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“Out. No point staying here.”
“Wearing that?” he blurts out.
“I don’t need your permission to wear anything. Besides, not sure why you’d care since anything involving me doesn’t seem to matter to you anymore.”
Where the fuck are my keys? I open each drawer looking for them to come up empty-handed.
“So, you don’t care that every guy walking past you will fucking look at your tits bouncing out of that top?”
“Does it look like I care? You seem to be confusing me with someone who actually gives a shit. Anyway, it’s a bar, so get over it,” I shoot back.
“You are not going to a bar.” His tone is tense, muscles protruding as he stands across from me trying to intimidate me with his tall stature and fierce glare. I can see he is struggling with that jealous streak of his. Serves him fucking right!
“Lex, you obviously don’t care what I do. You’re lucky I even told you this much because apparently, I have no business knowing why you come home late every night, so you can think what you want. If you think I’m going to try and fuck every dick in that bar, then great. Maybe that will pull you out of this sham that is called our marriage.”
I spot the keys, and dammit if they are sitting on the countertop behind him. Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck! I have no choice but to walk over to him and reach behind him.
I can do this—stay strong.
He motions his head to where the keys are sitting and looks over at me. There is a brief, albeit fleeting look of the old Lex there before it’s gone again.
I take a deep breath and walk over. I lean around him, only inches apart for the keys. For a split second, I linger, inhaling his aftershave which seems a little too fresh for my liking. My warped mind immediately jumps to the conclusion that he would only have re-applied it because he had to cover a smell, and what smell would you need to cover? The smell of a woman.
With my emotions battered and ego bruised, I pull away, but his hand grips firmly around my arm, slightly hurting me. My eyes almost close, desperate for any touch, heedless of its intention. The touch is causing a wave of desire within me, ferociously crashing against my morals.
“You are my wife, and you don’t need to degrade yourself in front of strangers.”
Oh, he did not just fucking say that!
I tear my arm away from his grip, fury building inside my chest.
“So, I’m a slut now? And here I was thinking I was just a bored, horny housewife looking to get laid tonight.”
I walk to the back door and open it, followed by a ‘very dramatic’ slamming it shut. I can’t get out of there fast enough, the anger swelling within me causing an outrage of emotions.
Eric, being my lifesaver, meets me at a non-gay club much to my surprise. His reasoning is that he’d had enough of the bitchiness and wants to score with some confused straight guy.
The bar is packed, and I feel extremely old. Not that it was hopping with all young folks, but because I feel overdressed. Apparently, showing your ass cheeks is a prerequisite these days.
I fill Eric in on all the details about what happened at home, and he’s quick to tell me that Lex will probably be here in five minutes, dragging my body to the back room to claim his property. Of course, that doesn’t happen, and so the drinking games begin. Some people we become friends with in LA join us, and I am having a blast and pushing the past few months aside until Lex sends me a text.
Lex: Choose your next move very carefully and remember the band on your finger.
Is he fucking serious? With several shots of vodka running through my veins, I find the courage to say how I really feel. To say the words eating me up inside despite the band on my finger.
Me: It doesn’t stop you.
Lex: I’m warning you Charlie. Remember who you belong to.
Me: Lol, so I’m Charlie tonight? I’ll remember that Alex. Leopards don’t change their spots.
By throwing his past back
in his face, I light the match ready to play with fire. His callous use of my name Charlie brings to the surface the anger we both feel. The difference is he is fucking up here, not me.
Beside me, a guy is standing awfully close to the point he has bumped my arm several times, apologizing profusely. Each time, I smile and tell him not to worry about it. So, he looks at my chest a few times, but I brush it off as a single guy’s behavior and turn my attention back to Eric until my phone vibrates again.
Lex: You are my wife, so tell the fucktard who is trying to grope your tits to back the fuck off or I will fuck him up more than you can imagine.
