[AUTHOR'S NOTE: So far the reviews I've received (and deleted) are guest reviews saying "Lucaya sucks" or "No one wants a Lucaya fic." Um... yes they do, honey. I've been getting requests for them. That's why I'm still in the writing process! Reviews are there to tell me what is liked and not liked. PMs are there for requests or just someone to talk to. If you want my advice, "GROW A PAIR" (cited, Dirt, 2007-08). I need more positive reviews. Newsflash/spoiler: Lucaya is not the endgame in this chapterfic. However, this chapter will begin their falling out. Once again, I do not own Girl Meets World, Dirt, Carrie, Wham! featuring George Michael's "Careless Whisper," any caught references/reminders, nor such associations. Please read, review, and refrain from telling me exactly what to change. Thank you and goodbye, my name is Taylor!]
F-F-F-Farkle Time! Last week was just excellent!
I threw a party for Riley atop my father's headquarters. She confided in me how she truly feels about her job.
"Miserable. Stuck."
Life can be strangely merciful. And sometimes, it's not. That means there is one person in her life who won't give her a break. Starts with Brett. Ends with Barricklow.
"Do you know what corporate's gonna say about this?"
"That what you're showing me is more painful than Hell? I'm aware."
"How do you get through the night?"
"I have the Rileytown Committee. How do you get through the week?"
It's all about staying one step ahead, baby.
*CLICK*
Maya's got a lot of nerve to be confiding in her guy friends lately. I'm more afraid that she'll say something to someone, and then the next person will tell, and then the next one, and the next one, and a chain of mutually mutual friends will have known by now about my one-time fling with Maya. God damn it.
However, I don't think she's been up to much lately. Methinks I'll find out later somehow. Our latest interactions involved her ass... her ass... and our laughing.
*CLICK*
Now that Riley's first issue of Dirty Deeds as editor-in-chief has achieved success, we're looking to step up our game. We've set that bar higher than Heaven, deeper than the pits of Hades, and farther than this damn galaxy. This means follow-ups to "The Slap Heard 'Round the World" by comedian Connie Haley...
"I'm leaving you, Dominic J. Dean!"
And digging more dirt dished by the hottest interns employed by Minkus International...
"Erica feels like it's her fault that the picture came out... I'm torn because Erica's my friend."
I have a sneaking suspicion that Miss Erica Bionx has the weight of the world on her shoulders, and that world's full of secrets about Connie. The only secret I plan on exploiting is where Connie will go next.
*CLICK*
Remember when I said the greatest mystery of the universe was who would get to be the first Mrs. Farkle? It still is, but I've found another great mystery of the universe. The lives in which we're living: why am I flying high in this lovesickness? Riley's happy that I gave her something she wanted. I'm happy that I did my job right, and the superiors won't settle for anything less. Our quality control has been wonderful, but if we're going to stand a chance against Brett Barricklow and not plan the sneak attack, we must do better to be better.
So, what about Riley's "close-up, Mr. Minkus?"
*CLICK*
Riley and I had fallen asleep on the couch last night, watching Sunset Boulevard. When I woke up, Riley was in the kitchen, making coffee. I didn't realize I was wearing the same clothes from the dance party last night, so I snuck off to my bedroom to change into something more comfortable since today is Sunday. It wasn't until I stepped out of my pants when I looked down, and not again.
I walked to the bathroom and shut the door, so I can alleviate this tension that I call morning wood. Only, it wasn't like any other ordinary morning wood. Riley and I fell asleep. Could she have caused this? Time will tell. I pushed my briefs down to my ankles and began stroking myself over the bathtub again, holding on to the wall across the floor. I didn't want to think about how Riley would look going down on me. I honestly hated thinking about her going down on me, but it sprang into my mind. Soon, that thought escalated into her taking every inch of my member into her core. It felt like we were making love, and she was in control. It was beautiful. I can feel it in my heart as I pumped my member to orgasm. Explosions of clear white sperm burst onto the marble of the bathtub's floor base. Amazing.
As I cleaned up my mess, I kicked off my briefs and just left the bathroom naked. I needed that. My walk back to the bedroom was perfectly inconspicuous. Riley just continued making and drinking the coffee. I hope she poured me a cup as soon as I left the bedroom with my clean clothes on.
"Good morning, Farkle."
"Good morning, Riley."
"I had a great time last night," she admitted before taking a sip of her coffee.
"Oh yeah?" I answered as I took my coffee mug from the counter. Yes!
"Farkle, why did you do it?"
I do not want to answer her question. I love her. She can't know now.
"The first issue sold millions of copies. I've been getting email notifications, asking for follow-ups. You know what I'll be doing this week," I stated. "Riley, you deserved a party in your dedication. Any other guy would just send you flowers, and I know the ones you like are hard to find. I know you like chocolates, but you would just eat them all in one sitting, and that's not good for you. I care about you, Riley. You deserve the very best."
