Dirty Rush (6 page)

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Authors: Taylor Bell

BOOK: Dirty Rush
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There was a pause.

“SUE!”

“Yesss?” I heard her say in the background.

“Come down. Your daughter is on the phone!”

“WHICH ONE?”

“The nice one.”

Next I heard the sound of my dad trying to put the phone on speaker. He fumbled with the buttons. Beep. Beep. Beeeeeep. Beep. They are literally both so dumb sometimes.

“Dad?! Please.”

“Hi, Tay. Can you hear us? We're both on now.”

“Hi, Mom.”

“I'm so glad we caught you. I know how busy you are.”

“It's fine, Mom. How are you guys?”

“We're fine, honey,” said my dad. “Just pluggin' away. Your
mom is taking a cooking class about autumn soups and stews. So we've been eating a lot of soups and stews.”

“And chowders. Your father and I made a fabulous Peruvian corn chowder,” my mom added.

“That sounds exciting and yummy.”

“How are you, pumpkin? How are classes? How's your roommate? She's so small.”

“Pretty good on all fronts, team.”

“Great. You're eating enough? How's Jonah?” My mom asked.

“Jonah's great. Thanks for asking. It's been nice to have him here with me.”

“How's it going for him?” my dad inquired. “Has he had any luck being himself in the real world?”

“Dad, Jonah's pretty open about being gay, but he's not, like, shouting it from the rooftops.”

“Well, I know it can be hard out there for members of the LGBT community,” my father said, as if he was proud to even know that term. I guess this was his way of showing that he cared about Jonah. It made me smile.

“Jonah's really good, guys.”

“That's wonderful. Any new friends?”

I wasn't sure whether I wanted to mention my special evening with the girls of Beta Zeta. But because of my mom's history there, I figured she'd be happy I'd at least met them. Maybe she'd just be shocked, considering all the horrible things I used to say about Kelly's sunny sororified disposition when she'd come home from school for holidays.

“Yeah . . . I mean, sure. I've met some fun new people. I
randomly hung out with a bunch of the girls from Beta Zeta last night.”

“WHAT?! That's so great!” my mother screamed.

“Calm down, Mom.”

“Okay. Fine.” She was not calm. “How was it? Did you love them? Did they love you? Are you pledging?”

“I'm not pledging. I'm not joining a sorority. We've literally been over this four thousand times. I just met them at a party and they were all nice and that was it. Please don't make a bigger deal out of this than it is.”

“Totally get it,” my dad chimed in.

“Thanks, Dad.”

“I'm just happy you got a glimpse. It's all very hard to understand when you are not involved. That's all. I don't want you to miss out on friendships that will last you a lifetime.”

“I'm sure I will make great friends here without joining a sorority. There are other ways to meet people.”

“I'm sure that's true,” my dad added. “Okay, well, good then. Have fun and be safe, beautiful.”

“I will, Dad. Love you guys.”

“We love you too . . . Oh, also, speaking of Beta Zeta,” my mother interjected, “you should know that we talked to Kelly last night—”

“And she's coming home for Christmas,” I interrupted. “I know, Mom. She emailed me. That's great.”

“Oh.”

I could hear the disappointment in my mom's voice. She loves to be the one to break news about anything going on with the family.
She lives for it. I actually felt kind of bad for ruining her moment. Normally I would have pretended not to know about Kelly coming home.

“Well, anyway,” my mom continued, “Jessica is trying to come too. Depends on Matt's rotation at the hospital. They're so busy, those two. It would be nice to have all of you girls home for the holidays this year.”

“That would be great, Mom. Bye.”

After I hung up I asked myself if it really would be nice to be home for Christmas with my family. I have the type of family that likes to be in each other's business as much as possible, so being away from them had been a refreshing, clean start. Don't get me wrong: I think my parents are pretty cool as far as parents go. My sisters are older but have always made a good effort to visit me at home, so we have a closeness that I treasure, but I didn't necessarily miss any of them.

Jess, the oldest, was arguably my favorite. She was tall, confident, and always genuinely sweet. Some people are just happy—she was one of them. She always made sure I was well taken care of when I was a kid, but now she had her own life: she'd been dating the same guy, Matt, a medical resident, since her senior year of CDU. Between her job in PR, Matt's crazy schedule, and the fact that they lived in New York City, I kind of doubted that she'd be home for the holidays. Kelly, the middle Bell daughter, was not so much what I would describe as sweet. She was wild, opinionated, and a bit rough. She always knew how to have a good time, wasn't afraid to ask for what she wanted, and normally found a way to get it.

My phone buzzed again—a number I didn't recognize.

(302) XXX-XXXX 2:30PM
Taylor. It's Jack. Hope it's not weird that I'm texting you. Got your number from Meg.

(302) XXX-XXXX 2:30PM
I wanted to apologize if I was a dick or whatever last night. Are you feeling better?

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy that Jack had texted me. He was really hot, and although he had acted like an idiot after I fell, it made me feel good that he'd gone to the trouble of getting my number and checking up.

I found a sunny spot on the stairs outside of the big humanities building, waited a few minutes, and contemplated the perfect response.

Taylor 2:42PM
Hey.

Jack Swanson 2:42PM
Really happy you responded.

Taylor 2:42PM
Did u think I wouldn't?

Jack Swanson 2:42PM
Honestly wasn't sure. I was an idiot last night. Def had a few too many.

Taylor 2:43PM
How are you?

Jack Swanson 2:43PM
Great. You?

Taylor 2:43PM
I'm good. A little sore. But good.

Jack Swanson 2:43PM
I heard a rumor you're pre-gaming with some BZs tomorrow night.

