The Women of Custer City Ch. 14-15

Chapter 14

The resentment and jealousy Amanda and I held for each other slowly started to fall away. The days became easier, and when we saw each other, we couldn't help but smile. We had too many memories, and we liked each other's company way too much to let the situation divide us.

We tried to keep things interesting. We went out to the movies (even though I'd seen everything that was playing a few dozen times). We went to the beach. We spent a night in a stolen pickup truck, staring at the stars, but today, we were in the mood for laziness.

Neither one of us knew what was coming when our thirty days were up, but I think we both could feel ourselves starting to tire out. She arrived at my doorstep early. She hadn't changed from her pajamas, and her hair was held in an unwashed, loose bun, but she was beautiful. She hadn't cooked, but she'd stopped and gotten a platter of cinnamon rolls, the perfect breakfast when it was literally impossible to gain weight.

She wore an old shirt, spattered with bleach stains, and her plaid pajamas had a hole in the crotch. She wasn't wearing a bra, but it wasn't an attempt to look sexy, it was an attempt at comfort. We ate with smiles across the table, and I kissed the cream cheese frosting from her lip.

"It's kinda nice," she admitted, "Taking things slow. Nowhere to be, nothing to do. Don't have to get ready or anything."

"And no guilt," I added, "You can be as lazy as you want, it's not like we're giving up a weekend."

She took another bite, and licked the frosting off her fingers. I watched her eyes roll back, savoring the cinnamon center.

"We should have gotten something savory too," she said. She picked at the dough, and started running her finger around the plate, picking up the crumbs.

"Nah," I said. It was my turn to take a creamy bite, "You did good. This is incredible."

She allowed a soft smile, "Thanks."

I finished my plate and grabbed it from the table. I took hers as I passed and started running it under the kitchen sink. Habit I guess.

"What about the rest of the day?" I asked, "Any movie you wanna watch? Game you wanna play?"

She shook her head. Her steps were slow and soft, until I felt her arms around my torso. I scraped the gunk from the dishes, and held my arms out so she could sneak in.

"I'm fine just cuddling on the couch," she said, "Resting with you, watching something, anything, who cares."

"Sounds good to me," I laughed. I tossed the first plate to a spread towel and started work on the second, "Go get started, I'll meet you there."

She laughed, gave a quick kiss. I heard a pair of footsteps drifting away and I worked the last piece of stuck frosting free.

I started walking towards her, and let myself chuckle, "We just gotta make sure we don't fall asleep."

I couldn't place the voice I heard. It sounded angry, almost vengeful, and the word's weren't Amanda's, "Are you gonna take me seriously now?"

I turned the corner and saw Amanda's wide eyes. I saw terror that came from a primal place. She was gasping for breath and blood trickled down her breast. Then I saw where the voice had come from: Hannah.

She rose from behind the couch. She grunted and pulled with all her might, unsheathing a chef's knife from Amanda's back. I saw her eyes widen with fear and pain, and the blood poured out in steady spurts.

"You just gonna walk me out?" Hannah bellowed. She started towards me, and held the knife out like a dueling pistol, "Tell me I'm not worth your time?"

She took her first swing at me. I heard the whoosh in the still kitchen air, and felt the hair on my skin bristle. I tried to hold out a diplomatic hand, but she swung again. I ducked back, but not quick enough. A narrow trail ran down my palm, and a cold sensation spiraled up my arm. I struggled for a kitchen chair, and held it out between us. It wasn't death I was worried about, it was the pain.

"Hannah," I tried. I held the chair our, a small buffer between us.

"Look who finally came home," she cackled. I barely recognized the girl I'd met at the mansion. Her hair was unkempt, her eyes wild. She wasn't dressed to impress her classmates, she looked like she woke up and sprinted for the kitchen knife, letting herself turn feral as she made her way to my house.

She tried to stick the blade between the slats, out of breath but screaming with every stroke, "You! Ruined! My! Fucking! Life!"

I twisted the chair, trying to pull her arm, but she retreated too fast.

"And you're not even trying to fix it?"

Hannah started to charge. She held the knife out in front of her like a lance. I swung with the chair and dodged her like a matador. Her momentum took her stumbling into the kitchen and the blade caught in the cabinet. She wrenched and twisted, trying to break free, and I had a moment to glance at Amanda. Her eyes were still wide, but her breathing had stopped. Good. She's not in pain.

