Love, Lex (4 page)

Not only did we both know that “us dating, him taking my
Lady V,” was way over, but he wasn’t sorry.

“Lex, no matter what happened, I came for you. Come. Be with
me.” In a thick manipulative tone, he beckoned me.

“Go f—”

“Babe, come to Kelle.” With kahunas bigger than coconuts,
Kelle caressed his gym-toned chest. Ever so slightly, he lifted up the front
edge of his shirt, a smidge, enough to lower my focus from his
soon-to-be-busted face onto his cheating body’s six-pack, navel, and happy
trail patch.

The blankety-blank knew right there that what he just did
always made my scalp tingle, insides flip-n-spark, eyelashes flutter, and
Victoria Secret’s oh so wet.

Well, not anymore, sistah!

Sheepishly I held a breath and flashed my teeth giving him a
bit of Geri Halliwell’s sexy persona, Ginger Spice from the Spice Girls.

All fake, of course. Oh there’d be more. I still had to get
through Baby, Scary, Sporty, and Posh Spice. Trust me, Sporty was my favorite.

Walking over to him, I got all Baby Spice first. I traced my
pointer finger over the horse emblem on his Polo shirt. One of the many gifts
I’d bought him, months ago, when he’d turned eighteen.

He flexed his pecs when I glided a thumb over the navy blue
cotton. Inhaling Mother’s signature perfume, Dirty Birdie on him, more commonly
referred to by the fragrance industry as an instant hit. I gave his nips a
teasing pinch. He winked. And in those flat green eyes, I saw something fuglier
than I’d ever thought possible, narcissism.

Maybe he thought I’d forgive and forget.

What a pigtard.

Good Lord, I wanted to get all Scary Spice and stab him with
my vampy nails. But they weren’t acrylic like Taddy’s or jewel-tipped like
Vive’s. They weren’t even buffed like Blake’s to scratch up Kelle’s
soon-to-be-f’d-up face. Instead, I’d asked him the dreaded question, the one
that would either confirm or dismiss my own foolishness. 

“Was today your first time screwing my mother?”

His mouth, which had kissed my neck and whispered in my
ears—the one I had dreamt one day would
go down
on me, nibbling slightly
on my clit, saying goodbye to Lady V hung wide open.

A thick, pinkish tongue, the one I had fantasized would
flick my nipples while in our hotel room overlooking the Champs-Élysées as he
thrust his fat cock deep inside me, twitched.

Nothing came out.

Zilch!

Kelle had already said enough. But I still had to hear the
answer. Birdie sure as fudge wouldn’t tell me what’s what in a gazillion years.

I grabbed onto his shoulders. I shook. I demanded. I
screamed. “Tell me the truth!”

“No. It’s not.” His forehead wrinkled. Amazed by his
admission of guilt, I guess.

“Pathetic. That’s what you are.” Drawing my nicotine lips
close to Kelle’s wide, hanging-open mouth, I spit my gum and all the Cujo-ish
saliva I had built up all afternoon down his silicone-sucking throat.

“You—
fat, dumb cunt
!” He yelled, gagging and wiping
himself.

Hearing those words was worse than any bullet to my heart.
More painful than watching Kelle share himself with Mother, and never once with
me.

In a flash, I got all Sporty Spice and kneed him in the
balls—once, twice.

Bent over with the wind knocked out of him, Kelle grabbed at
his nuts. He shouted more of the same mean ugliness at me.

“I want an apology!” Cupping my hands together into one
fist, I used all my might, stood on my tippy toes, and down-punched the back of
his head.

He dropped to his knees. And then I had my shot.

Bam!
I kicked in his once-beautiful face. The buckles
on my knee-high biker boots jingled and then ripped his skin worse than any
acrylic, jeweled, or buff nail ever could.

Dang that felt good.

Violence was never the answer. However, when used in
moderation, it was nothing shy of total fabulousness.

“Fuck Lex.” Up on his feet, he stood taller than I’d ever
seen. He charged me.

Feet planted firmly, I stood my ground and kept my blue eyes
on his crazy ones.  

He slapped the right side of my face then punched my left. 

