The Breakup Mix

by Carter, TK

  “I went to the fucking store, dammit!” I slammed the bags on the coffee table. “My phone fell under the car seat this morning, and no one ever calls me anyway, so I didn’t think it would fucking matter!”

  “Michelle, language!” Brandon yelled.

  I looked at the wide-eyed, gaping-mouthed faces of my children and hung my head in shame. I gestured to the bags. “Dig out what’s yours and I’ll put the rest away.” I walked into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. Brandon came up behind me and slammed the door out of my hand.

  “You and I need to talk. Bedroom, now.” He stormed off.

  Maybe I’ll get written up for this, too. Maybe I’ll get put on a week’s unpaid leave from my home life,, then I can come back with a new attitude and fresh outlook on the same life I had when I left. Maybe that will happen. Sure. I shuffled down the hallway and closed the door to our bedroom. I crossed my arms and looked at everything but Brandon.

  “What in the hell has gotten into you, Michelle?”

  I walked around the bed and climbed in on my side. I clutched my pillow to my chest and buried my face in it. “I don’t know,” I mumbled.

  He pulled the pillow away from my face and sat across from me. “Seriously, Michelle. What’s going on with you? You’re not even close to the same person you were even two months ago.”

  I stared at his face, the same face I’ve envisioned shredding with my fingernails, and there looking back at me was my Brandon—the man who won my heart as a young boy, who bought me flowers (cheap gas station roses, but hey, they were flowers) every week while I was pregnant with Del Ray and sang to me from stage like I was the only girl in the room even though hundreds of other girls would have gone home with him that night. He looked at me with those eyes for the first time in years, and my dam exploded. I threw my arms around his neck and let go of months of frustration and misery. I envisioned each tear as a memory of wrongdoing that I was no longer going to hold.

  He held me until my memory was wiped and pulled away from me to look me in the eyes. “I just have one question for you, Michelle. Just one, and I want an honest answer, okay?”

  I nodded and wiped my face with a corner of the sheet. “Okay.”

  He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “Are you seeing someone else?”

  Out of the fifty questions that ran through my mind, that was the last one I would have ever considered. I chuckled at first then burst into laughter. I caught a glimpse of the relief softening his features and stopped laughing. “You were serious?”

  He shrugged and smoothed the pillow on his lap. “Well, yeah, I guess.”

  “Brandon, what on earth makes you think I’m seeing someone else?”

  He twirled his finger in the air. “All of this . . . your outbursts, your dissatisfaction with the life we’ve worked so hard to build, your new fascination with the gym . . . I don’t know, I just thought maybe someone else had taken my place.” He choked on the last few words, which made my heart seize.

  I put my hand on his face and made him look at me. “No, Brandon, no one has taken your place. I just don’t know where mine is anymore. I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m a mess. I don’t know who I am!”

  He sighed and looked at me. “You’re Michelle Morehead; wife, mother, employee, and you’re good at all of those things. You’re beautiful, smart, and a little quirky, but that’s one of the things I love about you.”

  “Well, about that employee thing . . .” I turned my head. “I lost my job today, Brandon.”

  He stood up. “What the hell? Are you kidding me?”

  I held back the tears trying to form in case they needed to be a memory to release later. “No, I’m not kidding. I’m so sorry, Brandon.”

  “What happened?”

  My lip trembled as I lied, “Downsizing I guess.”

  “At a daycare? They can’t do that.”

  I squirmed on the bed and reached for the pillow. “I—”

  “You’re lying, and I know you’re lying. Michelle, I’ve known you half your life.”

  “I got wrote up for my attitude, and it escalated from there,” I mumbled.

  Brandon sighed and threw his hands on his hips. “So this isn’t just something you save for home—you’re spreading your crazy all over your life, is that what I’m hearing?”

  “I said I was sorry. I don’t know what happened. She was all up in my shit and I lost it. She tried to suspend me for a week, but before I knew it, I was unemployed.”

