LWD – LWD – LWD – LWD – LWD
"This isn't the way my sweater is supposed to fit, you know." Becky Shepherd gestured towards my chest and shook her head, a sour look on her face. It turned out that she and her sister, Renee Shepherd, were not nearly as carefree with their wardrobe as Sam had led me to believe.
Becky, especially, was taking the fact that I filled out her camisole sweater the way she could NEVER fill it out a little personally.
"That's a size small and you OBVIOUSLY need like… at least …a large…maybe even an extra large." I darted away from Becky's pointing finger (and sloshing beer cup).
Ralph's party was overflowing with people. It seemed like everyone from our graduating class had shown up – which made sense – we were all home for our first winter break after all.
Derek was, of course, treated like a god among mortals – all the guys were acting like they'd been best-buddies with him: slapping him on the shoulder and telling him how "Dude – it's so great to see you again" -- which was a total joke.
In high school, Derek had really only had a tight little group of friends. The rest of the people invited him to parties and hung out with him after games but were really not much more than the "fans" to him that they were now that he was a national hockey star (instead of just a high school hockey star.)
A perfect example would be Chase Norlinds, who was currently patting Derek on the back and reminding him of the last time Chase's parents were out of town and Derek sort of threw a "surprise party" at Chase's house –
a "surprise party" in that Chase didn't know he was having a party until someone handed him a flier to it.
And, as another matter of fact, despite the way Chase was currently acting about it NOW – (acting as though he and Derek might have planned that party together) – I distinctly recall Chase calling Derek "a total dickhead" and even hoping out loud "that that mother-fucker Venturi gets what is coming to him one day".
But, of course now that Derek is famous and rich, Chase had apparently amended that hope to Chase himself getting a little of what "Venturi had coming to him".
"Remember that awesome homecoming post party we threw junior year, Dude? That was so sweet!" Chase really needed to lay off the back patting thing – Derek didn't like to be touched. I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning at my stepbrother's discomfort.
Derek looked genuinely confused for a second. "Were you there?" -- ooooohh Chase's face made it clear that his previous opinion of my stepbrother was flooding back full force.
"It was at my house.," Chase grumbled.
Derek looked nonplussed, "Huh."
"My parents grounded me the entire rest of the school year."
Still nonplussed, "Huh."
"You slept with my older sister that night. And then bragged about it in front of my dad."
"Your dad was there?"
"He and my mom came home right before the police showed up."
Back to nonplussed again, "Huh. Sounds like a fun party. " Derek shrugged and let himself get led off by the little crowd surrounding him.
In all the excitement over Derek's arrival, Sally (and Sam and I) had gotten pushed to the side and ignored.
And, while Sam and I had basically spent the larger chunk of our teenage years accustomed to this sort of treatment, it was pretty obvious that Sally was not coping quite as effortlessly. She was slamming back her fourth big plastic cup of "fruit punch" since arriving.
"Sally…you might want to go easy on that stuff because it's practically straight Everclear," said Ralph, popping up from the mass of people swarming his house.
Sally just scowled at him and continued drinking. Some people make such unattractive drunks.
Sam and Ralph did that obnoxious half handshake / half hand slap thing that all guys do when they see each other. Why can't boys just greet each other normally? – Ugh…they always have to act so cool.
"So Casey, I really like that outfit you're wearing, " Ralph said leering at my cleavage.
"Yeah thanks, Ralph." I don't think I could have sounded any drier if I tried.
"You know that guy you dated back in high school is here. Trent? Remember him? Wait till he sees you dressed like that!"
"Uhhh…"
Just then a mass of dark curly hair smashed into my face and Emily's arms circled my neck (nearly squeezing the life out of me) but I was still glad to see my high school BFF – so we hadn't gotten along that well during senior year … (sigh!)
I guess I couldn't blame her for falling at my stepbrother's feet like every other female in the school.
I mean…really… what is the use of feeling resentful or betrayed when, really, my former BFF was only just one more boxcar in the long train of women that Derek screwed in high school – (and it was especially hard to hold a grudge while I had managed to succumb myself to the great Derek Venturi and could now be accurately described as the caboose in that train. Derek – that bastard! ).
