Ask her to get you ten pounds of Skittles. The Skittles must be divided into colors and placed in separate jars. But you want more reds than any other color. At least half a jar more.
Have her purchase you fifty number two pencils. Have her sharpen them just enough so they’re pointed but not too much where they’re splintering. Use them as a decoration for a day and then have her donate them to a local school, but she must receive a receipt of the donation.
Text her in the middle of the night that you need something, anything. Make her get it for you.
After each task, I expect you to take a picture and inform me that it’s been completed. Do not let her off the hook. Don’t let her skate by. I want you to make her life a living hell, got it?
And don’t forget the rules. Don’t forget why you’re doing this. And mainly, don’t forget that she’s completely off limits.
My eyes slowly lift as anger sears through me.
“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” I hop out of bed, all of my exhaustion fleeing as red-hot rage and adrenaline pulse through me. “Is this real?” I shake the paper at Sandie.
“It looks real to me.” She grabs it and scans the paper. “It’s printed out like a real email. Is that your dad’s real email?”
I snatch the paper again, looking over the email a few times. My eyes feel wild at the moment. When I realize that it is, my entire body breaks out into an angry sweat. “It is.” I toss the paper to the floor and start pacing the length of my tiny hole of a bedroom. “I can’t believe this.”
“What part can’t you believe?”
“All of it.” I toss my hands up in the air. “This is all a joke to him. To my dad. He’s not giving me a chance to prove to him that I can handle this. He’s trying to make me fail. That’s so . . . that’s so fucked up.”
“It is,” Sandie says softly. “I’m sorry, Wylie. You deserve better.”
“I do deserve better,” I reply. Hands on my hips, I stare down at the printed email as realization falls over me. “And he’s helping my dad.”
“Levi?” she asks.
I nod. “Yes. He’s helping him.” I look up at her. “All this insane shit that he’s made me do. The bagels. The writing of the goddamn book. The stain. The pencils. That’s all because of my dad’s direction. Direction that Levi is taking. Why would he listen to my dad? Why would he be a part of this?”
“Well, according to the email, it seems as though there’s a reason he’s doing this.” She picks up the paper and reads, “Remember why you’re doing this. Maybe . . . I don’t know . . . maybe he knew who you were that night and is pissed that you took off and is now trying to get back at you.”
I whip around to look at Sandie. “There’s no way he knew who I was, unless . . . do you think my dad saw us and confronted Levi after? Maybe Dad has been holding this over his head, and they’ve come together to get me back.”
“That seems very calculated,” Sandie says. “But also, slightly plausible.”
“Wow.” I shake my head as I cross my arms and sit back down on the bed. “I can’t fucking believe this. Here I thought I was actually getting a chance to do something different with my life, and it turns out it’s all a freaking setup. A setup to try to get me to do something I don’t want to do.”
“And I think we all know that you don’t do things you don’t want to do.”
“That’s correct.” Not to mention that my dad doesn’t care whether I fail or succeed. Why? Why would he do that? What parent deliberately sets up their only child to feel bad about herself? I lean against the headboard, feeling so incredibly hurt. So angry. So horrified at the fact that my dad thinks this is all a game. This isn’t a game. This is my life. And it’s about time he realizes he can’t control me anymore.
I run my tongue over my teeth, my mind whirling.
“Do you want to talk about what’s going on in your head? Because I can see you thinking over there, and I don’t want you to spiral.”
“It just sucks,” I say, my throat growing tight. “He’s never trusted me to make smart decisions for my life. He’s always controlled me. What school I went to. What I majored in. The people I hung out with. And now this. It’s just him tightening his grasp on me, and I’m done. I don’t want to be his puppet anymore. The leading player in his game.”
“Then don’t be.”
I shake my head. “I’m not going to.” I pull my legs into my chest. “And here I thought Levi was feeling bad about the things he was making me do. I thought I saw a shred of doubt in his eyes.”
“Maybe you did. Maybe he’s not fully in on this plan. I mean, the email does seem pretty threatening. Maybe he didn’t have a choice.”
“There’s always a choice,” I say as I hug my knees and work my jaw to the side, a thought coming into my head.
Sandie notices. “What’s the evil look on your face for?”
“There’s no evil look.”
“Uh, yeah, there is. You went from sad to conniving in seconds.”
“I was just thinking, if they can play, why can’t I?”
“Oh boy, what do you mean by that?”
I sit up taller. “Well, I don’t want to give this up. This place to live, this job, because it is money and gives me the opportunity to do what I want to do. I will admit that it’s a pretty decent setup so I can get my feet on the ground and get myself established. But what if . . . what if I had fun with it?”
“Like get the wrong bagels?”
“That, but so much more.” Excitement pulses through me as an idea formulates in my head. “There’s chemistry between Levi and me. It’s obvious from the way I catch him checking me out and blatantly obvious from the night we first met. Also, he’s told me he finds me incredibly attractive, so what if I use that to my advantage to torture him?”
