Something True
Jessica Roe
Other titles by Jessica Roe
The Guardians:
Undone
United
Fortunate:
Because of Him
Something Real
Falling For Him
SOMETHING TRUE
JESSICA ROE
Copyright © 2015 Jessica Roe
Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the author of this book.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
For every high school English teacher I ever had. . .
English teachers are the rock stars of education
Chapter 1
Ibbie
ACTING IS MY life. There's nothing I adore more than getting up on that stage in front of a rapt audience and living my part, but I'm not gonna lie. . .it drains the crapping hell out of me. In a good way, of course. Immediately after curtain call each and every show I'm filled with this rush of exuberance yet this fatigue that just makes me want to drop down in the dressing room and sleep right there on the carpet. I may not be the lead in the theater production of Pride and Prejudice that I've been a part of for the past couple of months, and I may not exactly love playing spoiled and selfish Lydia Bennet, but I never fail to put my heart and soul into each and every performance.
Which is why I'm exhausted when I arrive at Kandy's after another night's show. My best friend, Blair, and her half sister, Jemma, have worked here for a while, and since then this bar seems to have become our regular hangout. As far as bars go, it ain't so bad.
A zombie dodges by me, chasing after a giggling sexy bunny, and a vampire with way too much gel in his hair slaps my butt as I walk by.
“Nice ass. I could just take a bite out of it,” he jokes, flashing his plastic fangs.
I wink, because my ass is nice, even if he is a drunken weirdo with no social skills whatsoever. Poor little vampire.
A grim reaper twerks against me, and I sigh as I edge away. Normally I love every single thing about Halloween because it is, without a doubt, the most awesome day of the year, but I'm just too tired for this crap tonight. I want to be at home in my comfy bed with my comfy pillow and snugged up in my comfy pjs, but tonight is the first night the whole gang has been together since Blair got all good and engaged to Silver, my ex high school history teacher (which makes their relationship both yeesh yet oddly sexy) last week, so obviously we're getting our celebrating on. And I am benevolently forgiving Silver for stealing my BFF away from me for ever and ever, because that's just the kind and saintly sweetheart I am. Though I don't know who I'm kidding, because that guy stole my BFF from me before we even became BFFs to begin with. Luckily he doesn't mind sharing her with me, or I'd have to get all plot making and off him, Game of Thrones style. But not sharing in that way, because that would be yick. Not that I don't love Blair to bits or anything, but I most certainly do not want to get all up in her lady parts.
“Woo! Ibbie's here!” she cheers happily when I finally push through the throngs of people and approach their table. I have to grin, because Blair so very rarely gets drunk enough to be a cheerer. In fact, she hates drunk cheerers. Usually she's pretty good at knowing her limits and sticking to them, but clearly she skipped over that line at least an hour ago. Sat on Cowboy Silver's lap, tonight she's dressed as Wonder Woman – shiny cape, tight little outfit, red knee high boots and all. I'll bet Silver had to do some serious persuading to get her into it. That's love for ya.
Closest to where I'm standing, a slightly less drunk Reid the 1950's Gangster holds out his fist for me to bump. “How'd your show go, Ibbs?” He's been to the show before. They all have, though it was especially funny seeing a tattooed tough guy like Reid sitting through a performance of Pride and Prejudice. He got some funny looks that night for sure, like just because he didn't necessarily fit the mold of regular theater goer then he didn't belong. Some people can be so judgy.
“It was awesome. I was awesome. Because, you know, I'm me.” Not that I like to brag or anything.
Being Lydia Bennet wasn't my first choice – I'd auditioned for the role of Elizabeth obviously. But since it's my first real show since finishing college, I'm still proud as fudge of myself for getting the part. Besides, one day I'll get that lead, I know it.
I slip into the only available seat, making sure to groan extra loud and hard because it's next to Walt, Reid's excruciatingly annoying best friend. Ever since Reid and Jemma became a thing a year ago and we all started hanging out, this guy has become the bane of my frigging existence. And sure, I'll be the first to admit that I have a tendency to over dramatize things, but not when it comes to him. Walt Vega is Evil. With a capital E, that's right.
It had started out innocently enough. I mean, I'd tried to be nice to the guy when we first met – even though he's kind of terrifying looking with all those tattoos and the three eyebrow rings and those piercing eyes, a brown so dark they're almost black. But every time I spoke he acted like I'd vomited up turds all over his jeans and then he had the nerve to call me a goblin who talked too much. Now that's was just mean. Then came the annoying texts – I still haven't forgiven Reid for giving him my number – which quickly moved onto verbal sparring matches between us every time we were unfortunate enough to be forced to spend time together, and that escalated into the stupid, irritating pranks that just make me want to tear my shiny blonde hair out. Like that time last month we were alone in his friend Christen's kitchen and he dared me to put my palms on the counter and balance two beers on the back of my hands and then he just left me there. So sure, I had to retaliate by signing his email up to a bunch of gay porn newsletters. But he went way overboard when he somehow charmed his way into the apartment I share with my cousin while I was out and stole all of my underwear and gave it to the super creepy homeless guy who lives by the back of our building. That was not cool. Not cool at all.
Walt is the worst.
“What the hell are you supposed to be?” he wants to know, set to full-on-abuse-Ibbie mode the second he sees me as always. He looks me up and down with those dark eyes. They match his dark, evil little soul.
“Take a wild frigging guess, dumb ass.”
“An escaped mental patient?”
I gesture to my black and yellow striped shorts and cropped top, then wiggle my fuzzy yellow antennae his way just because I know it will irritate him. “Duh, I'm a bumble bee. Buzz buzz?”
“You're an idiot,” he replies dryly.
Ugh, this guy drives me crazy. And not even in the good way. It's not like he has to talk to me.
“God!” Jemma exclaims, rolling her eyes. She's dressed in a tiny red dress and has a pair of black horns on her head and a little pitch fork in her hand, so I'm guessing she's a devil. A slutty devil. “Do you guys really have to start this crap tonight. I wanna get my buzz on.”