Cheyenne’s fuse got shorter as time passed. She was aware of it. Even Harry was aware of it, though he seemed reluctant to ask about what the problem was in case she decided to bite his head off over it.
She supposed, from some angles, it could seem like she was just being dramatic, or as if she was trying to preserve the situation by not reporting it. But really, when a man who purported to care about her wouldn’t take her seriously on the matter, it simply seemed too unlikely that she would be able to get strangers to take her seriously. And if she tried to report the situation and nothing happened, she was fairly sure she would give up on doing anything about it later on when it got more serious.
She supposed eventually something would have to give, but in the meantime, she simply did what she could to rely on Daphne to help keep her from snapping completely. Daphne, bless her soul, didn’t seem to mind particularly much, and she was always good for a reminder that Cheyenne wasn’t unreasonable for hating the situation she was stuck in.
*
As it turned out, eventually something really did have to give, and Harry walked into the entryway as Lorraine strolled up to the bottom of the stairs as Cheyenne came down them. Her words were innocuous enough, as they ever were, and she sounded helpful enough to those who didn’t really know to listen, but her grip on Cheyenne’s shoulder was too firm, and there was a threat thinly veiled beneath that polite offer.
Cheyenne smacked Lorraine’s other hand away from her stomach before Lorraine’s fingers could even settle against the fabric of her shirt, snapping, “For fuck’s sake, keep your hands to yourself for ten minutes,” as she did. “God, you’re worse than a toddler. At least they get all grabby because they don’t know what anything is.”
“Everything alright in here?” Harry asked slowly, looking between the two of them as he asked.
Lorraine cleared her throat and linked her hands together behind her back. “Perfectly well,” she answered pleasantly, but she didn’t get a chance to tack on further assurances.
“‘Perfectly well’ my ass,” Cheyenne scoffed. “Keep your hands off of me. If you’re feeling that tactile, I’m sure I can find some craft glue and some borax, and we can make you some ooze to keep you busy.”
“Chey—”
Cheyenne clicked her tongue sharply before Harry could actually say anything, and she stepped down the last stair, turned, and stormed out of the entryway and into the kitchen. Neither Harry nor Lorraine followed her, but she could hear them murmuring between themselves before the front door opened and they left for the day.
With a sigh, Cheyenne slumped against the counter, only straightening up when she heard Daphne slinking into the room.
“I heard shouting,” Daphne stated. “Everything alright?”
“Harry finally managed to walk in on his assistant being weird,” Cheyenne answered with faux cheer, twirling one finger in the air as if to silently convey ‘yippee!’ “He just barely managed to cotton on that something might be a little bit off.”
Gasping in surprise that was about eighty percent feigned, Daphne covered her mouth with one hand. “You think so?” she asked, adopting the overly excited tone of a college coed. “Is it, like, the apocalypse? Did the Mayans just get it a few years off?”
Cheyenne snorted and rolled her eyes, shaking her head slightly. “Maybe,” she returned dryly. “Either way, I’m going to talk to him about it tonight. Maybe since he actually saw a sliver of it, he’ll listen when I say that something needs to happen.”
To say that Daphne looked skeptical did not quite do justice to the look on her face, but she slowly agreed, “Whatever you say, Chey,” regardless.
That was about Cheyenne’s level of optimism too, if she was being perfectly honest with herself.
*
Cheyenne waited for about five minutes once Harry got back from work—just long enough for Lorraine to walk back out to the car to fetch something—before she cornered him in his office, pulling the door shut as she did.
“You need to tell her to back the fuck off,” Cheyenne stated simply, arms folded over her chest as she scowled at him. “Be nice, be blunt, I don’t care, but you need to say something to her, because I have approximately no patience left for her handsy bullshit.”
“Chey, I really don’t think she means anything by it,” Harry sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers. “It hardly seems like something to get so worked up over.”
Cheyenne reached into her pocket and pulled out her wallet, purely so she could throw it at Harry’s chest. He blinked down at it as it bounced off and landed on the floor with a quiet ‘thwap.’
“I never gave her permission to touch me!” Cheyenne snapped, stomping one foot on the floor. “I don’t really know her. I don’t like her. And I never said she could come near me. The fact that you like her does not give her an all access pass to my personal space. And if some random jackass on the street tried pawing at my belly, you would threaten to stab him. Even if one of your male friends tried to make a grab at me, you would kick him out!