“Oh dear God,” Sandie says as I snatch the email from her.
“Look, right here at the bottom, it says, don’t fuck her. My dad distinctly warned Levi against such behavior, so what if I make it impossible for him not to fuck me?”
Sandie rubs her temples. “You know, I think we could go a different direction. I think we could have a constructive conversation with your father and then with Levi and let them know you’re disappointed in both of them.”
I shake my head. “No, they want to battle? Well, this is war now. My dad wants to teach me a lesson? Well, I’m going to teach him one. That lesson being don’t mess with me.” Feeling empowered, I continue, “I’m going to prove to him that despite his negativity and lack of belief in me, I can make a career out of what brings me joy. And Levi, well, he’s going to learn the hard way that I’m not one to mess with either. He’s going to learn very quickly what he’s missing out on by helping my dad.”
Sandie slowly nods. “And you’re not up for a conversation?”
“Sure, is that the adult thing to do? Probably, but what will it actually accomplish? I tried having a conversation with my dad before all of this, and this is where we ended up. It’s not going to do anything. I have to show him with action.”
“And Posey?” she asks.
“He made me get bagels at one in the morning, two nights in a row, and didn’t even eat them. Payback is a bitch.”
She shrugs. “Yeah, that sucks. What exactly does payback entail?”
“Erotic torture,” I say, staring at the wall.
She laughs. “I think that’s a first I’ve heard for payback. Erotic torture, okay, tell me what that entails.”
“Ohhh, I don’t think you’re ready for this,” I say, feeling slightly crazed.
“I’m ready,” she says, rubbing her hands together. “Lay it on me.”
Leaning forward, I paint her a picture. “Erotic torture is the apex of blue ball-ism.”
“Did you make up that word?”
“Perhaps,” I reply. “Erotic torture is a fine art, a master class in corrupting unsuspecting cocks.”
“Ehh, are you okay?” she asks.
“Never been better,” I say as my eyes go wild. “Envision this . . . me, no bra, just a tank top, walking around his space, flirting with him, touching him, resting my hardened nipple on his forearm. Driving him so crazy with need, with lust, that he’ll walk around with a constant hard-on. He wakes up with one, works out with one, plays his games with one. Hard-on after hard-on after hard-on. And no amount of dingo dangling with it will the hard-on become flaccid. He will be hard for the ages.” I move my hand across the sky, staring up at the ceiling.
Sandie is silent for a second. “A few comments. Dingo dangling is a first for me. I’m not sure where that came from, but it will never leave my head. Ever. Second, using the word flaccid, was that by choice?”
“Dingo dangling was a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants terminology,” I say. “And flaccid, yes, that was by choice. Nothing is sadder than a flaccid dick.”
Sandie slightly nods. “Agreed, and hey, this plan, it seems like fun, but what happens when he cracks? Because I have a feeling he will.”
“Then I win . . . in multiple ways.” I wink.
“And the end goal?”
I smile at my friend. “To show these men that women are not their puppets.”
“And what are we?” she asks.
“Strong, confident, smart, and in no need for a penis to dictate our future.” I raise my fist to the sky, feeling drunk off power.
“Well, if that’s the case, then I’m all in. What can I do to help?”
I stare at my friend and smile. “I need to borrow some of your shirts.”
“Why? They’re way too small for your chest size.”
I smile at her. “Exactly.”
Levi: I know this might sound crazy, but can you get more bagels tonight?
I stare down at his text, my teeth grinding together as I read his request over and over. The freaking audacity. Oh, he’ll be getting his bagels. He’ll have so many bagels he won’t know what to do with them.
Wylie:Not a problem. Same count and type?
Levi:Yeah, and can you freeze them?
Wylie:Not a problem. I don’t know how much room is left in the freezer, but I’ll shift some things around.
Levi:Thank you.
Wylie:Anything for you . . . Mr. Posey. And good luck tonight.
Levi:It’s Levi. And thanks.
Wylie: Anything I can help you with today? Your pencils have been sharpened and are beautifully displayed on the dining room table. Skittles have been sorted and are waiting for consumption. I’m almost done with the book, and I must say, Vermont is such an interesting state. I can’t wait to discuss it with you over a bagel when you get back. Oh, and I took it upon myself to fold all your underwear a certain way to fit better in your dresser.
Levi:Wow, you’ve been busy. Thanks. The underwear sounds interesting. Can’t wait to see what you’ve done with it. And as for other tasks, yeah, do you think you could pull all my laundry out of my drawers and rewash it all, fold it, and put it away? I love walking into my closet and smelling fresh clothes when I get home.
Wylie:I know the smell you’re referring to. Delicious. Sure thing. Want me to add some fabric softener? I saw that you don’t have any.
Levi:That would be awesome. Thanks. And how did that stain come out?
Wylie:Perfect, looks brand new. Get ready to do your best eating.
Levi:Wow, I’m impressed.