Riley walked around the counter to give me, what I think is, a hug. But, no. She put one hand on my shoulder and her lips on mine. A simple peck can just confirm everything now.
"Farkle, when you said I deserve the very best, you don't really mean that, do you?" she asked as she wrapped the other arm around my neck.
"I do mean it, Riles, because I care," I answered as I leaned in to kiss her.
When we kissed, she could only give so much. I, too, gave the same effort because, to be honest, we're still trying to wake up and recover from a dancing hangover. She brushed her tongue across my bottom lip, but I was shy and couldn't let her in. I don't think I've ever told Riley about my tongue ring. Maya might've said something to Riley, but I'm not sure. Riley broke away.
"Farkle, what's the matter?" she released me from her arms.
Come up with something, damn it!
"Nothing. I, uh, just want to, uh, take it slow," Nice dodge, doo-brain.
"Farkle, come on. It's just me. Talk to me. Why are you so nervous all of a sudden? It's not like you're hiding something from me." Bingo, Princess. "Oh my gosh, you're hiding something from me, and I'm dying to know. Show me!" she enthusiastically proclaimed and poked my belly.
Her belly poking was making me laugh, but honestly, it was scaring me. Laughter is my natural mechanism to fear until I adapt to it. I tried to push her away, but she wouldn't repel. I've had enough, so I grabbed her wrists and raised my voice.
"Riley, stop!" I firmly said, giving her eye contact.
She focused on my mouth. Oh, no, she saw it.
"What's in your mouth, Farkle?" Riley asked, demanding to know.
Just play coy, Minkus.
"What are you talking about?" I asked as I let go. Not that coy!
"I asked you, Farkle. Open up," she commanded, tapping the corner of my mouth with her hand.
I had fear written all over my face. The anxiety was eating me alive, so I had to show her. I opened my mouth and showed her the shiny neon orange stud that lances my tongue. Then I felt her thumb and forefinger on my tongue as if she were examining it.
"How long, Farkle?" she questioned, perplexed.
"Since March," I said while my tongue was out.
"What?" she followed, shocked as she let go of my tongue. Thank you.
"Yes, Riley. I lost a bet to the guys, and they made me pierce my tongue as a result. We've been doing these embarrassing punishments at least twice a month since then."
"Did it hurt?"
"Not as bad as I thought it would, but that's because the lady told me to breathe out when she stuck the needle through."
"Oh, wow. You've been taking care of it well?"
"Yes. The guys said I couldn't remove it until it fully healed, but I don't think I want to, now. I've come to embrace it. I just changed the stud about a few weeks ago before you took the job as editor-in-chief."
Riley was more shocked than amazed, but I could feel the latter emotion from her words.
"Wow, um, that is awfully risky of you. I don't know what to say. It's like this side of you that I've never seen before. That's a step up for you, Farkle."
"Thank you," I mumbled.
We chuckled and shared another quick kiss before resuming our coffee drinking.
Riley's phone buzzed from her counter. She received a text from Maya, stating that we need to meet her for brunch. I told Riley to get dressed fast, so we can leave as soon as possible.
...
Maya and Lucas had been waiting for us at the corner booth of Topanga's. I let Riley slide in first, followed by myself, as we took a seat. I wonder what Maya will bring up at the table.
"I've got an idea on what you could do for your next cover story," Maya said with her mouth full of scrambled eggs.
"Shoot," Riley said.
"Whatever happened to that teen pop artist, Charlotte Kincaid? She, like, disappeared or something," Maya then followed up.
I haven't heard from Charlotte in years. She was the teen singing sensation of the early 2020s. She wrote every song which she recorded and never used auto-tune. Never. I had photographed her for various teen magazines, including her cover story for Seventeen back in 2021. Next thing we knew, she dropped off the face of the earth, never to be seen or heard again. I'm sure that tomorrow, the staff at Dirty Deeds will have all the possible theories and rumors. It'll be up to me to confirm one of them to be true or all, false.
"Last I heard, Charlotte was in the recording studio laying down some new tracks. Of course, that was five years ago," Lucas stated.
"Charlotte Kincaid has been relatively low-key. She's been homeschooled all her life, so she doesn't have much time for things other than writing and recording songs," Riley gossiped. "Farkle, didn't you shoot her Seventeen Magazine cover a few years ago?"
"I did. I just took the photos. I never did any interviews with her. She's a cool chick to work with. Very humble, down to earth, you know the drill. The next year when she was scheduled to do a shoot with me, she cancelled without an excuse," I answered.
We continued with our brunch with that story on our minds. Now we just need some directions at the brainstorming first thing in the morning.
Riley led the writers' room brainstorming session. With Maya's suggestion for a cover story from the morning before, something's got to be brought up. I took my seat opposite Riley at the long table. Surrounding my half of the table were Sarah, Charlie, Lucas, and Yindra. Riley's side had Darby, Chai, and Corn Chip Dave. Riley shows us the cover of the previous issue on the projected screen.
