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PROLOGUE
ME
The last time I jumped off this bridge, a Good Samaritan dove into the ocean and rescued me. Without asking for permission, he hauled my body onto a nearby boat and pumped my chest until I came back to life.
“Oh my god, she almost died!” “She’s so lucky you were here!” “I bet she’s thankful!” The tourists showered him with undeserved praise.
It’s a good thing I was too cold and numb to respond, because I desperately wanted to say, “Congratulations, sir. You just ruined my life.”
There’s not a soul out here with me this evening, though, so I’m not worried about being saved. The secrets I’m hiding will drown with me, and I hope the waters will anchor us someplace safe.
Because that’s what I always promised…
I never told a soul what happened between me and the man I should’ve never fallen in love with; I assured him that the moments we shared were ours, and ours alone. That if the world ever came knocking with questions, I’d die before answering.
Even now, as tempted as I am to relive our memories one last time, I have to resist thinking about all the Saturdays we slipped away so he could spread my legs and taste me someplace private. The numerous times he gripped my hips while I rode him at the back of an empty theater. And all the early mornings he kissed me so damn deeply that every kiss after his was far too shallow to compare.
The waves below suddenly ripple, promising to catch me when I fall. As the wind runs its fingers through my curls, I inhale the salty air and pry my fingers from the railing.
Letting go on the count of three.
One, two…
LESSON #1
“Fake it ’til you make it.”
As long as you’re not committing fraud or hurting anyone, no one ever has to know that you’re a liar…
1
ME
Boston, Massachusetts
"Islide my cock against her hymen, but it's tough like a diamond." Tonight's 'master poet' leans back onstage and shuts his eyes.
"She feels warm, wet, and tight. The sensations are hard to fight." He pauses. "As my heart aches, the condom breaks…"
You've got to be kidding me…
I signal for the waitress, officially convinced that this place will let anyone with a pulse perform.
"Yes, Miss?" She takes out her notepad.
"Can I get some cranberry juice, please?"
"With vodka?"
"No, just plain juice."
"When the rubber stretched, my cock compressed…"The poet's words are getting worse.
"Vodka it is." I hand her my driver's license.
"Good choice." She smiles and tucks it into her apron. "Be right back."
I pull out my phone and stare at the email that landed me here. Somehow, I misread the event schedule and mixed up the dates for tonight and the "Confessions of a Broken Heart" reading.
