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“I can see our name in lights now. CC Chic Boutique. Can’t you?”
“Yes, yes, I can, we made it this far together, didn’t we?” She lets go of me and walks around to the front of the counter.
“Yeah, we did, bug. Me and you—bitches until the end.” I accept her dorky fist bump.
“You know, when you call us ‘bitches’ it sets feminism back like a hundred years, you know that right?” I ask jokingly, I love giving Lana a hard time.
“No, because I’m the queen of feminism. I don’t need a man for anything, didn’t you know that?” I shrug my shoulders and huff out a small laugh. She doesn’t qualify as a feminist, she’s just scared and uses that as an excuse. She needs Kings and she knows it, but I digress.
“When’s Evan getting here?” she questions. I look at the corner of the computer screen to the side of me, checking the time.
“Any minute now, he wanted to talk before we opened and before customers came in. I’m guessing it’s to sign the papers.” I squeal, so excited to get this ball rolling, dreams are waiting to be made into reality.
“Do you think the Portland store will do as well as this one?” Lana asks, gazing around the room.
Good question.
“I think so, I mean we had no idea this one was gonna take off like it did. We barely had a penny to our names when we opened it. Now look at us.” I gesture to the large space around us, the one she’s admiring.
“True, God I love that you’re the smart, levelheaded one. My whacked-out brain is asking too many what ifs.”
“That’s what I’m here for chicka-poo! You’re the boobs and I’m the brain,” I joke, shooting her a wink. I hear footsteps sounding from the back of the store and hurry to finish the cash count. I’m closing the till when I hear Lana’s surprised voice, while she moves to meet him.
“Oh my God! Evan, what happened to your face?” I slam the back of Lana’s parting head with a hard glare. Geez, you can’t just ask people what’s wrong with their face, that’s a tad rude.
I hurry to meet them in the back to see what all the fuss is about. Almost instantly, before I’m even to where they’re standing, I see his black eyes and bandaged nose. He looks like shit. Even without having any medical training, I can tell his nose is broken.
“Evan! Are you okay?” I rush to him once I see how bad it is from afar. I get close enough to touch his face but I refrain, unsure if it would hurt.
“Oh this, yeah, totally. I learned your boyfriend doesn’t like it when I call you ‘beautiful’ though. Trey sure does love you.”
What did he just say? Why would he say that about Trey? We’re talking about his broken nose.
“I’m sorry?”
He puts his hands up, signaling surrender.
“I didn’t mean to say anything offensive, I just meant that your boyfriend showed up and warned me to back off and then he attacked me. I really didn’t mean to be intrusive or make you uncomfortable. Just thought you should know I didn’t mean anything by it.”
Did I just enter the twilight zone? He can’t be serious. Can he? Trey was with me last night, how would he have had time to go and get into an altercation with Evan? Not only that, Trey has no reason to hit him or start a fight. Lastly, I think to myself, why is he reading my messages? Does he not trust me?
I’m paralyzed into place from both embarrassment and pure disappointment, how could he do this to me? Looking between Evan and Lana—back and forth like a crazy person—I attempt to find the words that can make this whole situation disappear, or make me disappear, that would be even better.
Shock hits hard, a roaring pain rips through my chest, causing my fist to clench up in anger, I remember something about last night. He didn’t answer my text after five, that’s when he went silent for a few hours. That’s when he must have gone, this explains last night. What I thought was a moment between lovers, a connection undeniable, was just him pissing on me like a dog, lying to me.
“Evan, I’m sorry, but is this a joke or are you completely serious?” I’m saying a silent prayer in my head that this isn’t true and he and Trey are in on this joke together.
Please, God, let this be some cruel joke that I’ll yell at Trey for later.
“I’m too mature for jokes of this degree. Don’t you think?”
The way he says that seems angry. I mean he has every right to be, but this is my boyfriend, my best friend for thirteen years, excuse me if I need to second-guess it. What do you say to something like this? Hey, sorry my boyfriend is jealous and broke your nose for no reason, we still on for the deal? The room is closing in on me, and I need to find a way out before I drown in my own embarrassment.
“Evan, I’m so sorry. I really don’t know what to say. I need to go. Lana, you got the store?” She nods, understanding my need to run. I know that was a piss-poor sorry, but it’s the best I could do without breaking down and losing all professional boundaries with Evan.
Grabbing my purse on my way out, I dig through it and pull out my phone. My hands are shaking; I’m so angry—so hurt by his actions. I’m was so close to closing this deal, and I just watched the bomb attached to it ignite and detonate in front of me. Hopefully, they’ll be able to find me in the ashes.
I dial Trey’s number, angry and ready to snap, he answers on the second ring, his voice filling my car. I lose my cool, calm, and collective self and release the hotheaded beast.
