Fuck, Marry, Kill

My parents were paying my tuition. I also, at least during the summers, still lived under their roof. I couldn't afford to get into trouble, unless I wanted to find myself with a hefty student loan to pay back all by myself.

So, my original plan had been to wait, but Kenzie had nagged me for months to go out with her. She insisted that it was a part of the college experience, going to a bar and partaking in underage drinking and making bad decisions. That our college years would simply be missing something if we didn't "take a risk". I had begrudgingly agreed, not believing that she'd actually go through with getting us fake IDs. I'd then forgotten about it, and assumed that Kenzie had, too.

Clearly, I'd been misguided in my assumption, because there I was, sitting in Kenzie's Ford Focus, in front of a sleazy bar with windows covered in punk-rock show flyers. There was a group of scary-looking tattooed men outside the front door, smoking cigars. I could hear the rock music, even from inside the car.

"I don't know about this, Kenz," I mumbled, nervously tucking a sleek, straightened red lock behind my ear.

"You are not going to chicken out on me now, Bella. You're like, basically twenty-one anyways! Just act like it's normal. And I've talked to plenty of the girls in my sorority who've gotten into this bar underage," Kenzie said. "Let's go."

I flipped the car visor's mirror open, touching up my cherry lip gloss one last time before shoving the door open and stepping out of the car. I stepped slowly up the curb, placing my five-inch stilettos carefully on the cement.

Kenzie flashed me a reassuring smile as we approached the entrance. She had baby pink lipstick on, and long fake eyelashes. The makeup was a lot more dramatic than what she usually wore, and it made her look a lot older than nineteen. I hadn't worn so much makeup, just my usual cat-eyes and red lips, but I'd consciously chosen a tight, revealing dress — one that pushed my pale breasts up perfectly, hoping that if my nervous attitude gave me away, maybe my tits would make up for it.

I shook my head, ashamed of the thought. What the hell, Bella?

We reached the bouncer — a tall, bald man who didn't look impressed with us at all. Kenzie batted her eyelashes at him.

"Hi, sir," she said, her voice sugary sweet, as she handed him the ID.

He accepted it, scrutinizing it even though we both knew he couldn't see that well in the dim entryway. After a moment, he handed it back to her and raised his eyebrows at me, holding his hand out. I tried to smile sweetly, not anxiously, and handed it to him.

He looked at it, looked at me, looked back at the ID, and handed it back to me.

"Be safe, ladies," he grumbled, standing aside.

We walked inside, choosing two barstools near the end of the bar, withholding our giggles and exhales of relief until we reached our seats. Very pleased with ourselves, we ordered our first drinks from the monotonous, middle-aged-lady bartender.

It didn't take more than a few sips of alcohol for me to relax and to get lost in conversation with Kenzie. I was a lightweight, of course. I'd had a few drinks in my time so far in college, but certainly not enough to build up a tolerance. Kenzie was somehow even worse, and after two drinks, she was definitely speaking a little louder than she was probably aware of.

"I'm surprised you haven't just dumped Justin yet. I mean, not to sound like a slut, but I wouldn't be with somebody who made me wait four months. Four months and counting!" Kenzie said.

"Kenzie, stop! We're in public!" My face flamed, and she giggled.

Kenzie wasn't going to let me live it down that Justin and I were taking things slowly. I'd been a little frustrated about it, sure, but I wasn't going to rush things with the guy I cared about just because Kenzie had opinions.

"Honestly, I can't believe they didn't catch us," Kenzie said a little too loudly. "These cards aren't even that realistic." She toyed with the ID in her hands.

"Kenzie! Sh!" My eyes widened. Why would she say that so loudly?! My gaze darted to the bartender, who was standing not even a few feet away. She narrowed her eyes briefly, but continued pouring shots for another customer.

"Oh, shit!" Kenzie whispered. "I didn't see that she was right there..." Clearly, the prospect of getting caught sobered her a little bit.

My anxiety was back, in full force, and I could see on Kenzie's face that she felt the same way. I smoothed my wine-colored dress over my pale thighs and picked at my long, black nails.

"Ladies?"

The deep voice behind us was familiar... I turned, and of course, it was the bouncer. Thanks, Kenzie. What the hell was I going to tell my parents? I plastered another sweet smile on my face.

