Perfectly Damaged

Voices. Familiar voices from the office. I don’t hesitate. I move toward them, smoothly gliding across the marble foyer, yanking the knob, and pushing the door open. My mother jumps, turning to face the entryway I just barreled through. My father’s wary features shoot my way, studying me: my rigid posture, my hands opening and closing into tight fists at my side, my tense shoulders, and finally my bloodshot eyes, which are fixed and zooming in on her. The bitch.

“Where is it?” I threaten more than ask.

Mom seems startled by my approach. “Where is what, darling?”

“Fuck off, Mother!”

“Jenna!” Dad shouts.

Ignoring him, I move toward her aggressively. She steps back, afraid of what I might do. “The bracelet. Give me my bracelet. It’s mine, not yours. Brooke gave it to me. Where is it?” I scream.

She brings a hand to her chest. “This is ludicrous. You’re acting—”

“Give. It. To. Me.”

“Where is the bracelet, Laura?” Dad demands.

Her appalled, open-mouthed, and wide-eyed expression leaves me and lands on him. “Do you think I would keep it from her on purpose? Gregory, I would never do such a thing—”

“Do you or do you not have the bracelet, Laura?” he cuts in.

Wetting her lips, she moves her head side-to-side, staring at me, then him, then me again. Without another word, she walks over to the large bookcase. Removing a small trinket box, she opens the lid and lifts my bracelet out. I don’t give her time to bring it to me. I stomp over, snatch it from her hand, and storm out of the office.

I hate her more than ever.

“I can’t believe your mother did that. I’m sorry, but that was a shit move on her end,” Charlie says, fanning a hand over her damp, heart-shaped face.

I lean back against the lounge chair. The sun is brutally hot today, but I allow it to beam off my skin as I lie with my eyes shut. “Yep. She doesn’t matter anymore; I have my bracelet and, quite honestly, that’s all that matters,” I say, reaching for my right hand and allowing my fingers to smooth over the gold chain, now perfectly snugged around my wrist.

Last night I could hear Mom and Dad arguing but couldn’t make out all of it. I did hear my name thrown in a few times, and on any other day I would have eavesdropped, but last night I didn’t bother. I had my bracelet and I was too upset with my mother to even want to hear what she had to say about me. I know one thing, I’m really glad Dad cancelled that spa appointment he had scheduled for Mom and me. I didn’t want to go initially, but after the bracelet fiasco, there wasn’t a chance in hell.

“Yeah. Thank God,” she says. “What the hell? It’s hot as balls out. I’m taking a dip in the pool. Want to go in with me?”

“Sure.” I lift onto my elbows. “It’s too hot to even sunbathe.”

We stand, tread to the pool, and dip in, allowing the warm, refreshing water to swallow us up. Charlie swims to the corner at the shallow end of the pool, which has a built-in bench. Sitting down, she bends her head back on the edge and closes her eyes. I follow, making myself comfortable beside her, our seats in clear view of the Reed Construction guys working on the guesthouse.

“What was the sigh for?” Charlie asks.

“Huh? Did I sigh?”

“Yep. A big ole dramatic one too.” Her eyes flash open. Staring straight ahead, it doesn’t take her long to realize the reason—or should I say the person—that prompted my sigh. “Logan looks good…”

“I guess?” My eyes study him from this distance. The Phillies cap is on his head, white earphones are plugged into his ears, and his golden tan is glistening in the sun. “Mmmhmm. I see where your line of vision is. Do you see that male goodness from afar?” Charlie sits up and goes on dramatically, “Are you admiring those fine-tuned, muscular arms? That glorious, gleaming golden tan? The beads of sweat dripping ever so softly from his rock-hard body? The way the veins of his biceps pop out when he flexes? His rough-worn jeans hanging low on his sculpted hips, leaving you to imagine what’s waiting just a little bit lower? Ooooh, that was some descriptive shit right there. I should be a writer.”

I roll my eyes. She is so over-the-top. But I must admit, she’s right. What is happening to me?

Charlie fans herself, dipping her head back into the water. “Damn, I made myself hot with that scene. You know you were turned on. I can just see it now.” She spreads her arms wide. “Charlie Murphy, erotica novelist, making pussies twerk nationwide. RPD, bitches.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I say, splashing water her way.

Charlie shrugs. “Oops. Hottie coming our way.”

I turn, and… Yep, Logan is heading toward us. Straightening my shoulders, I sit up, watching as he approaches.

Logan reaches the edge of the pool, bends at the knees, and meets us at eye level. “Ladies,” he says with a smile.

“Logan.” I match his grin.

“Hottie McHotterson.” Charlie beams.

Logan squints his eyes at Charlie, uncertain as to how to handle her. I’m sure no one knows how to handle her. Then he looks at me. “Have you thought about it?”

“Thought about what?” Charlie interjects.

Logan answers, “Going out with me tonight. My shift is over in an hour and I figured I’d ask now so you can get ready. Or you can go in your bikini. Either way is good with me.”

Charlie’s lips curl into a devious grin. “Ah, going out, huh? Yeah, she’s going.” I go to speak, but she lifts her hand, stopping me before I can start. “Go and get ready, Jenna. I’ll keep Logan occupied. So, Logan, let me tell you about this book I want to write.”

“You write?” he asks, amused.

“Yep. And I can come up with some pretty damn steamy scenes. I’m thinking of writing an erotic—”

I grip her arm. “Yes, Logan. I’ll go out tonight. I’m going to start getting ready. Charlie, come help me find something to wear.”

“Oh,” Charlie says, shocked that I’m actually asking for fashion feedback. But I’ll do anything to keep her from embarrassing herself. Who am I kidding? I’ll do anything to keep her from embarrassing me. “All right. See ya, Logan.” She winks at him.

Logan smiles, and his eyes find mine. “Cool. See you in an hour.”

I nod, twist my body beneath the water, and lift myself out of the pool. Turning, I bend down, yank on Charlie’s arm, and pull her out.