  “Call her tomorrow and tell her you’ll take your week and see if she’ll let you come back. We can’t afford for you to not work right now, Michelle.”

  “I can try to find something else.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know, like maybe an office job or something at the bank. Maybe Katie can pull some strings and get me a teller job.”

  “You don’t have any experience in any of that,” he snapped.

  “Maybe I could look at taking some college classes?” I felt like I should welcome Brandon into my pity pool where he was drowning in my reality.

  “No, Michelle, we can’t afford for you not to work, and I sure the hell can’t afford to put you through college when I’m trying to plan for the kids’ education first.”

  “I’ll look tomorrow, Brandon. I’m really sorry.”

  “You’re unbelievable, you know that? You act like your life is so freaking miserable, and you don’t really have that much to worry about, Michelle. Kids, house, and dinner—boom, that’s it, and—”

  “‘That’s it?’ That’s it! Do you even hear yourself, Brandon? That’s a lot! And I work on top of it!”

  “Correction—you did work before you flaked out and lost your job today.”

  I flew off the bed and stood in front of him while remembering why I spent most of my time wanting to claw his eyes out and shove them up his ass. That look—that look of annoyance and boredom he gets when he looks at me—that’s what makes me want to barrel into him like a linebacker after the boy who took his girl to prom. “When did you get so pompous?”

  “Oh, big word alert; you’ve been reading again.” He rolled his eyes and started toward the door.

  I caught him before he got there and planted my body in front of the door as I stared at him with my maniacal eyes and air stuck in my throat. “Do you lie around trying to figure out what kind of asshole things you can say to make me feel worse about myself?”

  “Nope, it just comes so easily. Excuse me.” He moved me out of the way and opened the door. “Your kitchen awaits you. I’m tired of your pity party, and the kids are hungry.”

  And like that, it was over. The moment was gone, and the truth had been revealed. I was insignificant.

  Chapter Nineteen

  These Days

  Chance

  I tapped my pen on my notebook and stared at the clock while hearing Tony say, “I just missed you, Chance” on repeat in my head. I shoved the notebook on the dashboard and put my head on the steering wheel. “I don’t have time for this. I don’t have time for this,” I chanted. It was nearly eleven o’clock, and I had no story to report to my team. “It’s a dead story, Chance; we’ve checked into it.”

  “We” . . . as in he and the redheaded slut-for-brains who probably never had an original thought a day in her life. Judging by her outfit, she has nothing better to do than study Pinterest and starve herself to death. I sighed and got out of my car to stare at the growing crowd waiting for the president to make an appearance. If I was an honest woman, I would admit that I was looking for Tony, but I’m not.

  “Any luck?” I asked my cameraman, Eddie.

  He crushed out his cigarette under his boot and shook his head. “Nah, there’s nothing going on, Chance.”

  I frowned and looked back at the crowd. “This seems like a waste of a beautiful day to me. I could be home and feel equally as bored.”

  Eddie chuckled. “Yeah, but tonight should be a helluva party.” H
e grinned. “I even brought my ‘kill-em-dead’ suit.”

  I clapped him on the shoulder. “There’s too much stud in that body, kiddo. Go easy on the ladies tonight, okay? Don’t let the big story of the night be something stupid you did.”

  “Aww, now, you don’t give me enough credit.

  I scanned the crowd again and mumbled, “I still can’t believe there’s no scuttle-butt about the president’s visit.”

  “No luck at the coffee shop?”

  “Oh I found something, all right, but nothing that will help me with my career.” I waved off Eddie’s questioning look. “Nothing, never mind. Okay, let’s figure out what we’re going to say at the twelve-o’clock and help me try not to look bored for the lovely folks in Columbia.”

  I checked my phone and found two new texts from Dani and Alissa. Dani’s version of gushing relayed the events with a smiley face. Alissa’s said, Yep. Still knocked up.

  I replied to Alissa and was about to toss my phone in the car when a text from Tony came across the screen. I tried to convince myself a year ago that I was done with him, so I changed his name in my phone to Do Not Answer. I looked toward the crowd again then slid the message open.

