Page 2 of Freak

Summer

M oney could buy a lot of pretty things; and oh, did I love pretty things.

New hair, teeth, and eyes, a mansion by the sea and a luxury car to match—one that purrs so loud, it could make your cunt wet just by the rev of its fucking engine.

I loved that sound, that power, and if you ever wondered what it was like to be behind the wheel of a Lamborghini Aventador, let me just describe it in three simple words: life changing control.

Yes, I had all that, and the attitude to match. Everyone could hear my stark red bottom heels clicking along the hall, a vibrant contrast to the shit-colored carpet of this lousy Holiday Inn hotel.

“Name?” The distracted blonde asked me from behind a foldable table, flipping through pages of forgettable alumnus.

“Summer.” I answered, removing my Versace shades, revealing the bronzed eyeshadow that sat between my glowing green eyes and manicured brows. “Summer Evans.”

I didn’t think I could ever get tired of that look, the one she just gave me, as if I were the reaper.

“Summer?” she asked, not clarifying, but mystified.

I took a moment to stare around the entrance of the small banquet hall, at the semi-filled purple and silver balloons that were shaped into an archway.

“It’s me… Veronica.” She smiled wide, fixing the leopard print scrunchie in her hair before standing up. Her belly banged against the table, as she stood tall and round, ready to pop. She tried to close her velvet blazer over her stomach, stopping to realize it was impossible.

“I see you’ve been busy.” I said flatly, acknowledging her pregnancy the best way I could.

“Not as much as you… I didn’t think you’d actually show up to our ten-year reunion. You know what I mean?” She fixed a button on her shirt that read, “ Ask Me, I’m in Charge. ”

“I don’t. But I like the way your face looks trying to figure it out.” These stilettos gave me the extra height I needed to assert my dominance.

Veronica rubbed her belly, slightly reluctant.

“You just look so different… like your teeth… and that frizz has finally been tamed, I see.” She laughed nervously, peeking around my skin-tight gown; its black, mock neck sequins split along my waist. I looked down at her, tucking my wavy, dark brown hair behind my diamond earrings.

“A lot has changed.” I answered, looking over the sheets for my name. She didn’t even realize the key to my new look, nor that it was composed from years of trauma, scorn, and anger. High school was fucking hell, and I was here to correct the misconception others had of me, or perhaps, embrace it.

“Sure has. A lot has changed here, too. We’re getting a Chili’s! You staying for the weekend?”

“This is a day trip. I’m only here for business,” I replied unamused.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here, especially for the auction. It’s not every day you get a big tech millionaire CEO visiting our small town.”

“Millionaire with a B.”

Her eyes widened like a fool, “You’re like a real-life hero.”

“I’m a lot of things, but I’m certainly not a hero.”

“What’s that thing you invented? A cardio, micro…”

“Close enough.” I mused, not interested in the details of my accomplishments, or the biomedical engineering software that I created to cure ailing hearts. Veronica sat back down, pulling out a marker to write my name.

“I know Rafael is a total fan of yours,” she continued.

I immediately began to boil.

Rafael, fucking, Amada. Him, Veronica, and Jake, were all the catalysts to the most unbearable years of my life, but no one—and I mean no one—was as enraging, as Rafael.

To think I had feelings for him—actual romantic feelings—coiled in my stomach like barbed wire.

“Did you know he’s a heart surgeon out in Chicago?” she smiled. “I bet he sees your name every day when he helps those poor children. He’s something else.”

“He sure is…” I assured, ignoring the rest of her statement.

“Are you bidding on the date with him?” she asked excited, a loose hair falling like a strand of straw over her round face. “We could use the money.”

I was sure they could, and they were in luck, because I was willing to spend every fucking penny I had, so long as it meant getting what I wanted.

They say money couldn’t buy happiness, but that was total bullshit.

Money could buy me Rafael, a date night of my choosing from an otherwise innocent auction.

And since I couldn’t have his gorgeous head on a platter, I was determined to have the next best thing…

Him at my knees.

“Here you go, sweetheart,” Veronica chimed in, passing me my name tag. I let her hold it out, her arm growing stiff and shaky as I read the name she marked in sharpie.

Bugs.

I smiled to myself, not surprised by her audacity, or of the echoing chants I heard in my head from when she humiliated me.

Freak, freak, freak .

God, they were right. I was a freak, and I was here to let everyone know it.

“Keep it.” I said sharply, stepping closer, removing the self-appointed button from her ill-fitted, metallic top. Veronica didn’t say a word as I took it from her, or as I ran my finger along its cursive declaration: I’m in Charge. I pinned it onto my dress.

“Why would I want your name tag?” she finally asked, defensively.

My face pouted, assessing the wrinkles in Veronica’s eyes, as I plucked the unruly strand of hair that fell out from her scrunchie.

She flinched as I flicked it off my finger, disgusted.

Veronica was so submissive, and she didn’t even realize it, the awkward bobble of her head a default setting for blowjobs and cum swallowing. I’d smile if it weren’t so sad.

“Consider it a reminder…” I laughed to myself.

“Of what?” she asked quickly, the tips of her fingers fiddling with each other.

“Of who you were…” I replied, answering to the entrance of the dark banquet hall. “The girl whose entire life was only relevant in high school.”