Chapter 1: A Good Man is Hard to Find
"A good man is hard to find," Red Sammy said. "Everything is getting terrible. I remember the day you could go off and leave your screen door unlatched. Not no more."
-Flannery O'Connor
"Amelia!" I shouted, pounding on the bathroom door. "If you don't get your ass out, I'm peeing in the kitchen sink." I hopped from foot to foot, wiggling in my own personal version of the potty dance. "In your favorite coffee cup!"
"Don't you do it!" Amelia shrieked and threw the door open. She knew I totally would. There was no way I was going to wet myself when it wasn't even from excitement.
Amelia stepped out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, a towel wrapped around her slender body while she sponged off her hair with another. "You have no respect for my me time," she pouted, "and not even in the fun, sex me up in the shower kind of way."
"Poor baby." I rolled my eyes and darted past her in a mad dash to the toilet. "I'll make it up to you later."
Amelia and I had been roommates since we started college two years ago. I think she was a bit bewildered when she first met me, an emancipated sixteen year-old from a town in northwestern Louisiana so small that Googlemaps has a hard time finding it. And if she had been surprised by me, I was in awe of her. I'd never met someone so vibrant and free-thinking. Amelia had spent her gap year traveling around the world, doing everything from dancing on bars in Buenos Aires to camping out in a yurt and swigging fermented mare's milk with the locals in Mongolia. It seemed no matter where she went, Amelia was always part of the party. Always comfortable.
We were an odd couple, but we had grown close over the past two years. Neither of us had much family. All I had left was my selfish, tom-cat of a brother and all she had was a father who thought money was a suitable substitute for a phone call. We did what we could for each other and Amelia always invited me to go on vacation with her during school breaks. Her dad didn't mind paying for a friend to keep Ames company when she spent Christmas in London or Spring Break in Miami.
This was the first year we weren't living in the dorms. Instead, about a week ago, we'd moved into one of the on-campus apartments with our friend, Claudine, taking the third bedroom. The dorms had big communal bathrooms for the whole floor, so the whole 1 toilet + 1 shower + 1 door equation in the apartment wasn't coming out quite right for us yet.
Maybe we could make it into a reality show. Three girls, one bathroom. They all go in, none make it to class on time!
Okay, maybe that sounded more like porn.
Amelia was waiting outside the door for me with her arms crossed, her skin still flushed from her shower. "So giant chocolate muffin day?"
I grinned from ear to ear. Giant chocolate muffin day, also known as the first day of classes, was my favorite. Yeah, I'm a dork. "Of course. We'll go as soon as you put some clothes on."
"Actually, I was considering going au natural," she said, waltzing past me into the bathroom. "Maybe it will encourage less restrictive dress standards. Topless Tuesdays and No Pants Thursdays? Naked Fridays?" She rested her hip against the counter and winked. "I'd sure enjoy it."
I crinkled my nose. The last part of our summer had been spent on Majorca, and while I kept my bikini on, Amelia loved the 'nude' part of nude beaches. She'd been having withdrawals ever since we had gotten back.
We might be at a women's college, but that didn't mean everyone was comfortable about stripping down to their all together. At least not when there wasn't any booze involved.
"I'm not sure that would turn out quite the way you imagine, Ames." I couldn't help but think of Mrs. Fortenberry who ran the café. In my mind her unclothed body looked like sacks of wet sand, stacked and sagging. The image of her running the blender to make smoothies, the vibrations of the machine causing the fat of her chest and arms to ripple, was both mesmerizing and nauseating. Like watching choppy water and getting sea sick. "There are plenty of people I'd be happy to stay in the dark about." I shuddered. "Come get me when you're ready."
I could hear her laughing as I walked back to my room.
~*ΣΣ*~
I spent most of my time in the café line staring at the slate tiles under my feet rather than look anywhere near Mrs. Fortenberry. That's why I was surprised at her answer when I put in the order for my muffin.
"Oh, sweetheart, we're fresh out."