"Emily it's so great to see you!"
"Oh my God! It's great to see you too Casey!" We both bounced up and down and squealed – to which Ralph commented, "Why can't girls just greet each other normally? – Ugh…they always have to act so dramatic."
After the squeal , Emily gushed…."Sooooooo…Did you come here with Derek? I just saw him by the back porch but he was surrounded by too many people for me to say hi – but OH MY GOD! – Is it just me, or is he EVEN HOTTER than he was in high school?"
That's right my friend – I had "spoken too soon" as the saying goes. Emily was just as worthy of my resentment and feelings of betrayal as she had been our senior year!
Somehow I managed to pry her arms loose from around my neck – but she was still talking – my smile got tighter and tighter feeling on my face, and my nostrils felt like they were flaring with hot coils of smoke. My eyes were narrowing into teeny, tiny, razor-blade-width slits.
Emily was oblivious and just gushed on, "Those muscles -- whoa! I've just been salivating whenever he is in the news –those cool pictures of him in handcuffs with that same cocky Derek smirk on his face – whoa! He still has that totally gorgeous bad boy thing going on. You know?! Only now he's a celebrity! And here he is – back in London! Oh I can't believe it! Back in the flesh! And speaking of flesh…do you think you could arrange to hook us up? Maybe invite me back to your place for the night or something?"
"Ummm…"
Oh I know. It isn't eloquent…it isn't witty…it isn't up to what I consider to be my usual snappy (yet completely observant and accurate) comebacks when I'm irritated.
But, what can I say? I was rendered speechless! Not JUST by Emily's presumption that I might actually help her to score with my stepbrother…score AGAIN I mean…"Oh Derek! …Derek!…Derek!" – (Ugh I think I'm going to puke).
No not just by this but ALSO by the fact that she said it IN FRONT OF Derek's extremely drunk, overtly possessive, itching to take her problems out on someone, live-in girlfriend, SALLY.
I mean, for all the times that Sally had "taken the high road" in the whole romantic jealousy game …
(but I spoke about this earlier – how, in my own humble opinion, her particular "high road" was actually a deeply seeded conceit that in the end, no man alive could resist doing what she wanted him to do)…
but for all those times… (and also because spending five months living with Derek had proven to her that …ummm…yes… apparently there WAS a man alive who could resist doing what she wants…even for no other reason than to, in fact, demonstrate that he could resist doing what she wants…and, trust me, no one on the face of the earth is better at demonstrating resistance to another person's wants than my charming stepbrother Derek!) …
But ANYWAY….
DESPITE all those previous times, Sally looked…no that isn't right…Sally WAS absolutely and undeniably ENRAGED by what Emily had blurted out to me!
Her face was beet red and her upper lip curled back. She dropped that fourth cup of "fruit punch" onto Ralph's shag carpeting, swung her blond hair over one shoulder, screamed "Think again slut!" and POUNCED on top of my former BFF!
OH. MY. GOD.
I clawed through the mass of partiers toward the clutch of admirers surrounding my stepbrother.
"DER-REK!"
A crack in the tight group of fanboys splintered at the sound of the voice, and Derek (who's expression had been an ungrateful mixture of bored and pompous ) looked towards me in alarm.
"Jeez Casey! What the hell is the matter?"
But at this point all I had to do was point, because the focus of the party had decidedly shifted.
Even the wondrous presence of Derek Venturi -- formerly JS Thompson Hockey God and currently Canada's Hockey Bad Boy -- couldn't compete with the sensational allure of …
"Dude! Check it out! CAT FIGHT!"
I rolled my eyes at whoever said that, and gave Derek a pointed look. "Go over there and DO SOMETHING."
Derek shrugged at me and turned his back on the ruckus. "YOU go do something if you care so much about it." He tipped his beer bottle to get a long drink. His eyes were on me the whole time – trying to determine what and if I might actually take his suggestion and "do something".
"Derek…" I sputtered. "I …ugh!...I cannot believe you! Two girls are over there fighting over you – GOD ONLY KNOWS WHY?! – and you and I BOTH know that you are the one they should be throwing punches at! You don't care about either of them! You used them!"