"I am so proud of you guys for bringing your A-game since I took the throne as editor-in-chief. Now, I present a new challenge for you, the staff," she clicked the remote, signaling a new slide in her presentation. This slide had the inside story of Connie and Dominic.
"It is up to you to find out more to this story. Right now, we're getting by with a little bit of hearsay. Our first cover was a little bit of saw-say," Riley demanded. "I want concrete evidence. Farkle has provided enough concrete evidence. I'm expecting so much more in the issues to come. While I would like to prolong these stories for the next few publications, it won't hurt to throw in a new story or two in there. So, talk to me. Whatcha got?!" she clicked for the next slide, properly titled "IDEAS."
"I have a prediction on the relationship between Erica Bionx and Wade Capra," Sarah spoke.
"Shoot," Riley commanded.
"They ain't gonna make it," Sarah said with confidence.
"Well, we all know that," Riley responded knowingly. "The question is, how is the break up gonna break down? Sarah and Charlie, you're working together to get the scoop."
Riley clicked her remote again to show an image of Charlotte Kincaid in her prime. It was the photo used on her cover of Teen Vogue, circa 2022. A bunch of oohs and ahs left the writers' mouths.
"Why do you have Charlotte Kincaid on the screen?" Yindra asked, confused.
"It was brought to my attention earlier that Miss Kincaid may or may not be returning to the spotlight. How we will know, will be found out within the next two weeks. You guys have all the time in the world. Do not waste it. This shot is one I'd give my left nut for, you hear?!" Riley stated.
I raised my hand.
"Farkle?" Riley pointed to me.
"Farkle time, ma'am?" I asked, being ever the gentleman.
"You know I love Farkle time," she smiled at me.
Riley and I traded spots. I took the front of the classroom to talk a little bit about some of the Minkus International interns. This is more like advice than it is a lecture.
"If you want the truth about the celebrities we profile," I said as I slapped my hands on the table to startle Chai and Darby. "There are tons of girls at Minkus International, waiting to gossip to strangers. Some of them love our magazine. Others hate us and would rather read Slutville. Then there are those who won't suspect a thing if you're an undercover intern," I lowered my voice an octave to make Darby shiver. "Too bad, sweetheart. They're mine," I apologized to Darby. The girls at Minkus International technically belong to my father. Riley shot a look my way. Backtrack, Farkle. Backtrack. "They're my father's." Whew, good save.
Riley chimed in, "That is a wonderful editorial for a future issue. After we get the dirt on Charlotte Kincaid and the follow-up to the last publication, we'll do a story on the Minkus International interns."
"They'll be ready for us. Let's just say that time will never mend the careless whispers of dear friends. Because you can never escape the truth. Thank you," I bow, "I am Farkle!" I claimed as I raised my arms coming up from my bow.
I walked out of that classroom feeling like nothing can stop me. Along my path, I spotted a familiar Minkus intern: the lovely Rolanda Heiferschmidt.
"Farkle, what's up?"
"Just heading home. Lots of work that needs to be done," I said.
"You wanna go out sometime? Like a date, but not anywhere fancy? I don't want my girlfriends jealous of me."
"Um, sure. How about the penthouse? Privacy is probably the best policy, don't you think?"
"Yeah. Wednesday night okay with you?"
"Sounds like an odd day to have a first date, but sure, Ro. Meet me at the building, say, eight o'clock?"
"Works for me," she smiled.
The next night, friends and I hit up the local bar to listen to some amateurs on an open mic night. Josh, Zay, and I prepared something embarrassing for Lucas to sing to the ladies. After all, this is for the ladies. We thought Sir Mix-a-Lot would be cliché. We also thought Whitney and Celine would be out of his league. We didn't tell him that we picked the most embarrassing song to sing about and to a woman.
"Okay, everyone. It's open mic night with our band, The Beat Nix! Next up is a local vet tech and magazine columnist whose best friends put him up to sing a hot one tonight. So, give it up for Lucas Friar!"
Everyone clapped their hands until the drummer in the very back of the stage clicked his sticks four times. The bass player, on cue, plucked a string rhythmically along the drummer's beats. Lucas's face went from nervous to beyond embarrassed when the opening notes to "Strokin'" played from the amplifiers. He buried his face in his hands, using his palms to stretch out his face. Then he stepped up to the mic stand. He gulped before some feedback made everyone plug their ears. Josh, Zay, and I were waiting for Lucas to start asking the first question in the song. Lucas looked at me from the stage, and I nodded, giving him the okay to "sing" away.
"Let me ask you something," Lucas started nervously. The girls at the front tables were dying to know. What was Lucas going to ask?
"What time of the day do you like to make love?" The girls just laughed at him. The look on his face... he knows something's up.
"Have you ever made love just before breakfast?" Here come the mixed reactions now. Some ladies laughed. Others blushed and looked away when Lucas signaled the ASL for 'red,' (pointer finger intersecting lips, drag finger down once or twice) meaning he's guilty as charged. It was my idea to tell him to give some sort of guilty signal.
