Page 2 of Pretty Ruthless

“You’re fired.” I grumble against my steering wheel. We both know she’s not. Never will be. She would have to steal my soul and every single trade secret we have and I would still probably keep her on. Outside of Kennedy, she’s my best friend, and she just gets me. I don’t think I could find someone to put up with my never ending work list, and take my calls on the fly like she does. She’s covering for me this weekend, including the ad marketing meetings I had scheduled. We had decided to not push them back as it would delay the release of the product.

I lean my head back against the headrest of my car and adjust my RayBans as I drive the remaining miles that will take me back to my memories and my ghosts. I push the button on my sunroof and pull the clip out of my long dark brown hair, letting the wind blow the strands around my face. I inhale deeply as I see the exit sign approaching, here goes everything.

Chapter 3 Claire

June 1, 2013

His lips are hot and wet against my neck as the buckle for the seat belt bruises my spine. I wrestle my arm free from the confines of the sandwich our bodies are making and attempt to move the buckle so I don’t have a Chevy bowtie emblem tattooed on my spine but it’s no use.

“I can’t believe we’re graduating tomorrow,” he sighs against my neck, “it’s going to be great. You and me, here for the summer and then you’ll only be forty five minutes away after that. A couple years at college and we’ll be right back here, you and me.” I can feel Dawson’s smile against my neck. “I’ll run the garage and you can work with your mom at her accounting firm. Best of both worlds.”

“Yep,” I pop the p, “absolutely amazing.” My mind races with how fast time has flown by.

The acceptance letter to Stanford is burning a hole right through my purse on the floorboards. The summer internship letter next to it is basically on fire and has left me feeling like a full size piece of shit for not sharing a single piece of that information tonight. To be fair, I just got the acceptance letter this afternoon and the one I got back in April had me waitlisted. I had no idea I would get off the waitlist and on the attending list this year, it was a long shot.

“You’re off tonight,” Dawson notices, he pulls away from my neck and looks down at me. His green eyes bore into my blue ones with worry. I run my fingers through his blonde hair and then rub my thumb along his sharp jaw bone.

“Just nerves, the day after tomorrow is the start to the rest of our lives.” I half lie, it is nerves, it’s also the fact that I’m keeping a secret that has a ticking time bomb that goes with it. My summer internship with Numaker and Bronson Advertising Agency starts July 8th and that only gives us six weeks at best, four if you count the two weeks I’ll need to move down to San Francisco and get settled in.

“Don’t be nervous, babe. It is the start to the rest of OUR lives, the life you and I are going to build together.” his words feel like a hot poker searing through my chest, knowing that our lives are officially starting, and I’m torn between the man I love and living the dream.

Dear Dawson’s heart, I’m really fucking sorry.

“You’re right,” I nod, “it’s stupid to be nervous, it will all work out.” I pull his lips to mine and let one single tear escape down my cheek at the thought of chosing my dreams or ours.

Narrator’s voice: it did not, in fact, work out alright.

Chapter 4

Dawson

The wrench finally gives and my knuckles whack the side of the carburetor sending a shooting pain up my forearm. I grab the red bandana out of my pocket and wipe the cut before it can start bleeding. My knuckles have seen their fair share of mistreatment and the scars there can prove it. From bar fights to old bolts that won’t break loose like this one, the poor bones that hold my fingers in place have gone through the ringer.

“You finally break that bolt free?” Crew asks as he comes around the hood of the seventies Ford pickup I’ve been working on.

“Yeah, fucker about broke my ring finger free too.” I hold up my hand to him showing him the gouge out of the skin.

“Ah don’t worry about that one, you won’t need it anyway.” He chuckles lightly and I hold my expression tight to the sting those words hold.

He’s right. I won’t need my left hand ring finger.

“You wanna head down to Billie’s after this?” Crew asks as he puts the tools I took out back in their respective places. Billie’s is going to be a shit show tonight with the entire class of 2013 rolling back into town for the reunion this weekend. I don’t want to go but I really don’t want to sit upstairs in my apartment by myself all night either. Decisions, decisions.

“Oh fuck, I know that look. She isn’t coming, dude. She wasn’t here for the grand re-opening, she wasn’t here for her mom’s birthday, hell she hasn’t even come back for Christmas this decade.” He states, exasperation lacing his tone.

“You don’t know that. I still talk to Linda a few times a month, she’s been down to see Claire several times.” Yes I still talk to Linda, my ex’s mom, yes I’m nosy as fuck, and yes I am a masochist. She came back for her Grandpa’s funeral, and she’s refused to step foot back in this town since.

Am I proud of her for chasing her dream? Absolutely. Do I wish her dream included me? Also, yes. Am I bitter as fuck about it? Pfft, no.

“Well did Linda say Claire was going to be here this weekend?” Crew teases and if it wouldn’t cost me the shop in an L&I suit I would throw a wrench at his dumb smug smile.

“She did not, but she also didn’t say she wouldn’t be here so…” I raise my middle finger to him and he lays his head back and laugh’s boisterously. His loud cackling fills the room and the sound pisses me off, I throw the bolt that was sitting on the inside hood of the truck at him and it hits him in the shoulder.

“Ouch, dick!”

“That’s what you get.” I tell him, grabbing the last of the tools off the work bench.

“You need help. Seriously, when was the last time you got laid?”

---