ALL THE RAGE (writer: T.M. Frazier)(76)

Walking around the dark room, dressed in green and golds, I realized I’d never been in such a fancy office. “Mallards? Seriously?” I asked, lifting one of the plastic duck things off its display perch and tossing it to the dean who caught it, cradling it in his arms like it was a child and not an ugly fake plastic duck.

“What do you want from me?” the dean asked, his voice as shaky as his hands. I couldn’t blame him. If I were him, I’d be wary of me too.

“I need you to write a letter for me,” I said in my sweetest voice as I took a turn around the room, looking over the thick paintings with ornate gold frames.

“A letter? What kind of letter?”

I ran my hands over his enviable bookcase, my fingertips brushing first editions that should be in a museum and not in the office of the Dean of Admissions. I turned back around in time to see Rollo press down on the dean’s shoulder, forcing him back into the big chair behind his desk. “Why, an admissions letter of course,” I said with a smile, twirling my knife in my hands.

“For…for who?” the dean asked, raising his eyebrows, and I laughed because I didn’t have so much as a high school diploma, but I wasn’t about to let that stop me.

I shook my head and leaned forward on the desk, moving all his pens, which were organized by color into one big pile in the center. “Me,” I said, slapping my fake file down on the desk.

I opened it to where a small picture was paper-clipped to the inside flap, and although it wasn’t my best picture, it was the best I could do on short notice. I contemplated making one of those videos like Elle did in Legally Blonde, but since I was getting in on threats and not credentials, it was probably unnecessary.

“Yeah…yes…sure,” the dean stammered.

I clapped my hands together and bounced up and down. I leaned over and gave the dean a high-five to the head. “All right, I’m outta here.” I was about to leave when I realized I’d forgotten something. “I think it goes without saying that if you so much as mention this to anyone, that I’ll put your insides on your outside and string you up in the f*cking quad like a Cinco de Mayo pi?ata.” I nodded to Bubba and Rollo, two of Nolan’s fellow Warriors, who were keeping guard, standing on either side of the dean, watching over his shoulder to make sure he did what he was told.

I walked out the door and skipped down the hallway.

As it turns out, I liked being an old lady after all.





BONUS SCENE




Rage


“Can we talk?” I asked, peeking my head into a very messy office. Bear was standing in the middle of a pile of paperwork, but looked up when he heard me.

A scowl already on his face.

Shit.

“Depends,” he said, standing up and crossing his arms defensively over his chest. I couldn’t blame him. I wouldn’t trust me either.

“On what?” I asked, entering the room and leaning against the wall with my arms behind my back.

“On what the f*ck you want,” he snapped.

I shrugged and clasped my hands together, squeezing tight to avoid fidgeting. “Stuff. A job?” I managed to squeak out. I wasn’t used to asking anyone for anything. It was unfamiliar and made me highly uncomfortable. That and I’d royally f*cked up when it came to Bear. The only job I’d EVER f*cked up on, yet he was the only person who could help me.

“Sit,” Bear commanded, pointing to the couch in the corner. I crossed the room and Bear didn’t take his eyes off of me the entire time. I pushed some papers aside and plopped down on the hard cushion. A plume of dust billowed into the air. I coughed and waved it away, but remained seated.

“Is that blood?” I asked.

“Yep,” Bear answered without looking to where I was pointing, which was at a dark stain on the hardwood floors that took up most of the room.

“Head injury,” I stated.

“How do you know that?” Bear asked, finally looking up at me. I sat cross-legged on the gross couch.

“Lots of blood, but it’s puckered like there was a lot of matter in it. Nothing makes more of a mess than someone getting their brains blown out. Plus, there is that,” I said, nodding to the wall where a huge splatter formed a halo and then ran toward the floor. It was dry, of course, but there was no mistaking the markings. “It’s too high for a chest injury.”

“What the f*ck was it that you wanted? Because if you want to kill me, you should do it before I go through these f*cking papers. Lord the f*ck knows I don’t know how I’m going to straighten out this mess,” Bear said, running his hand down his face and staring hatred at the files and strewn about papers that took up all the space on the floor the dried blood didn’t.

“I heard what happened. With your dad. I’m sorry,” I offered.

“No need to apologize. I’d kill the f*cker again if I had the chance,” Bear said, suddenly raising his eyebrows at me. “Wait, did you just f*cking apologize?”

“Yes,” I said, without making any excuses. “I did.”

“And you’re sitting on the most disgusting couch known to man,” he stated.

“I am,” I said, smiling to myself. Proud in a way. It was still f*cking gross but I was thrilled that it wasn’t the first thing I thought of when I entered the room, and that it didn’t send me running out of it.