Page 20 of Tate: Gemini King
The curse backfired. My ass is cooked like a Thanksgiving turkey.
“What the hell is going on here?” I hear a gruff voice saying on the other side of the bedroom door. Terrorist stops barking. I don’t know if I should scream again or just quiet down. A cop would announce themselves, right? So this isn’t a cop. What random man would feel comfortable walking into our apartment?
My imminent death feels closer than ever before now. I can’t breathe. I have never been so screwed in my entire life. Is this really how I’m going to die? Lowkey, I thought I was going to die at a Beyoncé concert at age 37 after she dragged me up on stage leading to a fatal cardiac event.
I didn’t plan on getting stabbed in my bedroom. Oh hell no.
My lungs tighten as I’m about to let out a pathetic, blood curdling scream, but then my bedroom door opens, immediately killing the suspense, but unfortunately making my shame fifteen times worse. I recognize the guy who just walked into the bedroom, which you would think is positive, except he’s Dylan Callahan.
I yelp and try to cover myself, but stupidly end up poking my ass in the air and exposing my whole bare butt. Dylan screams like a girl.
“I AM RESPECTFULLY LOOKING AWAY,” he screams. “I HAVE TO FACETIME ANDI-MARIEE.”
I know he is not about to do that shit. My cousin is going to have a lot of questions about why her boyfriend is with me in my bedroom while I’m tied up with my ass in the air.
“DYLAN UNTIE ME! THIS IS HUMILIATING!”
“IT’S NOT CHEATING IF YOUR EYES ARE CLOSED,” he says, backing out of the door with Terrorist barking up a storm again as I hear the familiar FaceTime ring in the background, leading to my sure humiliation. I hear Dylan explaining something in muffled tones and then I hear Andi-Mariee’s voice on the other end of the line.
“Well let me see! I need to document for evidence.”
My cousin does not need to document my humiliation. I never thought I would go back to wishing for my death, but here I am.
“I just need you to know that I called you right away,” Dylan says nervously as he re-enters the room.
“UNTIE ME!” I scream. “And why are you here?”
Dylan is a firefighter. If he is here, Tate definitely should be. Dylan shatters my delusion right away.
“Because I’m on paternity leave, so I didn’t have to answer the call across town. Could you calm down? Andi wants to document everything.”
“Do not document me tied up with my ass out!”
“It might be helpful in case you want to press charges,” Andi says.
“If I have to show my ass in court, I will not be pressing charges!” I yell back. “Now put the damn phone down and set me free!”
Terrorist trots into the room and barks at Dylan’s feet a few times. Dylan for some damn reason sets Terrorist on the bed as he reaches into his pocket for a Swiss Army Knife to cut me free. Dylan sets up the phone on the dresser so Andi can see me as he cuts me loose. This might be the worst humiliation I have ever suffered. Terrorist yaps and scampers around the bed like he’s about to race. Is now the time for the zoomies?
“Where is Tate?” I ask, once Dylan cuts my arms free and I groan like a broken donkey trying to move them for the first time in over ten hours. Terrorist hops onto my lap and barks loudly, nearly blowing out my eardrums.
“At the police station,” Andi says. “I guess you didn’t hear but the media caused a huge frenzy at the site of the fire last night and there was an eighteen car pile up as the fire engines tried to get out of there. Too much snow.”
I wouldn’t believe her, except this town seems to attract snow-related tragedies like none other.
“How does this stuff always seem to happen in our town?” I groan, setting Terrorist on the ground, where he sprints towards his food bowl.
“Global warming, maybe,” Andi says.
Dylan scoffs in disbelief. “Global warming? Does it make sense that global warming would cause enough snow to wipe out every motorized vehicle in a ten mile radius?”
“Well you’re not a scientist, babe,” Andi says. “So maybe you just don’t know.”
They almost start arguing, but I clear my throat dramatically to make sure Dylan finishes untying me because my ass is not getting stuck here for nothing so those two can bicker senselessly and drive up their crazy sexual tension in front of me. I love myself enough to plead for my freedom first.
“How did you get tied to the bed?” Andi asks me, and I consider starting them back on the damn global warming argument now that we have to discuss my personal business. Fuck.
“Does it matter?”