"What?" My head snapped up to her round face rimmed by frizzy brown hair. I did a quick check down and yep—fully clothed with her green apron cinched around her lumpy form—before continuing down to the glass case in front of her. No giant chocolate muffins.
"We've also got orange cranberry and banana nut. They're both very good," Mrs. Fortenberry suggested.
I frowned at the empty plate inside the glass case. There were still crumbs and chips of chocolate dusted over the white dish. Would it seem desperate if I asked if I could have it?
The other muffins did look tempting, all moist and crumbly, but spoiling my day with a baked good the size of my head didn't seem worth it if there wasn't chocolate involved.
"I'll take a Pleasantly Peachy smoothie and an iced mocha."
While Mrs. Fortenberry was bustling about with cups of fruit and ice and cappuccino, I rested my elbows on the counter and looked out the big window behind the service counter onto the patio. The café was packed with the noontime rush as girls caught up during their break between classes or for the later risers, were getting their first caffeine hit of the day. Amelia had managed to snag us a table outside under the pergola.
I picked up our drinks and made my way outside.
"Thank God." Amelia grabbed her mocha before slumping back in the metal patio chair. "Fuck it's hot," she said letting her head drop back. The sunlight cutting through the creeping vines slid over her, dappling her coral-colored polo.
"It's August." I took a long draw on my smoothie, savoring the chill of it going down. "It wouldn't be the South if you didn't feel like you were wrapped in a hot, wet blanket." The temp was already pushing 100 and god only knows what the humidity was. I bet Amelia was dying to take her clothes off.
"Ugh." She sat up, finally noticing the empty table. "No muffins?"
"Nope."
"Damn," Amelia said, fanning herself with her shirt. "I suppose you wouldn't want to try again tomorrow?"
I shook my head. It wouldn't be the same. The first day of classes is the only one when the calories don't count.
"Was it at least a good writing day?"
I sighed. I made it a habit to wake up early each morning to write. I made myself commit something to paper every day, even if it was just recounting a memory or describing an object in my room. There was always a chance that some of it could be used later. Needless to say, certain days were more productive than others. "I wrote a haiku sequence about a squirrel I saw fall into the dumpster."
"So that's a no?"
"That's a no." It was like a -2 on my productiveness scale. I was trying to finish a short story about an elderly woman who had just lost her husband to cancer. Plus, they weren't even good haikus. I kept ending up with an extra syllable in the third line. "Love in the Dark came in today. Bubba e-mailed to say that he's holding it for me."
Love in the Dark was the latest installment in paranormal romance book series I followed religiously. I'd pre-ordered it from Bubba, the manager of the school bookstore. He was a little on the oblivious side, but a complete sweetheart. A great combination since Love in the Dark wasn't exactly the most highbrow piece of literature I'd had him order.
I'd been counting down the days till its release and the only reason I hadn't stormed the bookstore at dawn was because I knew I wouldn't have time enough to devote to it until this evening. The heroine was supposed to finally admit her feelings for the male lead in this one. Having a copy in my hands and not being able to read it was going to kill me.
Amelia clapped her hands and squealed. "What are we waiting for?" Amelia jumped up and snatched my arm. "Let's go."
"We can't take our drinks in the bookstore," I said, resisting Amelia's tugging.
She huffed. "I'd like to show up for my class not drenched in sweat, which isn't going to happen if we stay out here. Bubba loves you. Work it." She pulled me out of the chair. "Air conditioning ho!"
I let Amelia drag me across the ground floor of the student center to the little bookstore, but I made her sit outside with me till we finished our drinks. I didn't want to risk the books.
"Hey there, Miss Sookie," Bubba called when we entered, ringing the bell above the door. He came out from behind the register to greet us and give me a hug.
"I'm surprised to see you in here today. Your boyfriend said you were real busy." Bubba was in fine shape with his dark hair slicked back and his eyes bright. It really was uncanny how much he looked like Elvis.
Amelia snickered behind me as I stared blankly at Bubba. "Boyfriend?"
