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“Yeah, it’s gonna take me a while in there.” Amir got out of the car and leaned toward my passenger window. “Women are like prostitutes. You spend money and buy them fancy shit, and they drop their panties! If you don’t, they won’t spread ‘em!”
He had a crude sense of humor that most people did not enjoy.
“Don’t tell your wife that,” I said. “Get outta here, man.”
“You’re looking at Casanova reincarnated!” he exclaimed, backing away. “Don Juan, baby!”
“Watch where you’re going!” I hollered out the window as he disappeared into a department store.
Facing the driver, I told him to take me back to the firm so I could head home in my car. When we stopped at a traffic light, I heard something vibrate near my shoe. Looking down, I realized Amir had left his cellphone behind.
It must have slipped out of his pocket, I thought, reaching down.
Suddenly, it vibrated again. A pop-up window appeared on the screen; someone by the name of “Hot Bitch” had sent him a text. Thinking nothing of it, I opened my briefcase and put the phone inside. I didn’t want to violate my friend’s privacy.
Ten seconds passed, and again, his phone vibrated. Then again, and again, and…
It’s probably Chelsea,I concluded. But that buzzing sound wouldn’t stop.
“Christ,” I muttered under my breath, opening my briefcase and grabbing the phone.
I won’t read it.
What I had decided instead was to scroll down his contact list and see if Chelsea’s name was there. Feeling tense, my condition worsened when I discovered my assumption had been wrong.
I need to find out who this chick is.
But you already know,another voice answered in my mind.
I never thought of Amir as the type of guy who would have an adulterous affair. From my perspective, he was a loyal family man who was in love with his wife.
Have I been wrong all this time?I questioned.
Avoiding further assumptions, I locked the phone away again in my briefcase, but quickly opened it when I remembered to set it on silent. Right when I was about to adjust the setting, the phone vibrated in my hand. Aria’s voice randomly echoed in my consciousness as I stared down at the cellphone in contemplation.
Why won’t you believe me, Noah? She’s cheating on you with your best friend!
“Fuck it,” I cursed out loud, clicking on the name to read the following texts:
Hey sex machine, r we still on for 2nite?
My husband won’t be home this evening. We should hook up. Let me know if u can. I’ll wear that sexy lingerie u bought me ;)
Last chance before I make plans without u…
You know that voice in your head that gets louder, urging you to investigate, even though you don’t want to learn the ugly truth? Yeah, that’s called instinct—intuition, whatever the hell you want to call it. The phone number was unfamiliar to me, but I knew I had to text this woman back and find out who she was, even though a part of me already knew. I wrote:
Hey sorry. Was driving.
A few seconds later, I got another text.
I wish I was there stroking u while u drove.
We both know how I LOVE that ;)
This wasn’t sexually stimulating to me, but I responded with:
Naughty girl. I should punish u.
