Rachel Dyken: The Wager

“Yes.” Grandma’s smile softened as she reached for Jake’s hand and kissed the top of it. “Time to ruin you.”

“Ruin?” Jake chuckled as he pulled his hand back. “I’d rather stay… um, un-ruined. Thanks, though.”

“Have it your way.” Grandma shrugged. “Oh, and Jake?”

“What?” He grunted as he lifted her heavy suitcase toward the stairs.

“You’re fired.”

The suitcase dropped out of his hands. Black spots appeared in his line of vision as he repeated, “Fired?”

“I need a drink,” Char announced once she and Beth were safely at their shared apartment on Queen Anne Hill. “Scratch that. I need ten drinks and a sedative.”

“So what?” Beth opened the wine bottle and pulled out two glasses. “You were arrested and zip-tied to some hot man candy. Really, there are worse things in the world.”

“You mean like going into anaphylactic shock and having your grandmother stab a needle next to your man parts?” Char chuckled and took a sip of merlot. “That part, I enjoyed.”

“Yeah, well, hopefully Grandma has good aim and Jake can still sire children after that little escapade. How the heck did I sleep through it?”

Char shrugged. “No idea. At any rate, I’m glad it’s over.”

“Right.” Beth snorted. “And I don’t stalk Damon Salvatore on Twitter.”

“Not his real name, Beth.”

“Don’t kill the dream, Char.”

Char sighed and leaned against the table. “I was totally fine; seeing him again, I mean. No flashbacks of that crazy night we shared, no lustful thoughts or feelings, or—”

Beth’s eyebrows arched. “Oh, do continue. It was just getting good.”

“It wasn’t good. It was awful.”

Smirking, Beth tipped back her glass and swallowed. “So you’ve said, over and over and over—”

“Can we just…” Char waved into the air. “Drop it? It’s not like I’ll ever see him again.” Then again he’d probably be in Kacey’s wedding, not that it mattered. He’d be lucky to see past the whiskey haze and the women hanging all over his arms. Right; like he’d pry himself away from skank long enough to make her life a living hell. It wouldn’t be a problem, because she wasn’t going to let it be a problem. So what? If they were both in the wedding, she’d just avoid him at all costs. Hell, she’d drug him if she had to. No way was she letting him near her.

“You’d better hope that’s the case, because next time it’s not gonna be Grandma I’m worried about, but you.”

“Please, he’s like the opposite of sexy.”

“Careful, Pinocchio; wouldn’t want your overly large nose getting in the way of your wine glass.” With that, Beth left the kitchen.

Please. Like Jake mattered at all. So what if he was attractive? He knew it, and that was the problem. He’d always known it. He was a selfish bastard and she wasn’t going to fall for him again. She wouldn’t let herself, because that tragic story always ended badly. With a pint of Rocky Road and a bottle of wine, watching Downton Abbey on Netflix.

The madness had to stop. Grandma had only been staying with him a day—a DAY—and in the course of 24 hours she had thrown his life so off balance that he’d probably be in a mental institution come Friday.

Grandma woke him up at two a.m.

Her reason? She thought she’d seen a Huntsman’s spider. Right. A spider that, according to his Internet search, was native only to Australia. But when Jake brought that little bit of information up, Grandma had shouted that she’d been to Australia a few months ago and it was possible that a spider had crawled into her bag and hatched eggs.

Truly, it was Jake’s fault that he even engaged his grandma. His question had been simple—why the hell would a spider choose her bag? Out of all the bags in the world, it had chosen hers? Not likely.

Her response? Because it’s shiny and everyone knows spiders like shiny things . She then proceeded to thrust a flashlight in his face and make him search the house for said spider.

By four a.m., Jake was ready to cut off his own ears. Apparently, Grandma had a snoring problem.

Six a.m. was even worse. Grandma did yoga. Jake was given the opportunity to discover this firsthand, when Grandma proceeded to put on her yoga DVD, blaring it throughout the surround sound in the house. Which really wouldn’t have been so bad had she told him it was a type of stripper yoga for elderly woman, aka Cougars.

Her workout shirt had the picture of a cougar on it. Big shock there.

Finally. Jake locked his door.

But Grandma was relentless. After some banging and a loud clang, his door came off the hinges. “Jake? Oh goodness! I thought you’d died!”

“God isn’t that just. Believe me. I’ve begged.”

“Oh, Jake.” Grandma plopped on his bed. “Chin up! Think of me firing you as an extended vacation.”

“Except…” Jake growled. “It’s not. I’m jobless. I have no career, no money, I have nothing, and you’re downstairs doing damn cougar yoga as if the sun is still shining!”

Grandma paused and then went over to the window and thrust open the curtains. “But the sun is shining… and it’s a beautiful day. I think if you just go outside for a run, you’ll realize how nice it is to be on vacation.”

“Fired,” Jake corrected her.

“Vacation,” Grandma said sternly. “Now, I’m going to go shopping with that nice young girl from yesterday. She’s Kacey’s maid of honor and we only have two weeks to—”

“Wait.” Jake jolted out of bed. “Back up. Who’s Kacey’s maid of honor?”

“That nice young girl who saved your life yesterday. She and Kacey have been friends for ages! She was in Portland with her sister for a quick vacation and considering it was just family, except for your whore, at the engagement party, she wasn’t present.”

“But—”

“Now!” Grandma clapped. “Go enjoy your day off and I’m going to shop!”

“But—”

“And put some damn clothes on, son. You ain’t got nobody to impress in this house.”

With that, Grandma marched out of his room, leaving his unhinged door lying against the wall and Jake staring after her wondering if he’d in fact be arrested for assaulting an elderly woman.

Fired.

No more family money.

And he had to go to his brother’s wedding in two weeks.

With a woman he’d scorned not once, but twice in his life.

Maybe he’d carry some peanuts, just in case he needed an easy escape… or a new way to meet his maker, since apparently God was keen on keeping Jake on earth so he could torture him for the rest of his days.

“It’s brown.” Char blinked a few times at her reflection in the mirror. “Why is the dress brown?” Had she really taken a sick day in order to go shopping and feel fat and depressed in a bridesmaid’s dress?

“Because that’s the color, dear.” Grandma Nadine sipped on her champagne and tilted her head. “But it is atrocious. Do you think Kacey was confused about the color?”

“God, I hope so.” Char shuddered at her reflection. The dress was an awkward brownish orange, as if it was a tree turning colors in the fall but had forgotten exactly what color it was supposed to be turning into and just decided on ugliness as a last resort. It was strapless and form-fitting until it hit her hips, and then it flared out so wide that she looked like a poor excuse for Marie Antoinette.

If this was what that poor woman had been forced to wear, no wonder she was beheaded. Char sighed as Grandma pulled out her cell phone.