Futures and Frosting Read online

  FUTURES AND FROSTING

  A SUGARCOATED HAPPILY

  EVER AFTER

  by TARA SIVEC

  Copyright © September 2012 Tara Sivec

  ISBN-13: 978-1478314608

  ISBN – 10: 1478314605

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review. The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  License Notice

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be resold or given away to other people. If you wish to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Disclaimer

  This is a work of adult fiction. The author does not endorse or condone any of the behavior enclosed within. The subject matter is not appropriate for minors. Please note this novel contains profanity, explicit sexual situations, alcohol and drug consumption.

  For my husband. Thanks for always reading what I write and for not giving me a hard time when I demand that you tell me if it’s shit or not. Thanks for not telling me anything I make you read is shit. Thanks for giving me your honest opinion on yeast infections and not throwing up on me.

  For Buffy – my sister from another mister and my honest-to-God soul mate. “Slut – did you mean to say Buffy?” Someday we will live in the same state and the world will explode from awesomeness. Fact

  For my family. You are all bat shit crazy but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Thank you for tee time, ceiling fan baseball and “can you smell that?” Without you, my life would be extremely boring.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  1. Green Jell-O and Snapping Turtles

  2. My Dog Has the Hungry

  3. He Went to Jared

  4. He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

  5. Suck for a Buck

  6. Back Door Action

  7. Whore Dizzle

  8. The Incredible Shrinking Penis

  9. No Nut Shots Before Lunch

  10. Ceiling Fan Baseball

  11. Mommy!

  12. Stinky Wiener Ticks and Twice Baked Potatoes

  13. Tee Time

  14. Porn and Snozzberries

  15. Just Say No to Necrophilia

  16. Son of a Face Turd

  17. Midget and Donkey Shows

  18. Benjamin’s Balls

  19. Oops, I Did it Again!

  20. Did Not Finish

  21. I Swallowed a Penny!

  22. Hump, Hump, Hump

  23. Scittly Scat-Scat

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  There are so many amazing people I need to thank that I could probably fill up an entire book with just their names.

  First and foremost – my amazing editor Max. You are the wind beneath my skirt and I love you! Thank you for all of your help and support. I will hump your leg for days when we’re in the same room together.

  Colleen Hoover. I can never thank you enough for the support you have given me. You never hesitate to answer my gazillion questions and you give me hope that someday I will be as awesome as you! I’m so happy for you and all of your success!

  Sarah Hansen – you are the twin I never knew I had. Thank you for always supporting me, making me laugh and putting up with my husband’s Facebook posts. Jason Voorhies is still a pussy.

  Mollie Harper – I adore you! And not just for the Floppy Vag song or the amazing “Pay it Forward” movement. Okay, those might be the main reasons, I’m not gonna lie. You are amazing and sweet and you put a smile on my face constantly.

  To my Slappers – You were my first supporters and fans in this crazy endeavor and I will be forever grateful that I met all of you. I love you from the bottom of my heart.

  To all the hookers at Bookaholics Anonymous and Book Broads – I love you. Each and every one of you. I’m so glad I “met” you. You are amazing and your support is never-ending. Thank you so much for all of the “Pay-it-Forwards”, pimping and just general awesomeness.

  To all of the other Indie authors out there – I am proud and humbled to be in the same circle as you. I hope everyone realizes just how hard you work on a daily basis to make your dreams come true.

  And last but not least, thank you SO much to the following blogs who reviewed/featured my book(s) on their pages. If I skipped someone, I’m so sorry. It’s all Google’s fault.

  Aestas Book Blog, Anna’s Attic, Ashley’s Book Nook, Book Liaison, Book-Snobs, Coffee, Books and Lipgloss, Confessions of Novel Junkies, Cursed Pyramids, Fiction Vixen, Globug & Hootie Need a Book, Hot Coffee Books and Chocobar, Lisa’s Book Review, Lisa’s Reads, Love Affair With An E-Reader, Madison says, Mama Laughlin, Maryse’s Book Blog, Momma’s Books, Natasha is a Book Junkie, Romance Book Reviews Blog, Romantic Book Affairs, Romantic Reading Escapes, Scandalicious Book Reviews, Selena-Lost-in-Thought, She Can’t Shut Up, Sim-Sational-Books, Talk Supe, Tara’s Reads, Teahoney’s Book Café, The Autumn Review, The Book List Reviews, The Indie Bookshelf, The Romance Reviews, Totally Booked, Tough Critic Book Reviews, Under the Covers, Unraveling Aira, Up all Night Reviews, What to Read After Fifty (50) Shades of Grey Facebook page.

  Futures and Frosting

  Tara Sivec

  1. Green Jell-O and Snapping Turtles

  I have a dream.

