOOVE!!! ”
I winced and leaned back.
Wow, that girl sure
Not like that first day when I’d spilled my coffee everywhere. I shook my head and smiled. I’d been such a spaz that day. I remembered that fat guy behind me who’d been yelling at me.
Bitch…
He’d called me all kinds of crazy names.
Slut…
And he’d practically bitten my face off, he was so mad at me for holding up traffic.
Whore…
What a tool that guy was. Thinking about all of it now brought back Taylor Lamberth and Damian Wolfram, and the roller coaster my life had been for three long years. Was it ever going to stop? I felt like I’d left some crazy loop-de-loop behind me in D.C., but now I was headed into six more.
Agápi mou…
At least I had Christos to ride with me through life’s twists and turns. Christos…
I started to tear up. I wiped my eyes, no longer worried about smearing the mascara I never wore anymore. My life had changed so much in the last six months. But was any of it for the better?
The light at Carmel Valley Road turned green and I drove the rest of the way to SDU.
===
I pulled into the parking lot on the north end of campus and searched for a space. The lot was packed with cars. I turned down yet another aisle and spotted an open space. As I drove toward it, a black Mercedes whipped around the corner at the far end of the aisle and raced for the space. I was closer and reached it well ahead of the Mercedes. The slick black car screeched to a stop as I was turning into the space, jamming its nose in the way of my VW.
“Hey!” I shouted. “What are you doing! This is totally my space! Move your car! I was here first!”
The Mercedes revved its engine. I couldn’t see the driver because the overcast sky painted the front windshield over with a light gray glare.
I held my ground in my VW. This space was mine by right. First come, first served and all that.
The Mercedes’ horn blared at me and the car inched forward like a menacing cobra.
“You’re insane! I was totally here first!” I shifted my VW into park and got out of my car. For a second I thought it might be Hunter Blakeley, the figurative sculpting model who’d been stalking me all quarter. Then I remembered he drove a Porsche Boxster. I knocked on the window of the Mercedes sharply.
The power window whirred down.
“You,” sneered Tiffany Kingston-Whitehouse, eyes narrowed.
“Yes, me,” I smirked confidently. “Move your car.”
“Move my car? You’ve got it wrong, Merry Maid. Shouldn’t you be cleaning up fecal matter somewhere?”
As always, Tiffany looked like a team of stylists had done her hair, makeup, and nails this morning. She was dressed in the latest San Diego winter fashion: a sexy studded leather motorcycle jacket over a white scoop neck T that emphasized her ersatz rack, skinny black jeans, and a rugged belt. A super cute studded black leather clutch with white piping sat on the empty seat next to her. I had to admit, the girl knew how to dress. But it didn’t make her any less of a bitch.
Which was why I was seriously considering grabbing a fistful of her fuck me blond hair and giving it a good yank. Could you scalp someone by yanking? Or did you need a knife to do it right?
“I hate to disappoint you, Tiff, but I was here first. Kindly remove your Mercedes from my way.”
“I’m not moving anything, you shit stain. Get your car out of my way before I push it.” She revved the engine of her Mercedes.
Her blond locks were within easy reach. I flexed my fingers in anticipation. Where was that knife? Screw it. I wasn’t going to need it. I had nails. I was tired of taking shit from Tiffany Buttplug-Nuthouse.
“Go ahead,” I laughed lightly. “Scratch your paint job and mine. I’m sure your daddy pays for the best insurance money can buy.”
She glared at me and revved the Mercedes. “Move,” she growled around gritted teeth.
“No.” I stared her down.
She screamed in my face, “ MOOOOVE!!! ”
I winced and leaned back.
Wow, that girl sure
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