"Yes?" Kenzie said in a perfect, innocent voice.

"I'm gonna need you to follow me," he said.

We looked at each other, and chilling dread weighed in my chest and stomach. Warm tears began to sting my eyes. Goodbye, tuition. What are the legal repercussions of this? Can you go to prison for having a fake ID? Anxious thoughts continued to race through my head as we followed the bouncer out to a corner in the entryway.

"The bartender heard one of you talking about fake IDs, and I knew something was up with you two. Don't play games with me. Hand them over," he demanded.

I was so terrified of the bouncer, I didn't even hesitate to comply. I threw a wide-eyed glance at Kenzie, who gave an exaggerated huff before handing hers over.

"I'm not your parent, so I'm not going to lecture you. Call your parents, right now, to come get you. I'm going to stay here until someone comes," he said, zero patience in his voice.

The tears really started coming now. I could not call my parents. They would be livid. They might not even come get me! They'd just let the cops come arrest me! I looked at Kenzie desperately, and she gave me a pitying look.

"I'll call my dad," she said, and I felt the tiniest wisp of relief. Out of all the parents we could've called in this situation, I felt like her dad would be the least... scary.

But I was still terrified.

Kenzie called Mr. Carter, and stepped a few feet away to tell him the situation, clapping a hand over one ear. I didn't even try to listen to the conversation. I was far too embarrassed. After Kenzie hung up, we sat quietly, not even trying to make conversation anymore. Twenty minutes passed, and the black Acadia pulled over in front of the bar.

We looked at the car, and then the bouncer, and he nodded. I sighed with relief when I realized that the bouncer had no interest in talking to Kenzie's dad. As we left the bar, the butterflies in my stomach intensified. We got in the car silently, and I slid into the right side of the back seat. The car immediately started moving.

Chapter Three

Mr. Carter looked livid. His jaw was tight, his eyes on the road, and his hands firmly on the steering wheel. His thick, veiny forearms flexed as he squeezed the steering wheel, a traditional silver watch on his wrist.

"Mackenzie, where are the fake IDs?" he asked slowly, calmly. The calmness was scary.

"The bouncer took them," she said quietly.

"I'm gonna believe you, but if you're lying, and you get caught with those again..." Mr. Carter growled. "I'm not going to come get you. I will let them call the police."

"Dad, I'm not lying! Why would I lie now?" Kenzie raised her voice.

Mr. Carter didn't say anything, and somehow, that was more intimidating than if he'd continued arguing with her. Where was he taking me? As much as I wanted to know if he was going to throw me to the wolves (my parents), I wasn't sure if I was scared or relieved that he wasn't speaking to me.

The car ride continued in silence until we pulled into a neighborhood I didn't recognize, up to a house I didn't know.

"I already called your mother and told her you'd be staying with her tonight. I need time to calm down before talking about this. I'm going to take Bella home," he said to Kenzie. His tone seemed to be enough for her to know that this wasn't up for discussion.

Kenzie shot me an apologetic look and climbed out of the car. I didn't watch her go to the door, as my eyes were firmly planted on my feet. I felt humiliated, alone in the car with Mr. Carter in this situation. I hadn't been alone with him since that night in the kitchen... I pressed my thighs together at the thought. I felt that I needed to explain to him that this was not my fault, but I knew better than to try. I opted to stay silent.

A few moments passed, and then he took a deep breath before speaking, his eyes never straying from the road.

"Bella, I will take you home if you want me to, but you and I both know how your parents would react to news like this, and I'm not going to lie to them for you."

I shrank in my seat. It was well past midnight, and they would kill me. "I... I mean, I don't have anywhere else to go."

His voice softened just a touch. "If you want, you can sleep in Kenzie's room, and I'll have Kenzie take you home tomorrow morning."

Relief flooded over me. Thank God.

"I would really appreciate that," I said.

"Alright. Well, since your parents are not going to be able to give you a talking-to about your actions tonight..." His jaw clenched. "Do you want to tell me what the hell you were thinking tonight?"

I shrank back in my seat again. I didn't want to throw Kenzie under the bus, especially when she wasn't here to defend herself.

"I don't know," I whispered.