Shit.
I flew a foot or two back but managed not to
fall. Jeeeez, I thought I’d see stars. And I’d figured those white snowballs
might return perhaps, in blizzard form. Candy dots with vibrant colors too. Or
at the least, my cheeks would’ve felt stung by a bumble bee.

I felt nothing. No pain. Not the loss off him. Not the stab
in my soul from Mom. Why? I guess because after all of this was said and done,
I still had me! Tomorrow I’d be eighteen. Life was so much better than
this
.
It had to be.

“Sorry.” Covering his mouth in regret, he muttered that I
had every right to hit him and he had never intended to hurt me.

“Whatever.” It was what it was, and what it was, was ugly.
He never loved me.

“You and I didn’t have to be like this, Lex. We’d been
together for a while. We weren’t having sex.” He buried his fists into his jean
pockets.

Why was it that whenever a boy wasn’t getting laid by his
girl, he’d use any excuse to destroy her?

“That was your choice. Not mine.” My back straightened. 

I hated this subject. I’d tried too many times to seduce
him. In the process, I’d lost myself and the love I once had for who I was. 

“Lex, look at you. I’m not. I can’t—”

“Shut up, Kelle. We’re over!” Swallowing a scream, I grabbed
my purse, riding gloves, and helmet.

“You promised…you’d lose the weight.” Pathetically he
defended his right to treat me less than human.

I stepped into the elevator, pushed the button, and said,
“My size isn’t of concern to you anymore.”

His arms came wide blocking the doors from closing. He
slammed the hold button.

“Stop, I’m done with you.” Ready to ride Vamp out of here, I
put my biker gloves on.

But I had to look at Kelle one last time. Not for who I
thought he was, but for what he really
was
. Could someone you’d grown up
with, who you’d loved so much been that blinded by Birdie’s fame? I tried to
sense if he had any remorse that I might’ve overlooked. 

Catching his image in the mirrored interior of the elevator
car, he posed and seemed not at all regretful for today, but rather proud of
sleeping with her and not me.

While the Queen of Rock must’ve been a huge notch on his
belt, he’d given new meaning to her song, “Lucifer’s Mistress.” He truly was
the devil in disguise. 

Vive had one said, “I wished I had a penis—I’d whip it out
and take a leak on him.” She was a little less tactful than Taddy with her
words of wisdom.

Anyways, we’d been eating dark chocolate mousse, overhearing
some cocky boy trash-talk his girl at The Black Tea Room after she’d asked us
what we’d been devouring. The girl had recognized me from before at the women’s
department at Saks trying to buy something to wear.

Her face had reddened with humiliation from the way her
boyfriend had treated her in front of us. I had been taken aback that she
didn’t get up and leave his boney butt. Instead, she’d sat with her guy, had
ordered nothing, and watched him eat. All the while he’d lectured her on what
she should and should not put in her mouth.

Then and there, I’d promised myself I’d never date a douche
bag like him. Little had I realized I’d been desperately dating him all along.

Looking at Kelle in the elevator, loving on himself, I
realized even if I were to lose this weight he probably still wouldn’t love me.
I finally understood what Vive had meant. Men who use woman do it because it
makes them feel better about themselves. They will always treat women as they
please but only if we let them. I didn’t get that till now.

“Where are you going?” He noticed my trunks of clothes.

“Some place where I’m loved.” Nudging my helmet against him,
I pried his hands off the door.

“Later Easton.” He acted too cool for me and released the
hold button.

The panel lights flashed.

“Tell Mom, I said, thank you, for this favor.”

“Huh?” Arms crossed, he stood in the foyer.

“Today, I saw many things go on in that bedroom but
protection
wasn’t one of them.” My grip on the helmet tightened. I clenched my thighs,
ready to unleash the nastiest revenge of all. Yes, worse than anything I’d seen
on “Oh Snapped.”

“Mrs. Easton’s eggs are already scrambled and fried.” Kelle
laughed.

“Spare me.”

“Rubbers don’t fit right. I hate the way they feel.” Without
a care in the world, he walked back into the main room all smug. Goading me, he
glanced and pointed at the hallway to Birdie’s room, then back to me and
invited, “Join in the fun. Mama’ll show you how it’s done.”

I’d sworn I’d never tell. After today, all bets were off.

“Oh Mister Dolley, it ain’t Mama’s eggs or your lover boy
comforts, I’m talking about.” Pushing the ground floor button, I finished,
“it’s Birdie’s
herpes
that’ll get ya.”