  And in this dream I’m under the covers in bed, just a few scant inches away from Carter’s body. I stare at his prone form lying next to me, the greenish-blue glow from the alarm clock on the bedside table providing just enough illumination for me to see the shallow rise and fall of his chest. The sheet is draped low over his hips as he sleeps peacefully with one arm flung over his eyes and the other resting on his taut, naked stomach. I slide my body ever so slowly across the bed, careful not to disturb him, until I’m so close I can feel the heat from his skin warming me from head to toe. I pull my arms out from under the sheet and my hands reach out towards him. I connect with his smooth, muscular chest, slide my fingers up his body, and...choke the ever living shit out of him.

  Okay, that’s not really a dream. It’s more of a wish if you will, something I fantasize about when business is slow at the shop, when I’m waiting in line at the grocery store, or pretty much every waking moment of every single day when I find myself yawning and cranky from lack of sleep. But it’s not like I would ever follow through with this fantasy. I love Carter. I really do. Sometimes it’s just a toss-up on whether or not I love sleep more.

  A few months ago, I hadn't even known Carter existed. Okay, I knew he existed; somewhere out there, over the rainbow, in a land far, far away living his own life. I never believed in a million years that he would ever stop and give me, his one-night-stand from college, a second thought. Turns out I was wrong on both counts. A land far, far away had turned out to be a few miles from where I lived and that second thought I figured he had never given? Well, much to my dismay, and using a Harlequin Romance novel cliché, he had spent years pining for me and searching the world for 'the one that got away'.

  That's me by the way, in case you haven’t been paying attention.

  Here I am, a twenty-four-year-old single mother to Gavin (the wonderful parting gift I received in appreciation of my mad virginity-giving-up skillz, ‘yo) when suddenly, the guy I spontaneously gave said virginity to after a rousing game of beer pong at a frat party shows up in my home town to whisk me off my feet and claim the son he never
knew he had. This doesn’t happen in real life. Something this perfect only happens in books or John Hughes movies.

  Alright, so Carter has never stood outside my window holding a radio above his head and he's never run down the street to sweep me up into his arms for a toe-curling kiss and hand me a pair of diamond earrings he gave to some other skank just moments before. Our story isn't necessarily a textbook eighties movie. There have been anxiety attacks, freak-outs, drunken ramblings, inappropriate cursing, misunderstandings, arguments, two-finger eye-threats, and chocolate covered sex in a public place that only by the hair of a gnat’s testicle avoided being publicly televised. Through it all though, Carter and I have managed to work through our problems with the speed an accuracy of a thirty-minute sitcom on prime time television. It’s no “Some Kind of Wonderful,” but it’s damn near close. I’m still waiting for my street kiss and diamond earrings, though.

  In the middle of all this chaos, I am also busy following my dream of opening my own candy and cookie shop. I know right? Why not add one more thing to worry about to my growing pile. There’s a reason why I have a magnet on my fridge that says, “You can sleep when you’re dead.”

  My best friend Liz and I had always talked of one day owning businesses together. While I was busy with the whole single mom gig and put my aspirations on a back burner, Liz was finishing up college and got a head start on her dream. Little did I know, she had also made plans to assure that my hopes didn’t die along with my ability to sneeze and not piss myself.

  I’ve always been a pretty independent person, so having someone hand me my dream in a neat little package with a bow on top took some getting used to. Liz had inherited a good chunk of change from her grandfather when he passed away years earlier and putting that money to good use by purchasing a building where we could have adjoining businesses was the only option for her. It had taken me a few days to get my head out of my ass and realize that she didn’t do it out of pity. She had done it because she loves me and having her dream come true wouldn’t have meant nearly as much to her if mine wasn’t becoming a reality right along with her.

  So in summary, I am EXHAUSTED. And I guess that brings us back to my choking fantasy. Living with another human being takes a little getting used to. So far there are only minimal amounts of irritating qualities we find in each other, and we’ve overcome those obstacles and are still growing strong. I love Carter more than I ever thought possible, and he has proven to be the best father a woman could ever want for her son. But I swear to God, Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and Christ’s childhood friend, Biff, that if he doesn’t stop waking me up at four-fifty-eight in the morning, every fucking morning, with his buzz saw snoring, I am going to go David Carradine on his ass.

  Oh yes, young grasshopper, you shall choke in your sleep.

  Although the more I think about it, David Carradine choked himself in some weird sex thing, didn’t he? I don’t think I can convince Carter to choke himself out no matter how naked I get.

  I’ve tried everything to make my nights of sleep less irritating. I've gently pushed his arm so he would roll over because according to Google, a simple change of position will put a halt to the snoring.

  False. And shut up, everything on Google is true! How else would I know that the world’s oldest living goldfish is forty-one and his name is Fred? Or that when you type the word “askew” in Google search the page will tilt slightly clockwise? These are facts, people!

  My dad had told me to try buying a box of nasal strips for Carter to fasten across the bridge of his nose every night before bed.

  Didn’t work. I woke up the next morning with nasal strips stuck in places where nasal strips should never be stuck.

  It’s all fun and games until you need to lock yourself in the bathroom with tweezers, a mirror, and a flashlight.

