Excerpt: Bromidique (tentative title)

From chapter three:

“You’re not here to serenade me,” she managed to get out before the ambush.

Several cold beverages were thrown at her, and judging by the smell and the taste of the mess that was now all over her, at least half of it was slushie goo. The slushie goo close to her mouth was strawberry, even when she was hoping it had been cherry flavor.

“Welcome to Bromidique,” the Jock ™ was practically cackling.

“Not exactly a warm welcome,” she deadpanned, looking at the offenders.

All of them wearing football jerseys, they were practically interchangeable. There were five of them, four of them smelling like a brewery and holding empty slushie cups, the fifth staring at his friends while drinking through a straw. She hoped that guy was sober enough to drive, because she was not letting those guys stay over. Brainless idiots.

“You are vaguely pretty,” the head Jock ™ muttered, staring at her.

“And you are more than a little drunk,” she rolled her eyes at him and his goons. “Why don’t you head home with your nice designated driver and leave me the hell alone so I can get this disgusting goo off of me and my clothes. You did not even have the decency to get one with cherry flavor. You do know that is the best flavor to lick off?”

The innocent look on her face sharply contrasted with the bug-eyed look this group of football players seemed to be going for at this point. They were gaping at her, too amazed at what she said to be even the slightest bit embarrassed about their rude behavior. Of course, mentioning a person of the female persuasion and licking in the same sentence in front of seriously hormonal teenage boys would only earn her a starring role in their fantasies. And since her High School Crush ™ - there was it again – was not there…

“I have cherry flavor right here,” the only sober guy spoke from under his baseball cap.

“Gimme that,” the boss, most likely the quarterback, grabbed the cup from his friend and swiped at the slushie, dabbing some on his lips. “You want to lick it, girlie?”

Oh, this disgusting pig was going to get it from her. He was patronizing and objectifying her at the same time and it was making her want to vomit down his shirt. Maybe then he would know what it felt like to be drowned in unidentifiable goo.

“Firstly,” she started on a long tirade Zara would be proud of. “You do not call me girlie or anything else that is equally patronizing. Second, you do not order your friends around like that. Thirdly, I would never lick that. The underlying scent and taste of cheep bear or whatever brewery or strip club you came from would make me hurl.”

The slight sound of clapping coming from inside the house made her aware of the fact that her new friends were listening to every word that was said in this conversation. She wondered why her guests were not joining her outside, especially since the danger of a sticky shower was long over and done with. They probably did not want to be seen with her. Odd.

“He is completely sober,” one of the guys pointed at the driver.

“Lexie, you give the girl a lick,” the master gorilla handed the cup of slushie back to his friend. “Give her a taste. Maybe she will get you a cherry of your own.”

That was just absolutely abhorrent. Was sex all these guys could think of? She should have known that much after her previous experience with men of the high school jock type, but apparently she had not learned her lesson yet. That was a depressing thought, one that she would really prefer to forget about, but really needed to remember as well. She could not afford to make that mistake again, not after what happened the last time.

“Sexual harassment is nothing to joke about, monkey boy,” this was pissing her off; it had to happen in every single town she lived in. “I could sue your pathetic ass but I doubt it would be much help. And you don’t have enough money to sue you for.”

It was amazing how much dignity she was able to show in front of these guys, considering that they had just doused her in slushie and other miscellaneous drinks. So it was possible to make a stand against people even when you looked your worst. Damn skippy she was a strong woman who could tell people what needed to be said in this situation.

“Do you want the slushie,” the driver stuck out his hand.

“Finally a real gentleman,” she mocked, taking the drink with her sticky hands. “Now if you will excuse me, I am going to leave you all to get clean. Drive safe!”

She then slammed the door in their faces, reveling in the sound it made, emphasizing her statement to these idiots. They were fools, but they had good aim, unfortunately.