A Little Something Important Pt. 02

Let me tell you a story about me and my best friend. When I start this little tale, it doesn't start out well. I look back on it now and think about what a complete idiot I was over the whole thing, but foresight is better than hindsight, they say. If I could change things over what I did...not have been so stupid and blind over the matter...I don't know if I would. I think our friendship has grown stronger now because of what happened, but...by the time I'm done with my story, you might hate me. I wasn't the nicest person during it.

I'm currently sitting in my car with my best friend, Deanne, while she's in the passenger seat. We're parked outside of my dad's house, but we haven't gone inside yet. You see, it's been four months since my story took place, and right now she's trying to help me with a serious problem. She has my baby sister (a literal baby) in her arms while we're talking, and normally she'd try to put Bailey down for a nap, but she's out here with me instead. That's how important this situation is. It's important, because we just came back from town after an appointment I had scheduled, so I have a little something important to tell my father, and...I'm not sure he's going to take it well. That's why I have to tell this story first.

It starts with me laying on my bed listening to music. I'll tell it, this story, because I need to, but I'm not proud of it. So here goes:

I was furious, I was fuming, I was not happy, and I was a lot of other adjectives at that moment, and none of them were good. It had been four days since my traitorous EX-best friend, Deanne, had told me the news about who her baby's father was. She was over eight months pregnant, and she was going to push out that baby soon...my DAD'S baby. That's right. That lowdown, scheming, conniving, horny little slut bewitched my father...and they got engaged without telling me. She was twenty-four and he was forty-six. ENGAGED! It was so disgusting that I couldn't even wrap my head around it.

I wanted to punch her in her stupid face, but she was pregnant with my new little sister...Oh, it was so gross to even think about it. What I really needed was revenge, some type of payback that would hurt her where it counts, and...I'd have gone and fucked her dad, but...ewww. No thanks.

My name is Lana Cross. I was twenty-four at the time, and I had just graduated from college a little over eight months ago. I was white, thin, five-nine, the same age as my whore ex-best friend, and pretty, at least that's what people had told me. I was a natural blonde with a slender face and sky-blue eyes, and I used to have long hair, but I had gotten it cut the day after I heard the news. I had it shaved close to my head, not bald but just a blonde fuzz up there, a blonde carpet designed to piss off my dad. Yeah, it was childish, and yes, I was twenty-four and still living with my dad, but I couldn't afford to live on my own, and I was really, really pissed during that time, so cut me some slack. I was not going to live with my mom, if that's what you're thinking. As angry as I was at my dad, my mom was a fucking bitch, and I didn't want to put up with her on a daily basis.

I had sexy hips, but my breasts were only a B-cup, unlike Slut-bomb's great big cow udders. I used to like retro-looking clothes that showed off my slender figure and got the guys to turn their heads, but I donated a lot of those to charity the day before. At the time this story takes place, I was wearing a tight blue halter top with the word 'SCRUMPTIOUS' in big yellow cursive letters on it, and I had on some tight leather pants to show off my ass, the kind with the splits in the sides of the legs that are held together by black cross-string.

My earrings were actually a joke gift I received years ago from another friend at the university, a pair of little silver dangling penises with little crystal balls attached to the silver chains, something I had told myself way back when that I would never, EVER wear, but that conviction fell through just like everything else. I had on some black leather boots with high heels, and to complete this look I had gotten a tattoo two days prior, a tat of a big red heart with white wings right across the small of my back. The halter top really showed it off...Oh, and I know what you're thinking, and you'd be right. I had done all of that just to piss off my dad, but I had no reason to worry; I knew him. He'd come around.

I was in my room listening to emo on my phone, trying to sort out everything in my head. I was not in the mood for coming out of that room, either. Why, you ask? Because Whore and her little brother were in the living room watching a movie with my dad. That's right...They were out there watching a family movie with MY father...As if they were actually family.

