Emily Uncensored Book 1: The Neighbors Read online

  She is a good person, just a little too fake for me now. She grew up in the same neighborhood as me, in a Jewish household with six siblings. She was invested in being my friend, but instead of wanting to rebel against the white picket fencing, she now helps build it. She is my mother and my grandmother and all the women I can only be around for ten minutes at a time. But, she is still cool underneath and I like it. She is loud and average looking. But smiles a lot and has a great rack. At least those are the contributing factors I see in her.

  “Becky, hey. Let’s get fucked up.” These are the first words I say to her after two years, because I am trying to figure out if she is still the same. She looks at Dustin and squeezes his hand. He smiles and I look around wondering if I should tell them about the weed I scored from Mike.

  I decide not to.

  She is not the Becky from High School.

  She probably even has kids.

  I heard Dustin and Becky had a fling for a while, but didn’t realize they were still dating. No biggy (I say to myself as I shrug my shoulders in my mind, in sort of a pouting motion). I was only with Dustin for seven years. I let him go. My choice.

  “So how are you two?” I chug what’s left in my glass. The room is getting loud and I can hear people calling Becky’s name.

  “Would you excuse me for one second? I am just dying to talk with you, but I have to say my formal hellos, you know how it is.” Becky smiles and hands her glass to Dustin.

  We both watch her walk away. The energy that woman has is unbelievable.

  “She’s got moves Dustin, nice choice.” I say sarcastically. He runs his hands through his blonde hair and slicks it back. He is taller and tanner than I remember. He smiles and finishes what is left in her glass. We step outside.

  “Emily, I really wasn’t expecting to see you here. I guess I am sort of stunned.”

  “Dustin, it’s my parent’s house you are at you realize?” I smile and he chuckles.

  “No, I know but, I mean, you just left and you haven’t been back. I mean I guess that was the whole point right?”

  I stare at him for a moment, taking him in, but trying to not seem obvious. This is a good distraction from my previous problem, the stalker. “I need a drink before we start down this road.”

  Dustin looks around “Sounds like a sensible move.”

  We head into the kitchen, through the side door, to bypass the old men smoking and talking politics. I reach into the fridge this time and pull out two beers from the back. We sit up on the kitchen counter. The light is off, and the servers are working out in the dining area. The food is set up on the island and the swinging door to the kitchen is closed.

  “So tell me the deets man. I mean how did you get so tan?” Dustin laughs at my comment.

  “Becky and I just got back from South America.” He takes a sip of beer.

  “Wow, so you guys are serious. When did you start…?”

  Dustin stops me with a hand gesture.

  “Look, Emily you can’t judge me, I mean you just left. Becky was there for me and, it just happened naturally. You just, do whatever you want, whenever you want…”

  Now I interrupt him. “Ok, I am sorry, we don’t have to talk about it.” I drink a few gulps.

  “I guess we both deserve an explanation.” I look at him and we lock eyes for a moment but I pull mine away first.

  “No, Dustin, I don’t need an explanation from you. But Becky might, if you sit in here with me for too long.” Dustin hops off of the counter and turns to face me from the ground. He puts one hand on my leg. My bare leg. I get a shooting sensation up my back. I forgot what he was like. I had blocked him out.

  “I hope you realize something.” He sounds so dark and mysterious. I lean in to hear what is so important. He continues. “I could still take you in Mario Kart with one hand tied behind my back.” I sit up and smile. His hand is still on my leg.

  “Ya, I bet you don’t get too much Mario Kart nowadays huh?” He rolls his eyes and starts to leave the kitchen. I catch him before he opens the door.

  I contemplate my next move because it could turn out to be one of those Emily moments that ruin a perfectly good relationship, however I decide to go through with it.

  “Hey! I have some weed.” He stops and looks at me. He squints and walks back over.

  “You want to smoke weed at your parents Christmas party?” He takes a couple steps towards me and puts his hands in his pockets.

