After work, I headed home to take a quick shower before picking Fancy up. When I pulled up to my place, Fancy wasalready there sitting in one of the rocking chairs on the porch. My heart leapt in my chest. The sight of her was the best welcome home ever.
“Have you been waiting long?” I shouted. Her horse was roped to the porch banister on the shaded side of the house with a bucket of water next to her. Walking up to Fancy, it was clear from her sullen expression something was wrong. Moving her duffel bag to the side I knelt in front of her. “Is everything okay?”
She shook her head slowly.
Now that I was laying eyes on her, I could tell her face was ashen and stained with tears. “Talk to me.”
“Darla was sleeping with Chap.” She said the words in a matter-of-fact tone.
My eyes grew wide as her statement settled in. “How do you?—”
“Moniece, my assistant caught them in the act months ago.”
“And we believe Moniece?” Sometimes even the most well-intentioned individuals had a motive.
“She has no reason to lie. Trust me, I’ve searched my brain to come to a rational explanation, but Moniece is as trustworthy as they come.”
Standing, I released a long sigh. “Tell me what you need right now? Do you want me to be honest or do you want me to provide a listening ear?”
“Honest.” Her big brown eyes practically pleaded for clarity.
“Darla has always seen you as her competition for guys’ attention or on stage. She’s jealous of you and hides it behind fake smiles and unprovoked compliments. So, it doesn’t surprise me she would do something like that to you.”
Fancy jumped from her chair, practically ready to fight. “If that were true, if any of that were true, I would have seen it.”
“Fancy you’re not good at reading people, you never have been. You believed Darla was your best friend because that’swhat you were to her. I don’t think you saw what I was able to see. The intense stares, the eye rolls, the smirks that never quite turned into a genuine smile.”
“She always has a half smile, that’s just her face.”
“With you, yea. It’s like she can’t bring herself to be happy for you even when your success meant she got to tag along. You only see the best in people because that’s what you offer to others but Darla?—”
“Are you saying she’s a snake in the grass?”
“I’m saying most of your mishaps can be traced back to her. Your mic not working at the start of a performance, your song journal going mysteriously missing for weeks. Who do you think smashed your guitar?”
“You’re making her out to be an evil genius.”
“Jealousy makes people do weird things.”
“Jealous of what exactly? Darla is beautiful and talented in her own right.”
“I don’t think you grasp how difficult it is being dwarfed by your star power.”
“So, she sleeps with my boyfriend … ex-boyfriend to get back at me? Maybe Chap is blackmailing her or he brainwashed her. Shit like that happens all the time. He got into her head and piece by piece broke her down. Trust me he’s capable, he did it with me.”
As if I needed another reason to hate this Chap fella. “Let me ask you this. If it wasn’t for Whiskey Wild would you two still be friends?”
“She’s my best friend.” Her tone was incredulous.
“So was I and you didn’t seem to have any problems with ghosting me.” The moment I said it, I felt like an ass. I wasn’t trying to make this about me. But witnessing her ride for Darla even after she stabbed her squarely in the back was pissing me off. For years I knew Whiskey Wild had an expiration datebecause eventually Darla would do some fuck shit and force Fancy to reconsider the strength of their relationship.
Fancy fired back. “I begged you to come with us, but you refused. So, who walked away from whom?” She stormed to the front door in an attempt to escape but it was locked. “Open the fucking door, Edison.”
I walked over to her with her hands on her hips, looking defiant. “I understand you’re upset, but let’s not talk to one another like that.” Leaning in closer, I whispered, “I’m sorry about what I said about you leaving. I wasn’t trying to make this about me. We both made choices.” I hoped my softer tone took a bit of the sting out of my previous words.
“I’m sorry too,” she whispered back, burying her face in my chest. Her body shook in my arm as she silently sobbed. Sometimes you needed to cry it out before devising a plan of attack. When I received bad news, I usually sat in the dark listening to yacht music. Something about “Heaven Help Me” by Deon Estuscentered me.
When she finally pulled away, I said, “It’s going to be alright. And if you want to salvage a relationship with Darla we can figure it out.”