"Real handsome fella. He saw the book you ordered back behind the counter and said you sent him to pick it up. With classes starting and all you didn't have time to stop by." Bubba looked at me as if his description of the event would jog my memory at any moment.
I raised my eyebrows at Amelia. Some jerk stole my book.
"Really Bubba, I've no clue who that guy was, but he wasn't my boyfriend. I came in here for my book."
Bubba looked utterly bewildered for a moment, his eyes wide and unfocused, until it seemed to finally sink in that he'd been lied to. "I'm awful sorry, Miss Sookie." His shoulders sagged. "I can order you another copy if you want."
"Don't worry about it." I gave him a small smile even if I was irritated. I'd have to drive out to Barnes & Noble tonight after tennis practice. Maybe I could talk Amelia into leaving something in the oven for me. Since there was no giant chocolate muffin this morning, I'd be starving by the time I made it back tonight.
We said our goodbyes and Amelia headed off to get a good seat for her Human Sexuality class. It was always packed and the professor was a well-known hottie around campus. Amelia wanted to be up front for maximum ogling. She promised she'd snap me a picture if he dropped the chalk.
Which left me in the library, craving chocolate and a smutty book.
I took a deep breath and tapped my pen on the blank page of my writing journal.
The library always made me feel better. I loved the gothic architecture. The stone walls, vaulted ceilings, and lancet windows made the building feel like a cathedral for books. Nevertheless, there was a coziness in the giant fireplace and high-backed furniture. Reverence and intimacy all in the same place.
Curled up on the suede sofa across from me was a girl who fallen asleep, book open on her chest. She rolled over and it fell to the floor with a soft thud. I stared at the volume on the rug, letting my mind drift. Pen to paper, I started to write.
The girl crinkled the bag of Cheetos under her fingers and snuck a glance toward the clerk. She had been lingering in the convenience store for almost half an hour, picking an item from the shelves and examining the label before carefully returning it to its place. The other passengers from her bus had finished their lunch in the adjoining McDonald's and were drifting toward the bathrooms or to the parking lot for a smoke before they had to re-board. She looked back down at the Cheetos and then to the line at the register.
"You know there's a key to this." A hushed voice said beside her. She turned her head slightly towards him as the boy drew the snacks from her hands. He had leaned in so close that hang of his blond hair dragged over her shoulder. "If you see something you want, you take it." The boy unzipped her backpack and slipped the food in.
He grabbed candy bar for himself and tucked it in his back pocket.
"Then what?" she asked, pulling back to get a better look at him. He was definitely handsome, but in a boyish sort of way. Even with a dusting of stubble he gave the impression of being soft and smooth.
He gave her a small smile, the tight line of his lips crooking up at the ends, and strode out of the store.
It only took her a moment to follow.
She stood on the curb as he opened the driver side door of wood-paneled station wagon. "You coming?" he asked, resting an arm on the top of the vehicle.
The heat of the noon sun was already drawing sweat to the surface of her skin. She sucked on her top lip. "Where you going?"
His shoulders lifted, that little smile still on his face. "Does it matter?"
The girl looked across the parking lot to where a few of the other passengers were already lumbering back on the bus. She had been a mess when she boarded in Miami. The twenty hours since then had helped settle her, but now getting back on that bus would mean picking up the problems she wanted to leave behind. It was time for something new.
She opened the passenger side door and tossed her bag in the back before getting in. The vinyl seats burned her thighs below her cutoffs as the boy slid in and started the car. "Tulsa," she said.
He gave her a questioning look.
"We're going to Tulsa."
~*ΣΣ*~
I only had fifteen minutes between History of the English Language and Advanced Fiction Workshop. It wasn't exactly a mad dash since they were in different parts of the same building, but I wouldn't be one of the first there like was my habit.
All the fiction writing classes were held in the same classroom on the third floor, so I knew where I was going. It was one of the perks about going to such a small college.
Sophie-Anne LeClerq taught all of the fiction classes, so by the time you got to Advanced, she had a pretty solid idea of your work as a writer.