The Abercrombie wannabe, Senator’s son, peace of Lhaso Apso
crap-on-a-stick, pussy car driving, voluptuous-woman hating, coke-sniffing,
MILF’s lover boy, otherwise known as Kelle Sterling Dolley, who’d probably just
gotten himself an incurable STD gaped.

“Buh-bye now!” I waved, getting all Posh Spice.

The doors closed and so did this chapter of my life.

Or so I’d hoped….

PS, Don’t wanna talk about the flammability of
StrawberryNet’s Ultra Mega Super-duper Hold Extreme Hairspray when burned with
a poly-blend fabric and photo paper.

Two words:
Ka Boom!

Oh My Friggin’ Gawd

Franklin D. Roosevelt East River Drive

“Pull over!”

I could’ve sworn I heard
that
come from somewhere
behind me while riding Vamp north on the FDR Drive. When I looked back, I
didn’t see anything except a taupe-colored Mercedes.

My BFF and VBF had helped me load my luggage into the trunk
of the limo. We’d made one stop for Vive to pick up some liquor to make her
cosmos. Vive’s driver had bought the booze for her.
I know!

We were on our way uptown. New location, new life—here I
come. No more Kelle, that was for sure. Having my ex call me a fat dumb “c”
motivated me to move on in ways I hadn’t anticipated, even more so than him
sleeping with Mom. Like uber grossness.

In regards to getting revenge on Kelle, it all seemed
overrated. Why put good energy into a bad situation? He wasn’t worth it. I was
free to get my adult life started, and I wanted to, right now. Possibly faster
than Vamp could even take me. From this moment forward I’d live every day as if
it was my birthday. Because this weekend, it was. Hello.

Blue and red lights flashed.

Had the candied dots and spots returned? Or was I
hallucinating? I eased my grip on the throttle and glanced in the rearview
mirror.

On a Harley Davidson, riding my purple bum, wasn’t the
luxury car I saw earlier but a brick-house of a man. I looked closer and
realized he was from the New York Police Department. 

I checked the odometer.

43 mph.

He changed lanes. The cop wasn’t for me. So I adjusted my
Chanel sunglasses over the bridge of my nose, refocused my attention on Vive’s
stretch Bentley ahead, and throttled on.

Vive’s rear bumper read:
Party with Our Girl Vive!
The Farnworth Firewater liquor company, founded by her great grandfather had a
logo of two inverted F’s bookending the slogan. It had been Vive’s mantra for
as long as I’d known her. She’d been born with glitter and glamour in her
veins.

The girls waved at me from the rear window toasting their
cocktails. Taddy’s lips moved faster than the wheels on the Bentley.

On my left, the Harley came up beside me. To get a better
look at him, I dropped my chin and peered out over my shades. 

All I could make out other than his shiny blue helmet and
black aviators were his biceps. With python arms wider than my thighs, his body
reminded me of The Hulk right before his clothes would shred and he’d turn green.

Hot.

Smothered in ink he sported a tattoo sleeve up and down his
right arm.

So hot!

Staring ahead, he held what must be his radio and talked on
it. 

He couldn’t see my eyes under these shades. Right? I pushed
the frames back toward my sockets and winked flirtatiously.

Taddy had mentioned earlier while we loaded up the limo,
“Girlie, the sooner you start thinking about other men, the faster that’ll put
Kelle out of your horny mind,”

Taking Taddy’s advice, I tried to imagine this cop naked. I
could easily gaze at him for hours. When he didn’t look over, I licked my lips
and blew him a kiss.

I’d only closed my eyes for a second, and sure enough, when
I opened them he stared at me and frowned.

“Ahem.” I cleared my throat. All I needed to do next was
crash Vamp into the dog park over there, shouldering the highway because I was
too busy cruising the NYPD. Not! I returned my attention to the road.

Sirens sounded.

Eh?
I glanced back to Hulk on the Harley.

Those delicious guns, which could easily pin my body down
while he teased my Lady V, punched the summer skies. The cop pointed at me and
shouted, “Scooter! Pull over.”

“Me?” I shouted back at him, poking my finger at my chest.
Come on, dude. I was only teasing. He couldn’t possibly be giving me a ticket
for blowing him an air-kiss could he?

