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Chapter eight
Revenge Rodeo
Georgie
After Cherish’s Oscar-worthy performance, I feel pretty confident that what we have up our sleeves for tonight will seal the deal. In fact, if everything goes according to plan, Neil might not just leave me alone, but completely move out of town.
“I’ve never done anything like this before,” I whisper giddily to Alfie.
He gives me a smile from the corner of his mouth. “I bet you’ve never put half a grocery store up your hoo hah either. Stick with me and you’ll try a lot of new things.”
I have to cover my mouth to avoid laughing out loud. We are squatting under Neil’s kitchen window, our backs pressed against the house siding. The window is right above the sink, and we can hear him doing dishes.
“I’m surprised I don’t even feel a little guilty,” I admit.
“Because you’re not doing anything wrong.” He squeezes my knee. “You’re only returning the favor, and isn’t that the polite thing to do?”
“Oh, absolutely.” I chuckle. I hold up the large sticky hands and grin. “I think we’re ready.”
He gives me an excited smile and takes the mason jar of paint from me. “See you on the other side.” He presses a quick kiss to my cheek then scurries away, hunched over to remain below the window line.
Held between my fingers are two large sticky hands dripping with bloodred paint. My heart pounds as I wait for Alfie’s signal. I can hear Neil poorly rapping along to Macklemore inside. I am buzzing with anticipation because this is such a good idea.
I don’t know if I believe in ghosts, usually erring on the skeptical side. But if what we have planned happened to me, I would be absolutely shitting myself and calling every Catholic church in the area, looking for an exorcist. Without a doubt, it would make a believer out of me.
Less than a minute later, Alfie cuts the power to Neil’s house with the exterior main breaker. The music and bad singing stops, and the light streaming from the windows goes dark. It turns back on immediately, nothing but a flicker.
Eagerness bites at me as I wait with bated breath for the next flicker. This one lasts a few seconds longer, but I can still hear the kitchen sink running, and Neil’s shadow reaches into the yard.
He’s right where we want him.
It’s no more than ten seconds, but with exhilaration pumping through my veins, waiting for the third and final flicker—my cue—feels like an hour.
The power cuts and I whip the sticky hands above my head. They smack into the window, and I hear a small, startled squawk. I yank them down quickly before he can get a good look at them.
The power comes back, and the yell I hear this time is a full-on shriek of terror.
Holding back maniacal laughter, I race around the perimeter of the house to meet Alfie, imagining Neil’s perspective.
Flickering lights, in the dark something hits the window with a loud thwack. When the lights return, two bloody handprints streak down the glass.
I can hardly breathe through this thrilling feeling. My legs fly through the small gap between the house and shrubs. I whip around the corner and don’t see him until it’s too late.
I crash into Alfie. My mind is spinning too quickly for me to react in any helpful way. His pants are around his ankles, so we trip and stumble over each other. In a wild flailing mess of limbs, we go down.
Somehow, I’ve gotten spun around, my back to his chest, and his hand catches my hip as we land on the slightly damp mulch.
“Oof.” The air punches out of Alfie when his back hits the ground.
“Oh my god,” I cry out as I feel something thick and fleshy spear my lady bits.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph—” Alfie sputters as I’m impaled on his meaty lance.
“Why is your dick out?” I whisper-yell, my pussy sinking farther down his impressive shaft.
He pushes up so we are both sitting with me in his lap. “Where are your panties?”
“I lost them in your car after we, you know . . .” Somehow, admitting I've been going around commando in a flouncy sundress makes my cheeks burn more than the fact that I tripped and literally fell on a dick. “What’s your excuse?!”
