If you didn’t already read the first “episode”, you’ll want to go meet the characters. I’m going to assume you know what’s going on.
Honestly, in my mind, Blind Girl’s Bluff was a one-shot — but — when you guys said you liked Sophie and wanted more, I started thinking about what she might get herself into next.. I hope you like it.
~~~
— ( Flowers ) —
Sophie and I had been together for a month.
I guess I was pretty lucky she was so mad at Cal that day — or I’d have still be living alone.
Can you believe that shit?!
Not only did I have a hot, little girlfriend — whom I’d been in love (or at least unadulterated lust) with for, like, a year — but we were together-together!
I even occasionally got sex.
Like every day and — occasionally — a couple times a day.
Cal was an idiot.
What am I talking about?!
Cal *IS* an idiot.
Lucky for me.
Why the fuck was I thinking about Cal so much?
.. probably because he asked about Sophie in class the other day.
I sort of ignored him.
It turned out Veronica was all about the conquest — and once she’d “caught” Cal, she lost interest quickly and went on the hunt for her next prize.
I’m not even sure it’s a home-wrecker kind of a thing with her — I think she just can’t stand to be settled — and gets some kind of adrenaline rush from the hunt/pursuit.
I never really spoke to Veronica — so I didn’t know what her deal was.
About a week after she was done with Cal, she tried to chat me up after class. I just walked away from her. I was — am — totally — not interested in that shit!
Veronica wasn’t ugly — although she’s kind of got this Mad-Eye Moody thing going on with those eyebrows..
It’s just the fact that — when she’s talking to you — she spends more time looking at everybody around you than she does looking at you.
She can’t even commit to a conversation!
Fuck.
First I squirrel’d on Cal — and now Veronica.
Why do I do that?
(sigh)
A month.
I wanted to get Sophie a little something.
She’s not big on jewelry — and a month is probably not some kind of jewelry anniversary anyway..
.. but what the hell do I know?
I was thinking flowers.
Off to the florist..
The lady at the cash register wanted to know what kind of flowers.
How the hell should I know?
I looked in the stand-up cooler by the counter — with the call-in orders and the pre-arranged stuff — to see what everybody else is doing.
Fuck.
I didn’t know.
I know like three flowers: roses (long or short), carnations (cheaper), and irises (mom’s favorite).
“Irises, I guess.”
“Wrapped or vase?”
I glanced at the price-tags for the vases.
“Just throw them with some Baby’s Breath and a Leatherleaf.”
See, I know shit!
“Wrap them in some tissue paper and we’ll call it good.”
I parked the Ranger and walked to the apartment.
A couple blocks away, I could see Sophie heading back from class.
I hurried inside with the flowers.
Do I leave them wrapped up — or throw them in a vase? Did I even have a vase?!
Fuck!
Sports cup?
Nice. Doofus!
I could hear her coming down the hall.
I tossed the bundle on the kitchen table and threw myself in a recliner and tried not to breathe loudly.
Sophie unlocked the door.
“Geoffrey?”
Her head turned to the kitchen table.
“Flowers?”
.. and then to me.
“You’re breathing heavily.”
She grinned.
“Let’s see. You couldn’t find a vase and you’re too proud to put them in a stadium cup?”
I launched myself out of the chair and wrapped her in a hug.
I snuggled the bridge of my nose into her neck and laid my head on her shoulder.
“You know you’re like fuckin’ Daredevil — the way you do that shit, right? I don’t know how I’m every going to surprise you… and I still don’t know how Cal..”
“Geoffrey!”
“Yes, mistress! Sorry, mistress! Don’t punish Dobby!”
“I’ll fuckin’ Dobby your ass! I told you not to mention Voldemort.”
“I know but..”
“Don’t ‘but’ me.”
“Fine.”
“What kind of flowers did you get? They smell like shit!”
“What?! I buy flowers and all I get are insults? Where’s the adoration? Where’s the wild discarding of clothing and the wet, juicy sounds of hurried hormone-driven sex?”
She kissed my forehead.
“I love you. You goof.”
“.. and I like you a little bit, too. Do my flowers really smell like shit?”
“Are they irises?”
“How does a short, blind girl with a lazy eye..”
“Lazy eye?! I’ll fucking stab you..”
“.. know more about flowers than a smart, kind, handsome,..”
“Where are my boots? The sow-shit is getting deep in here..”
“.. sensitive..”
“Momma’s boy?”
I gave up.
“Should I just go with self-absorbed teenage boy who gave it a shot and — obviously — failed — again?”
“That’s much, much closer.”
I sighed.
“So, are you fucking Veronica? What’s up with the flowers?”
“First of all, if I can’t mention He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, I think you shouldn’t be able to talk about Bellatrix Lestrange..”
“Fine.”
“.. and, secondly, Helen Keller..”
She pushed me away.
“I’m getting a dull, fucking knife.”
“.. YOU would know I was having sex before I would.”
She laughed.
“Probably. You ARE a little slow. I think your momma dropped you on your head when you were little.”
“My mom is SO gonna love you..”
I pulled her into a hug again.
“I’m not ready for that yet, Egghead, but I’m glad you think it’s going to be all peachy and shit.”
“See? Peachy and shit is something she would probably say.”
She laughed and asked, “Who cusses more — your mom or your dad?”
“Dad only cusses when he injures himself — or is really mad. Mom’s like you. She can’t really complete a sentence without at least one cuss-word.”
“Hmm. We’ll see.”
I snorted at her unintended dad joke.
“That’s enough blind jokes out of you, asshole. You can sleep by yourself tonight.”
“Ah, mistress! I beg your forgiveness..”
“Listen, fucker. If I try to smack you in the head — and I miss and get your eye — I’m calling it your fault..”
I pinched her on the ass and headed down the hall to the bathroom. I’d been so busy — running my errand after class — my bladder was complaining.
By the time I got back to the kitchen, she had the flowers in a vase — apparently I DID have one — in the middle of the table.
“Forgiven?”
“They still smell like shit. Why irises?”
“Couldn’t decide. Mom likes them. I’m not sure why. I think they look like a pussy.”
“You got me flowers that remind you of sex?”
“I guess?”
“How do they look like a pussy?”
“Well, if you were naked..”
“Obviously.”
“.. and stood on your head..”
“Are you horny 24 hours a day?”
“Mostly.”
“Figured.”
“.. and spread your legs apart..”
“.. well, sure..”
“.. you’d look a lot like an iris.”
“Are we gonna have that ‘birds & the bees’ talk now, Daddy?”
“I’ll ‘daddy’ your ass..”
“I’ll have you know my daddy is a nice guy — not a pervert like you.”
“I can’t wait to meet.. You know what? You’re right. Let’s hold off on the parent thing.”
Then I had to ask, “Your dad, is he gonna kill me?”
“Not unless you call me Helen Keller in front of him. You’d probably better drop that shit..”
“Noted.”
“Otherwise, my daddy pretty much does whatever I tell him.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He’s got this guilty-conscience shit like he somehow did this to me or something — I mean how was he supposed to know mom was his sister?”
I snort-chock-laughed.