He nodded.

Ugh.
I slowed down.

Hulk on a Harley sped up next to the limo, motioning for
them to do the same.

The Bentley’s brake lights flashed.

The girls got up on their knees and peered out.   

Vive sat on the left. She stuck her head out the window and
shouted, “What’s the matter, Officer? We weren’t speeding!” I thought she’d
lost her mind to address a cop like that.

Ohhh.
Then I realized it was a distraction technique.

As Vive drew attention to herself, Taddy cracked the door on
the opposite side and dumped out the liquor.
Smart girl.

Today couldn’t get any worse. I knew God had a funny sense
of humor. However
she
wouldn’t give me some bogus ticket on the very day
in which my boyfriend had been caught banging Mom. Would
she
?

Knock, knock. Hello God, are you listening up there?

Once everyone’s wheels came to a complete stop on the side
of the highway—by the distance of the Queensborough Bridge to our right, I
estimated we were near East Seventieth Street—the cop got off his Harley and
approached.

“Stay on your bike,” he ordered in a thick Bronx, maybe
Brooklyn accent. Striding past me, he went straight for the limo.

I got an eye full of him.
Woof!

His ass was stacked like a baseball player’s juicy man-booty.
He spoke to Vive’s driver for a minute, and then he talked to Vive.

With her diamond Rolex on her wrist and a ring on every
finger, Vive’s hand waved in the air as she talked. Then suddenly her hand
balled into a fist, and Vive’s thumb pointed back at me.

He looked at me directly and approached.

Why was I getting nervous? I wasn’t the one in a car
drinking underage. As he came closer, I sized him up, literally.

No slouch in sight. Standing at about six-four, he gave new
meaning to the word swagger. His broad shoulders moved with a confident stride.

“Afternoon,” he said, his voice deep.

“Hi!” A slight chew of my bottom lip, then I licked my
upper. I gave him my most innocent smile.

“License and registration.”

“Um, I, okay, Officer…” I handed him the papers, glancing
down at his badge, and read out loud, “God.” What an odd last name.

He lifted his aviators, resting them on his forehead.

Wow. Eyes black as onyx. Making me feel dainty, he stared
through me and demanded, “Remove your helmet.”

“Promise not to laugh at my static hair?”

“Now.”

“Sorry, I was kidding. This pulling me over thing is, like,
making me nervous.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s been a rough day. Actually I’d say one of the worst
days of my life.” I loosened the strap around my chin and realized he didn’t
want to hear my pity party. I sure as fudge felt like crying again though. If I
allowed my mind to revisit standing in Birdie’s bedroom doorway earlier today,
I would sob up a storm. But why bother?

Officer God flashed his perfectly straight, white teeth,
almost as if he was about to curl the edges of his full lips into a smile. He
didn’t. Instead he inhaled deeply through his mouth. His broad chest rose up a
bit as he held it for a few seconds.

You are one scary, sexy man.
I couldn’t help but take
in his masculine energy. I smoothed my hair the second I took off my helmet and
held it up against my suddenly hard nipples. My headlights were on high. For
whatever reason, when aroused
they
became erect and somewhat pointy.

There was no bra on the market which covered them. Trust me,
I’d tried them all.

A while back, Birdie had suggested a flower-shaped silicone
adhesive to contour over them. That’s what she’d used for years on photo
shoots. When I’d taped them on, they’d flattened my mounds right out. I thought
I’d found my pointy nipple solution.

Ohhh, the sheer torture when I’d peeled those buggers off at
the end of the day. Take a band-aid and stick it on a sore spot. Then wait a
few hours and rip it off. That hellaciousness is what happened to my nipples.

Calculating in my head 365 days a year multiplied by the
fifty more years I’d be taping these puppies down till I hit menopause, it was
close to eighteen thousand times. For sure my nipples would only stretch and
sag with every application and removal of the contour. So I stuck to no tape.

Regardless, in situations such as this one right here,
staring at Officer God who’d descended upon me from the Harley Davidson heavens
causing an intense stir in my pussy which in return shot arousing tingles all
through me. I wished I’d worn them.

Why? Because it was me on my bike, the cop standing next to
me, and my nipples between us screaming for attention.

