The Awesome

The Awesome by Eva Darrows Read Free Book Online Page A

Book: The Awesome by Eva Darrows Read Free Book Online
Authors: Eva Darrows
Tags: Urban Fantasy
was way beyond them.
    A few minutes later, Julie joined me, a pair of oversized, diva sunglasses perched on her nose.
    “What are you doing tomorrow night?”
    “Not sure. I’d have to check with Mom. Why?”
    “How is Janice?”
    It should have weirded me out that Julie called my mom by her first name, but Mom insisted that Miss or Mrs. made her feel old, and anyone caught calling her that would get a Wet Willy. It had been like Pavlov’s dog after that; as no one liked having a wet finger wedged up their ear, they fell in line quickly. “Good. She had a hunt last night.”
    “Cool! I’m surprised you came out. You love that stuff, you freak.”
    “Well, yeah, but I can’t do werewolf jobs yet. They’re too high up the chain for a newb like me.” An opportunity for me to confess I tried to molest her cousin for a job promotion, and yet, I refrained. It’s like I wanted to maintain my singular friendship.
    “Cool. So, tomorrow night, if you’re not doing anything, you should come hang. I’m going out with Ian’s friend John, and the four of us could hit food. Ian sounded down.”
    An orthodontist appointment sounded more fun than going out with Ian, but I put on my best game face and nodded. Telling Julie her cousin was a limp-weenied failure wouldn’t go over big. “Maybe. I’ll call you. It depends on the workload.”
    “You should. You guys would work. His ex-girlfriend was a massive bitch, so I think you’d be good for him.”
    “Because I’m a massive bitch, too, or...”
    “No! Because I like you, and he needs to date someone I can stand for once. His girlfriends are terribad. And I’d get to see you more, too, which’d be cool.”
    “Yeah.”
    She maintained her chatter all the way to my house, though I can’t tell you a single thing that was said. I was way too preoccupied wrestling with my guilt. Maybe I didn’t screw up a lot in general and thus didn’t have to deal with guilt, or maybe I’d become an expert at justifying whatever terrible thing I’d done at any given time, but the Ian situation bugged me. If he’d been a dismissive dick about it, everything would have been fine, but no. He’d been nice and apologetic the morning after, and that meant my rampant snark was...
    Wrong. It was wrong. It was like kicking a kitten. Who did that? Who kicked a kitten for fun?
    Maggie Cunningham, that’s who.
    Man, I suck.
     
     
    B Y THE TIME my mother came home from her overnight venture, I’d been wallowing in self-loathing for well over three hours. I was pantsless, there was a half-eaten bag of Ranch Doritos on the couch seat beside me, and the Oprah Network was on TV. There was no sadder sight than a seventeen-year-old girl watching a bunch of fifty-something women talk about hot-flashes, randomly leaking nipples, and the emotional challenges of menopause.
    Mom dropped her gear in the foyer, the weapons, armor, and other hunting sundries making a racket as they struck the tile. “Whoa. You look rough. Don’t tell me you stayed in last night?”
    “Nope.”
    “What’d you end up doing?”
    “Went to a party and got laid. Well, tried to get laid. Funny story, that.”
    “Oh, yeah? Use a condom?”
    I gritted my teeth and shut off the television, fixing my eyes on the dead, black screen in front of me. “You realize it’s totally screwed up that you’re fine with me finding a piece of random ass, right? You should be going on some spiel about self-respect right now.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “I dunno. Most mothers would.”
    “Well, then most mothers think sex is shameful for a woman and I think that’s a heaping pile of shit. As long as you’re okay and your boy treated you right, no spiel. If he treated you bad, I’ll cram his dick down his throat and watch him choke.” She threw herself onto the couch next to me, and I got my first good look at the claw marks raking her face. Four gouges marred her cheek, crusts of dried blood and dirt mucking up the edges, the

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