  “I really can’t think of a better time.” I say and I hop down to his level. “I really need a distraction.” I head back out the side door to the backyard. At this point I don’t really care if he follows me or not. In fact he should probably check on Becky and her gang of women folk, but he does follow me. I knew that he would.

  14

  Hot Mess

  It’s dark in my room as we search for something to smoke with. Our hands bump into one another and at one point my head smacks his. I turn on the bathroom light. We find some tin foil and a pencil sharpener. Dustin remembered his roots and somehow came up with a brilliant way to puff the peacemaker.

  We do.

  And I am starting to feel relaxed. We turn on Mario Kart in the upstairs game room. I forgot how spoiled I was as a child. Not many kids get a game room all to themselves. This is probably why I am so selfish. Damn, I am reflective lately!

  We play our game, and the Christmas music downstairs is on and we can hear it through the floor. People are talking, but as the smoke fills my lungs, all of the outside ruckus fades away and I become Miss Peach. I am a badass at this game, I forgot how much fun it was. Time passes. My phone rings. It is Jonathan.

  I pick it up “Hey sexy, what’s up?”

  Dustin loudly asks “Who’s that?”

  I hold the phone away and tell him to “shhhhhh” and put the phone back under my ear and pick up where I left off, killing it with Peaches.

  “Who are you with Emily?” Jonathan asks. Oh, of course he does, I realize, because he is a possessive stalker who has “claimed me”.

  “Oh, that’s just Dustin, my ex!” I say, just to make him jealous because after all, what the hell is he going to do about it? He’s across the country with his wife! Hah! I think I’ve got him tongue tied, when right then, my foggy mind receives a message loud and clear.

  “Your parents’ house is always so stunning at Christmas time.” He says. I instantly sober up. I drop my controller and hold the phone with my hand. Dustin gives me an off look.

  “Are you ok?” Dustin asks, but I don’t think he is sobering up anytime soon.

  I hang up the phone and look outside the window of the game room which is towards the front of the house. I can’t see anyone. What the fuck is Jonathan talking about? Is he here? Dustin is still playing the game.

  “Come back Emily, I’m beating your ass so bad!”

  “Ugh, Dustin, you should go, I bet Becky is looking for you.” My heart is pounding, my hands are literally shaking. I don’t think I’m scared, I’m nervous, there is a difference right? I start to yell at Dustin

  “Dustin, he’s going to fucking kill you, you should go!” I don’t know if it’s just really shitty weed making me act like this or some psychological mind-spell that Jonathan has me under, but I am straight up freaking out! I snatch the controller out of Dustin’s hands and he stands up.

  “What the hell?” he snaps at me. I put my hand on my forehead, I feel weird.

  “I don’t know, sorry I just need some air.”

  This is the part that I can’t control and even though I feel badly, it was all out of my hands at this point. My knees go weak and I start to fall, but Dustin grabs me and holds me up. I start to stand and he kisses me. I pull away but it’s too late.

  Right then Becky walks in with a “What the fuck!?” As she squints her eyes trying to adjust them to the dark room. I immediately become very aware of what is happening and I pull away.

  “Becky wait!” Dustin calls out to her and he runs after he
r, out the door and into the bright light. I guess he’s sober now too. I run after them leaving the game on, and my phone on the floor.

  Becky runs down the staircase yelling profanities back at Dustin which are muffled by the loud Christmas music. I am following behind, for no other reason than to check the front door in case Jonathan just happens to be as crazy as I think he is. Becky gets to the bottom of the stairs and turns and slaps Dustin across the face in front of all of our guests. I freeze, and contemplate making my way back up the stairs.

  I slowly start backing up when Becky points at me and yells “And YOU! You bitch!”

  Only half of the guests realize what is happening, the other half are either too intoxicated, or too deaf to notice. Plus it’s not proper to stare. I have my hands up in the position one would have if surrendering to the police. Becky in this situation is the cop, one ugly, bitchy pig. Dustin continues to follow Becky, as they grab their jackets and run out the front door, maneuvering around the guests and shouting at each other. What the fuck have I done? Everyone is looking at me, including mother. Father still hasn’t caught on to what is happening in his house. I should feel embarrassed I guess, but all I can think about is Jonathan and absurd suggestion that heh actually knows what my parent’s house looks like. I wouldn’t put it past him.

