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    Big Guns & Bullsh@t
    Big Guns & Bullsh@t
    Big Guns & Bullsh@t
    Ebook129 pages1 hour

    Big Guns & Bullsh@t

    By Erin Lee and Tracy Ball

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Tears.

    They were the big guns women brought out when pouting didn't work and wallets got wedged between socks – locked up tight in drawers because chicks were expensive.

    It wasn't like best friends Victor and Drake were new to this. Successful, decent-looking guys with careers and healthy futures ahead, they'd had their share of trophy girlfriends. But dating Sylvia and Sara—twin sisters with the ability to pitch astray aerial assaults at uncooperative boyfriends' heads—was different.

    The identical sisters weren't like anything either of the guys had ever experienced. And dropping them wasn't as easy as it should have been. What began as a simple plan to shake the sisters off turns deadly before either of the guys knows what's hit them...

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCrazy Ink
    Release dateFeb 4, 2020
    ISBN9781393937104
    Big Guns & Bullsh@t
    Author

    Erin Lee

    Erin Lee lives in Queensland, Australia and has been working with children for over 25 years. She has worked in both long day care and primary school settings and has a passion for inclusive education and helping all children find joy in learning. Erin has three children of her own and says they have helped contribute ideas and themes towards her quirky writing style. Her experience working in the classroom has motivated her to write books that bring joy to little readers, but also resource educators to help teach fundamental skills to children, such as being safe, respectful learners.

    Read more from Erin Lee

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      Book preview

      Big Guns & Bullsh@t - Erin Lee

      Chapter One

      Drake

      Clinging snowflakes melted against the oversized picture window. But, the mystic glow of early winter was lost on Sylvia, my irritated girlfriend. She paced the length of the window, stopping in front of my curio cabinet. First you, and now snow. What else can go wrong? She inspected the room. I guess, seeking evidence of a lie. How could you have just gotten home? We’ve had tickets for over three weeks.

      I was with a client for over three hours, on my day off.

      Her eyes halted in mid-roll.

      I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to snap. But, it couldn’t be helped.

      You intentionally forgot.

      Sara used the tips of her nails—lest she become contaminated—to move my jacket from the chair she wanted to claim. It didn’t matter that my coat was twice as expensive as her dress...if that’s what it was. It looked like it was made of gold tissue paper. There was no point in discussing anything with Sylvia’s twin. Same hair, same jewelry, same attitude, they were exactly alike in all bad behavior.

      Oxymoron, that. Victor, my best friend and Sara’s boyfriend, tossed the comment out.

      Yes, he did. Sylvia folded her arms.

      Don’t, Sara said. You’ll smoosh your ruffles. She hurried over to assist Sylvia in re-fluffing her silver toilet paper dress.

      I arched an eyebrow at Victor. Of course, they missed it.

      Victor hunched his shoulders and reached for the remote.

      Don’t you even think about watching television, Victor, Sara pointed to his outstretched hand. We’re already late. I have enough to annoy me without you adding to it.

      One beat. Two. Victor replaced the remote. He wasn’t that brave.

      Did I mention, you look lovely? He looked at her ruffly toilet paper.

      Actually, with her...their hair pulled back so far and those big-ass earrings, the ensemble made them look like a pair of poodles. Which was appropriate considering they were a pair of bitches.

      Sylvia decided to remind me. This is unacceptable. What are you going to do to fix it?

      Give me half an hour. I’ll grab a quick shower and be ready in a heartbeat.

      Sylvia did her well-rehearsed, ‘you’ve asked too much’ head toss. A half-hour? It takes twenty minutes to get there. If we wait a half-hour, we may as well not go.

      Good idea. 

      Mind your business, Victor. Sara snatched the remote he had somehow managed to pick up again.

      I took a deep breath. Why don’t you go on ahead? I’ll meet you there.

      Oh, sure, Sara said, So you can never show up.

      Mind your own business. A high-pitched mimic came from near the TV. I wanted to laugh but pretended I didn’t hear Vic.

      I know he won’t show up. I don’t think he was planning to go.

      I don’t think so either.

      Listening to the identical croaking made me wonder what I thought being reasonable would accomplish. Go without me. I’m tired anyway. I was. I was tired of this shit.

      Sylvia tossed her head once and rolled her eyes twice.

      Sara tossed her head once and rolled her eyes twice.

      Victor picked up the remote.

      You can’t mean that. Did he say that? He did not say that.

      He said it. I don’t know where he gets his nerve. But, I heard him. He said it.