"How about during the Late, Late Show with James Corden?"
Red. Squeals. Womanly squeals!
"Okay, well, let me ask you this," Lucas started pulling himself together from the inside. "You ever make love on the couch?" Red.
The girls were giving him mixed signals. The guys and I just sat there, smiles plastering our faces, waiting for Lucas to keep spitting out the words.
"Well, let me ask you this," he swallowed, straightening himself out. "Have you ever made love on the back seat of a car?" Red. He took the wireless microphone out of the stand and started pacing the stage. "I did that once. I made love in the back seat of a car one time, and then the cops came to shine their flashlight on me, and I said I was strokin'!" He burst out the chorus as he hopped and thrust his hips forward as he landed, as if he were saying 'suck it' or something. "That's what I'm doing, I be strokin'!" he repeated the motions.
Zay and Josh laughed out loud, and I, quietly to myself. Riley, Maya, and Smackle stared at Lucas dumbfoundedly. Mainly because they've all dated him at one point in their lives, it's like they didn't even want to know what he does in bed these days.
"I stroke it to the east, and I stroke it to the west, and I stroke it to the woman that I love the best! I'm strokin'!" Lucas sang as he finally got into the rhythm.
Lucas turned around and signaled to the band to resume to the verse where just the drums and bass played. He then returned to facing the crowd, laughing nervously.
"Wow, um, okay. How long has it been since you made love, huh?" he asked, pointing to some of the cougar ladies with obvious dye jobs sitting stage right. "Did you make love yesterday?" The group of ladies giggled as one, presumably their leader, nodded. Red. "How about last week?" More laughter. More admitting the truth. Red. "Really?" And the leader nodded. "Did you make love last year?!"
Everyone was laughing at this point. The cougars have no shame! Lucas breathed a whew, feeling that this was going to be easy... until Josh walked up on stage, tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention, and pointed towards our girls. Lucas then realized that his performance was going down the drain as soon as Josh walked off stage.
"Or maybe it might be that you're planning on making love tonight. Am I right?"
Every female in the crowd fox-whistled and cheered because at least someone's planning on it! Maya was not happy with Lucas. Does Maya think that Lucas may be cheating? Or does Maya feel guilty that she cheated on Freak Face with me?
"Now, just remember when y'all makin' love, make it hard. Make it long. Make it soft. Short. And be strokin'!"
Maya huffed before gathering her belongings and heading out the door. I felt bad for Lucas. His punishment drove his girlfriend away. Girlfriend or no, he still had to complete the song.
As he sang the chorus, his mood shifted. I took another sip of my Corona and gave Lucas another nod, giving him permission to cut the song short. He repeated the chorus and held a fist up to tell the band to finish out. The crowd applauded Lucas, despite his embarrassment. Lucas walked off the stage, making a beeline for the bathroom which was by the entrance. I followed Lucas.
(excerpt from Maya Hunter, Maya Hunter)
How dare my Huckleberry openly admit what he does in the bedroom with me?! That's embarrassing! I walked away because I had enough. If anything, I can see why it was a punishment for Lucas. That was nothing. I've been through a worse punishment. I gave myself to Farkle, of all people, out of desperation (no, that's not a punishment). We both kept quiet last week at the art gallery when I took the guys there. Boing and Huckleberry never suspected a thing. However, Zay might be onto us.
Whose bright idea was it to put Huckleberry up on stage to sing a raunchy song written by a blind man? I'll bet it was Farkle's idea. Lucas gave a sign to every question he asked on that stage, meaning he's done everything. When he said yes to making love in the back seat of the car, I could only remember one time that happened, and we didn't get caught by the police. So, who was he with if he got caught with his pants down? I'll bet it was probably Riley.
Thinking about Lucas doing it in the car with another woman made me so angry that I had to break out the sketch book and draw lines wherever my hand guides me. Maybe this will be a sketch of what that other woman looked like.
There's a hand. There's what looks like a pen, could be a syringe. Arm. Body. I scribbled whatever I could, and my final product is, drum roll please...
A girl giving herself a shot? Is she shooting herself up with heroin? Oh gosh, I can't be that jealous. I guess that's what I think of the girl who slept with Lucas in the back of the Challenger when the police caught 'em.
Speak of the devil, he just walked in my door.
"Maya, are you okay? I'm sorry that I might've offended you and the girls, but Josh, Zay, and Farkle made me do it."
"Oh, I know that now. So, what about the girl you banged in the back of your car, and the police caught you? You said you did."
Lucas looked like he was trying to remember who. If he didn't, he'd have to lie to me. I do not appreciate being deceived.
"They told me I had to say yes to everything. I've never been caught by the police before!"
"How am I supposed to trust that? Ha-hurr! Ha-hurr! Ha-hurrrr–"
He grabbed my face and kissed my lips long and hard. He's too Texas tough for me to fight back, so I let him have his way. However, something lingered in the back of my mind. All I could think about was Farkle. Then I thought about Josh. Lucas never lingered in my mind. He was just there. I couldn't. I gave up.
