Page 11 of Drunk Dialing My Enemy

DARREN

I stepover the rubble of the former princess bridge in front of Katie’s fashion boutique.

Long ago, this building was an event space for children’s birthday parties. I can still remember it decades ago, in its former glory. It had a zipline, a paintball field, and a castle with a working moat that doubled as a lazy river in the summer.

Then the owner closed it down. Over the years, the property was sold and renovated several times. The moat was drained and filled. The castle was torn down. But the princess bridge stayed, the wooden planks sun-bleached and warped, a vacant dirt patch beneath it.

Until I bought the place, saw what a liability the bridge was, and tore it down.

I didn’t think it would upset Katie, so I didn’t warn her. But oh, I was wrong. She was upset. And she believed I must have done it on purpose, just to hurt her.

I would never do something like that. I don’t hate Katie, I’ve just never known how to be around her without going crazy. Not since that kiss eight years ago.

I look upwards at the large sign, a mix of rustic elements and bright pink. The words FAT CHICK CHIC are large and proud onthe front of the building that I, as of a couple of months ago, am the owner of.

Katie opens the front door, a hand over her brow to shield her eyes from the afternoon sun.

“Would you please stop giving my sign a dirty look?” Katie says as I come inside. “I can name my business whatever I want. You’re my landlord, not my co-owner.”

“I know that.”

“So why do you always look at my sign like it’s got dirty words all over it?”

“I’m just trying to figure it out.”

“Figure what out?” she asks.

“All my life I was raised to be a gentleman,” I continue. “I was told to never talk about a woman’s age or her weight or anything like that. And if I ever called a woman ‘fat’ or even ‘chick’, for that matter, my mama would have lost her mind. But now the words are in bright huge letters on the front of a store all the women in this town are obsessed with.”

I watch as Katie goes around the counter at the front, where another similar sign is posted on the front of the counter above a display of lingerie. I clear my throat uncomfortably, looking away from the lace and straps and bows. I’ve only been inside of this place a couple of times. Once when the realtor gave me a walk through before I purchased it, and again when Katie called me about a leaking pipe.

I’ve never really looked around in here. Why would I? It’s Katie’s place, and it’s women’s clothing. Some of it modest, some of it sexy and revealing. Problem is, I can’t look at any of it without imagining Katie wearing it. And when I imagine that, I imagine myself ripping it off of her.

To my chagrin, Katie reaches into the display and pulls out a black lace teddy.

“Fat isn’t a bad word anymore,” she says, holding it up proudly. “At least, not inthiscontext. I got tired of all the euphemisms that the fashion industry uses to describe my body. It’s like they invented a hundred different terms just to avoid saying the F-bomb. So I decided to reclaim it and strip it of its negative hold over me and women everywhere.”

“The F-bomb?”

“Fat,” she explains, as though it’s obvious.

“Oh, of course. The F-bomb.”

Katie grins as she holds the black teddy against her body.

“What do you think? Could I pull this off?”

“Hell yes. But I’d rather pull it off for you,” I blurt out.

Her eyes widen but I don’t regret a thing.

I’ve officially lost all control and now that I have, I’m not going back to the way things were before Katie called me last night.

She loved me. And I’m not going to stop until she loves me again. Katie will be mine. And I’m ready to be the kind of man she needs.

“So,” she says. “You’re here to fix the pipe, I assume?”

“And just look around,” I nod.

---