Next-Door Nemesis

“Even though I can also always hold space for you, I’m not a licensed therapist. You should call Monique even when I’m not in the midst of a nervous breakdown.”

I’ve been trying to get her into therapy ever since we graduated from high school. Her mom made her go while her parents were going through the divorce, but she hated it and refused to go after. It wasn’t until I found Monique during a rough patch a couple of years ago and was relentless about singing her praises that she booked her appointment. To say it’s been an on-and-off-again relationship is the understatement of the century, but knowing my latest spiral got her back into therapy is the bright spot I didn’t know I needed.

“Yeah, okay. Just don’t do it again.” She rolls her eyes, but I can tell her heart’s not in it. “Now, get dressed. I’m getting hangry.”

She leaves my room and pulls the door closed behind her but pushes it back open almost immediately. She sticks her head into my room, humor dancing in her eyes again now that the heavy stuff is taken care of.

“You were right! The amount of wall art your mom has is bordering on unhinged!” she whisper-shouts. “And no offense to your childhood cuteness, but nobody needs that many pictures of one person on their walls.”

“I told you!” I whisper right back, not offended in the least. There’s an entire section of the hallway dedicated to my awkward tween years, and let me tell you, no adult needs a daily reminder of that period of their life. None. “Now, go. I know what you’re like when you haven’t been fed and I don’t think sweet Ashleigh will be able to handle it.”

“Good call.” Her eyes go wide and she slams my door. Not even a few seconds pass before I hear her shout, “All right, Mrs. Carter, now that that’s taken care of, fill me in on the Karens. You always have the best gossip.”

I slip on my jeans, smiling to myself as I skip over my Crocs and opt for a pair of Ruby-approved sandals.

The heavy fog I was under begins to lift, and things don’t feel so bad. Sure, last week sucked, but that was then and this is now. My best friend is in town, my family is the best, and I still have the opportunity to exact intense and painful revenge on Nathanial “the Snake” Adams.

Things are definitely looking up.





Chapter 16


C-bus stand up!” Ruby yells as we navigate the crowded sidewalk in downtown Columbus.

Don’t ask me how we got here. I’m still not sure myself. All I know is that after a few shared appetizers and a couple of drinks down the street from my house, Ashleigh was somehow able to convince us to check out the nightlife scene in Columbus.

We hopped in an Uber and told them to drop us off at their favorite bar. Our driver, Katrina, who had a cooler in the front and a survey in the back for music selection and temperature control—ten out of ten service—told us that Short North Arts District was where we wanted to be.

She did not lie.

I wanted to hate it and bah-humbug the entire night away, but goddammit if it’s not only really fucking cute but there are great drinks for prices I couldn’t have even dreamt of in LA. And Ruby, my serious friend who never takes a day off and hasn’t had more than a glass or two of wine in years, is on her hot-girl summer-party shit.

It. Is. Glorious!

“Oh my god!” She points to a bar across the street with a rooftop deck covered in string lights. “Can we go there next?”

Ashleigh and I look at each other and shrug.

“Sure,” I say. “Wherever you want to go is fine with us.”

This is Ruby’s world and we’re just living in it.

She shrieks so loud, she startles the group of too-cool men wearing coordinating striped button-ups and fedoras. They start to glare, but when they see Ruby, their entire demeanor changes.

“Hey, gorgeous,” Fedora number one in the navy shirt says. “Where are you ladies heading off to?”

I know what’s about to happen before Ruby even opens her mouth. I’d feel bad for the guys, but something about matching fedoras makes me hate them on sight. So instead, I stand to the side and enjoy the show.

“No, thank you.” She pays the man dust.

“Damn, girl.” He smirks and steps forward, not at all deterred by her flat-out rejection. “It’s like that?”

I bite my lip as Ruby’s posture gradually straightens and her hands curl into fists.

“Why are you still in front of me?” Every woman walking by can sense her annoyance, but shocking absolutely nobody, the men are still smiling like it’s all fun and games. “What part of ‘no, thank you’ didn’t you understand? Was I too polite?” She looks over her shoulder at me and Ashleigh before answering her own question. “I was too polite.”

Fedora’s face reddens when the realization that this isn’t going to end with his intended results begins to dawn.

“Fuck you then.” His chest puffs out and his face twists with anger and embarrassment—the most dangerous of feelings for the cis male ego. “You’re not even that hot.”

“I am though. I’m hot, successful, and smart as fuck.” Ruby starts to laugh, which only acts to further piss off the guy in front of us. “You’re a guy who harasses women on the street and is pissed because I don’t need you to validate my worth. Which is exactly why I said no, thank you. Oh, and also because of the fedoras. You look fucking ridiculous. Take them off.” She stops and points to one of the guys in the group. “Except you, you can pull it off. Congratulations, that’s no easy task.”

The man in front of us is practically vibrating with rage, but the guy she said could pull off the fedora could not look more pleased. “Thank you,” he says at the same time his friend says, “Fucking bitch.”

“Oh my god, thank you so much!” Ruby’s smile turns megawatt and her eyes sparkle even beneath the dim streetlights. “I haven’t had work in a couple of days and I was really missing scorned men calling me a bitch. Now I can really enjoy the rest of my night!”

It’s obvious this guy has never come across anyone like Ruby before. His mouth opens and closes as he tries to come up with something to say, but after a few seconds of silence, his friends grab him by the arm and pull him away.

“Damn, Ruby,” I say as I watch him walk away with his head hung in shame. “I think you just did more to prevent catcalling and street harassment than law enforcement ever has.”

I hope this moment lives in his mind until his dying days and he thinks twice before approaching women on the street.

She loops both her arms through ours and starts pulling us in the direction of the rooftop bar she saw before we were so rudely interrupted. “I do what I can . . . especially if it entails arguing with entitled men.”

“That was amazing. I want to be you when I grow up.” Ashleigh looks at Ruby with a familiar expression of shock and awe. “I could never do that.”

“That’s probably because you’re a well-adjusted human who doesn’t have an unhealthy hatred of men due to unresolved daddy issues,” Ruby says.

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