Page 14 of The Most Dearest
“You need to fix this Harrison. We can’t keep living in this chaos,” she warned. “It’s not good for either of us.”
She stood and I guided her towards the bathroom. I'd have to throw out all of my sanitizer and replace it. It was lucky I worked at a pharmacy. This time, I'd keep it in my room, away from childish pranksters.
Damon headed home at about midnight. They'd been giggling together for hours, then spent some time on the back patio, where they continued to giggle. Emma asked why I kept pausing our movie to listen, but I couldn't really answer her. She'd assume it was jealousy, but it wasn't. I was just outraged by the audacity of Cordelia to date right in front of me. I knew it wasn't real love, not like it was for me and Emma. Poor Cordelia was stuck in some kind of rebound, which was understandable because I'd broken her heart, but it wasn't healthy for her in thelong term. I was the last person she'd listen to, but I'd keep my eye on her, just in case. Miranda wouldn't stop her, that's for sure. Miranda would let Cordy parade nude down Main Street if she thought it would hurt me. I may have broken Cordy's heart, but I still cared for her. I wouldn't let her hurt herself the way Miranda obviously was willing to.
Yawning, I headed off to bed with Emma. She headed into the bathroom and stormed out less than 10 seconds later holding cling film. “This was over the toilet!” she announced.
Miranda’s pranks were lacking in sophistication, but I found myself looking over my shoulder anyway. Today, I’d looked up “pranks” on the internet so I could be one step ahead of her. Tomorrow, I was going to take apart my shower head to look for Jolly Ranchers. Apparently, that was a popular one. I also needed to check my home office PC to make sure she hadn't messed with the keyboard or mouse. I considered buying a lock so I could keep my food in a locked box to ensure Miranda wouldn't tamper with it.Oh yes, Miranda, I'm one step ahead of you. I'm not going to let you get into my head!
Emma stripped off and went to pull the cover back to get into bed.
“Wait!” I ordered, pulling back the cover slowly, tentatively. There would probably be a frog or spider in there. Or something immature like fake vomit. “I’m tired, come on!” Emma pleaded. I put my finger up, hushing her. If there was some kind of critter under there, the moment I pulled back the cover, it would scatter and be harder to find.
By the time I had the cover all the way off, Emma was tapping her foot impatiently. I was only trying to protect her! There was nothing there, so we climbed in tiredly. Emma fell asleep straight away, too tired for sex apparently. That was okay; we'dhad our lunchtime session today and I was exhausted too. I closed my eyes but couldn’t sleep. All I could do was run through the pranks I’d read about in my head. Tomorrow, I'd have to check the car, the garage and my bike. Maybe even get some kind of bug detector to ensure she hadn't wired my room. Nah, surely that would be going too far, even for Miranda. But then ... I ran through scenarios in my mind until I finally drifted off a few hours later.
Chapter 15: Damon – Modern art
There’s no art
To find the mind’s construction in the face
Macbeth, William Shakespeare
As scheduled, I headed to Cordelia’s after work for a few drinks. The weather was beautiful, so we sat outside and enjoyed what was left of the sun. The beers were going down easily, I was in the company of a beautiful woman, and the asshole who lived in this house was becoming more flustered every day. Life was indeed good.
“Cordelia, what the fuck is that on my wall?” The asshole had obviously arrived home. I know the core aim of this plot was to drive him away with my constant presence, but I often wished he would just fuck off for the night with Lolita and leave us alone.
“By this, I assume you mean Miranda’s latest work? She told you she was going to paint it. Show some respect, Harrison. She included you in it, which was very considerate of her. As the homeowner, you should be proud to feature in our mural. She even named it after you:The Erotic Dreams of Sir Mini Mitts. Read the plaque.”
I laughed into my beer. Miranda was certainly an artist. Her hallway mural was amazing, but she insisted that it was a “rough job” due to the urgency of the work.
She’d delivered on her promise of zombie homoeroticism. There were six male zombies in total. Two were performing an awkward 69 in front of the others, who stood watching lustily with their cocks in their hands. Harrison wasn’t the star. He was one of the voyeurs and Miranda had given him a tiny, skinny penis, and miniature hands, which stood in stark contrast tothe huge members and large hands of the other horny zombies. It wasn’t an exact likeness, but it was definitely identifiable as Harrison.
“Get that shit off my wall Cordelia!” Harrison ordered.
“Nah,” she said, swishing her hand in the air. “My house, my choice. Remember, you’ve always said you didn’t want to mess with my vision for the house. This is my vision, so fuck off or get on board.”
He stomped inside like an angry toddler. “What if he paints over it?” I questioned.
“He’s too lazy. Besides, we’ve made our point. Miranda said it was worth it to see the look on his face.”
“So, what’s our next move?” I asked. Cordelia smiled and made a “cheers” move with her glass. “We keep on keeping on, dear boyfriend. I’ve got stuff for chicken risotto if you fancy staying for dinner.”
“I’m in.” I hadn’t eaten this well in a long time. I’d have to start buying groceries at this rate. I couldn’t let Cordelia keep feeding me, even if she insisted it was “part of my payment.” I loved the words “part of” because they implied there would be more than just meals. I definitely wouldn’t say no to anything from Cordelia.
She seemed stronger lately, but I always watched her for signs of sadness or love when the asshole was around. Miranda’s ploys always boosted her spirits and made her smile, but I needed to be sure those smiles were a genuine sign of moving on rather than just joy at seeing karma delivered so swiftly and delightfully.
We were enjoying our dinner when Harrison and Emma edged their way into the dining room. “We’re eating her tonight. Youcan eat somewhere else,” Cordelia stated flatly, not even lifting her eyes.
“This is my dining room too. If I want to eat here—”
I looked up at the stupid fucker holding takeaway bags.
“I believe you were told to fuck off,” I said calmly. I met his eye and refused to look away. I could see the conflicting urges written on his face. He couldn’t show submission to me in front of his little girlfriend, but he also didn’t have the courage to stand toe-to-toe with me. I lifted my eyebrow, awaiting his response.
“As if we’d want to sit with you anyway,” he declared, making a great show of ushering Emma out the door.
“That asshole is going to die of scurvy soon if he doesn’t start eating real food,” Cordelia observed.