Derek narrowed his eyes at me, "I cared about them. I thought I sort of loved Sally once and Emily has always been my friend."
I scoffed at him. "Oh please! Even if that were true – you blew through so many girls before and after – even during them! Your actions – your slimy user actions – show how deep those feelings went."
I scoffed again. A flamboyant, disdainful scoff!
"Face it Derek; you USE girls for your own cheap, sexual thrills".
And of course I was thinking how I could include myself as one of those cheap thrills. Derek – that bastard!
(Too bad the whole thing between us was suddenly cut short before he could really get off. He probably didn't even count it as real sex.) Derek -- that pig!
"It's …disgusting…and…(Oh crap I could feel the tears running down my face) …and…WRONG!
Derek grabbed me by the arm and hauled me out the patio door to the Ralph's crappy uneven back porch.
There was a grill with charcoal glowing in it -- thank god – Canada is not a good place to just casually stroll outside on a winter night without your coat (and dressed in a slutty satin mini skirt and sweater camisole).
"Case, if you're trying to say that I used you that night…" he spit the words out angry and disgusted.
His hand was painfully gripping my arm and his eyes were taking me in – and not the ridiculous clothes I was wearing or my shivering body – me – the tears I was crying and the expression on my face. He always cut right through to the core of me like that.
"Case, If that is what you're trying to say then it's pretty low…and total bullshit. I didn't use you – that wasn't just some thing. That night has been ruining my life since it happened!"
"Oh give me a break Derek," I wished I wasn't crying when I said it, maybe sounded a little tougher or more calloused to what had happened between us five months ago. But tough and calloused have never been in my repertoire of emotions.
The whole day had been a disaster as far as I was concerned.
My family had rejected my leadership in planning the reunion. Derek had rejected me for Sally. I'd been forced out of my home (by severe emotional strain!) wearing only pajamas.
My former best friend was trying to use me as a pimp…
Not to mention… that I was sure at any moment I was going to die of hypothermia because I was standing outside on a snowy Canadian night dressed like a total whore…
I poked Derek's chest with one finger, angry and hurt.
"I can't believe that one ten minute encounter did anything at all to your life…" I accused.
His eyes burned into mine and his lips were pressed so tightly together that they were nearly white. For once I couldn't tell if he was angry or upset. He looked sort of sick actually.
"God Derek! You slept with nearly every girl in our high school. You even slept with my best friend! And last night I know that you slept with Sally – even after telling me that she just uses you…"
He definitely did look sick: he was trembling as bad as I was now.
He cut off my rant, "I'm not proud of any of that, Case. Not about last night and not about high school. I wasn't happy or anything while I did that stuff." He tried to put his arms around me but I pushed him off.
"Then why did you do it?" My voice was hoarse and filled with tears.
Derek didn't answer but just gave me the same burning stare.
Then he forced his arms around me and I was too cold to refuse him.
"Casey," his voice was gravely and sincere. "What the hell else could I do? What the hell else could I ever do?"
"What do you mean?" I asked pressing my face into his chest.
I think I knew what he meant though. I always knew, really.
And it would have been so much easier to take if I didn't know. I mean, Derek screwing everything that moved would have been so much easier to take if I hadn't been thinking of what might have been and knowing that he too was wondering what might have been – while neither of us could do anything about it.
We just couldn't…
We wouldn't…
"Don't try and tell me sleeping with all those girls didn't make you happy. I could hear you next door to me, you know. I heard you for three years." I looked up to glare at him.
And surprise, surprise…Derek wasn't grinning back at me with his evil, self-satisfied smirk for once.
"I can't explain it, Case. Maybe you just don't get it because you're a girl, or maybe you just don't get it because you're YOU…" He huffed the words
out –his breath was foggy between us.
"I mean…yeah…I had fun…I was…entertained…but I was never happy."
I sniffed. The cold air felt like knives inside my lungs, "Well I definitely wasn't happy."
"I know." He palmed my face. "I couldn't …I can't …do anything about that though…" His lips met mine and he kissed me hard – pressed us together so closely that I could feel his heart beating and his lungs fighting for air before we finally broke apart.
When we did break apart, I had to take a big shivering breath.
