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Were Me Out

By:Robyn Peterman

a notch in his bedpost. And I had my doubts about Junior being my true mate. All the rules that usually applied to that phenomenon were all messed up when it came to Junior and me.




If I was being truthful-and I wasn't-I'd have to admit I'd had it bad for Junior since I was a teenager, but he'd never so much as noticed me. It wasn't until I'd matured that he knew I was alive.

"You just gonna hide like a wussy while all those gals throw themselves at your man?" Essie inquired, scaring the hell out of me and causing a loud baked bean avalanche.

"He's not my man," I shot back, darting away from the beans and diving behind the banana bin.

"That's not what I heard," she said, ignoring the lewd performance playing out ten feet from us and putting a few bunches of bananas in her cart.

"You heard wrong," I told my long-time, nosy, best friend. "He's not the one for me. He's a man hooker and I don't want to spend the rest of my life in prison."

"Not following," Essie said, plucking off a banana from the bunch and peeling it.

I stopped a few cans of rolling beans with my foot and set them right. "If I kill everyone who's ever been with Junior and everyone who wants to be with the manwhore, I'll spend the rest of my very naturally long life in the pokey. I really don't think I'm cut out for the big house," I explained logically, considering everything I just uttered was wildly irrational.

"I see where you're going with that." Essie nodded her agreement and then ate her banana as she watched the shit show ensue.

"I can't compete with that," I hissed pointing at the most aggressive of the hussy mob. "Her pants are so tight I can see her religion."

Essie laughed until she half choked on her banana.

"So you think I'm being smart here?" I asked, glaring out from behind bunches of yellow fruit.

I wished I'd stayed buried in the bananas. There were two busty brunettes practically dry humping the Sheriff. In all fairness, Junior didn't look happy about the lap dance, but …

"You look good in yellow," Essie said with a wide grin. "And no, I don't think you're being smart. Smart girls don't hide behind beans and fruit while her future is being molested by horny she-Wolves."

"He's not my future," I snapped.

"Whatever you say, Blondie," Essie replied with a shrug and a smirk. "You coming over after work? I want you, Dwayne and Dima to try on your bridesmaid dresses."

"Dwayne is really wearing a dress?" I asked forgetting about the hump-o-rama occurring in the Piggly Wiggly for a brief second.

"Yep. Dwayne is really wearing a dress," Essie said with an eye roll and a chuckle.

"I'll be there," I promised. "Will you cover me? I need to get out of here."

"Yes Sandy, I'll cover you, but this is the last time. You need to man up and deal with this clusterwhomp or it's gonna deal with you," Essie said, far more serious than her usual carefree self.

"I know," I replied with a sigh that sounded pathetic to even my ears.

"Where are you escaping to?" Essie asked as she expertly tossed her banana peel, sending four of the offensive skanks clear across the aisle to the cold cut counter.

Dang, I wished I'd thought of that. It was every kind of awesome to watch the pile of floozies slip ungracefully on the peel and land on the spiral hams.

"I'm going to my folks' house," I told her with a quick hug. Then I made a run for it while everyone was focused on the hooker pile trying to untangle themselves from the lunch meat. At least they were now separated from my man meat.

O.M.G. It was time for me to leave. I was now using Junior's terminology for his dangly parts.

"You're going to need to grow up, my friend," Essie called after me.

"I will," I promised with a grateful wave. "Tomorrow."

"Junior came to church and confessed all of his sins to me," my dad said turning a slight shade paler than his normally healthy robust color.

My stomach roiled and I wanted shrivel up and disappear. I'd clearly chosen the wrong hideout. First I had to see Junior with other women. Now I had to hear about it? That stupid Werewolf was in for a ton of butt-hurt when I saw him again.

My parents' enormous kitchen had just shrunk to dollhouse size. Had Junior lost his mind? I couldn't get away from the dorky sexy bane of my existence even when he wasn't present. Was that his game? Was he infiltrating my life from all sides? Of course confessing to my father wasn't going to win him a bunch of points …

"Sweet Hell on earth," I choked out and dropped to the floor in front of my mom's immaculate Tupperware cabinet. I stared hard at the ceramic tile under my knees and had an internal debate about how to proceed with this particular conversation. Wait. How in the ever lovin' hell did my mom keep the floor so clean? Stop. Focus. Deal with the matter at hand-don't obsess about your mother's superior cleaning skills.

"That must have been, umm … pornographic."

Closing my eyes and counting to ten so I didn't call Junior a name that would get my mouth washed out with soap, I tried to gather myself. Making eye contact with my dad was out of the question. I was a thirty year old, grown woman, but I felt like a teenager at the moment. Having no clue if my male parental figure was pissed or amused, I studied the grain of the pitted cherry wood cabinet and wondered if it would be odd if I crawled out of the kitchen on my hands and knees.

My dad was the father of six wild boys and one very good girl. He was used to everything that went with that, but this was another thing altogether.

"Yes, well, his confession was interesting, to say the least," he commented dryly.

The silence was loaded and long-so I filled it. A bad habit of mine developed early in life. Didn't serve me well in my youth and probably wasn't going to serve me well in the present.

Whatever.

"So, ummm … what exactly did he say?" I asked as

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