"Don't think that I didn't see Kenzie's car. What the hell did you think you were going to do to get home? I know that you were both drinking, and I really don't want to believe that you're stupid enough to think you can drive drunk."

"W-we were just going to wait until one of us felt okay to drive," I said.

"You realize that it could have — and probably would have — taken hours for you to sober up enough that you'd have been able to drive?" He raised his voice. "You could have gotten yourselves — and others — KILLED, Bella."

In retrospect, of course, Mr. Carter was completely right. I'd allowed myself to be peer pressured into a dumb situation — a potentially fatal, dumb situation. Suddenly, my desire to appease Mr. Carter was stronger than my desire to keep Kenzie out of trouble. I mean, she's already in trouble anyways, right?

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I let Kenzie pressure me into it. The whole thing — the bar, the IDs, the car situation... I swear, Mr. Carter, I would not have made that decision on my own. I know it's not an excuse, but... I don't want you to think badly of me."

He made a disappointed sound, and didn't reply. Somehow, his lack of response hit me harder than any cutting words he could have thrown at me. His disappointment in me drove the guilty feeling in my chest even deeper.

We pulled into the driveway at Kenzie's house, and he got out of the car wordlessly. I had no choice but to follow. I suddenly became extra aware of the outfit I'd chosen for the night. How awkward to be wearing hooker heels and the sluttiest, lowest-cut dress in my wardrobe around my best friend's dad. This was the type of outfit that you're only supposed to wear when you're like... with the girls. I attempted to pull the neckline of my dress up a bit, to cover myself up. This situation was certainly not as sexy as the last time I'd been alone with him.

When we got inside, he slammed his keys on the counter, but it was the only indication that he was upset. Damn, he had a good poker face. I couldn't tell how he was feeling at all. I started up the stairs, not bothering to take my shoes off first.

"Not so fast. Come here," Mr. Carter said, his voice authoritative.

It took me right back to the last time I'd seen him, right back to sitting on his bathroom floor, masturbating, thinking about that exact tone he was using with me right now. Yikes. He tossed me a water bottle.

"Sit here and drink it. I don't need you to be dehydrated and throwing up later in the night," he snapped, and took a sip from the beer bottle in his hand.

I tentatively unscrewed the cap. "I...," I choked on the words as he looked me in the eyes, effectively intimidating the hell out of me. "I'm sorry if I made you mad."

He laughed dryly and set his beer down on the counter next to me. He was wearing a pair of dark jeans and a black T-shirt that showed off his built chest and shoulders. He looked really good, but I didn't dare allow myself to stare at a time like this.

"IF you made me mad? Bella, do I need to go over the list of things that you did tonight? You went to a bar, underage. You used a fake ID. You had plans of driving drunk, or allowing my daughter to drive you around drunk. You allowed my daughter to do all of these things, when I know that you are smarter than that."

His voice was steadily rising, and while he wasn't yelling, it was incredibly loud and ice-cold. He looked at me intensely, and I was too afraid to look away. I deserved every bit of this speech.

I started to speak, to apologize, but he cut me off.

"Not only that, Bella. You are smarter than that, and you are more respectful than that. Did you not think about what this situation could've done to not only your and Kenzie's reputations, but also to mine? I am appalled at the apparent lack of respect that you have yourselves, your parents, and for me."

"I— I'm sorry, sir," I whimpered, tears starting to well in the corners of my eyes. I wanted to shrink into the corner, but I stayed planted on the barstool, drinking the water.

"Actually, I don't know if you are more respectful than that." He shook his head and laughed again, a dry, unamused laugh. "Especially not after the things I overheard you saying about me at my own barbecue last month."

I knew my cheeks must've turned crimson. There was the solid proof — he had heard what I'd said in the pool that day. I couldn't handle this anymore, this lecture, the embarrassment. I kept my eyes down, not wanting to look him in the eyes. I couldn't talk about this right now, not to his face, not alone with him.

I stayed quiet, almost wishing that if I didn't acknowledge what he'd just said, that it wouldn't be true. That he would drop it like it didn't happen.

"I..." I got up, shaking my head, trying to find the words to excuse myself as I took a step toward the stairway.

He stepped in front of me, effectively blocking my path to the stairs. Behind me was a wall and the countertop, so I was pretty much cornered. No getting out of this conversation, I guess. My stomach dropped, and despite how much anxiety I felt, I couldn't deny the heavy throbbing between my thighs.