  I’ve kicked my feet and smacked my hands against the mattress repeatedly in frustration while whisper-screaming about cock-sucking snorers and their lack of respect for people who sleep quietly, and I’ve jerked the covers off of him, hit him in the face with his own pillow, that I yanked out from under his head, while plugging his nose.

  Hey, don’t judge me. I’m losing sleep here.

  And I had only plugged his nose long enough for him to start choking on his own spit. As soon as he could speak, he told me all about the dream he was having where he thought he was suffocating and how he realized while he was dream-dying that he forgot to tell me he loved me before he went to sleep. Yes, I felt guilty. Yes, I made it up to him by having sex with him at five in the morning, and no I have never told him that it was me who actually tried to off him in his sleep.

  Sometimes couples need a few secrets.

  Carter thinks my irritation with his snoring is cute. Of course he does. He's not the one with his ears bleeding in the middle of the night, praying for his bed mate to asphyxiate in his sleep. Oh no, he is off in dreamland, wondering why the soundtrack of his really good sex dream suddenly includes the melody of knives being sharpened.

  Last night, one of my well placed kicks to his thigh, er, I mean gentle taps, finally got him to shut up and roll over. It was a thing of beauty. The silent, peaceful tranquility that flowed through the bedroom almost made me weep with joy. Sadly, as soon as I fell asleep and began happily frolicking through my own dreamland, Carter was shaking me awake and asking if I said something. Because according to him, he had been sleeping like a rock but could have sworn he heard me ask him if the green Jell-O should go in the trunk with the snapping turtles.

  A public service announcement for men: If you see that your significant other is fast asleep and your initial whispered question doesn't get a response, don't be surprised if we start spewing green vomit out of the mouths of our rapidly spinning heads as you shake us awake to ask your stupid question fifty decibels louder than the first time.

  So here I am again, wide awake at five in the morning, giving the love of my life the stink eye in the dark and wondering if I will be able to keep a straight face when looking at him if I go ahead and order that chin strap contraption I saw on the Home Shopping Network the previous week. As I stare at the ceiling and wonder why a snoring prevention mechanism has to look so much like a jock strap for the face, I suddenly remember something else I read on Google not that long ago that I haven’t tried yet (Fred, the forty-one-year-old goldfish – FRED IS REAL, dammit!). The article had stated that a short, loud yell of a random, one-syllable word will break through the snoring person’s conscience just enough to get them to stop snoring without fully waking them up.

  I roll my head to the side to stare at Carter’s profile. Watching him sleep soundly while I currently reside in insomnia-land, as a direct result of his deviated septum, makes me feel stabby. Since I can’t take my anger out on his septum without making him bleed, I figure I might as well try one more thing. Especially since buying the chin/jock/anti-snoring strap will require that I address Carter as Dick Face from now on. Something I’m assuming he will frown upon.

  I take a deep breath and let out my one-syllable word. "F-U-U-U-U-U-U-C-K!”

  In the blink of an eye Carter jolts awake with a scream, flailing his arms and legs and scrambling across the bed until he falls off the side and lands on the floor with a loud thud.

  "Son of a bitch! What the hell was that?" he mutters from the floor.

  "I think there’s green Jell-O in the trunk with the turtles," I state before rolling over and snuggling under the covers.

  2. My Dog Has the Hungry

  “I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Claire.”

  I roll my eyes at my dad as I shove a tray of fresh Butter Brickle Bars into the display case under the front counter a little harder than necessary. A few of the bars jump out of their spots on the tray due to my irritation, and as I reach in to fix them, I have to force myself not to eat another one. As much as I love making sweets, I normally don’t eat very many. My tastes tend to lean more towards salty snacks. I don’t know what is wrong with me l
ately though. If I keep sampling the goods like this my ass is going to grow another cheek to make room for all the fat.

  “I really don’t think you’ve thought this through,” my dad continues as he leans his hip against the counter and folds his arms across his chest.

  I take that back. I know exactly why I’ve been pigging out on chocolate and cookies.

  I reached into the glass case and grab the Butter Brickle Bar closest to me and shovel the whole thing in my mouth at once. I take a moment to savor the taste of brown sugar, vanilla, and toffee bits, letting the sugary sweetness do its trick of removing some of my stress. Since I can’t physically chuck the six-foot-two tension problem I currently have out of the store without giving myself a hernia, this will have to do. I swallow the mouthful of cookie bar and try not to think about it forming little legs and sprinting straight to my ass, leaving pats of butter behind on my hips as it goes. I take a deep, fortifying breath so I can deal with my father.

  “Dad, Carter and I have been living together for two months. It’s a little late for this speech now don’t you think?”

  My dad has never said one word for or against mine and Carter’s living arrangements ever since we first announced it on the day of Seduction and Snacks’ grand opening.

  He had grunted, glared at Carter, and then walked away. That was approval as far as I had been concerned.

  Now that it’s been two months and I haven’t changed my mind like he probably thought I would, suddenly he has an opinion.

  “Everyone says, ‘why buy the bar when you can get the beer for free’.”

  I stop with my arm in midair as I reach for a towel to wipe down the counter.