Page 60 of Hurt for Me

“There’s nothing I can do.” Viv’s eyes teared up. “But hopefully once he figures out I’m not trading money to get it back, he’ll give up and go back to California.”

Rae hated Mark even more now. Viv never took off her watch unless she was bathing. She remembered when Viv had told her the watch was like Frederick’s heart; to hear it ticking was like he was still alive and with her. Rae wished she had something of her dad’s she could keep close to her, but all she had were memories.

“What if he doesn’t give up?” Rae said.

Viv stood up from the bed, a fire in her eyes. “Then he’ll see what a real Domme looks like.”

Rae wanted to jump up and dance. Her friend was being herself again.

“Forget the chicken. We should go out,” Viv said. “The state fair is still going on. You down for some deep-fried food and people watching?”

“Absolutely.”

Rae hadn’t been to a state fair since her parents took her to the Oklahoma fair when she was ten. She’d eaten two corn dogs, followed by an entire bag of cotton candy and two large lemonades, then promptly threw up after riding the Zipper. To make her feel better, her parentssang “Islands in the Stream” at the karaoke tiki hut where all the drunk people gathered in the shade to escape the sun. Her parents weren’t drunk, but they sounded like it as they sang their hearts out, pointing to her like she was the only one in the crowd. Her chest tightened as she thought about it.

The New Mexico State Fair looked pretty much the same as Oklahoma’s, with Native American dances, livestock shows, rickety carnival rides, and anything you could possibly think of to deep-fry, including butter. Viv had grown up in Albuquerque, and she knew all the best places for food.

She steered Rae away from a food truck. “Not that one, hon. Now this one has the best Navajo tacos you’ll ever eat. Not that greasy, white-people fry bread.”

And Viv was right; it was one of the best things she’d ever eaten. One thing she loved about being pregnant was how much she could eat. She was always hungry, but she never worried about gaining too much weight because it was all for the health of Lily. So, she scarfed down every bit of the light fry bread slathered in a meat-and-bean sauce with cheese, lettuce, and jalapeños.

“I could eat five of those,” Rae said as they found a spot to rest. “I would have sex with that taco if I could.”

Viv laughed. “Pregnancy still got you all horny?”

Rae blushed. “Yeah. It’s weird because I’ve never been like this before.”

“It’s the hormones,” Viv said. “Your testosterone increases, and your blood flow goes nuts, especially in your sex organs.”

Sometimes Rae forgot Viv had been pregnant before she got an abortion. “Did your nipples get all funky when you were, you know, pregnant?”

“You mean did they double in size, get dark, and stay erect 24/7?” Viv smiled. “Yeah, they got funky, but it goes away.”

Everything about Rae’s body felt foreign to her. Her breasts were huge, she had to brush her teeth at strategic times so as not to throw up, and she couldn’t sleep unless she had three pillows placed around her and in between her legs.

Viv suddenly bounced up from her seat, her face beaming. “I want to hear you sing.”

“No!”

“Come on! I hear the karaoke tent, and I’ve heard you singing around the house. Go show them how it’s done.”

“Oh, my God. Fine.”

They made their way over to the large karaoke tent. Rae selected a song and let the deejay know which key. They had to wait thirty minutes for her song to come up, and as soon as Rae heard the opening to “Islands in the Stream,” her nerves almost got the better of her, but she took the mic and focused on Viv’s grinning face in the crowd. The deejay got her attention, and she okayed him to join her in the duet.

And for a time, it was like Mark didn’t exist, and Rae was so happy she thought her face would split from smiling so much.

It was late by the time they got back to the condo. They were still laughing about the big old cowboy they’d watched sing Prince’s “Kiss,” falsetto voice and all, as he gyrated on the small stage. The crowd ate it up, and the man had an unexpectedly nice voice.

Viv had planned to have a few beers while they were out, so Rae had driven them to the fair in her Civic. It felt good to be useful so Viv could relax. And Viv definitely needed a driver because she was a lightweight. In Rae’s experience, there were two types of drunk people: angry or happy. Viv was the latter, thankfully.

They were walking down the sidewalk, almost to the front door of the condo, when Rae stopped dead. Viv gasped when she saw what Rae was staring at.

Viv’s car. It looked like someone had dumped acid all over the hood from the way the paint bubbled up.

They didn’t have to say it; they knew it was Mark. And they didn’t have to work hard to interpret his meaning. It was a warning as loud as the thunderous screams they’d heard at the fair’s midway.

CHAPTER 38

---