In my distress, I hunger for a caress. Upon my lips, not my cheek. Eyes up here, not down there. I am losing my sanity. This isn't going anywhere.
(we now return to Dirty Deeds)
I ran into Rolanda on my way out of the Dirty Deeds office, and she asked me out on a date. She couldn't decide on a place, so I suggested one of my places: the penthouse at my dad's work. It's the only place that's off limits at Minkus International. I unlocked the door and allowed her to enter first. She was awestruck. The writing was on the wall and all over her face.
"So, you, like, live in this penthouse? Stuart always said the penthouse was off limits. Didn't know it was yours," Ro started talking as we walked inside. She observed the paintings on the walls, "You paint that?"
"Nah. My friend painted these," I said. "She's very talented," I murmured.
I took a seat on the couch. Ro was a little nervous. I could tell by the way she ran her hand through the blonde side of her hair and smiled at me. When she sat next to me, it was like watching an awkward teenager figuring out what to do. She had this ethereal beauty that could captivate anyone, but her body language screamed yikes. I was just as nervous as Ro, but I have conditioned my body to avoid emanating the yips and shakes. Finally, she sat next to me.
"So, let's talk," she said with confidence, throwing herself at me.
"What about?" I asked, not minding the proximity.
"Remember the dance party last weekend, and I told you how bad I feel for Erica?"
"Yes," I was curious to see where this was going. She's gotta have some dirt now that we're in a private area, and she can confide in me.
"I think Erica's taking drugs."
"Like...?"
"Illegal drugs, Farkle. I've noticed some weird things on Monday when she, like, comes into work. She shows up, thinking everything is fine until she looks in the mirror, BOOM," she claps in my face, "nosebleed, and she didn't even know it was there."
I immediately was drawn back to that night atop the Minkus International roof. While my body was focused on Rolanda, I used my other senses to see the faces of the other girls. I knew something was up with Erica by the way she smelled and went commando. That was why I held her hand and told her no. Not only could I not put up with so many girls, but the extra girl that was Erica, oh my fucking gosh, she smelled worse than skunk spray. Worse than skunk spray... from below.
"You know, I thought she smelled funny," I answered.
"And every Tuesday when her boyfriend, Wade, comes to take her out to lunch, Erica returns to work, and the girls and I know something happened between her and Wade. She just covers it up by going to the bathroom and doing a line. She told me because she knows I'm best at keeping secrets. Truth is, I would've said something, so I can save her ass... albeit indirectly."
Nobody can keep secrets to save their own lives anymore. I can't sit there and let these things fester. Riley ought to know about Erica. So far, Riley's doing well in not leaking the sex tape between Wade Capra and Evani Farrow. My question is, when will she leak it? I'm not doing her favors this time.
"You know, Ro, I'm glad you told me. When I'm trusted to keep a secret, I can only hold it in for so long."
"Tell me what I need to do," she said seductively.
How could I deny that?
"It's all about the deadlines, Rolanda. Give everyone a strict deadline, and if they don't follow through, you have no choice but to say as they try to leave," I said, feeling relaxed around her for the first time.
She turned her body towards me. She's got more dirt than I had anticipated. I could tell by the way she wrapped her arms around me, aiming her lips toward my neck.
"What she doesn't know is that I know a secret about her that shouldn't be exposed by Dirty Deeds, but rather questioned," she said.
I just gave her that look, telling her that she can tell me anything.
"I believe she's cheating on Wade Capra. Every day after work, she tells me and the girls that she's seeing a guy about a project, but I know she's hooking up with the Latino porn star Dane Delatorre in the break room on the sixth floor. Worse than that! I caught her twice, and she caught me, catching her in the act! I've been sworn to secrecy because Erica can be a bully sometimes. She tells me that if I say anything about Dane, she'll cut me," she cried on my shoulder, getting mascara all over my white lightning tee. Ro then muffled in my shoulder, "Orcas arty first two interns unff mnkff inter nathinal buh thlandern thm. Don't letter kick meow, Frkl!"
This is gold. Erica Bionx and Dane Delatorre? Not to mention, those who have caught her in the act have been fired by MY FATHER?! Oh, damn!
"It's okay, Ro," I murmured as I hugged her. "What else do you know?" I asked.
"Erica's thinking about leaving Minkus International," she sniffled and wiped a tear away from catching her breath. "There's this lady named Melissa Suarez who's paying her money to go work for Slutville. They want her to write editorials that stretch the truth about the true sluts and whores in New York City. Slutville's always been after Maya Hunter, the artist. I don't know Maya personally, and I read a lot about her. I don't think Slutville is a reliable source."
