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“Oh, my, God,” Edith deadpans, “did you orgasm instantly when he spoke such romantic words?”
“No, but I orgasmed from his dick inside me. Sex is fun. Give it a try sometime.”
“All or nothing. I’m not settling for a greasy thug who misspelled your name repeatedly in the texts you showed me.”
“Spelling is hard,” I helpfully blurt out. “West overlooks my inability to spell stuff.”
“Can you spell the days of the week?”
“Yes, usually.”
“There you go.”
“Cubby has fat thumbs, and texting is hard,” Tuesday says, laughing at her own bullshit. “I wanted to go wild when I was younger, but there’s nothing to do around here. I need an adventure before I meet a dork and have his ugly kid.”
“Why ugly?” Juno asks.
“I made fun of many ugly kids over the years,” Tuesday explains in an overly serious tone. “Karma is real, and it’s bound to bite me so hard in the ass that my kid will likely be a mutant. But I’ll love the little freak with all my heart. Might need to homeschool him, though, to avoid scarring the other children.”
“Screw those normal kids,” Edith spits out. “Make the little shits sit next to your mutant child and provide them some empathy learning.”
“Yeah,” Zelda says, seeming excessively emotional about that issue.
“Kids called her Freckle when she was a kid,” Juno instantly shares. “They claimed she was a single giant freckle, which just isn’t true. She has many, many freckles that come together to look like a single giant freckle.”
“You’re not helping,” her sister mutters.
“I feel like I am,” Juno spits back, refusing to back down. “They understand your pain better. Now, they won’t call you Freckle behind your back.”
Zelda glares at Tuesday and Edith.
The blonde shrugs. “I’ve only referred to you as muff cabbage behind your back. Nothing about freckles at all.”
Edith nods. “I don’t refer to you as anything since I didn’t know you existed until today.”
“See?” Juno tells Zelda. “I helped.”
“Not to interrupt all this bonding,” I say, squirming in my seat and stroking my ring necklace for strength, “but my skin feels like it might be on fire. Is dying something that normally happens when wearing a face mask?”
“Hey, lady, her skin is on fire!” Tuesday cries, startling the entire room. “I really don’t want to sue this place, so fix whatever you fricked up.”
After an emergency water flushing process—which leaves me feeling like a car going through the wash—I frown at my bright red face in the mirror.
“I’ve felt prettier,” I admit as my skin burns.
“This is unacceptable. You should have known that crap wasn’t good for fair skin,” Tuesday demands and gets up in the spa lady’s face. “You better find a way to soothe her redness, or you’ll be lucky to only get sued. It looks like you threw sulfuric acid in her poor face. My very large tatted brother will not be happy.”
The spa employees pamper me with every damn thing they can find to try to make my red face seem less horrifying. Tuesday tracks down an allergy pill that makes me dizzy. While the itching and burning lessen, I still look like a giant red bump.
After another cream, I can’t control myself anymore and start crying. “I’m done being pampered. Can we leave now?”
Tuesday looks at me and then Edith before bursting into tears. “We had one job today, and we messed up.”
“I didn’t do shit,” Edith mutters and hands me a tissue. “Let’s just wash that crap off her face and get out of here. Booze will make today seem less like garbage.”
“Is it safe to drink after taking an allergy pill?” Zelda asks Edith while fanning my face.
“Sure. She just won’t be able to drive or operate a tractor. Seems like that wasn’t on her to-do list today, so we’re fine. Get Alexis to the car, and I’ll see what I can get comped.”