  Still on the prowl for a story?

  I smirked and replied: I’ve got a few things to check on, yes. You?

  Look up.

  He stood on the other side of my car grinning at me, looking like he was freshly released from the sexy farm. He cocked his head to the side and gave me “the look” that always sent the blood rushing through my body and my butterflies into a sheer panic. I considered walking toward him but was afraid my wobbly legs would make my intended sexy strut look like a newborn calf, so I played it cool and let him come to me. Which he did.

  I cleared my throat and waited for my saliva glands to start working again, but my tongue was adhered to the roof of my mouth. I turned to the media van and slid the door open to retrieve a bottle of water from the cooler. My shaking hands betrayed me; Eddie smirked and grabbed the bottle from me to open it. I mouthed, Thank you before I turned toward Tony.

  “Shouldn’t you be chasing a story, Sir Tony?”

  He grinned. “What makes you think I’m not?”

  I laughed. “I know you well enough to know you wouldn’t be caught dead in front of a media van if you were on the hunt.”

  He took a deep breath. “Touché. You’re in front of the same van, Ms. Bradley.”

  Shit. “I’m getting ready to head back out. I’ve got to meet with someone in about an hour.”

  He looked at me sympathetically. “Chance, you’re such a terrible liar. How do you even sleep at night knowing what an awful liar you are?”

  I shrugged. “All right, I call. What’s your hand?”

  He folded his arms across his chest. “What makes you think I’m going to tell you and let you scoop me?”

  “Because I can tell by that shit-eating grin on your face that you’re dying to tell me, so you might as well come out with it.”

  He shook his head and bit his lip. “Nope. I’m not telling you.” He looked at Eddie and extended his hand. “I’m Tony.”

  I felt my cheeks turning red as I fumbled over the words, “Oh yes, of course. Eddie, this is Tony; Tony, this is Eddie.”

  As they exchanged niceties, I studied Tony’s face. I didn’t think it was possible for men to anti-age, but the man standing before me looked younger than he did a year ago when I last saw him. His eyes twinkled as he shop-talked with Eddie and sized up the young man on my crew. I had to put my ego in check as my chest puffed up and a grin tickled my lips.

  Tony whispered in my ear, “Walk with me for a minute.”

  I glanced at Eddie. “Are we on at noon?”

  He checked the schedule. “I don’t see that we’re cutting live at twelve, but I’ll call Stuart and see.”

  I nodded and walked after Tony. “Whatcha got?”

  He sniffed. “There’s really no story here, Chance.”

  I frowned. “Are you sure?”

  He scratched his head. “Yes and no. Yes is what I’ve found, but no, I’m not convinced.”

  “None of this makes sense. Why would Stuart send me out here for three days if there’s no story?”

  Tony grinned and bit his lip. “Well, I may have kind of called Stuart and given him the idea that there was something brewing up here.”

  I gaped at him. “What? Why on earth would you do that?”

  He leveled his eyes at me and chuckled. “Why do you think?”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath to stop the spinning in my head. “This is a bit extreme, even for you.” I panted and took a swig on my water before whispering, “Why didn’t you just call me?”

  He grinned. “I couldn’t. See?” He showed me his phone—the last text was sent to “Do Not Call.”

  I snickered and showed him my phone. “You’re ‘Do Not Answer.’”

  He laughed. “There ya go. That’s why I didn’t call. I . . . I should have called,” he finished with a groan. “Okay, well, I’m done humiliating myself. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  I smiled. “You should have called.”

  “Yes, but would you have answered?” he teased.

  “Oh hell no, not the first time.” I winked.

  Tony laughed and shook his finger at me. “I’ll see you very soon, Ms. Bradley.”

  “I look forward to it, Sir Tony.”