She liked to call all the Writing majors her 'fictional children' since she had us all the way through our degrees. Not that I minded. Sophie-Anne was amazing. She was a whip-cracker when you slacked off and a roadmap when you lost sense of your story.
Not to mention the fact that she had an encyclopedic knowledge of just about everything and one of the most impressive collections of hosiery I'd ever seen.
No one was talking when I walked into our classroom and it wasn't too hard to find the reason why. All the girls sitting around the big conference table where doing their damnedest to hide the fact that they were staring at him. There was a male in our class.
Slobberfest 2010 wasn't just because there was a guy in our room. We might have classes with only women all day, but that didn't mean we went ga-ga anytime a penis strolled in the room. It was more the way he looked. In a word: gorgeous.
Muscular reached out from the red polo shirt that covered his broad shoulders. The Ray-Bans he hooked on the front of his shirt only seemed to emphasize how well-developed his chest was. He was lounging back in his chair, his long legs stretched out with his feet propped up on the table, ignoring everyone while he played with his iphone. From the way he was holding the attention of the room, Apple would do well to have their next marketing campaign consist solely of this guy using their products.
He was sitting at the far end of the long conference table and the light streaming in from the windows behind him made his shoulder-length blond hair shine like filament in a light bulb. He looked every bit like a bored king on his throne and from how unfazed he was by the twelve women in the room eye-raping him, it was clear that he was used to being admired.
Not that that would keep me from telling his Majesty to get his American Eagle-covered ass out of my chair.
I slapped on my cheeriest Sookie Stackhouse smile and crossed the carpet. Standing over him, I cleared my throat. "Excuse me."
He took his sweet time pulling his focus away from his phone and once he did, the boy decided looking me over from tip to toe was the first order of business. He was so tall he barely had to look up at me, but when he did, all the sunlight from the windows made his eyes glow like electric blue marbles. It was hard to believe that color was even natural.
"Did I miss the church picnic?" he asked, snickering.
Heat flared in my cheeks and I knew I was as red as a stop light. First impressions were important, so I always tried to look nice for my first classes. I guess that was something Mr. Loungy McCasual couldn't appreciate.
Smoothing down the skirt of my white sundress, I kept my smile even if I wanted to punch him in his stupid, glow-y face.
"Don't worry, I'm pretty sure you were too busy playing beer pong to attend." What? I may be a lady but I still don't take shit from anyone. "I'm Sookie Stackhouse." I held my hand out.
He seemed a little surprised by retort, but after a second he recovered and took my hand. "Eric Northman."
"Well, Eric, I was wondering if you would mind terribly moving to a different seat? This one's mine."
"Oh, really?" An eyebrow quirked up. "I didn't see your name on it."
Did we just time-warp back to fifth grade? My hands came up to settle on my hips and my eyes narrowed. This was my turf and I wasn't about to let some interloper waltz in and park his entitled derriere on my real estate. "I always sit there. Every time I have a class in this room. I would greatly appreciate it if you could sit in another chair."
Eric sank back in my chair and tilted his head like he was considering.
"No."
"No?"
"Nope. You'll just have to sit next to one of these other lovely ladies." He aimed a brilliant smile at the other women in the room who had been observing our exchange. You could almost hear their hearts going all atwitter. "Or we could share." He gestured to his lap.
I dragged in a long breath as my internal pressure gauge was heading to the danger zone. I was about to go nova.
Someone grabbed my arm just before I could tell the pig exactly what I'd like to drop on his cargo-short-covered lap.
"Come sit by me, Sookie." Kenya hauled me over to a chair between her and Michele at the middle of the table. "I'd love to hear about your summer." She gestured for me to sit and after a good long scowl at the piece of furniture, I did.
Michele and Kenya did their best to keep me occupied while we waited for class to start, but they couldn't keep me from throwing glares at Eric like poisonous little darts of hate. He had gone back to his phone and was intently doing whatever it is people are always so busy doing on iphones.
