The Chickeniest Chicken Who Ever Lived

After a long, hard week of chasing skips and hauling them back to the pokey, letting off a little steam with my best girlfriends sounded good. That's why, when Lula said we were going out to a new club that had just opened, I was looking forward to getting a little drunk and a lot crazy.

My bank account has been doing much better these days, ever since I took my head out of my ass and got the training I desperately needed. Lula and I both had and now we take all the low and medium skips. Joyce is still sniffing around Vinnie's office, eliciting those alarming animal noises, so Connie takes great delight in handing off some of the crazier low-bond skips to her. I haven't seen Punky Balog's fat, furry, greasy ass in ages, and Simon Diggery was a distant memory. But we sure had fun laughing at Joyce's attempts to bring them in.

I visited Mr. Alexander, who almost always managed to tame my hair into something that wouldn't frighten small children and came out feeling like a million bucks. My curls were framing my face softly, and I sweet-talked Mary at the Clinique counter in the mall into a free makeover. I bought a new red dress that came to mid-thigh and hugged my newly toned curves. The pièce de resistance was my killer new FMPs, a pair of strappy red sandals with four-inch heels. They made my legs look endless, and they were actually comfortable! Well, okay, not comfortable, but I could handle them tonight as long as I sat down occasionally.

Lula, Connie, Mary Lou, and I would meet at Heat at ten o'clock. Lula said we should all drive our own cars, just in case any of us got lucky. Mary Lou joked she was already lucky and was guaranteed to get laid tonight, and none of us had anything to say to that except 'Lucky Bitch.'

Morelli and I have been done for nearly a year now, and despite Batman's threat-slash-promise that he'd ruin me for all other men and be back in my bed before it got too cold, he hadn't made good on that. Instead, I've been focusing on self-improvement, squashing my feelings and jelly-doughnut hormones under a layer of badassery.

I even moved to a new apartment. Two months ago, the old lady who lived above me fell asleep while running a tub full of water, and the ceiling caved in above my bathroom. I know, you'd think I'd be happy that finally, finally, the hideous 70s brown and orange bathroom would be replaced, but it would take a couple of months to get fixed. So, armed with a security deposit and a dream, I set out to find my new oasis. I did, too. It was in a newer brick building, and the apartment was nicely modern. Rangeman provided security; if that wasn't coincidence enough, it was on Haywood, a few blocks from the Rangeman building itself! The rent was decent, and it was the nicest building I'd seen, so it was a no-brainer to sign a year's lease under a fake name, since I was a lot more private with my information these days too. My new furniture was not going to get destroyed by firebombs, no sir.

At nine-thirty, I headed to my new-to-me car, a 2017 Ford Escape. It was the newest car I'd ever had. It's also the longest I'd managed to hold onto a car since my old Miata was repossessed.

I parked at the club and opened the group text with my friends. Mary Lou and Connie were already here, and Lula was five minutes away. Well, her dictation said, 'fibre minutes away,' but I worked out what it meant.

I met Connie and Mary Lou at my car, and we decided to wait for Lula to show up before we attempted entry into the club. Connie was dressed to enhance her best assets in a tight, low-cut dress and five-inch FMPs, and Lou was wearing a black miniskirt and navel-baring sweater in an emerald green that matched her eyes. If you didn't know her, you'd never know she has three boys. She says she keeps the weight off by chasing after them, but I know she also spends a lot of time in the 'Burg community pool swimming laps.

Lula arrived a few minutes later and parked next to me. When she alit from her Firebird, her ensemble knocked all six of our eyes out of our heads. It was a bright yellow minidress with diamond-shaped cutouts beneath her breasts, all the way down to her navel. Her hair was styled in a big afro tonight, and she looked fantastic. Her body was much more toned these days, too, thanks to the workout regime we had begun nine months ago.

When we got to the front of the club, I was pleasantly surprised to see a familiar face manning the door. Vince was wearing an earpiece, holding a clipboard, and when he saw us, his eyes lit up, and he beckoned us over.

After our chorus of hellos, he said brightly, "hey, Bomber! Ladies. You all look smokin' hot tonight. Come on in." He detached the velvet rope and glared at anyone stupid enough to protest. I kissed his cheek as I passed, and he said, "have fun!" Vince was one of my favourite Merry Men. He ate food other than twigs and berries and could hold a conversation that bordered on the loquacious if you got him in the right mood with a doughnut first.

We were immediately swallowed up by the crowd inside, and the music was thumping. We communicated our plan to each other with hand signals and head nods and threaded our way through the crowd to the main bar on the back wall. We ordered four fuzzy navel shots and four Long Island iced teas. After slamming our shots, we picked up our drinks and did a lap around the club. We managed to snag a table and sat down to have some of our drinks before taking them to the dance floor.