  What the hell just happened? I stood there watching Tony walk away and had the same urge I did a year ago to take off running after him when I watched him leave the courtyard with his shredded heart in his hands. I felt his name clawing at the back of my throat begging to be yelled and knew the feeling was mutual when he turned to look at me.

  By the time I made it back to the van, I felt I’d run a marathon through wet sand uphill in a hail storm, but I’d only walked half a block. Eddie sauntered over to me and gave me another bottle of water after taking my nearly empty one. “You wanna tell me what that was all about?”

  “Ever make such a gargantuan mistake in your life and have it stand before you on the beat?”

  He chuckled. “I’m twenty-six, so the answer is no, but I had a few awkward moments on campus a time or two. Come on, Chance. Let’s get you ready for a live broadcast. Stuart wants your pretty face on at noon.”

  “What the hell am I supposed to say? There’s no story here, Eddie.”

  “We’re going to be boring and welcoming to the president. Here. I’ve already written something up for you. You, uh, looked like you could use some help.”

  “Oh I could kiss your young face right now, Eddie. Thank you.”

  He laughed. “Please don’t. I don’t want to get my ass beat by that dude that’s still staring at you. Don’t look.”

  I trained my eyes on Eddie’s face and fought every urge to find Tony’s face and tell him I felt the same way. “Where?”

  “Don’t do it. Be cool. You’ll get your chance to dazzle him tonight, but right now you keep your eyes right here on my face. Trust me on this one. It will drive him crazy.”

  I laughed. “Because you’re a man—well almost—I’ll listen.”

  “Oh thanks a lot. I’m trying to help you, and you insult me.” He faked a dagger to the heart and stumbled backward.

  “Stop it.” I laughed. “Okay, let’s get this shit out of the way and head back to the hotel. I see no point in staying out here frying in the sun if there’s no real story to scoop.”

  After the broadcast, Eddie and I helped the other crew members pack up the van then headed toward the hotel. We parted ways after a quick lunch in the hotel restaurant and agreed to meet downstairs at five. That left me with four hours and eight hundred and sixty nerves to kill before I saw Tony again.

  One of the worst things about staying in a hotel room by yourself is the complete lack of interesting things to do in a hotel room by yourself. There are no books, no pictures of interest, no comforts of home, and no furry critters to oc
cupy the time. I threw myself on the bed and stared at the ceiling while trying not to think about Tony. I should call Alissa and ask how the appointment went, but she knows my voice all-too-well and would probably be up here in less than two hours if she wasn’t already on her way. That girl doesn’t know how to be still.

  And right now, I get why she’s like that. Sometimes the best thing one can do is stay moving to avoid all of the insanity running amuck in the old noggin. I ran a hot bath and found myself doing the exact same thing while lying in the substandard bath bubbles that I was doing in bed—trying not to think about Tony—trying not to dissect every moment with him to see if I was being a complete idiot, or worse, getting played.

  I managed to kill an hour talking myself out of thinking about Tony. Only three more hours until I see him again and knock him dead in my new red dress and heels. Visions of me walking into the event pretending to be bored and accidentally running into him plagued my psyche. The way his eyes grew wide, the little dab of drool that formed at the corner of his mouth, the way he trembled with desire to wrap me in his arms and declare his love for me. I groaned and belly-flopped onto the bed while pulling the pillow over my head. When did my head turn into a B-rated movie?

  A knock at the door sent me bolting straight up in bed. I gathered my robe and padded to the door. My heart and lungs were in a race to see which would kill me first—my heart slamming against my ribs was about to win. I stared through the peep hole but couldn’t see anything. The black cover of Alissa’s thumb moved as she said, “Open this door or I’ll set off the fire alarm.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief mixed with disappointment as I opened the door and chuckled. “Girl, what on earth are you doing here?”

  Alissa sashayed into the room and threw her purse on the floor. “I’m bored. I knew you were here probably not doing anything, so I thought I’d come hang out with you.” She flashed her pearly-whites at me and looked around the room. “Not bad.”

  “How was your appointment?” I sat on the bed and fluffed my pillows.