"Derek, " I gasped out. "You have to break things off with Sally. This is ridiculous! At least do that, Derek."
He was looking into my eyes and he looked a little less sick and a little more peaceful than I'd seen him since the night began.
"Please, Derek. You'll never be happy if you keep letting her sponge off you – if you never give yourself the chance to meet someone else." My voice broke at the last. Of course, I didn't want him to meet someone else.
But I knew what I told him was true…for the best. He couldn't move on with his life if he kept trying to make that horrible wreck of a relationship work…and I couldn't move on with my life if I thought he wasn't doing the same.
It was so sad.
You think it's sad too. Don't you? Hell, anyone would think so --
Derek leaned his forehead against mine. "Okay," he whispered.
It was a beautiful, sad, tragically romantic moment. And it belonged in a movie, or a romance novel, or maybe the Lifetime Television Channel for Women, but…unfortunately…it wasn't in any of those places.
It took place on the slanted, nearly falling apart, back porch of Ralph's crappy circa 1972 rental house.
And to further add to the unfortunate-ness of the beautiful, sad and tragically romantic moment…it was rather abruptly ended by none other than Sheldon Schleper!
"Venturi!" He sounded kind of …mad.
"The Schlep" (who hadn't changed one bit since high school and was even wearing one of those god-awful yellow and blue striped polo shirts he wore nearly every day at JS Thompson) had slammed the sliding glass door aside with a powerful THWACK, but then stumbled a little on the uneven wood planking. It caused him to more "stagger" than "stomp manfully" (at least I think it was a "manful stomp" he had been going for) as he made his way to stand imposing-ish-ish (maybe one more "ish") to face us.
Derek still had his arms around me and was rubbing his hands over my back, and I guess it could have looked like he was just trying to keep me warm. (Which would have been a nice normal stepbrotherly thing to do.) Of course there was no "nice normal" explanation for what we were doing alone out there in the dark in the first place. (Oh and don't forget that I'm dressed like a high-end truck stop hooker!)
"Ven….Venturi!" Now Sheldon sounded a little fearful on top of his "mad face" (add another "ish").
"I've had enough of your sadistic, self-serving treatment of the woman I love."
Derek looked at me with a vaguely confused expression on his face.
I leaned in to him. "Emily," I whispered out of the corner of my mouth.
Derek mouthed a silent, "Ah hah!" and nodded. He motioned with one hand for Sheldon to continue.
Sheldon looked a little sheepish in the face of Derek's nonchalance. "Well, that was all I had to say," he mumbled.
But …wait for it!...
(And give The Schlep his props) he hauled off and slugged Derek right in the face!
There was a chorus of gasps from the periphery of the porch (where Ralphs's nice toasty circa 1972 central heating would still be keeping the ogling spectators quite comfortable).
And I gasped too, of course. Even Sheldon gasped! – (shocked that he had taken this uncharacteristically rash action, I'm sure. )
Actually, the only person who seemed unfazed and unaffected…
… was Derek!
Sure, his head had snapped back a little (really only a very little) at the blow, and I could see his tongue sort of probe the inside of his cheek where Sheldon's fist had met it (but not really in a conscious way).
However, other than these two nearly undetectable actions, Derek seemed almost unaware that Sheldon had displayed any physical aggression against him at all.
"Sheldon, dude, it's good to see you. You look exactly the same." Derek's voice was completely casual, just a notch above the mostly bored tone he'd used with everyone that night – Chase Norlinds practically offering to drop to his knees and kiss his ass and Sheldon attacking him in a jealous rage were apparently of equal interest (and that means …very little interest) to him.
Sheldon was rubbing at his fist and looking scared. No doubt national news had reinforced for him that my stepbrother was still the loose cannon he'd always been – and no one would ever accuse Sheldon of being a stupid geek. "Uh…hey Derek," he attempted to offer back in a similarly casual tone.
"Oh my God! Sheldon!"
Emily stumbled out onto the porch to throw herself at Sheldon. She looked a little haggard; Sally had ripped one sleeve off her sequined top and yanked some of her hair out – or at least messed it up real bad? – Also, there was a scratch across one cheek that could only
have been made by Sally's talon-like French manicure.