Two hours later, I was sweaty with sore feet, a little drunk, but happy. I'd flirted with some men, though I was not interested in anything beyond that little bit of harmless fun. I promised myself a year ago that the next man I had sex with would be someone I loved, who loved me. While marriage and kids may not be my final destination, a committed, healthy relationship was my goal.

We collapsed onto some tall stools that abutted the dance floor and gratefully drank the water Mary Lou had procured. Connie said, "Steph, who was that major hottie all over you out there?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. He was cute but wasted and kind of dumb. Not interested in that."

Mary Lou frowned. "You haven't been interested in anyone since you and Morelli split. You have to move on sometime."

I laughed. "I moved on from Joe about a week after our breakup. But my next relationship will not be just sex, takeout and a hockey game. I'm waiting for something special."

Lula interjected, "what's going on with Batman? He loves you, girl."

"He might, but not much more than as a friend to have sex with occasionally. I don't want that either."

Connie spoke up, "he loves you more than that."

I shook my head sadly. "I hoped so, but no. He's had a year to make a move, and he hasn't except for some kissing in the alley."

"Some super hot kissing," mumbled Lula while Connie nodded energetically.

"That man could melt my panties off," said Connie, fanning her face.

Mary Lou smiled. "Steph, you've worked so hard over the past year to change your life. You're more confident in every way except this one. Have you ever told him how you feel about him? Maybe he's waiting for you. He's not the one who has been in a yo-yo'ing relationship with someone else for the past three years."

"We don't know that," I grumbled.

She shrugged. "True, we don't know. But maybe he's been waiting for you to make your move. So why haven't you?"

With my three closest girlfriends all nodding and agreeing with that sentiment, I felt a little cornered. But Lou was right. I have come so far this past year. While Ranger had told me he loved me before, even when it was couched in disclaimers, I had never told him I loved him too. During my tipsy musings, Lula went to the bar and returned with four more shots. After downing them, I pulled my phone from my bag and hit the speed dial 1 for Ranger. They each looked on eagerly as the phone rang in my ear. Four rings later, the voicemail clicked on, and the briefest recording in the world invited me to leave a message.

"Talk."

"Hi, Ranger, it's Steph. I'm with the girls. You know, Mary Lou and Connie and Lula. Those girls. Anyhoo, they are staring at me and made me realize I am a big, fat chicken. I'm the chickeniest chicken who ever lived. So I put on my big girl panties, even though chickens don't wear panties, and now I need to tell you something. I love you. Even though you make me so mad sometimes, and I don't get to see you as much as I want to, I still love you. I wish you loved me as I love you, but they said I had never told you I love you, so here I am telling you. Okay? Now I told you. Goodbye." I hung up. My eyes widened in horror, and suddenly, I felt stone-cold sober, except for the spinning room. "Shit!" I exclaimed.

Connie, Lula, and Lou were all grinning. "That needed to be done, Steph," said Mary Lou. "At least you won't be left in limbo once he reacts. You can move on if it's not meant to be."

I don't know exactly how I got home, but after a quick peek out the window, I determined my car was not in my parking space. Whew! I'll take an Uber to pick it up once the conga drum stops sounding in my head.

I groaned and flopped back into bed, covering my eyes with my hands. I sniffed the air. Is that the Cure I smell? I opened an eye and looked around, trying to keep my head still.

Ranger was standing in my bedroom doorway, holding a McDonald's bag and carrying a large Coke.

"You gonna live, Babe?" he asked in a low tone.

I groaned and closed my eye.

"Come on, Babe. Come into the kitchen. You'll feel a lot better after you have your cure." He put the bag under his arm and held his free hand to me. He grasped my arm, sliding his hand down to capture mine, then pulled gently until I was upright. He propelled me down the short hallway to the kitchen, then set the Cure down on the kitchen table. "Sit," he said, gingerly pushing me into a chair. "Eat."

He sat across from me and watched amusedly as I stuffed my face with fries and slurped down the Coke. When I began to feel better, the details of last night's drunken voicemail came to me. "Since you came over with the Cure, I guess you must've gotten my voicemail," I said, slightly raspy.

He nodded in affirmation. "I did; sorry I didn't pick up. I was with the guys doing a takedown in Philly. When I tried to call you back, there was no answer. When I got back to town, you were already at home and, I assume, sleeping. I didn't want to disturb you, so I thought I'd bring you some reinforcements this morning."

I nodded gratefully. "Thank you."

"Do you want to talk about your voicemail?" he asked hesitantly. "Did you mean it?"

I closed my eyes and let out a sigh. Avoiding Denial Land is part of adulting. "Yeah. I did," I said softly, keeping my eyes closed.

I felt him take my hands in his across the table. "Babe? Look at me."

I opened my eyes and gazed across the table. His blank face was nowhere in sight, and the look in his eyes was something I didn't think I'd ever seen before and was sure I would never see. Love. Beautiful and hopeful love.

"I love you too, Babe."

The End.