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Cherry’s Jubilee (Lunchtime Chronicles: Season 7) Chapter 6 22%
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Chapter 6

Cherry

I can lay her out easily. I’m a couple of inches taller, and she’s out of shape and weak. Yet I want to hear what’s going to spill from her lips.

"A man like that will never be serious about you,” she says. “I mean, look at you.” She eyes me up and down. “Flat-chested as a teenage boy.” I cross my arms and laugh in her face.

“Thanks for the warning,” is all I say. “And hasn’t anyone ever told you it’s not nice to body shame? And maybe he’s an ass man. Have you ever thought about that?”

“You’re going to look like a bigger fool than you already do. I’m only looking out for you and our family. Haven’t your branch already brought enough shame?”

“What is this? Nineteen-thirty?” I inch closer. “Shame upon your houses,” I say, effecting the worst British accent. “Stay out of my business, Ashley. Since I don’t plan on seeing you again after today, you won’t have to worry about shame. And as for my chest, I bet I can put an entire tit in his mouth.”

“Oh, God,” she says with a dismissive shake. “Classy as always, huh? Never seeing me again? Where have I heard that before? If only you would follow through.”

“I’m here for my sister, not you. And because I know your snakelike behavior is inherited, I’m positive your mother will screw her over and not pay her. ”

Her head rolls back as if I just slapped her. “Don’t talk about my mother.”

“I just did. Are we done here? If so, slither back to Mommy, okay?”

“All of this because I took Rob from you.” She cocks her head to the side and looks me up and down. She has the same smug look as her mother, and I ache to smack her.

“Took him from me? Honey, it’s so sad that you’ve always been so fucking stupid.” She purses her lips shut again, but her nostrils flare at the insult. She’s always been a shitty student. She’s done okay only because her parents got her tutors. “Did you ever ask Rob why I was with him at the coffee shop that night? Or did you have your mouth full when you were on your knees in front of him?”

She inches closer, and so do I. “What I do with my fiancé is none of your damn business.” She shakes her head and tosses her hair around. “And I know why you were with him at a coffee shop on a Saturday night. I don’t need to ask him. Besides, why would I waste my time asking about you? By the way, he never mentioned you again. He never said your name. Not once. And I’m getting married, and you’re not.”

“And you think marriage is some coup? You think he never says my name because you fucked and sucked him so good he forgot about me?”

She doesn’t answer but tilts her head as if in victory. I look at her before I throw my head back and laugh. I laugh so hard that the smug look gets wiped off her face. It’s quickly replaced with anger.

“God, you’re fucking stupid. How the hell do you even tie your own shoes? Stay in your lane, Ashley. The girl who failed freshman algebra has no business solving problems. I’d feel sorry for you if you weren’t so vile, but as always, you’re wrong. Rob called me many times. We met up many, many times after that night where you think you stole him from me.” I see color creep into her cheeks. Her nostrils flare, and I see something in her eyes. When she sticks her snobby nose in the air, it’s all fake bravado. I know she’s trying to keep it together .

I didn’t know this about Ashley when we were kids, but she’s incredibly insecure—always has been—and her mother has fostered that insecurity.

Whenever she tried to compete with me, she lost. Her greatest victory is that she thinks she took Rob, but what she doesn’t know is that Rob is no victory. He was never mine for her to take.

“I was his tutor, Ashley. I know you know what a tutor is.” She blushes. She’s always needed help with her schoolwork. I didn’t. I was the one who helped others, and that’s the one thing Karen could not try to take from me. “I was tutoring him in math, you moron. I also tutored him in corporate finance. Both one and two,” I toss. “ That’s what you walked in on. I was never interested in him. Unlike you, I like smart men, and Rob is about as smart as you are. God bless any kids you two will have.” I eye her up and down. “But congratulations. It feels good to know that I’m such a factor in your marriage. I hope you think of me on your wedding night.” I turn and walk away from her after firing that last shot.

I return to the bar, and when I turn back to look at her, she’s standing there with her mouth hanging open. I can practically see the steam shooting out of her ears. I give her another smug look before I look away from her. After a few moments, she stomps away.

“I’m going back upstairs and going to bed,” I announce to Solange and Kirby now that we’re done with brunch. “And I’m not helping you two clean up.” I push my plate away and stand.

“What about your hot date tonight?” Solange asks as she starts to clear the table. I snort at her question.

Daniel Jubilee left soon after my last confrontation with Ashley. When we were done talking, his back was to me, and he was on the phone. A few minutes later, he said he had a family emergency, gave me a rushed goodbye, and said he’d be in touch. He reached across the bar and rested his hand on mine. It was only for a brief moment, but I can still feel the heat of his touch on my hand. It’s like he burned and scarred me.

“I’m gonna nap, then get up and shave so I can be ready for that huge Jubilee dick,” I say with an eye-roll.

“The dick itself is a celebration,” Kirby says.

“Jubalacious,” Solange sings out.

“It ain’t happening. We didn’t exchange numbers. He said goodbye and left. That was it.” But he turned around and looked at me at least three times on his way out.

“Well, I’m going to need you to get in touch with him then,” Kirby says. “He can get us some damn work; otherwise, this business is going to fail before it begins.

“I’ll get right on that,” I say. I hug my sister and Kirby, take my plate of leftovers, and leave their apartment.

We didn’t leave the party until after eleven last night, and I’m exhausted. I yawn three times on my way to my apartment. When I get there, I put my food in the fridge and drop myself face-first onto my bed.