  I walk to the door and it’s still open, the chilly air is creeping in and people are going back to their usual conversations. The song changes to “White Christmas” by Bing Crosby. I don’t see anything out front, so I shut the door and I actually lock it. I pause for a moment and feel a sensation. I feel it on my neck, like someone is breathing on me. I quickly turn around but it’s nothing.

  To my right is the grand staircase and the enormous Christmas tree. To my left is a table of men sitting, drinking whiskey. The women and their hats are everywhere, speckling the room with color. I feel as though I have just escaped what could have been a tragedy.

  My buzz is definitely gone, and I am starting to miss my apartment and my Gertie-bitch-cat.

  I decide to take the walk of shame past all of the guests and head into the kitchen for some food and shelter. I walk past twenty or so socialites, a man with a cane trying to make his way to the bathroom, Suzanne Smith (my mother’s best friend) playing cards with Congressman Fiennes, and continue down the hall.

  I walk past my father’s study and see a light on. The door is cracked open, and I wonder if father has escaped in there for some alone time as his fat ass often does.

  The one time I make a conscious choice to walk into father's study, without any coercion or “Emily, we need to talk about your grades”, is the one time I really wish I wouldn’t have.

  I crack open the door and see dad sitting in his large, leather chair smoking a cigar. I smile and continue to walk in “Hi, daddy!” I say, in my best effort to be sweet to him. As the door opens, the green couch to the right backed up against the bookshelves is host to none other than Molly’s husband, and my personal sex-slave turned worst nightmare, Jonathan.

  15

  Spinning

  A flashback occurs, of me straddling Jonathan and his hands stroking my hair. I am intoxicated with him. We are sitting on my couch. Another flashback at the bar, collecting drinks from the bartender as we stare at each other, just stare. Why does this happen? Because I am under his spell. Even from two thousand miles away I have been under his spell, thinking of him, memorizing the lines on his face.

  But now he is here, and I should be alarmed but instead I am grateful for him. For him putting me out of my misery. Remember that one time when I told you I was weak? When I wasn’t half as strong as I wish I was? Yep, that’s still me. So much has changed, yet I am still who I am. And that girl has lead me here: to being followed across the country by some married New York lawyer, who creepily took my picture and became obsessed with me. Maybe I should be flattered.

  “Emily, come in darling.” My father says through his mouth which holds his cigar. “I want you to meet the lawyer from New York who is working on my case with Abernathy.” Dad says in a way which makes me think I should know who Abernathy is, but I have no clue.

  I walk up to Jonathan, as he stares deep into me. He stands and smiles as he is holding his drink. I turn to father wanting to say “Yes, actually we have met and this man followed me here daddy, not to see you, but to see me and take advantage of your little girl in the Jacuzzi.” (ok, that last part was my own personal fantasy I’ll admit it).

  But Jonathan interrupts my thoughts and says something first “Hi, I’m Jonathan Clark, nice to meet you, Emily is it? Your father here talks about you often.”

  I am in shock but play along.

  He continues.

  “Your father and I have been working together for the past year, building a case, and it’s been a wild ride.” He looks over to my father and raises his glass.

  Dad chuckles and raises his as well, still sitting. What the hell is going on? I ask myself. I should have screamed it but I just couldn’t. Nothing is coming out. I am fucking incapable. I smile. It’s all I can do.

  I close my eyes for a moment and when I open them, I decide to take action. I strut in further to the office, and swing the door shut behind me. I head over to the mini bar and pour myself a whiskey. I do this in as elegant of a way as Emily Hawkins can, but inevitably I stumble on the fucking Persian rug my mother imported years ago. I regain my balance, as Jonathan reaches out to help me. I look up at the clock and see that it is 9:45 pm. Guests should be leaving soon I think, and wonder if Jonathan will be leaving with them.