Sophie-Anne swept in right on time in a dress that looked like a watercolor painting and a purple pair of latticework tights. For such a tiny woman, she never had any problem commanding the attention of a room. Sophie-Anne surveyed her kingdom, her eyes settling on Eric.
"I suppose most of you have noticed the new addition to our class for the semester. He is, after all, awfully hard to miss." She looked bemused at herself and waved a hand down the table at Eric. "Why don't you introduce yourself, Eric."
"Why of course, Sophie-Anne," he practically purred.
Somehow I kept my eyes from rolling. I don't know how, but I felt I should have gotten a reward for it. Or at least some applause.
"I'm Eric Northman and I cross-registered for this class, obviously. I'm a senior at Tech in the architecture program. This class is one of my electives." He folded his hands on the table. "Anything else?" he asked Sophie-Anne.
"Give us an interesting fact about yourself."
"I'm the head of the Phi Delta Theta house over at Tech. I'll be sure to inform you ladies of any upcoming events. Me and the boys would love to see you there." He added a bit of a smolder to his invitation. Oh yes, the panties were sizzling. I wanted to gag.
Sophie-Anne had the rest of us introduce ourselves. I didn't pay much notice and it didn't seem like Eric did either. The difference was that I already knew these people while Eric was just a self-involved jerk.
He stared across the table at me when it came around to my turn. I huffed since he was the only reason we were even doing this. "Sookie Stackhouse, junior Writing major, from Bon Temps, Louisiana. I visited Spain this summer and spent most of my time on the nude beaches."
I made eye contact with Eric, who was looking a mite glazed at my last statement. "They were fantastic."
He didn't need to know that my bikini stayed firmly fastened the whole time we were there. Eric could just suck on those visuals for a while.
After introductions were finished, Sophie-Anne went over the syllabus, which was standard fare for our workshop.
Each person would write two short stories over the course of the semester and make copies to be handed out to the rest of the class on specific dates. Everyone would make notes and write a critique to bring in to discuss the story on the day of your workshop. The stories would be revised and turned into Sophie-Anne at the end of class. There was one big difference this semester, though.
"For this class, I'll be assigning each of you a writing partner. You'll be doing several projects and presentations with them this semester. They'll also be the first person you'll go to for an opinion or with any extra writing you do," Sophie-Anne announced. "The person I pair you with is someone I feel will be a good reader for you, someone who can help you push your boundaries."
All of us were already looking around the room, eyeing each other. I was hoping for Portia or Kenya. They were both strong editors with an eye for the technical aspects of a story. Belinda would work too. She had a wonderful ear for language and was imaginative enough to go just about anywhere with a story.
As Sophie-Anne started reading off her list of pairs, it quickly became evident that "pushing your boundaries" was secret Sophie-Anne code for "will drive you crazy." She had matched the sugary, metaphor-heavy Judith with the short and gritty Jannalynn. Prudish Portia was coupled with Ginger, whose stories practically needed to come in a brown paper wrapper.
My hopes dwindled as all my preferred partners were stuck with someone they'd likely want to stab with a pencil by the end of the week. There was only one other one person left.
I desperately tried to convey the horror that I felt to Sophie-Anne with my eyes but she read off our names anyway.
"Sookie, you'll be with Eric."
Sophie-Anne finally looked up to catch my terrified puppy dog eyes. "Don't bother begging. No one is switching."
~*ΣΣ*~
I was the first one out of the room once class was over. I didn't want to give Eric a chance to talk to me.
The last part of class hadn't gone any better than the first part. Sophie-Anne had us doing an exquisite corpse, a writing exercise where everyone had a piece of paper on which they started a story. After a few lines you'd pass it on to the next person and they'd add a few lines and pass it. Repeat the process until the last person ended it.
Every time it was Eric's turn, he'd kill off everyone in the story. It made me feel sorry for Ginger who came right after him. She kept having to resurrect the characters some way or create new ones and switch the Point of View.
Shoving open the door to the women's restroom, I dumped my stuff on the couch near the entrance and went to the sinks.
I cupped my hands under the cold water and drowned my face in it. When I needed to come up for air or consider growing gills, I stood and exhaled, blowing droplets of water onto the mirror.