So why is she allowed to treat me like a doll when I’ve made it abundantly clear that I don’t fucking want her touching me?” Her voice rose to a shout by the end, and left her panting through her nose. Slowly, she swallowed, and in a more level tone, she enunciated very clearly, “Either you explain to her that she can keep her goddamn hands to her goddamn self, or I will pack my bags and be gone by tonight, because I am beyond sick and tired of you treating me like a toddler throwing a tantrum every time I say something is wrong.”
Harry held his hands up in a pacifying gesture, and Cheyenne slowly sighed out a breath, though she didn’t actually relax in the least bit.
“I’ll have a word with her,” he promised her quietly. “Alright? I’ll talk to her about it tonight.”
Cheyenne got the distinct impression that he still wasn’t putting much stock in what she was saying, but she knew that was as good as she was going to get at that point. She nodded once stiffly and offered a flat, “Good,” in acknowledgement before she picked up her wallet, turned on her heel, and stalked out of the office.
She waited until she was in her room before she buried her face in her pillow and shrieked. Most of the noise was muffled by cloth and memory foam, but even so, she was loud enough that Daphne poked her head into the room in concern.
“Are you dying?”
Cheyenne sighed and set her pillow down before she sprawled back on the bed, hands linked together on top of her belly. “I’m not dying,” she replied. “I’m just talking myself out of going on a serial murdering spree.”
“Well, if that pep talk doesn’t work out, I can help you hide the bodies afterwards,” Daphne assured her brightly.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cheyenne replied, nodding once to show the proper level of gratefulness. Daphne didn’t linger after that before heading back to her room, and soon enough Cheyenne sat back up. With a slow sigh, she made her way out of the room and headed back down the stairs. She had skipped lunch that afternoon, so it was probably about time for her to go find something to eat for dinner.
As she passed Harry’s office, the door was closed once again, but she could hear voices from inside, muffled nearly to the point of incoherence.
It was possible Harry was just on the phone with someone from work, or he was just talking to Lorraine as he might any other night, but it was also possible that he was actually having a word with her about her behavior.
Truth be told, she hadn’t really believed him when he said he would talk to her about it; she had just assumed that he was saying it to get Cheyenne to shut up and calm down, since that seemed to be his only real concern more often than not.
She couldn’t quite restrain herself, and she carefully sneaked closer to the door until she could press an ear against the wood. Their voices from inside were still muffled, but she could at least tell that Harry was indeed talking to Lorraine, and she could finally make out the words.
“…promise, sir, I meant no harm by any of it.” That was Lorraine’s voice, lilting and simpering as ever, pitched to sound some parody of apologetic. “If that’s what she thought, then I’m very sorry she feels that way.” And of course, the requisite apology that wasn’t actually an apology. Cheyenne rolled her eyes.
“Look, Lorraine, I get it,” Harry sighed, and Cheyenne could just picture the way he would run his hand over his hair whenever he was exasperated. “I know you don’t mean anything by it, but she still wants you to knock it off.”
“Mr. Carmichael—”
Harry sounded truly baffled as he cut her off. “She wants you to stop touching her. I am telling you to stop touching her unless it’s necessary. That’s literally all that’s going on here. I don’t get why that bothers you so much.”
Cheyenne rolled her eyes to herself as she listened. She knew the answer: because Lorraine didn’t want to lose one of her intimidation tactics. But she also knew that Lorraine was never going to actually admit to that.
The silence from the office seemed piercing for a moment before finally Lorraine said, “Of course, sir. You’re right. I’ll do my best to keep the habit in check from now on.”
Sensing the end of the conversation approaching, Cheyenne didn’t linger to hear how it would end, leaning away from the door and walking away before anyone could stumble upon her eavesdropping. After all, Harry still thought Lorraine meant well enough, so she really doubted he would simply overlook it if he opened the door right then and saw her with her ear pressed against it, like she was waiting for someone to get detention in middle school.
She didn’t head back to her room, though, instead making her way into one of the sitting rooms and making herself comfortable on the couch, leaning back to keep herself carefully propped up. It seemed like every move she made had to be done so carefully by that point, lest she lose her balance and wind up on the floor, but she supposed it was nothing unexpected.
She relaxed for only a few minutes before she heard footsteps in the hallway, and Lorraine looked into the room. As soon as she spotted Cheyenne, she stepped into the sitting room, though only just far enough to clear the doorway.
Everything was quiet for a moment before Lorraine practically forced out the words, “Mr. Carmichael has informed me that you find certain aspects of my behavior inappropriate. I would like to apologize for making you uncomfortable.”
She didn’t wait for a response, instead simply turning on her heel and marching right back out of the room.
Even so, Cheyenne felt a tiny little thrill of pleasure. It had been a good moment. It wasn’t often in that house that she got what she wanted.