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I frown for a split second at her tone. I know it's only a three-letter word, but it sounds clipped.
"Hey! I'm on my way home and need a drink so bad. Are you busy?"
"No."
I hesitate for a second. "Oh, okay. Well, Daniel's coming over with wine. I thought we could all hang out and order Chinese?"
"Sure."
My frown deepens as the bus draws closer. "Is everything okay?" I ask, again. "You seem off."
"Yeah. Everything is just dandy."
Something is definitely wrong. There isn’t a hint of sarcasm in her words like there usually is.
"Okay… Do you want me to pick anything up before I get home?"
"No. I'll just see you when you get here," Natalie says, then hangs up the phone.
Pulling the phone away, I glance down at the blank screen wondering why her tone seems so grim. It's totally unlike her.
An unsettling feeling coils in my stomach as I climb onto the bus and take a seat. Maybe she had a job gone bad and wants to be alone, and here I am telling her Daniel is coming over with wine.
After a few transfers and a couple of blocks, I'm finally unlocking my door. I push it open to a somewhat dark
apartment. It's oddly quiet and I reach for the light on the side of the wall. Placing my purse on the counter, I shrug my jacket off and turn to hang it on the back of the door when I spot Natalie behind me sitting at the table. I jump, grasping my chest.
"Jesus fucking Christ, Natalie!" A harsh sigh bursts out of me. "You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing?"
She's staring, her severe gaze probing mine. Heat prickles down my arms and my veins fill with dread, a laden weight rooting me in place.
"Is everything okay?" I ask. "Did something happen?"
She sits back, still glaring. She unfolds her arms, and I see a little white piece of paper between her fingers. I can hear the material rubbing together as she straightens it out and flips it over.
I hardly breathe when I view the front of it. The world fades around me, sound droning out as my eyes focus in on the pale blue rectangular piece of paper with angry scribbles on it. My lips part and my throat is dry as cotton.
It's the last five-million-dollar check James wrote me. I never deposited it. I placed it in my desk drawer under a few things and shut it. I was going to give it back, but I was too distraught to think since that day and forgot. She must've found it when she was looking for the calculator.
"What is this?" she inquires.
Her gaze…it says everything. I try to swallow but my throat is tight.
"Natalie," I say softly.
"What is this?" she repeats, enunciating the words to a point.
She slowly stands and walks over to me. She holds the check up to my face. My eyes run over it. At the bottom where the memo is, James wrote "services."
Fuck.
My gaze shifts up to hers. I need to think before I speak but I can see in her gaze that her mind is already made up.
"It's not what you think." Dumbest words ever spoken. "It is…but it isn't." My voice staggers with guilt.
"Don't try and play me for a fucking fool. A five-million-dollar check? Services? How long have you been fucking him?"
I flinch.
