Passion and Ponies

Chapter 7 – Ass Captain

- Ava -

As soon as the photo loads to the page, I do a quick preview of my blog post and smile. Something Charlotte said to me the other day when we went shopping struck a chord. She called me the Rain Man of fashion. Ever since I was a little girl I have always been obsessed with clothes and shoes, purses and jewelry. I would take playing dress-up to the extreme, reorganizing my mom’s closet and putting outfits together for her for an entire year.

Everyone has a blog nowadays. They talk about their lives, their kids, and whatever else they have going on and it’s all the same boring crap day after day. I’ve had a blog for a while and I rarely post on it. When I do, it’s always about an outfit I wore or a sale I found at the mall and I always get a ton of hits, so I’ve decided to test something out and see where it goes. I’m starting an official fashion blog. I’ll keep people up-to-date on current trends and where all the good sales are and post photos of myself wearing certain items so they can see how I pair things together. It’s not something I’ll be able to make a living doing, but at least it’s something I’m excited about.

I hit ‘publish’ on the blog post and, while I wait for it to go live, my cell phone rings. When I see that it’s my mom, I groan before answering it.

“There better be a damn good reason why you called off of work today,” mom says, not bothering with ‘hello’.

Letting out a little cough, I make my voice sound as weak as possible. “I’m really sick, Mom. Like, really. I think it’s the flu.”

She sighs through the line and I watch with a smile on my face as the views on my blog post already start adding up within seconds of it going live.

“Bullshit. You’ve been on your computer since dinner last night. In case you’ve forgotten, I know how to work the Internet. I just saw your blog post go live. Did you seriously call off of work to play around on your blog? You’re messing up a perfectly good career opportunity, Ava. Even though I’m part owner of the company, I can’t continue to cover for you when you do stupid shit like this,” she complains.

I feel the butterflies of excitement about my blog post die a quick, painful death in my stomach when she calls what I’m doing ‘stupid shit’. I love my mom, but she’s never understood the fact that I don’t want to be part of the family business, that I have other likes and interests apart from hers. I feel the sting of tears in my eyes and I have to squeeze them tightly closed to keep the tears from falling. No matter what I do, I just can’t make her understand how important this is to me.

“I expect you to be back at work first thing tomorrow morning,” she adds. “And for God’s sake, call Tyler. He’s decided that every time you ignore one of his voicemails or texts, he’s going to forward them to me. Remember that song ‘Accidentally in Love’ from Shrek? Well, there is now a five-minute voicemail on my phone of him singing it, but he changed the lyrics to ‘Accidentally in Your Ass.’ I really do not need to know what that is about. Make him stop.”

For right now, I decide the best thing is to just agree with my mom. If I try to explain to her once again how much I hate working at Seduction and Snacks, I’ll never hear the end of it.

I hang up with my mom and scroll through all of the text messages from Tyler. He’s been sending them to me non-stop for five days. Five days since he violated my ass. Okay, fine, it was an accident. I know he really didn’t do it on purpose; he’s not that kind of guy. He wouldn’t just try to sneak his dick in there and figure I wouldn’t notice.

Okay, he probably would, but he would be honest about doing it once I called him on it. He was adamant that it was a mistake and I’m pissed off that I believe him. I’m even more pissed off that, after the initial shock wore off, I was sorely tempted to demand he grab some lube and keep going.

As I read each message, I’m ashamed at myself for cracking a tiny smile.

I need to ASS you a question. Are you still mad at me?

Dear Ava’s Ass: I’m sorry. Please forgive me. Love, Tyler’s Ginormous Dick.

I bought a butt plug. You’re right. This isn’t very comfortable.

Never mind. This isn’t so bad.

“I’m in love (with your ass), I’m in love (with your ass). Come on, come on, spin a little tighter” Wow, these lyrics are spot on. I think I found our new theme song. Check your voice mail.

With a growl, I wipe the smile off of my face and finally reply to all of Tyler’s nonsense.

STOP TEXTING ME AND FOR FUCK’S SAKE, STOP TEXTING AND CALLING MY MOM!

He replies immediately, asking me if I’ve forgiven him yet and it makes me wonder if he’s been sitting there for five days with his phone in his hand waiting for me to respond. This just makes me angrier because I kind of like the idea of a guy waiting around for me. I just don’t like the idea that it’s Tyler doing the waiting. He needs to go away.