“Sunglasses too?” I asked, hoping he’d look at my face and
not my breasts.

He nodded. “Regardless, I can see your eyes. It’s bright
out.” He chuckled causing me to lean forward in curiosity.

“What’s so funny?”

“I could’ve sworn you winked at me when I rode up next to
you.” 

So friggin’ busted.

“That’s hysterical.” I tried to add a giggle of amusement.
However, my tone flattened. I was the world’s worst liar. “As you said, it’s
bright out. I, uhhh, must’ve squinted.”

Tugging at the front of his pants, Officer God shifted his
weight to one foot. I tried not to stare but I had to look down. I cocked my chin
up a bit to make it appear like I wasn’t lowering my focus on his jewels.

OMFG! Down there, he was as hard as a rock. I was afraid it
was gonna get loose and slap me across my face. I swallowed the lump in my
throat.

“What ‘bout when you blew me a kiss?” 

Dang.
Clearly Officer God had eyes on the side of his
head while he talked on the radio. Quick, I had to come up with a good reason.
“Earlier today, I chewed some nappy gum. I spit it out in the trash. So my lips
have been involuntarily puckering at everything including cops.” I’d become
convinced that all of my earlier symptoms experienced at the penthouse—such as
the fever, white spots, and anxiety—had been intensified by that darn gum. From
here on out, it was Dylan’s Candy Bar and me together forever, no more
weight-loss scams.

The longer he stared at me the more I felt the afternoon’s
heat magnifying off the highway’s pavement. The sun shined stronger than
before.

Why did I feel as if I’d just been placed in some
industrial-strength-professional microwave, set on high, ready to defrost and
then bake a turkey, all in a mere sixty seconds? If I was ever going to pass
out, I hoped it’d be right now. Otherwise I’ll just drop dead of mortification.

“Mmm.” Officer God didn’t buy my winking and air-kissing
excuses. “No static.”

“Huh?”

“Your hair.”

“Oh, right.” I flipped it to the side, letting blonde
strands fall over my shoulder. I reeked of the StrawberryNet’s Ultra Mega
Super-duper Hold Extreme Hairspray I’d used. Lord, that stuff smelled cheap
because it was.

Over the years, I’d learned the more inexpensive the hair
product was the better it worked. That can be said for shampoo and conditioner
too, hence no static from my helmet, a biker girl’s beauty tip.

“Alexandra Easton.” He said my name and studied my driver’s
license.

“That’s me. Everyone calls me Lex.”

Ever since those “Alexandra the Great” articles had appeared
in the papers during my childhood I’d requested to shorten my name.

Hearing Officer God say it almost made my name sound sexy.
There was no raised influx in his voice, which usually meant he’d identified me
as being the daughter of the world’s most famous couple.

I sorta loved that. I can’t remember the last time someone
didn’t know of my folks. Like ever.

“Tomorrow is your birthday.” He smiled. “A big one.”

OMFG! Officer God’s grin was utterly heart-melting.

“Eighteen. Can’t wait. My BFF, VBF, and GBF are going to
Paris with me tonight. We’re all on the red-eye.” Note, I didn’t say my BF.
That’s because I sure as fudge didn’t have one anymore. And Kelle wasn’t going
to Paris with us. He could use the first class ticket I’d bought him for a
one-way trip to hell.

“Eh?”

“My friends. Two of them are in the limo.”

“Gotcha. I turned twenty-one a few weeks ago. Milestone
birthdays spent with close friends are cool.”

“Happy Birthday. Did you do anything fun?”

“Started this new job.” He said proudly and padded his name
badge.

“Is your last name really
God?”

From the deepest part of him came a chuckle. Baritone, his
laughter sent a warm fuzzy to the center of my stomach as if I’d eaten a
cinnamon red hot candy.

He scratched his chin for a second then replied, “No. Ford
is my first name. Alessandro-Vollero-Gotti is my last. God is short for Gotti.
The NYPD didn’t have enough room on my badge. They cut it short.”

It was as if Officer Gotti and I weren’t on the side of the
highway. No siree. We were on a date. At least in my head, having a romantic
dinner, sharing a plate of spaghetti bolognese and getting to know one another
better. Humor me here, people. It’s my birthday weekend, okay?