Taylor 2:43PM
Wow. Word travels fast. I was invited but I can't go.

Jack Swanson 2:43PM
Boo. Does that mean you can't make it to the party at our house as well?

Taylor 2:44PM
I'm afraid it does. I'm very important. Many CDU students are vying for my attention and I have to keep my people happy.

Jack Swanson 2:44PM
LOL! Totally see how that is possible.

Taylor 2:44PM
Some other time then?

Jack Swanson 2:44PM
Maybe we could get together just the 2 of us.

Taylor 2:44PM
K

Jack Swanson 2:45PM
Dinner? Movie? Walk? Museum? Carnival? Canoe trip? Ice skating? Yoga?

Taylor 2:45PM
Yoga? Really?

Jack Swanson 2:45PM
Not my first choice but I'd be down.

Taylor 2:45PM
Haha let me think about it.

Jack Swanson 2:45PM
Tell me what works.

Taylor 2:45PM
Have fun at your party tonight.

Jack Swanson 2:45PM
I'll try.

I couldn't help but smile. It's amazing how a few good texts can improve your relationship with the entire world.

5.
“SICK” AS IN “FUN”

T
he following night I was finally feeling human again. I'd spent most of my Saturday reading/sleeping in bed and was starting to feel a little stir crazy. I was excited to go see Jonah compete. The plan was to go over to his swim buddy's place afterward to play drinking games. I was midway through brushing my teeth in the girls' bathroom, still in sweatshorts and a bra, when my phone buzzed on the edge of the sink. It was a text from another number I didn't recognize.

302-XXX-XXXX 8:39PM
Hi! It's Olivia. Got your number from Meg. I'm coming to pick you up in like 10 minutes.

Taylor 8:40PM
Wait, what? I can't come. I have a thing.

302-XXX-XXXX 8:40PM
K.

I continued to get ready, threw on one of my favorite dresses—a vintage baby-blue shirtdress with a tie around the waist, a navy cardigan, and a pair of white Chucks, and managed to sweep on some blush and mascara. I looked fine. Not amazing, but that was okay. As I was about to walk out, checking my hair once more in the mirror, I got another text.

302-XXX-XXXX 8:58PM
Hey cute tits. It's Stephanie, I'm here to pick you up instead because my sister is being a cunt so come down and get in the car. White Lexus.

I went downstairs to the front of my building and sure enough, there was Steph in the car, smiling.

“Hey! Did you get cuter or were you this cute the other night?” Steph asked as soon as I was in earshot.

“Hey, sorry. I actually have plans to go see my best friend swim tonight at Newman. I told Olivia I wasn't gonna be able—”

“Well, it's great that you want to go do that, but college is about having fun and you are coming with me. Your friend will understand.”

I had no idea what to do. I didn't realize it at the time, but this was kind of a crossroads moment.

I got in.

“I feel weird about calling my sister a cunt just now via text,” Stephanie said.

“Oh, it's okay,” I said, closing the passenger door. Her car smelled like Axe body spray.

“I don't really think she's a cunt,” she reassured me.

“Seriously, I don't care. I won't mention it.”

“Yeah, def don't mention it to anyone, ever. Olivia loathes
being called a cunt. It's like her personal ‘n-word,' ” she said, rolling her window down and lighting a cigarette.

“Okay, I won't.” I could feel her smiling in my direction, but it felt like it would make things even more awkward to look at her.

“So . . .”

“Sorry we needed to pick you up so early. We wanted to grab you before my blood alcohol level became an issue.”

“I honestly had no idea that you were coming to get me, so it's fine.”

“Anyways,” Stephanie said as she stepped on the gas and zoomed away from Lincoln Hall toward the River, “tonight should be sick.”

“Sick as in fun or sick as in gross?” I asked.

“Sick as in fun, obvi,” she said turning up the volume on the stereo. The song was either Chris Brown or Ne-Yo, I couldn't tell which. Stephanie sped through the winding roads that lead off campus with the precision of a professional driver. She barely had her eyes on the road between talking to me and texting, and yet I felt completely safe with her behind the wheel. Maybe she was on Adderall. Probably.

The two of us fumbled through some pretty mundane yet varied topics of convo (e.g., sports bras, Kate Upton's ass), until we got down the River and Steph said dryly, “Oh, balls. I forgot to offer you a drink, how very poor of me. Here, have some.” She pulled a baby bottle out of a huge purple Longchamp bag that sat between us.

“Hmmmm, okay . . .” I said, taking the bottle and examining it. “What's in it?”

“Fun stuff.”

I didn't know
what else to do but giggle. “Can you be slightly more specific?” I asked.

“Just a little Red Bull.”

“That's it? Why is it in this bottle?”

“. . . and a little crushed-up Xanax.” She smirked and lit another cigarette.

“Xanax?” Wow, she totally wasn't on Adderall. I was way off.

“It's just a little mood enhancer, it's a nice base for whatever else may come your way tonight. No presh, my wholesome upbringing mandates that I at least offer you some, that's all.” She smirked again, the same exact smirk. She must've practiced that a lot at some point in middle school. I wondered if the twins ever did pageants.

“I don't know . . .” I hesitated. The only time I'd ever taken Xanax was when I had a little anxiety attack on a family trip to Spain and thought I'd lost my passport. I knew that a small amount wouldn't do much and I also felt like I could trust Stephanie for some reason. Maybe her driving prowess convinced me that she knew how to handle extreme experiences and she wouldn't lead me astray. I thought about what my mom would say if she was sitting in the backseat of the Lexus at that moment, then immediately wiped that visual from my mind because it was weirding me out.

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