Yes, I was being childish. Stop judging me. You'd have been just as upset if this had happened to you. For one thing, they didn't even tell me until Deanne was at the end of her pregnancy. She informed me straight up in PUBLIC that I was going to have a new little sister and that she was going to be my new stepmom. I knew Dad had been dating someone on the sly, and I knew he was getting married again, but it...it just...it never occurred to me that his girlfriend and new fiancé was Deanne. Yeah, she had always joked about fucking him, but I...I had never thought that would actually happen.

I was in a cloud of angst over all of this, swearing up a storm in my head, but I had to put that angst on hold. My dad knocked on the door and snapped me from my fume. I took out my earbuds just to listen to what he was saying.

"Lana," said my dad. "Come out, please. I need to talk to you."

I cursed under my breath. I was not looking forward to this. I thought about just pouting and telling him no, but I had a change of heart and opened the door anyway. I think I had just been tired of being angry, but I knew that the moment I saw his face I was just going to become enraged again.

"What!" I hissed as I opened the door.

My dad sighed and gave me an unhappy look. My father, Douglas Cross, was a work-at-home consultant for an online cyber-security company. My dad was handsome, always clean shaven, with natural blonde hair that was always cut short, the bangs dropping down a little past his temples with a little bit of grey in those temples. He had grey eyes that always shone with a serious light, a sharply angled nose and broad lips, and this commanding presence of features was accented by a square jaw with a dimple in his chin.

That day he was wearing a black sports shirt with his favorite football team's logo on it along with some dark blue jeans, but I suspected this comfort look was influenced by his 'fiancé'. I think that he was trying to look and feel younger just for her, but...blech. This was not really my dad. He just looked so...fake.

But when he opened that door...even though he was dressed like that...he had a no nonsense look on his face. I didn't know what was going on, but...my blood was up, wired, that adrenaline rush you get when you feel that something bad is about to happen, and I didn't like it.

"Lana," said my dad in a stern voice, "just come out here."

I followed my dad out into the living room, and Tramp and her little brother were sitting on our big brown couch.

Deanne was shorter than me, only five-two, but she was buxom, with D-sized breasts that were now even bigger for obvious reasons. She was normally a little overweight, not by much, but she had an hourglass figure, that same figure she used to lure in my father like the whore cow she was. She had brown eyes set in a cute round face with normally long curly brown hair, but she'd had that hair cut short recently to hang just below her ears.

On this particular day she was wearing a red summer dress with white polka dots, the sleeveless kind with the straps that hang over the shoulders, the kind that showed off your bustline. I guess it was something that breathed and was comfortable for that swollen belly of hers. She had on her white socks and sneakers as well, also something comfortable for her pregnant condition.

Slut's baby brother, Dixon, was twenty and short like her. He was about five-seven, built like a badger but looked like a chipmunk, with broad shoulders and a baby face that didn't quite seem to match his body. He had a round face with brown eyes and curly brown hair that went down to his shoulders, that hair actually longer than his older sister's. He was a little overweight, too, and he wasn't the sports type of person like my dad was. He was a giant dork that was into those online MMO's and tabletop games, so that was just a joy to have entering the family. Couldn't wait for that.

That day he was dressed in a red T-shirt with some Japanese cartoon character on the front of it (I didn't know who it was, so don't ask me), and he had on regular dark blue jeans like my dad. He had on some old and scruffy white sneakers that had seen better days and some off-white socks that had definitely seen better days (at least I hope they were off-white and not, like, originally white but were now that color).

Deanne was pretty protective of her baby brother. You see, he'd been the victim of a lot of bullying during his high school years, so Deanne had always gotten upset and told me about these things back then, but the only thing I could do was give her the same standard advice that everyone else gives, so I don't think I helped too much in that category. That's one of the reasons I ended up doing what I did, but I'll get to that.

But back to the story.

I walked out into the living room to face my dad, my traitorous ex-best friend, and her dork of a little brother. My dad looked gravely serious, Dixon looked worried, and Deanne just looked...sad. I didn't know what was going on, but...I didn't really care at that time. I just wanted them to say whatever they were going to say so I could go back to my room.

"What is this about?" I demanded.