It’s a small apartment. Only one bedroom, a small kitchen, and one tiny bathroom. That’s all I need. Kirby and Solange have a two-bedroom, but we rent six other units in the building. It’s in a great location close to the train, so I see why Ashley and her mother were peeved that we got it. All the units are rented, and we collect great income. The building is paid off, and all we have to worry about are taxes and maintenance.

After toeing off my shoes, I climb under the covers and fall asleep, seeing light brown eyes, dark hair, and a firm jawline.

I hit ignore for the third time in the past hour. It’s the same number, and I’m certain it’s spam. It’s been calling me all week, and I’m sick of it. I don’t answer strange numbers on my personal phone. All I know is that it’s Friday, Ginger is coming over, and we’re going to find something on Netflix to binge while we eat takeout from our favorite Asian fusion place. She’s bringing the food, I’m mixing the drinks, and all is right with the world. As soon as she gets here, I’m shutting my phone off.

About half an hour later, Ginger walks in, holding the brown paper bag, and my mouth waters. I make my usual strong margarita while she surfs Netflix.

“So, you never heard from him?” she asks, and I know exactly who she’s talking about. She’s asked every day since Sunday, and I’ve told her the same thing.

“No, and I don’t want to talk about it. You know how full of shit men are.” She nods in agreement, and I bite my tongue, not saying how disappointed I’ve been about not hearing from him. I’d die before I’d admit that because I’m not the type of girl who thinks a relationship is a requirement to be happy. My single life is perfect. I have my best girlfriend, my sister, and the best brother-in-law in the world. My life is complete, and I don’t need the confines of a relationship, especially with a man who is probably very complicated.

“Girl, we should just marry each other,” Ginger says. “I can get on your benefits because yours are better than mine.” She props herself on my couch, and I bring the plates and drinks. We clink and just as I sit down, there’s a loud, obnoxious knock on my door. I know it’s not my sister or Kirby. They’re out, and they usually walk in. They would not show me the courtesy of a knock. I only knock on their door now because I walked in on Kirby doing her doggy style a few months ago.

“Ugh,” I groan while I get up again. “Who is it?” I yell out with a bit of an attitude. “We already know Jesus!” Ginger snorts so hard that some of her drink sprays out of her mouth.

“It’s Daniel,” he says through the door.

I look over at Ginger, who is sitting there frozen with her drink halfway to her mouth.

“Who?” I ask, still unsure if I heard him right.

“Daniel Jubilee,” he says again. “Remember me? I work at the company that was stupid enough not to hire you.”

I stare at my best friend, and she gives me an I told you so stare. I look down at myself. I’m in Christmas leggings and a long, red shirt. It’s May, and I look a mess. I run a hand through my hair, and that’s the only decent thing about me. I straightened it Sunday night and it still looks good.

“Um, this is—” I stop, unable to think of what to say. I’d given up on the idea of ever seeing him again. I figured he was flirting and probably forgot about me the moment he left the party. Maybe he became hypnotized by Amira’s tits and forgot I existed.

Ginger shakes her head sadly at me and walks to the door. She opens it before I can push her away, and he walks in without an invitation.

He’s dressed in a dark blue suit, white shirt, and no tie. That five o’clock shadow is as perfect as it was Saturday when we met. He looks even more handsome today. And he’s taller than I remember, but I’m barefoot now. He also looks tired as he stands before me and looks down.

He shocks me when he cups my face and runs a thumb along my cheek.

“Hi,” he says softly. I close my eyes and feel his touch. I don’t remember the last time a man touched me like this, and I miss it. “You should answer your phone sometime,” he says .

“Oh, she barely answers when I call,” Ginger says. “And I’m the most important person in her life. And you’re right. Your company fucked up big time.”

“How did you get my number?” I ask. He never asked for it, and I sure as hell didn’t offer to give it to him. I know Ashley never would, but the man is loaded. If he wants my number, he can get it.

“You interviewed at my company. All I had to do was contact Human Resources,” he says.

“Then why hasn’t my girl heard from you in a week? You made a date for Sunday and today is Friday,” Ginger says. She even crosses her arms while she waits for his answer.

“I can explain,” he says. That’s when I notice that he has something under his arm. He pulls it out, and it’s a pink, stuffed pig. “I brought you the whole pig,” he says with a grin. He waves it in front of me, and I take it.

“I think that—”

“I’m going to help her get ready,” Ginger says, cutting off whatever I was going to say next. I guess I’m grateful because I have no idea what I was going to say.

Ginger wraps her hand around my wrist and pulls. She’s always been strong, so I’m halfway down the short hall into my tiny bedroom. She slams the door behind us, takes the stuffed pig, and throws it on the bed.

“I don’t want to hear any shit from you,” she says as she lifts my shirt over my head. “That man is fine. He’s here, and I don’t give a damn what his reason is for being five days late; you’re going out with him. He might be a day late, but we know for a fact he’s not a dollar short.” She pushes me on the bed and starts to pull off my leggings.

“Will you get off me?” I say. “The man—”

“The man is fine, rich and he’s here,” she repeats. “Besides, think about how much this will fuck Ashley up. Right out there,” she says, pointing at the door, “could be your next boyfriend. Hell, he could be your husband. And you better go so you can introduce me to one of his rich friends.”

“Boyfriend? Husband? Have you lost your mind, Ginge? And you know I don’t give a damn about Ashley. If I go, it will have nothing to do with her,” I say.

“ If you go? You’re going. I’m not Ashley, bitch. I will beat your ass, but fine. Don’t do it to get back at her. Just go. The Ashley thing will be gravy, and you know how much I love gravy.”

She puts a brush in my hand. “Here. Do something with that.” She points at my head. “I’m going to find you an outfit.”

“But we have plans,” I remind her. “Food. Netflix.”

“Our plans just changed.”

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