This was unacceptable. Sophie-Anne would just have to change her mind. I chose this college so I wouldn't have to take classes with people like Eric Northman.
After blotting my face off, I scooped up my bag. I still had to run back to my apartment to get my tennis rackets and change for practice.
I sped down the stairs and turned the corner out of the stairwell before slamming into someone, sending us both sprawling.
This was definitely not my day.
At least all of my stuff managed to stay in my bag. My human speed bump wasn't so lucky. Their stuff had scattered over the granite floor like a Jackson Pollack. I peeled my butt up and started to help them gather the pencils and paper and notebooks.
"I'm so sorry. I don't normally maul people in the halls." My hand reached for a familiar book and once I turned it over to get a good look at the cover, I couldn't help but smile. "You know, I was supposed to pick this book up today but when I went to the bookstore…"
I looked up into Eric's grinning face. "I believe that's mine." He plucked the book from my hands while I was too busy squatting on the floor, dumbfounded.
I pointed at him. "You! You stole my book!"
He pushed my pointy finger down to my side. "Seeing as I paid for it, I don't think stealing is the term you are looking for."
"You lied to Bubba and tricked him into selling you Love in the Dark. That's at least…" I scrambled for something that sounded both official and nefarious, "…procuring goods under fraudulent pretense."
"Isn't the phrase 'fraudulent pretense' redundant?" Eric asked shoving his mess of papers back in messenger bag. "And I never lied. I told him I was there to pick up that book up for my girlfriend, who was too busy to get it herself. Which was completely true." He shrugged. "It's not my fault he assumed you were the girlfriend in question."
My pointy finger was back and poking Eric in the chest. "Whatever, buddy. You knew that book was mine and you took it anyway because you were too lazy to drive to a bookstore and get it for this alleged 'girlfriend'." I used air quotes around "girlfriend". "Give me back my book."
Eric looked down at his chest, monumentally unamused by my choice of non-verbal communication. From the look on his face, he probably wasn't too tickled about the verbal part either.
"Listen closely, Miss Stackhouse, because I am certain if we continue on this path, you will be hearing these words quite often." He leaned down, his face right up in mine. "Hell no."
Eric turned and strode out of the building.
I gathered myself and followed him out into the scorching afternoon sun. There was no way he was getting the last word.
I barreled down the front steps right in time to hear a high-pitched squeal and watch Dawn Green launch herself at Eric. She hitched her legs around his slim waist and kissed him like she was checking for wisdom teeth.
The pair kept at it, not even noticing the passing students who hooted and whistled, either calling for the couple to get a room or cheering for Dawn to get some. I was frozen in place, gawking like a gape-toothed hillbilly.
When the two finally came up for air, Dawn became aware that I was standing there, staring at them.
"Hey, Sookie? I don't think I can make it to tennis today," she said and nipped at Eric's chin. "I feel a fever coming on."
Dawn put her feet back on the ground and hooked her arm around Eric, guiding him down the brick path toward her apartment. Eric looked over his shoulder at me, a shit-eating grin on his face. He winked as his hand traveled from Dawn's hip down to her ass, giving it a squeeze for good measure.
Thank goodness they were too busy rubbing together to walk very fast. Dawn lived on the floor above me and there was no way I was going to watch them grope each other all the way home. I breezed past the couple and held my pace until I was breathing in the sweet temperature controlled air of my own apartment.
For the first time ever, I was less than enthusiastic about going back to Fiction Workshop. Even on days when I had to pass out a story I was less than happy with or when I received critical reviews, I had never felt so…unhopeful. Those things were a part of the process, dealing with shitheads wasn't. I hated this feeling that something which had been such a big part of my life was somehow being reduced, tarnished.
It didn't help any that the person to blame was most likely dick deep in Dawn Green by now, getting his rocks off, while I had to go run wind sprints till I felt like throwing up.
If there was any doubt before, there certainly wasn't now.
I really hated Eric motherfucking Northman.