I tapped my right boot into the brown carpet of my living room floor. This was an indication that I was irritated, and my dad knew this. However, he gave me such a stern and serious look that it froze me in place. I actually felt a little fear at that moment, and I had never been afraid of my father.

"I need you to take Deanne and Dixon back home tonight," said my dad. "I have to finish a special project for work, and I don't have the time to drop them off. I can't waste the two hours to do it."

But he might as well have asked me to take a rocket to the moon. It would have been more reasonable.

"I'm not doing that," I snorted. "She's your fiancé; you do it."

My father closed his eyes, took in a sharp breath, and then released it. He opened his grey eyes and stared right through me, and I felt that twitch of fear again.

"I'm giving you one more chance," he said firmly. "Go take them back home."

I shook my head no and scowled at him. I didn't listen, and I didn't want to. I understand now why he ended up saying what he said, but at that time I really didn't get it. I was too furious to.

"I told you I'm not doing it," I hissed. "You do it. You're the one that decided to date and impregnate my best friend, so it's your responsibility to see her home. I'm not doing it."

My father closed his grey eyes, squeezed them shut, and grimaced. He opened his eyes and shook his head no one time.

"Go back to your room..." he said slowly, but I didn't let him finish.

"I plan to," I said.

"And get your things," he said.

But I didn't understand what he was saying. I know now why he said it, but back then I just couldn't comprehend it.

"What?" I asked in confusion.

"Pack up your things," said my father, "and get out."

"Wha...What are you..." I stammered. "I don't understand..."

And I didn't. I honestly did not know what he was saying at that moment.

"Go get your things," repeated my father, "and get out of my house."

I shook my head no. I could not comprehend this. It just didn't make sense to me. My father couldn't possibly mean that. He couldn't. It didn't make sense.

"No...No, you...you can't mean that..." I stammered.

He pointed toward my bedroom door.

"You are twenty-four," he said firmly. "You have a college degree, you have over a thousand dollars in the bank, and I know that's not much, but it's time you left."

I started crying, and those tears were real, but I wasn't weepy or anything. I was actually furious, not sad. I was furious because he had chosen HER over ME, his own flesh and blood, and I...couldn't handle it. I had never, ever thought my father would kick me out. Not once...This time, however, I didn't throw a tantrum. This time I wanted revenge, because Deanne had just destroyed my entire life. I had thought about enacting revenge before, but Deanne had been my best friend for...forever...so I wasn't really going to do anything, but now...now I was going to get mean.

I knew I couldn't survive on my own, and my father knew I wouldn't live with Mom, so my mind went into overdrive as I backtracked in order to save myself.

"I'm sorry," I said as I swallowed my own saliva. "I'll...I'll take her."

"What?" asked my father.

"I said...I'll take them home," I swallowed again.

I was going to have to lie, so I did. I lied to him, lied to my father right to his face, and I'm not proud of that moment. I can be pretty convincing when I want to be. My problem has always been tantrums, really long unhappy periods of holding grudges over little things, but my father with Deanne?...That was not a little thing. Even so, I swallowed my pride and straight up deceived my dad just so I could start planning my revenge. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I was NOT going to let Deanne just walk in and steal my dad from me, steal my own home from me. It wasn't fair, and I wasn't going to allow it...at least not without a fight. That's why I put on a show.

"I'm just angry, Dad," I said in a choked voice. "You just need to give me time to...to accept things. I don't want to leave...I'll do it. I'll take them home...You know I love you. You know Deanne is still my best friend...You just haven't given me enough time to accept this. I don't want to go. I want to stay here with you. Deanne's going to be living here, too. My best friend's going to be living with me, and I don't want to go. I want us all to be a family, but you haven't given me enough time to accept it. It's only been four days since I found out."

My father sucked in a deep breath and released it through his nose. At first I didn't know if this was going to work, but he nodded his head a couple of times, and this left me with some breathing room.

"Okay..." he said quietly. "We'll talk about this later, just you and I, but for now, you need to take Deanne and Dixon home. That's an hour drive up there and an hour back, so that's an hour for you to talk this through with her. Just talk things over with her."