Tossing my phone on my bed, I abandon my blog post, no longer as excited about it as I was, and make my way into the kitchen. Even though I’m not keen on being a part of the family business, I still like the things that are part of that business, namely, baking. I pull out all of the ingredients I need and get busy making some cupcakes. They say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I certainly don’t want anywhere near Tyler’s heart, but maybe a few dozen cupcakes dusted with rat poison will finally make him realize I don’t want him.

The first batch of cupcakes is on a rack cooling and I’m whipping up some frosting, when I hear the front door open. Glancing up from the mixing bowl, I see my Aunt Claire walk into the room.

“I smelled baked goods as soon as I pulled in the driveway. Ooooh, cupcakes. What kind?” she asks, coming around the counter and bending down to look in the oven.

My Aunt Claire isn’t really my aunt, just my mom’s long-time best friend and business partner. She’s the one who runs the sweet side of Seduction and Snacks and she taught me everything I know about baking.

“Chocolate chip cookie dough cupcakes with chocolate ganache icing,” I tell her as I turn off the mixer and grab a spatula.

“Alright, out with it,” Aunt Claire tells me as she turns around and perches on one of the bar stools across the counter from me.

“Out with what?” I ask her innocently, making sure not to make eye contact.

“You only bake when someone pisses you off or you’re upset about something, so spill. Who pissed in your Cheerios?”

I should have known that Aunt Claire would realize something was wrong as soon as she walked in the door. She practically raised me and can read me like a book.

“Several people have pissed me off lately. My ‘People to Kill’ list has grown by leaps and bounds in the past few weeks,” I admit.

“Well, that’s nothing new. You hate people. Be more specific,” she tells me, swiping her finger into the bowl of frosting and bringing it to her mouth. “Add a teaspoon of almond extract to that.”

Turning away from her, I reach into the spice cabinet above the stove and grab the almond. I’m not really ready to discuss how disappointed I am in my mom for not understanding my future career choices with anyone, but especially not my mom’s best friend. If I asked her to, she would keep my secret, but I don’t want to have to put her in the position of keeping something from her best friend, so I go with the easier target.

“Tyler. He’s gotten a little taste of the Amazing Ava and now he won’t go away,” I joke, adding the almond to the frosting and mixing it in.

“I’m assuming that’s why you have six boxes of chocolate-flavored laxatives sitting here next to the container of sugar?” Aunt Claire asks, lifting up one of the boxes and raising her eyebrows at me.

I shrug. “We didn’t have any rat poison. I figure if he’s shitting his brains out he’ll be too busy to bug me.”

Aunt Claire gets up from the stool and starts rummaging through the pantry until she finds what she needs. With her arms full of pastry bags, decorator tips and pre-made frosting, she comes back to the counter and dumps everything on top.

“I’m going to kick your mom’s ass for buying this shit frosting in a tub, but it will save us some time,” Aunt Claire tells me as she scoops some of the vanilla frosting from the tub into a pastry bag and adds the standard round tip to the end of it.

“Let’s give Tyler’s ass a break and do something a lot more fun,” Aunt Claire tells me.

I start to say something about how he didn’t give my ass a break, but I’m not ready to get into that with her, either. I watch over her shoulder as she begins piping words onto the cupcakes. Her handwriting with frosting is flawless and beautiful, even with the words she’s chosen to adorn the top of the cupcakes.

I read them out loud, confused a little at the last one. “Smelly crotch, dick biscuit, taint licker…shart fucker?”

Aunt Claire pauses and moves the pastry bag away from the cupcake. “Yeah, I’m running out of ideas.”

She continues writing random things on the cupcakes and we’re both silent for a few minutes as I watch her work, putting as much concentration into these cupcakes as she does with a wedding cake she makes for a stranger.

After a little while, she finally breaks the silence. “You know, Tyler might be immature, but he does have a little bit of sweetness in him, even if it’s kind of fucked up. He’s loyal to a fault and will do anything for one of his friends. Plus, his mom’s more of a slut than your mom, so there’s that.”

I can’t help but laugh and I’m thankful that my aunt decided to stop by. I still need to end things with Tyler once and for all, but maybe I can stop being such a bitch to him. After I give him these cupcakes, of course.

Aunt Claire finishes the last one, pulling back to examine her masterpieces. “There, all done. I have to stop by Seduction and Snacks after this. Want me to hand deliver them?” she asks.

I nod my head, my eyes zeroing in on the last cupcake. I quickly snatch it from the counter. “Yes, but not this one. He can’t have this one.”

She watches in shock as I shove the entire thing in my mouth. “Hey, that was my favorite one! What’s wrong with Ass Captain?”