My heart sank. Maya Hunter is not a slut. And Melissa Suarez is better known to me and my friends as Missy Bradford. Ugh, I still shudder to hear that name. Slutville and Dirty Deeds established a new rivalry since Missy Bradford took the reins as Editor in Chief. She has done nothing but slander celebrities in the fine arts field. She's accused Maya of sleeping around. I hate to admit this. Missy's not wrong per se, but Maya's pretty exclusive to a few guys. And me!
"Maya doesn't sleep around?" Ro's voice caught my attention. She must've seen the look on my face.
I shook my head no.
"I knew there was some falsifying to Melissa's claim about Maya Hunter," she said, confirming her fears about Slutville.
"Let's just say that Maya knows what she wants, and won't settle for less. I should know," I admitted.
"Are you and Maya, like, a thi–"
"No!" I suddenly blurted with honesty. "Well, we used to be. Now, we're just..." Eh, fuhgeddaboudit, Farkle. Ro doesn't deserve to know. "Nevermind."
Rolanda giggled at my little foot-in-mouth crack. I can't believe I told someone ELSE that I had sex with Maya.
"It's not that uncommon, Farkle. A guy with eyes like yours must have had his share," she flirted and laughed.
"Uh, thank you," I said nervously. It took me a moment to learn what she meant by that.
"You want to turn on some music? I'm a classical music kind of person."
"Same here."
I grabbed the remote from the coffee table and turned on the satellite radio from my entertainment center. Only one thing crossed my mind: I cannot be falling in love with Rolanda. I just can't. I do know that she may be lusting after me. I don't know if I can handle that. Riley Matthews is the one for me, but that's out the window tonight when I saw Rolanda take off her white low-cut sneakers to reveal her naked and beautiful feet. I felt my eyes grow wide. I can also feel something happening to my face. She lay back on the opposite end of the couch, placing her bare feet on my lap.
"I've been on my feet all day, running errands for your father. Could you massage them? Please?" she said in that flirtatious voice.
I took her left foot into my hands. With my thumbs moving in an upward motion, I firmly rubbed the medial and lateral arches of her foot, kneading out the kinks that were once there. I worked my way up to the ball and anterior arch, mimicking the same treatment.
"Just tell me if it hurts, okay, Ro?" I murmured as I massaged her feet. "So, talk to me."
I paid no attention to her babbling about Erica's drug use and other friends of hers. I could only focus on the tootsies. Her feet were smooth. Her toenails were very red, like seductive and deep instead of bright and blinding, which I thought complemented her skin tone. I used my thumb and forefinger to smooth out the kinks in each toe. I switched to her right foot, giving it the exact same treatment that I gave to her left. I felt Ro flinch, flail, and wail on certain syllables as I massaged her feet. I will not do anything more. I think Rolanda likes having her feet played with. She probably has a foot fetish. Think it might be her Achilles' heel? Booooo! Just boohoo! Tre lame!
Once Rolanda mentioned the name Connie Haley, my focus shifted to her words. I put her foot down and turned toward her.
"So, Connie recently turned to alcohol to cover up her drop-of-a-hat anger, but knowing that alcohol is a depressant, it just worsens the anger. Dominic doesn't even do anything to make Connie crack. She just does! Connie has gone nuts. She refuses any medication prescribed to her. She keeps seeing this shrink..."
"Dr. Smackle." I chimed in.
"Yes, Dr. Smackle. I used to be her receptionist when Connie first started seeing her in 2024. Wait, you know her?"
"She and I were a thing before 'doctor' was added to her name," I admitted.
"Small world, huh? I told you; guys with eyes like yours have had girlfriends. I'm surprised you remember them all," she giggled sheepishly.
Kill me.
"Anyway, Connie keeps flinging her money to Dr. Smackle's office, hoping she would be 'cured' of her anger. Connie always lies to herself about her true state. She's blind to her own anger. There is something in that twisted little mind of hers that kickstarts her anger," Ro said after she calmed down.
Rolanda told me what I had been dying to hear. Connie is raging with unknown madness. Smackle wouldn't want to know. Riley would want to know more. I'm super curious now. The question is, do I tell Smackle, Riley, or Connie, that I know?
The silence between us lingered until the second movement of Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata began. Rolanda was thinking of something to say. She probably was done talking about her "friends." I want to know about Rolanda. Then again, I'd rather stare at her intently because she had to ask.
"Do you wanna see a scar?"
Oh, GOD!
(from the audio files of Dr. Smackle & Mr. Meaner)
Today, I performed an autopsy in front of hundreds of A&P students at NYU. This was my first autopsy in front of a crowd. I had to curb my anxiety by envisioning myself in the coroner's office. My victim today is Allison Stewart, a 25-year-old model who shot to fame on America's Next Top Model Next-Gen. Since my partner, Professor Sonny Meaner, bailed on me today, I figured it's better to do it alone than to make the students wait. Let's see what I found in Miss Stewart when I play the tape...