I took a gulp and nodded my head twice in agreement, but I was seething inside. There was no amount of time that was going to fix this divide between Deanne and I. Not after this. Not after stealing my father from me.

My father spread open his hands and made a motion over my current choice of clothing and style.

"We'll talk about 'this'...whatever it is you've done to yourself...when you get back," he said.

I gave him a couple of more quick nods and looked back toward the front door. I really, really wanted to chew him out over his own choice in clothing, but I didn't. I had to get going in order enact some kind of plan for revenge. I didn't know what that would be, but it was coming. That hammer was going to fall.

"I'll get my keys and wait in the car," I said in a wavering tone. "I...I love you. You know that."

It was really hard for me to keep from breaking down, but I did it, and that's saying something, because that moment was probably the single worst moment in my life up until that point. It was actually worse than the moment Deanne had given me the news about her 'relationship' with my father.

"I love you, too," said my dad. "We'll talk about everything when you get back."

Now he said 'when you get back'. He never gave me a specific time, and I think that moment was the moment I started hatching a plan. Deanne needed to suffer, and as angry and confused as I was, I didn't care that she was eight months pregnant with my own sister. I know, it's terrible...I know that now.

I grabbed my keys out of my room, grabbed my purse, and didn't say a word as I walked out to my car. My car is a little lima-bean-green compact, a color I know Deanne hates, but she's never complained about it. I know that sounds irrelevant to the story, but it isn't. It isn't, because once I traded in this car, I was going to get one in ruby red, Deanne's favorite color. That's how much I had actually cared about her as my best friend...at least until she had decided to up and fuck my father.

I guess that's why I broke down in the car as I waited for them. I sobbed in there before they came out of the house, sobbed out in my little green car over everything that had happened, sobbed in the middle of the night in my car, just bawling away. I even beat on the steering wheel a couple of times. I was broken inside that my dad would try to throw me out after only four days of throwing a tantrum, even one as bad as this. Normally my tantrums lasted for two weeks or more.

I stopped bawling as Dixon opened the front door and held it for Deanne as she waddled out. She reminded of an overstuffed penguin the way she walked, and this gave me some amusement, but I was still crying even though I had stopped wailing like a siren. I didn't try and wipe away those tears, though. I wanted Deanne to see me like this, because I knew it would get to her. I wanted her to suffer just as much as I was suffering right then.

Deanne got in the front passenger seat while Dixon got in the back right behind her. Deanne had a sad frown on her face as she looked over at me, but I didn't look back at her. I couldn't stand the sight of her face at that moment. I know my cheeks were flushed, and I had angry tears running down my face, and I clearly needed help, but I still couldn't deal with her at all, and I certainly didn't want her sympathy.

"Lana, I..." began Deanne, but I wouldn't let her say anything.

"Don't fucking talk to me," I choked out, and that was the end of any conversation we might have had.

All of us buckled in, and we took off. We drove for about twenty minutes this way, no conversation, nothing. It was awkward, it was terrible, and I was perfectly satisfied with that. I wanted Deanne's whore cow ass to squirm in that silence, and I'm pretty sure she did. I didn't really care what Dixon did... I think he just played around on his phone during that time, anyway.

It was when I saw the motel sign ahead that I hatched my plan. This little place was outside of the nearest small town to the little piece of suburbia where my dad and I lived, but it was a hick town, so there wasn't much there. That made it perfect for my needs.

I looked in the mirror back at Dixon, but his chipmunk face was staring down at his phone. He was part of this plan, an incredibly childish little ploy now that I look back on it, but I wasn't in my right mind at that time. I hated Deanne as only someone who has been betrayed by someone they love can hate. It was William Blake who stated "It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend", and now I know what he meant. I couldn't stop thinking about how my dad had almost thrown me out, just like that, with no warning really, all because of Deanne, and that caused me no end of anguish. No end of it.

I pulled into the motel parking lot, and I heard Deanne suck in her breath. I'm pretty sure she knew what was up, but she didn't try and stop me. She only asked me a single question.