"Are you okay?!" she panted dramatically. "I never meant for you get involved in this!"
(Even I had to roll my eyes – if that gives you a barometer for just how corny it had gotten on Ralph's back porch.)
But, then, Emily turned towards Derek and me with a look that was every inch the genuine and level-headed girl who had once lived next door to me and been my best friend at JS Thompson.
"I am really sorry about this. It's my fault. I was the one who was still nursing a ridiculous…" her voice trailed off as she seemed to perceive the way Derek was still holding me (he could have just been keeping me warm)…
and the obvious evidence of tears on my face (I might have been crying about something else…like the horrible circa 1970 décor of Ralph's rental house – trust me the gold Fleur-de-lis wallpaper alone could bring tears to anyone's eyes). ..
But the thing is …Emily knew both of us so well that neither or those paltry excuses would have worked longer than one second on her.
"…I…I never though Sheldon would …actually…do something …like…" Emily's voice trailed off again and her expression melted into sorrow.
Her eyes met mine, "Oh my God, Casey," she whispered. "I'm so sorry."
(But there was really no need at that point to whisper because her, me, Derek, Sheldon – we ALL knew what she was really feeling sorry for and most of the ogling spectators had already gotten bored with the lack of action and wandered back into the warmth to continue getting wasted.)
I choked a little sob out and nodded at her. I remembered that I couldn't really blame her – why I couldn't really blame her – and I actually felt a kind of kinship I hadn't before. Now she, just like me, just like Derek, knew what it was to be collateral damage to McDonald-Venturi family union. And that feeling sucked.
Derek's arms tightened around me and he pressed his face into my hair. "Let me take you home, Baby. This isn't really your scene anyway. " He pulled back to smirk at me. "Even if you are dressed perfectly for it," he said throwing my words from earlier that night back at me.
"Hey Sheldon, Do you think you can ask Sam to drive Sally home? I definitely don't want to deal with her right now."
"Yeah! No problemo, Der! I will get right on that!"
I wasn't sure if I expected to see Sheldon salute or morph into Edwin.
Derek was pretty subdued on the way home and even after we got there.
I went upstairs to melt away my problems in a steaming hot bath.
I think I poured an entire bottle of lavender bath crystals into the water because the label advertized it as having the power to "diminish stress".
I wanted my stress diminished down to a pinprick before Sam dropped off a drunk, beaten up Sally.
No such luck.
I had to cower in the cooling lavender bath water while she and Derek reenacted the previous night (only with additional punching of things and threats from my stepbrother …and interesting elaboration by Sally on Derek's illicit sexual activities : "and she said you told her you would pay her to pretend she was your sister! You want to screw little girls! You should be locked up!" )
Derek's defense on this point was that Sally was "not just insanely jealous but just plain insane" and that "anyway why would she listen to what some hooker had to say about him."
"You passed out and I had to PAY HER, Derek! Kinky shit like that COSTS EXTRA!"
My mouth was hanging open far enough to get a big swallow of lavender water. What exactly was Sally angry about here?!
She obviously hadn't put it together that the sister in that particular sex fantasy had NOT been Marti. It sounded like Sally was mostly angry about the additional expense!
I can't believe her! Doesn't she care about Derek AT ALL? !
I scrambled out of my lavender stress-diminishing bath ready to beat that bitch down! Too bad I only had a towel to wear and …I was panting to get myself under-control…Oh yeah…I don't believe in violence…
When I finally opened the door I was aloof and certain.
The two of them paused in their fighting to take in the novelty of my presence. (I guess the rest of the family decided it was easier to ignore that elephant in the room during the day, if they pretended not to hear it trumpeting and stamping during the night.)
"Derek, I don't see why Sally can't go back to her own house for the remainder of Winter Break. Her family must want her there and this arrangement is NOT working out."
Derek nodded at me and then looked at Sally again. "It's NOT working out at all," he agreed.
Sally's eyes got glassy and her bottom lip trembled. "What are you saying Derek?"
He looked on her with all the compassion of a hanging judge, "I think you know what I'm saying."
And that was pretty much the end of Sally.
LWD . LWD . LWD . LWD. LWD...
Day Four
…TBC