Hannah had pulled the knife free and turned back to me. She slapped her hair away with an angry hand and took a twisted step across the linoleum.

I set the chair aside, knowing I couldn't hold her off forever, and let her swing at me. I didn't go for the knife, I went for her wrist. She jabbed into my shoulder, scraping bone and lacerating the muscle. I felt myself lose all strength, but my other hand had caught her wrist. I slammed it down to the floor, probably cracking her fingers. I placed my knee on her stomach and crawled for the knife.

When I looked down I saw fear, the same fear Amanda had while she gasped for breath, but I didn't pressure her. All I wanted was for the pain to end.

"I don't want to hurt you," I said, "I promise. I never wanted to hurt you. I'm trying my best."

Her eyes were still wide, but I could feel myself starting to lose consciousness. End the pain.

I twisted the knife in my good hand, and held the blade up towards myself. I jabbed as hard as I could, finding my carotid artery, and the world went black.

The next morning, I was sprinting. I ran to Amanda's house, still in my pajamas. My heart was thumping in my throat as my shaky hands danced the macarena on her doorbell.

"Amanda!" I shrieked, "Amanda! Are you ok?"

I never saw the door open, but I felt her throw herself into my arms.

"It hurt," she said, a hint of tears in her voice, "So fucking bad."

I held her until the trembling stopped and her breathing returned to normal. "I know," I said softly, "She got me too."

I felt her eyes look past me, scanning the street to make sure we were alone. "Charlie," she whispered, "She knows where you live."

I nodded softly, but had nothing to add.

"What are we gonna do?" her trembling voice asked.

I let myself think for a moment, basking in the warm morning air, "I think we need a secret meeting place. Somewhere only you and I know. Like the treehouse."

She wiped the tears from her eyes. She looked over the street again and let her voice fall to a tinny whisper, "I don't just mean that," she said, "I mean Hannah's not entirely wrong. We did ruin her life. We might be ruining everyone's life."

The change took me by surprise. I let myself survey her, trying to read the conflicted emotions.

"Amanda," I finally said, "Do you trust me?"

She nodded.

"And you believe what I said about Sadie right?"

Another nod.

"I don't know if she wants us to be together, but I know the answer isn't just to keep fucking everything that moves. It's not what I want. It's not what you want, and I know it's not what Sadie wants."

She considered for a moment, taking the time to lean against me, her head resting on my shoulder.

"I think we need a secret place," I repeated, "Because Hannah's probably not done, and we're running out of days. The others will come for us too."

I felt her head shake, trying to imagine all those friendly faces she'd seen at the kitchen swinging a knife the way Hannah had.

"Not the treehouse then," she said, "They know about our first day together. They'd eventually find it."

"Not the mansion either," I sighed, "Or any other empty house. I know a few dozen, and I've used them all, but they know about them too."

I took one last glance out her porch, then led her inside. "I guess," I sighed, "It has to be somewhere random then. A car dealership, a hotel, something they'd never think about."

We fell on her unkempt couch, and sat, silent for a moment as we tried to map out Custer City in our minds.

"You wake up later," I said, still out of breath from the jog over, "Maybe it should be somewhere closer to you, just so we-"

We never got our lazy day and I never got to finish the thought. I heard Amanda's voice before I heard the pounding at the door. "Oh God," she muttered, "Hannah knows where I live too."

I glanced through the window, and saw she didn't have a sudden change of heart. She held the same knife and her eyes were just as wild. I brought my voice to a hush and locked eyes with Amanda, "Tree house. Tomorrow," I said, "We'll figure it all out then."

I opened the door slowly, hoping diplomacy would work. It didn't.

Chapter 15

Ginger hadn't appreciated just how far Chrissy had to drive until she had to make the trip herself. She'd woken up groggy and sickly, ready to spend another day face down in bed, waiting to fall asleep again, but when she glanced at her phone she saw Chrissy had invited her over.

She wiped her hangover sickness from her lips, glanced over her shoulder, and stole her roommate's truck. She drove one handed, while the other held up her gps. All told it, nearly an hour and a half had passed before she, still in her pajamas, knocked on Chrissy's door.

The brunette met her with a warm smile. She'd made more of an effort on herself, pulling her hair back, clearly having showered, and as Ginger glanced around her home, it was clear she'd been keeping it clean before the timeloop ever started.