"You-you what?" He mocked my nervous stutter, taking a step toward me as I took one back.

I took another step back, and he took another forward.

"You really thought I didn't hear you? You repeatedly made the mistake of assuming that I didn't know what was going on under my own roof. Yes, I heard you say those slutty things about me, and yes, I heard you complaining like a whore about how your boyfriend doesn't put out enough," he snapped, and my back hit the wall. I heard his watch gently ticking as he lay a hand on the wall next to my head.

"And yes, Bella, I heard you moaning in my bathroom that night after spilling water all over me, too," he growled, inches from my ear. "My bedroom is literally right next to the bathroom. What kind of girl masturbates like that, minutes after talking to her best friend's father? In his own house?"

I was speechless. I wanted to run, to be alone, but I had nowhere to go. It's not like I could run in five-inch heels. There were tears on my face, but I wasn't necessarily upset. Just humiliated.

I've known this man since I was a child! He used to help me with my homework! To think that he heard me masturbating, that he knew I was masturbating thinking about him!

I screwed my eyes shut for a moment, desperately trying to wish away the heated blush that burned my entire face and chest. He didn't allow me the comfort of not having to reply. He stared at me, eyebrows raised, waiting for an explanation, an apology, something.

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I... didn't know you could hear any of those things. I would never intentionally try to disrespect you like that." I was frantically trying to find the words that he wanted to hear.

"Well, I'm right here. It's just the two of us, princess, so what do you have to say now that I'm listening?" He asked in a low voice in my ear, the anger in his voice gone. His fingers trailed up my inner thigh, under my dress.

I inhaled sharply, finally realizing what he was getting at. "No," I whispered.

No. No! I can't... I don't actually want to fuck him, not now... no, not ever! We'd been playing a game! I'd said I wanted to fuck him because it was the convenient answer in the game, not because I was actively seeking to sleep with my best friend's father!

My heart felt like it was beating a thousand beats per minute, and I started to feel dizzy. The thoughts zipping through my head at what felt like lightning speed distracted me from the fact that Mr. Carter's hand was slipping just over my lacy panties.

"'No'? This," he pressed two fingers on my pussy over my panties, and I could feel the soaked fabric pressing on my bare lips, "tells me that you don't mean that."

I had to suppress a moan when he stroked my sex with a little more pressure, but I knew that he could tell I was turned on anyway. But I can't control how my body reacts! I have a boyfriend! I'm not a whore!

"I was just joking, Mr. Carter, it was a game," I whimpered, making a half-assed attempt to bat his hand away, to no avail. "I-I have a boyfriend!"

"I don't think you were concerned with your boyfriend's feelings when you were telling Kenzie you'd fuck another man... or when you were loudly touching yourself in my bathroom. Were you thinking about him when you were doing that, honey?" he asked tauntingly, still rubbing over my panties, sending tiny waves of pleasure over me that I desperately tried to ignore.

I tried to reassure myself that the pull of desire deep in my stomach was actually just fear, but the wetness soaking through my thong proved otherwise.

"No, but... I wasn't thinking about anyone, really," I lied.

"Don't lie to me," he raised his voice again, slipping my panties to the side to thrust two fingers inside me. "Do you think that I'm stupid, Bella? You were literally shaking with need, on your hands and knees in front of me, minutes before I heard your little moans in the bathroom."

I clenched around his fingers, feeling degraded, upset by how easily they began sliding in and out of me.

"Please, no," I mewled, trying to press my thighs together, to squirm away from his hand. I had to try to get away, at least to try to avoid the guilt that I'd inevitably feel about this the next time I saw Justin.

My attempts to wriggle away were fruitless, and the feeling of being trapped only made me wetter. I felt myself being torn equally in two directions, between wanting to fight him, to run away, and wanting to submit, to let him do whatever he wanted with me.

I knew that I couldn't — wouldn't? — tell anyone about this, despite what happened with Mr. Carter. I couldn't afford for my parents to find out about why he brought me here with him in the first place.

I jumped in fear when he suddenly pinned my shoulder to the wall, hard. I'd surely have a bruise. He shoved his knee against the wall between my legs, nudging my legs apart.