      Mind your own business, Victor’s mimicking voice came again.

      You expect me to go alone. Me?

      If there are three of you, how are you alone? This shit was getting old.

      Sara will be with Victor—only God knows why. Victor will be with Sara. And I will be alone.

      Okay. That was logic that only people in ruffles understood. I forgot. I’m sorry. What do you want me to do?

      I don’t need this shit!

      The suddenness of her yell made me jump. Did she pop an aneurysm?

      I don’t know why you put up with him. Sara matched Sylvia’s tone.

      I couldn’t figure out why I was being yelled at. They were speaking ruffle-eze or some shit. I looked at Victor for help and got none. He was watching a football game.

      Hey, I forgot about that. What’s going on?

      We just blew a TD. It’s seven to three. Second-quarter.

      I took a step toward the television and was just missed by an ashtray missile. It crashed against the wall. What the hell?! A book, a glass, and my keys followed it before Victor and I found safety behind the sofa pillows. My cell phone came next, but it was the shattering of my niece’s picture that dried out my patience. That’s enough! My Cal Ripken autographed baseball sailed right at me. I caught it with one hand. ENOUGH!

      Sylvia’s stunned fingers gripped the clock she was preparing to hurl. My yell shocked her. What the hell did she expect?

      How...dare...you! She made a face and pulled out her big guns...the tears. Her sobs were loud, pitiful, and instant.

      Sara was there, hovering, smothering, and covering the fact that Sylvia had no tears.

      Victor turned the volume up.

      Sylvia. I gave up. What do you want from me?

      I want you out of my life, for good. You don’t care about me. You don’t care about my feelings or what I want. All you care about is yourself and your stupid football when I’m trying to give you some culture. I won’t live like this anymore. Warming up to her speech, she tossed her head, smoothed her hair, and fluffed her ruffle. I’ve put up with you for two years. If you can’t understand how this relationship is supposed to work, then you don’t deserve me.

      That’s what I’ve been telling you all along. Mother was right, Sara said. If you were half the man you make yourself out to be, Drake Miles, you’d beg for her forgiveness.

      Beg her forgiveness? She’s overreacting...and overacting. My niece’s picture was broken, but I needed her forgiveness?

      Fine.

      Sylvia stiffened.

      Sara knotted her eyebrow, confused.

      Victor turned the sound down.

      You are right...

      Sylvia released a breath.

      You are right. I don’t deserve you. I don’t deserve any of this shit.

      Drake—

      The hell with that.  I was done. I watched reality play across her face.

      A genuine tear ran through her make-up. You’re—you’re not serious?

      I guess she remembered she has more money with me than without me.

      He’s not serious, Sara said.

      I’m serious.

      Okay. Fine. Fine. She looked around, needing to focus on something. Fine. You want to be over with me? After all I’ve done for you... The next instant, the air assault began again.

      This time, she wanted to hurt me. She may have wanted to kill me.

      Victor! Sara yelled, Do something, you ass.

      Sylvia lobbed my weight-lifting trophy.

      Like what, Hon? Victor’s pillow shield was back in place and the game was on.

      Make him apologize.

      Oh. Right. Sure. Apologize, Drake.

      Go to hell, Vic. I advanced on the women, blocking everything.

      Sara stepped behind Sylvia.

      Sylvia threw my mother’s music box.

      Victor, you better do—

      Sylvia’s screams drowned the rest of Sara’s sentence. I threw her over my shoulder caveman-style. Sara tried to stop me, but she was a roll of toilet paper and I had a broken trophy for weight lifting. I walked down the hall from my apartment to the elevator with one woman flung over my shoulder and two women beating at my back.

      At the elevator, I smashed the button, turned and stilled Sara with a look. You two are a couple of conniving, lying, self-centered bitches. You can keep whatever you have but don’t expect another damned thing from me.

      Sylvia went limp.

      Sara shook her head, denying.

      Ding. The elevator door opened.

      Recognizing her last chance to stop my madness, Sara stood in the doorway, blocking my entrance.

      I tossed Sylvia into Sara’s arms. Both ladies toppled over in a mass of arms, legs, and ruffles as I stepped back to let the door close.

      Five minutes later

      VICTOR WAS PICKING up pieces of broken glass and knick-knacks. For a few minutes, we quietly put the room in order.

      I called your girlfriend a bitch.

      Will there be a purpose for you telling me this?

      I don’t know. Maybe you want to defend her honor or something.

      What for? We’ve broken up at least twenty times by now.

      I

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