Ginger stepped in with her nervous arms crossed. Chrissy stepped forward, almost determinedly oblivious, and brought the girl into a hug. When she pulled back, a smile was stretched across her wide cheeks, and her eyes seemed to study Ginger's bedraggled form.

"Why'd you call me here?"

Chrissy's smile fell like a rock, "Can I ask you something?"

The question didn't abate her nervousness, but she offered a reluctant nod.

"And I want you to answer truthfully, because I care about you, the same way we all care about each other."

Ginger gave another small nod, but the confusion started to tug against her eyebrows. "Since things changed, and we stopped trying to help Charlie, have you left your apartment even once?"

Ginger wouldn't meet Chrissy's hazel eyes.

"Have you gotten dressed, have you-"

"No," Ginger snapped. It was louder than she meant, but as Ginger kept talking, the woman's words felt like nails against a chalkboard.

Chrissy took another confident step forwards. She took Ginger in a confident embrace, and stroked her hand on the back of Ginger's frizzy hair.

"I know how much it sucks," she whispered, "Seeing Charlie with someone else, and I know it hurts, but Ginger, you can't put all your faith in one person. It's not fair to them, and it's not fair to yourself."

Chrissy loosened her grip, but kept the redhead at arm's length. She studied those blue eyes, and saw a young woman fighting hard to keep them dry.

"You're not alone," Chrissy said softly, "We all care about you. So much, and there's so many people stuck in here too, so many-"

"But only one man," Ginger muttered.

Chrissy let the redhead go. She brushed past her and started towards her perfect little living room, "So?"

"For a while," Ginger said; she was starting to lose the battle with her warbly voice, "he seemed like he really loved me, you know?"

"Did he ever say it?"

"We did everything together. We spent every day together, fucked every-"

"Did he ever say it?" Chrissy repeated herself.

Ginger's head slunk again, and Chrissy didn't need an answer.

"So what he's the only man?" Chrissy asked. She kicked back on her couch, and sprawled her trimmed arms across the backrest, "If you just want sex, there's a million men you can go after. If you need a friend, there's plenty of those, and if you really want a relationship; Ginger, I've heard enough of your stories to know you're at least a little bi."

Ginger looked back at the bartender, and saw her in another light. She saw the way she'd pulled up her hair, she saw the way Chrissy wore a shiny black crop top, a choker, and a skirt so skinny Ginger thought Chrissy's legs might turn blue. Ginger felt her heart skip a beat.

"No one else is Charlie-"

Chrissy was quick to her feet, "That. That right there is what I mean. Why are you putting so much pressure on one person? You're setting yourself up for disappointment, there's so many-"

"We had fun together."

Chrissy's lips curled in pity, "Oh hon-"

Ginger wriggled her shoulders, just to make sure Chrissy couldn't grab her back. "I know I look like a college dumbass, but I've been in here, almost as long as Charlie. He was my friend. My best fucking friend, and he-"

"He's still your friend," Chrissy shrugged, "I'm sure if you asked, he'd make time to hang out-"

"But he wouldn't give up Amanda."

"No," Chrissy admitted, "He wouldn't do that. I know. And I've said it sucks, and it's shitty, and I know how painful it is, but I'm trying to help you Ginger. The only way to get over someone is to get back out there. Move forward, have some fun."

Ginger didn't have the energy to keep arguing. She barely had the energy to stay upright, and let herself slink against Chrissy's couch. Chrissy moved slowly, crawling towards the redhead on all fours like a cat, and let her arm brush against Ginger's neck.

"I'm not trying to belittle you," Chrissy promised, "Or condescend you, or berate you. God knows I'm not in a place to give out love advice. I just want to be there for you."

Ginger let her neck tilt, as her frizz fell against Chrissy's bicep. The arm wasn't mine, but it was still warm. She let herself roll back. She fell until she was on her back and her cheek rested against Chrissy's chest. Her eyes fluttered, and she felt just how tired she was, but she couldn't keep the question from her tongue.

"What about you?" she asked, "What's your worst heartbreak?"

Chrissy let herself laugh, "There's been too many to count."

"I'm not in a rush to go anywhere."

Ginger's eyes never opened. She didn't see the way Chrissy sighed, the way her eyes went marble as the memories became fresh in her mind.

"Earliest," she sighed, "Was probably my college boyfriend. I thought we were in love. I trusted him about everything. I believed him when he said he was being framed, that they were kicking him out but it wasn't his fault. And I followed him. I gave up my degree, my education, my apartment, my friends, all because I didn't want to lose him. It only took a month to catch him with his dick in another girl."

