Degradation (The Kane Trilogy 1) by Stylo Fantome

Rus smiled her sweet smile up at him. She was fresh out of the shower, wearing nothing but a towel, her strawberry blonde curls wet. She had a huge crush on him, he knew. He felt nothing for her. Tate had told him that under no circumstances was he ever allowed to mess with Rus. But he was angry at Tate. He wanted to treat her badly, and she wasn't there.

Strawberry shortcake would have to do.

*

Tate was in the library when her phone rang. She was laying on the floor, on her stomach, skimming through a magazine. Jameson was behind his desk, working on something. Sanders was somewhere in the depths of the house. She was about to go find him when her phone lit up. Rusty's number scrolled across the screen and Tate smiled, lifting her phone to her ear.

“Hey, chickee, I was about to call you,” Tate answered.

“EEEEEEK! It happened! It finally happened!” Rus gushed, so loudly even Jameson heard from across the room. Tate laughed and moved so she was sitting on her butt.

“What happened?” she laughed. Jameson rolled his eyes, went back to his papers.

“I finally slept with him! It was amazing, oh my god, Tate. I saw the back of my own eyeballs. His hands, his tongue, I couldn't believe it!” Rus squealed. Tate snickered.

“Who is this sex god, and why haven't I slept with him?” she teased. Jameson snorted.

“That's kinda the weird part – you have slept with him,” Rus said, laughing. Tate stopped smiling.

“Excuse me?” she asked, her voice serious.

“You always said he was so freaky, but Ang was so sweet! He really took care of me, told me I was so beautiful, that I was so amazing. It was amazing. I really think we had a connection!” Rus blurted out in a breathy voice. Tate climbed to her feet.

“You didn't,” she breathed.

“Oh, we did. Twice. Once in the bed, and once in the shower. Can you believe it!? The shower. I'm trying to become more adventurous,” Rus laughed. Tate groaned.

“No, no, no, please tell me you're joking,” she begged, but Rus ignored her.

“Look, the reason I'm calling is because I haven't heard from him in a week, since it happened. I was getting kinda nervous, but then I figured maybe he doesn't have my phone number. I mean, it was really good sex. He said we had something, said he felt it, too. He has to call, right? Could you give him my phone number?” Rus asked, the happiness fading out of her voice. Tate swallowed thickly.

“You know what, I'm going to call him. Right now,” she managed to say.

That piece of shit mother fucker. He knew better.

“Thank you, thank you so much. I mean, I don't want to seem clingy. Am I being clingy? It's only been a week, I guess. A whole week,” Rus' voice began to falter at the end, and the insecurity that she was obviously trying to hide broke through – she kind of sounded close to tears.

“No, you're not clingy. I gotta go, chickee, I'll call you later,” Tate assured her. Rus managed a small laugh, and then the line went dead.

Tate let out a long shriek. Startled, Jameson leapt to his feet. As she called Ang's phone number, Sanders came running in to the room. Both asked her what was wrong, but she ignored them. She pressed the phone to her ear and paced down the room.

“Hey, honey pot, I was just thinking about -,” Ang answered.

“YOU MOTHER FUCKER!” she screamed in to the phone.

“Whoa! Nice greeting! What the fuck is your problem!?” he demanded.

“You! You are my problem! How could you do that!? And not say anything to me!? I've talked to you EVERY DAY THIS WEEK!” Tate shouted at him. Jameson was now pacing along side her, demanding to know what was wrong. There was a sigh on the other end of the phone.

“It wasn't any of your business, Tate. And it wasn't a big deal,” Ang told her.

“Not a big deal!? She's practically picking out her fucking wedding dress! You piece of shit! Why!? I specifically told you that she was off limits! Why!?” Tate demanded.

“You don't make all the rules, Tate! You're not in charge of everyone! We're adults, we can fuck if we want to!” he yelled back.

“Sure you can! But hey, here's a thought – if you wanna casually fuck one of my closest friends, maybe not tell her that you have a fucking goddamn special connection! Why would you say that!?” she shrieked.

“Hey! You're fucking Satan, right? What, I'm not allowed to be the devil sometimes!?” Ang demanded. She gasped.

“Are you fucking serious!? This is because of me!? You're blaming this on me!?” she shouted.

“You're goddamn right I am! You fucking threw me over for some asshole because he's a good fuck, which is a really shitty move! Fuck you, Tate, I fucking hope you -,”

It all went downhill from there. She began screaming obscenities in to the phone. He shouted them right back at her. When she was red in the face and gasping for air between rants, Jameson ripped the phone out of her hand. He handed it over to Sanders, who put it to his ear and walked out of the room. Tate let out another shriek, slapping her hands against Jameson's chest before falling against him, pressing her face in to his shoulder.

“What the fuck is going on!?” he demanded.

“Ang. Slept with. Rus,” she managed to pant out. Jameson went very still.

“You're this upset over him sleeping with someone else?” he asked. She gave him a violent shove.

“Jesus christ, none of you want to actually be with me, but all of you are jealous of every single fucking move I make!” she snapped. He put his hands on either side of her face, forced her to look straight at him.