Miss Allison Danielle Stewart, born on February 2, 2002, died on September 23, 2028. She was 26. Her cause of death is listed as acute alcohol intoxication. Prior to death, she had been struggling with drug and alcohol abuse, and the deceased had never sought treatment nor rehabilitation. It is alleged that her body was found in her home. A family member came to check on her well-being, and it was determined that she was dead at the scene.
Body is not embalmed. Caucasian female of at least 25 years. Weight is 110 pounds. Measures 68 inches in length. Body type, slim and slender, in-shape. No skin pigment abnormalities aside from one lower back tattoo resembling angel wings. Only one major abrasion found upon back of the head. Rigor Mortis and Livor Mortis intact. Head, normocephalic, covered in bleach blonde hair. Eyes, blue irises. No hemorrhages in eyes. Nasal passages intact without obstruction. All teeth are present. No marks on neck. No chest deformities. No increase of anterior-posterior chest diameter. No scars on chest. Flat abdomen. Genitalia identifies patient as female. No perineal or genital trauma seems to be present. No needle tracks. Edema extremities are not present. Also, no presence in joint deformities or abnormal mobility. That concludes the external examination.
When Miss Stewart's body was found, she was wearing a beige camisole and bright pink athletic spandex shorts. She was also wearing prescription glasses. She had no shoes on when her body was found. When Professor Meaner and Dr. Smackle received the body, she wore no clothes.
I turned off the tape out of boredom. The external exam says her body was fine except her head because it broke her fall as she collapsed. I cut her body open and was more surprised at what I didn't find. She would've been a perfectly healthy woman if alcohol hadn't played a prominent role in her life. Her blood alcohol level was five times the legal limit! Five times! I could tell the students were scared straight. Well, the men were already crying by the time I closed her up. Maybe it's because beauty is never appreciated. Or, beauty tarnishes when drugs overtake one's system. It's not about one drink or two. It's an addiction. Alcoholism unfortunately will never die. Someone out there will always be brewing.
Speaking of brewing, I've been dying to tell Dirty Deeds what else is brewing in my therapy sessions with Dominic J. Dean and Connie Haley.
"That's enough, Smackle."
Damn it, Sonny, I was just getting started!
(we now return to Dirty Deeds)
"So how was your date with Lil Miss Swirly?" Charlie asked while he shuffled and dealt for a game of Omaha.
"She would not. Stop. Talking," I angrily answered, but calmed down when I spoke again. "Everything she told me coincides with Riley's first cover story. You guys know about the video tape Riley showed Truskin, right? Riley said she'd leak the tape if Truskin didn't have information about Dominic J. Dean," I said, picking up my cards.
A series of yesses and head-nods followed from the guys.
"Well, Truskin's dating Evani Farrow, and she cheated on him with Wade Capra," I said.
"Isn't Wade Capra going out with that red-head girl Erica?" Lucas asked, folding.
"Yes. Rolanda told me that Erica knows about the tape. Erica's trying to hide the image and her reaction by snorting cocaine. Rolanda doesn't know what to do about it, but at least she's doing something about it in my mind," I answered, calling.
"Which is–?" Zay questioned, calling.
"She talked to me about it," I said as Charlie revealed the flop. Ouch.
"Wait, wait, wait," Zay said. "Connie and Dominic have a lot of issues to work out. The love square among Truskin, Farrow, Capra, and Bionx needs to be resolved. How does all of this," he circled with his free hand, "coincide with each other? Two," Zay said, betting two blue chips to open the betting round.
"Connie and Erica were in a comedy troupe together. Everyone was friends with everyone at some point in their lives. It's just a matter of time before they patch things up or rip themselves apart," I predicted while I threw in two blue chips.
...
I've been having my ass handed to me every single hand we played. Lucas was doing no better. We haven't had solid hands when the river card showed up. Every time! Since it was Zay's turn to deal a hand of Texas, I thought it'd be funny to ask.
"You got anything wild you want the loser to do this time around, Zay?" I asked, deadpan.
"I thought about it. I'm thinking someone else should arrange the punishment. You know, to shake things up," he said, folding his hand.
"The first two losers out of the game will have to accompany Maya to the clubs this Saturday night. Erica Bionx is gonna be there, and someone will be supplying her the cocaine that Farkle's date talked about," Josh said.
Oh, great. Working will be the punishment. Smooth move, Josh. I rolled my eyes.
"But! There is a 'but,' guys," he said.
"I'm listening," I said as I folded my hand.
"To play it safe, Maya's gonna need some company for her Saturday night. Some girl company," Josh said as everyone raised their brows. "The two losers will have to get all dolled up like the ladies, so nobody suspects Maya of her past behaviors. So, while you're looking pretty, you've still got to scope Erica out; make sure to snap mental pictures or concrete photos of her, doing coke in the corners."
Now the guys have a motivation to win this poker game, but I think I'd want to lose if this punishment involves one Erica Bionx. I just don't like dressing up like a girl. I'd look like Back of the Class Brenda. Lord, help me. Help us all.