Ginger twisted, adjusting to get comfortable against Chrissy's form.

"The worst though," Chrissy gulped, "Was most recent, and it's not even close."

Chrissy let her head rock side to side. She absentmindedly stroked Ginger's hair, almost like a lapdog. "I don't know if you know this, but I wasn't too long after you. And I don't know if you know this either, but I'm married."

The confession was enough to get Ginger's eyes to open.

"Look around," Chrissy said softly, "I don't hide it."

She pointed off towards the mantle. "There's Ryan and I out at Charlemagne canyons. Over there's a portrait we had done professionally, there's-"

Ginger sat up, "You cheated on him?"

"No," Chrissy sighed. There was pain in her voice, with just a hint of longing, "but I doubted what we had. I've never been fully straight, and I never really felt convinced I'd be fine with just one person. Forever."

Ginger turned her head. She followed the arm that had stopped stroking her hair, and saw hazel eyes that stared off into space.

"I'm the one who wanted to open thing's up," she said, "And I think he just agreed because he was terrified of losing me. As far as I know, he never slept with anyone else. I fucked it up all by myself."

It was Ginger's turn to comfort. She pulled herself to her knees and inched towards Chrissy.

"All he said," Chrissy said, her voice still distant, "Was that he didn't want to know about it. Do it on my own time. As long as I still loved him, he was fine with whatever I did."

Chrissy's voice turned thick with pulp, "Just so happens," she squeaked, "On June 16th he had a business trip. I saw an opportunity to mix things up. I was horny, and easy, and that meant Charlie got me pretty early on."

Chrissy broke her trance, just long enough to lean forward and sip from her glass of wine.

"You don't want to put all your love, all your faith in one person," she said. The hollow words were laced with sadness, "It just hurts too damn much."

Chrissy made it clear she had finished talking. She turned the glass skyward, and drank until it was empty.

Ginger couldn't keep herself from glancing at the pictures, seeing the way she smiled at Ryan's side, the innocence she had before all this started.

"I really was just trying to help," Chrissy said. Some warmth had started to creep back into her words, maybe fueled by the wine, "I thought I knew a couple things about getting over someone, especially someone you really love."

"Are you?" she asked.

Chrissy rolled her neck, trying her best to ease the tension in her shoulders, "Am I what?"

"Over him?"

"No," she admitted, "Not even close."

Ginger let herself slide back to Chrissy's shoulders. She let herself run her hand against Chrissy's stomach, feeling the way she breathed.

"Even back then," Chrissy said, "I had fun, but it was never the same, there was thrill but never any intimacy. None of them were ever him."

"Do-"

Chrissy pressed on, "And nothing changes anything now. I'll never move on, never fully, especially when I know this will end someday, and we'll be together, and I'll never think about fucking anyone but him, but I have to at least try to live my life. You can't just sit around, waiting for everything to come together in a perfect storm to live your life right now. No one comes close, but connecting with people, actually enjoying and living my life, it's a hell of a lot better than sitting around, wallowing in misery."

Ginger let herself brace Chrissy. She felt her muscles turn firm as she held the woman in her arms. "You're right," she said softly.

Chrissy allowed a small smile, "I know that's easier said than done. Believe me. I know. But I went a lot longer than you, wallowing in loneliness, spiraling, and I don't want to see you in that same dark place I had to crawl out of."

Ginger's head fell back to Chrissy's torso. She let the silence wash over them, until there was nothing but the tick of the living room clock. "Chrissy," she said softly, "You invited me over here to fuck me, didn't you?"

Chrissy gave another small smile, "Maybe. I don't know."

Ginger let herself laugh, and she felt Chrissy's belly join in a giggle.

"I just wanted to help you move on," Chrissy said, "Whatever shape that took."

Ginger fixed her hair, and for the first time, truly locked eyes with Chrissy. "You know," she admitted, "I've never been one-on-one with another girl."

Chrissy let her hand fall. She stroked through Ginger's hair and the two locked eyes. "It's different," she admitted, "But it's still sex. It's still one on one with another person. Maybe a little more intimate."

Ginger stretched her hands out above her head. She let herself yawn. When her eyes rolled back open, Chrissy still hadn't moved. She was looking down, and her hand gave Ginger's hair another gentle brush, but she wasn't making a move.