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Steam starts hissing from Carl’s ears.
“Oh you’re so full of it!” he sneers. “Playing it like you’re a good girl when you’re just a gold-digging whore!”
His accusation ends on a high shriek, and I look around, cringing. Sure enough, people are staring at us because Carl’s making a scene. The last thing I want is to disrupt the tranquility at the Wilshire, or have everyone at the hotel knowing my private business. So I glare daggers at my ex.
“You’re making a scene, Carl. Can’t we talk about this in a more private place?” I hiss.
He crosses his arms and sighs like a spoiled child, but he jerks his head in a nod. “Fine.”
I look around. There are people in the hotel lobby, and guests sitting at Café La Verve drinking their coffee peacefully. As much as I hate to do this, there’s only one place I can take Carl in this hotel where we won’t be surrounded by either nosy coworkers or guests. Gritting my teeth, I say, “Follow me,” and then stalk to the golden elevator hidden around the corner. Carl’s brows knit.
“What is this?”
“You’ll see,” I say stiffly, trying not to look at the blonde man. The doors whoosh open, and I escort him to the top floor where Bruce’s penthouse awaits. Although it turns my stomach to admit Carl to our love den, hopefully without an audience he’ll calm down and stop making a scene. But of course, I’m not so lucky. My ex is an illogical child, and instead, Carl makes everything worse.
9
Jemima
* * *
As soon as I unlock the door, Carl brushes past me, sauntering into the penthouse like he owns the place. He stops in the center of the airy space, between the living room and kitchen, and takes in the triple height ceilings with their floor-to-ceiling windows and expansive view of the Boardwalk below. Then, he spins around to face me, his expression so ugly that I recoil involuntarily. The anger is back, and the hatred on his face sends a chill down my spine.
“You’re just a filthy little whore, you know that, Jemima? I didn’t have enough money to put you up in some lavish penthouse like Bruce Wilshire, so you cut me off like stale bread and kicked me to the curb to make room for someone with deeper pockets.”
“Shut your mouth! You aren’t even making sense. You cheated on me, or have you forgotten?” I hiss.
“That’s just a lame excuse and you know it. You are nothing but a fat, ugly whore. You saw an opportunity and dropped me for your billionaire playboy as soon as you could!”
I laugh almost hysterically and throw my hands up in the air. “Have you developed a memory problem? You are the reason we broke up. You and your inability to keep your dick in your pants and away from that slutty Cindy Sinclair!”
“Oh, so she’s a slut now, huh? Well, you’re the one ho-ing it up for money! So who’s the slut now?”
I stare at him, utterly speechless.
“But what about the Majesty? What about how you and Cindy literally had sex in the back of the theater! Everyone could see you!”
Carl merely sniffs and brushes it aside.
“Yeah, so what? You and that fucking Bruce Wilshire had public sex at Nostradamus, so don’t go acting like your shit smells so sweet, you whore. Your shit stinks to high heaven just like everyone else’s!”
That does it. I whirl on him, screaming now. My face is red and spittle flies from my mouth, but I don’t care.
“And you’re a wannabe player who wasn’t worth the time I spent on you! The best thing you ever did was show me your true colors in that movie theater because it finally opened my eyes and set me free, you little man! You have such a tiny prick that I couldn’t even feel it when you were in me, so stop with your Magnum XL bullshit. I know the truth, which is that you have a pencil dick! No, make that an eraser dick, you’re so small.”
Carl’s nostrils flair, and his whole face grows beet red. His eyes bulge to the point where they look like they’re going to pop out of his head, and the veins in his arms pulse. He starts to move towards me threateningly, but something gleams in the afternoon light, catching his eye. Then, a crafty look comes over his face. Bruce’s golf clubs are sitting against the wall in the foyer, and Carl snags a wedge from the set and turns back towards me, waving the silver stick in the air.
“Carl, what are you doing?” My voice trembles as I back away, afraid to turn away from him.
“You’re going to pay!” he hisses. “You want to throw me out like trash, but I’m going to show you what happens to stupid whores. Nobody throws me away! No one, you hear? NO ONE!”