"Number one rule: you cannot chicken out. Should something traumatic happen between now and Saturday, you gotta make room for that priority," Josh stated, throwing in a few blue chips, to which everyone folded.
I lost. Lucas was the first person to run out of chips during Omaha Hi-Lo. Then I, with two sixes in my hand and a six with two jacks on the board, was confident in my hand. I was betting big until the river card, where suddenly, Charlie raises me every chance he got. He had pocket jacks. Four of a kind. How was I supposed to know his fourth jack was found on the river card?! Charlie ended up winning the whole shebang, and I was stuck with Freak-Face for a double drag punishment for Saturday night.
Charlie Gardner picked me up from my house at around the three o'clock hour, shortly before school lets out for the day, and the traffic worsens for three hours. We stopped by Greenwich Village, which housed the hyper-observant Sarah Carpenter. Together, we traveled to the Bronx to find out if Rolanda is telling me the truth about Erica, and what the aftermath of Sarah's break-up theory is. I've got a feeling that the Capra-Bionx bout will be feisty.
Riley said she'd have the household bugged again, so I won't doubt her abilities for a moment. Sarah applied blackeye to my face and Charlie's. We exited the Challenger to hide in the big... sycamore tree across the street from the house. Man, I hate sycamores. They hurt!
I opened the radio app on my phone and plugged the headphones in. Tuning into the clearest frequency on FM radio, I finally found some audible conversation between Wade Capra and Erica Bionx.
"Hey, guys, I got something," I told Charlie and Sarah.
Sarah was in charge of snapping the photos after I gave her a quick lesson on focusing. Charlie sought after any body language cues that may impact the conversation and/or the shot. Oh, wait, I'm getting something good.
"I think you're dying out there, baby," said Capra to his girlfriend.
"I'm tired of you telling me this, Wade. When will you stop?" Erica countered.
"When you stop, baby. You know, ever since you went to that party at Minkus, you've been acting strange. Is something wrong, baby?"
"Nothing. Nothing's wrong," Erica said, but Charlie was quick to catch her in that lie.
Sarah couldn't figure out how to work the camera, so we traded techs. I got my camera back. She recorded the Capra-Bionx conversation. I thought I felt something weird in my left hand, but I ignored it when I heard Erica start to cry.
"I've known you were with that whore Evani for some time. I've been retaliating, Wade," she sobbed. "I've been wi-hith somebo-hody else!"
"Oh, no, please don't tell me? It's that persistent Minkus son, isn't it?"
Excuuuuuse me?! Erica comes on too strong for a guy like me.
"No, it's another intern. His name is Johnny."
When Erica mentioned the intern named Johnny, my mind zapped to my conversation with Ro...
"I know she's hooking up with the Latino porn star Dane Delatorre in the break room on the sixth floor."
...and I suddenly realized that "Johnny" is Johnny Aguirre, the real name of porn star Dane Delatorre. He's only half Latino, and his accent is fake. He's just a regular guy outside of porn. My father knows of his pornographic endeavors, and frankly, he doesn't care. Most of us are concerned with income. Everyone I've come to know in life, they're concerned with the outcome. Just ask the doctor.
Erica and Wade were crying and screaming at each other as I snapped more photos. Not that this was an exciting outing, but we got something to go on.
As I climbed down the tree with Charlie and Sarah, Charlie tapped me on the shoulder.
"Um, Farkle, are you okay?" Charlie asked.
"Yeah, why?" I nodded and asked, very annoyed.
"Your hand!" Sarah screamed and almost fainted.
"What about my hand?" I countered as I looked at my left hand, which was missing its pinky finger.
I just rolled my eyes. I'm not in pain... I'm not in...
(excerpt from Riley's Rebellion)
Brett Barricklow seems like the kind of guy who won't let pranks like ours slide. We got the stories that we wanted published. The sales have tripled, and our subscriber rate has skyrocketed. So, what's his problem?
"Okay, Matthews, you got me. Where do you plan to go with your next issue?" he asked.
"Oh, you know. Standard follow-ups, finding celebrities who've left the spotlight, answers to last issue's quizzes, etcetera," I answered.
"Well, I may not like what's going on because I still like my ideas better, but you've got a good thing going, Miss Matthews."
"Thank you, Mr. Barricklow," I said with confused sincerity.
"Riley, there's a call for you," Lucas interrupted my conversation with Brett.
"Not now, Lucas, I'm busy. I'll call them back," I said.
"It's Farkle," he said. Oh no. "He's in the hospital," Lucas continued.
"Oh, god, no, no, no, no, no... NO!"
I felt my heart drop dead. I cannot count the no's that came out from the time I heard, during my walk through the building, and to my car. Farkle is in trouble! I am almost afraid to ask. Did he get attacked on the job? Did something go wrong on the job? What the hell happened?!
As I'm trying to beat the New York traffic to the hospital, I have shifted my priorities around. Farkle is at the top of my list of things to worry about. The stories for the magazine can wait.
Farkle, I hope you're okay.