  I take a seat on the second green sofa and cross my legs trying to seem sexy, though I doubt it’s coming off that way. I finish my whiskey as the men sit. Jonathan is staring at me.

  “So, Jonathan is it? Why are you out all this way? Seems a bit ambitious for the Holiday season.”

  Without skipping a beat, he has an answer “Well, this case is very important to me and I work weekend usually anyways, so no big deal to me at all.” And he again nods to my father getting his approval.

  “This young man is the finest you’ll find, Emily. You should take notes.”

  His fucking British accent is just bugging the hell out of me right now and in my head I mimic him “you should be taking notes blah, blah, blah.” My face reads funny as I do this I am sure. We all sit in silence and sip.

  “I have to ask Jonathan.” I say as I turn to face him. “What does your wife think of you working weekends, and traveling so far during this time of year?” Jonathan sort of chokes on his drink but recovers quickly because he is a professional.

  My father turns to me with a nasty expression. “Emily, dear, stop pestering the man. It’s rude!”

  I ignore father and stare straight at Jonathan. Jonathan looks down at his glass and places it on the small table to his right. The one closest to me. He looks at me with his fierce eyes.

  “It’s OK David, It’s a valid question. If you must know, my wife and I are taking a little break, so this trip is actually just what I needed.” He is looking through me at this point and it makes me feel weak.

  I feel like one of those girls in my erotic novel: TAMED, TIED, AND TICKLED: A PASSION QUEST. When the main character, a poor, young hotty, is taken in by this dominant man and his rich family, and he ends up falling for her and they escape in the woods together and rip of each other’s clothes. Then he leaves his family to remain her lover. I feel like the girl who did this. The one who broke up a marriage. My fault. I am a bitch. What is Molly doing right now? Is Jonathan lying? Playing a part? Jesus. I look at him and I realize my mouth has dropped open.

  My father speaks “Well, son, I’m sure everything will work out just fine. Molly, why don’t you walk Mr. Clark out to his car. This old man is tired.” Father puts out his cigar and stands holding his thumbs between his suspenders. He reminds me of the Monopoly man when he does this.

  We all stand and father makes the first move towards the door. He begins to walk out, and realiz
es we aren’t moving. He is no dummy.

  “Be sure to hit the lights when you are done, Emily. Oh, and Jonathan, I’ll be out to New York next week and I hope the paperwork is settled by then.” He starts to whistle and continues out the door.

  “Yes sir, goodnight.” Jonathan is a gentleman to my father, and I do say he looks pretty damn sexy in his suit and tie. I am feeling guilt, I am feeling insecurity, but mostly I am feeling the largest female boner coming on.

  The second my dad steps out of the study, Jonathan approaches me and grabs my hand, almost in a panic. “Emily, don’t do this to me.” I stare up at him unable to speak.

  I pull my hand away and walk over to my father’s desk. I put my hand on it and feel the smooth wood beneath my hands. I walk around it and to the door. I peek outside to make sure there is still commotion in the living room, and notice plenty of old, drunk people, so I shut the door. I turn and face him, my back against the door, my hands behind me.

  I swallow hard. “Jonathan, what the hell are you doing here? I told you I needed time.”

  He walks towards me, never taking his eyes off of me. He stops a foot away from me, doesn’t touch me but I can feel the hold he has on me. I cannot move.

  “You don’t need time, Emily. I know what you need.” He looks down and smiles. He starts to undo his tie.

  “Wait!” I walk up to him and push him backwards, hard.

  Fucking bastard!

  He doesn’t get to make these decisions.

  I need answers!

  “You tell me right now what is going on with you and Molly. What have you done? I need answers Jonathan. Why can’t you respect what I am asking?” I walk towards him again and push against his chest. I am fucking pissed. But he grabs my hand and won’t let it go. I let him take it. He pulls me in towards his chest. He is tall and handsome. He let’s go of his firm grip on me and it turns into a soft one. He slides his hand from my wrist to my fingers and my pelvis starts to throb. I am fighting it with everything I have. I look down at the rug, trying to ignore his magnetism.