by Claire Adams
“LA?” Jace asks.
“Yeah,” I answer. “Then, even if she figures it all out on the plane, you’ll still have plenty of time to get her shit packed and ready to move by the time she gets back.”
A smile lifts the corners of Jace’s mouth, but it fades just as quickly, “Do you really think Melissa’s going to fall for it?” he asks. “You rightly said that men are easy, but-”
“I would imagine this would be a big step for her career, being sent to the City of Angels for a late business meeting, wouldn’t it?” I ask.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I guess so.”
“Wow, you two really haven’t talked that much since your argument,” I respond.
The phone vibrates again.
“How long should I wait?” I read and immediately write back, “Ten minutes. Tell me that I’ll need to buy my own ticket or my boyfriend won’t believe me.”
I send that message, but I’m not quite done yet.
I type, “Just play along if I ask you any questions. Make up a schedule for meetings that sounds believable. He’s really been watching me.” I send that and start another, “If I tell you that I can’t or start complaining about the late notice, I’m just convincing my boyfriend it’s real. Tell me not to text you until I get there.” And finally, just to prove to Jace that the relationship between Melissa and her boss isn’t over, I write one more, “Five minutes after I accept, send a pic of your cock. Tell me how much you want to fuck me when I get there. Send it to my other phone. It has a better screen.”
I press send.
“You know something?” Jace asks.
“What’s that?”
“You are fucking evil,” he laughs.
“Yeah, you’ll probably want to stay on my good side,” I tell him. “Pro tip: I’m a sucker for shoulder massages.”
“I feel kind of bad,” Jace says.
“Why? All you’re doing is screwing the people that have been screwing you by screwing each other.”
Jace looks past me for a moment, but finally says, “I’m not quite sure I caught that.”
I laugh and ask, “Did I go too fast for you?”
“Well, you did say screwing a lot, I got that part,” he says.
“Seriously, I’ve done some killer work here. I think I’ve earned a shoulder massage.”
I don’t know if he was going to do it or not, but the phone vibrates. This time, though, it’s not Ty; it’s Melissa.
“I think you’ll want to read this one,” I tell Jace, and hand him the phone.
He reads it aloud, “Hey, I’ve got to catch a flight to LA for work. I won’t see you when you get home.” He turns off his phone and puts it in his pocket.
“Now, wait another five minutes — actually, just to make sure she’s gotten the picture, let’s make it ten — and then give her a call asking about her trip. Ask her to stay, and if she doesn’t, you’ll know where her priorities really lie,” I tell him.
“You’re sure she won’t think this is really about work?” he asks.
“She might at first,” I tell him, “but once she gets the dick in her inbox — see what I did there? — it’s going to be pretty damn clear just what she’s really being told.”
“You know,” he says, rubbing his chin, “I really should feel bad about this. After all the time we’ve spent together, after all we’ve been through, and I’m setting her up. You know what’s funny, though?”
“What?”
“I actually feel pretty great about it,” he says. “For the first time in a long time, I’m starting to not only know, but to actually feel that I don’t need to be with someone who’s going to treat me that way.”
“No you don’t,” I tell him. “Now, about that shoulder massage…”
“Don’t I have to call Melissa in a minute?”
I groan. “Yeah,” I tell him. “You do.”
“Rain check then,” he says.
We’re both watching the clock. When 10 minutes have passed, Jace calls Melissa from his phone and asks her to stay.
He’s not a bad actor.
The call ends abruptly, and Jace simply puts his phone back in his pocket, saying, “Yeah. It’s over.”
“What did she say?”
“She said that her boss is really riding her and that she’s got to make the trip or else she’s going to lose her job,” he says.
“She actually said ‘my boss is really riding me?’”
“Yeah,” he says. “For a minute, I was starting to think that maybe she hadn’t gotten that picture, but when she started playing a little fast and loose with the double entendres…anyway, she said she doesn’t know when she’s going to be back. It looks like I’ve got more than enough time to pack her shit.”
“Good for you,” I tell him. “It’s about time you’ve-”
His arms are around me in an instant, and he’s kissing me passionately. I wasn’t sure it was going to go this way tonight, but I was kind of hoping…
He pulls away, and we’re both breathing heavily.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Trust me,” I beam, “you did the right thing.”
“No,” he says. “Cheating or not, Melissa and I haven’t officially broken up yet. I know that’s just a technicality at this point, but I really don’t want to be one of those guys. I don’t want to be like that fuckhead boss of hers. If something happens with us before her and I are done-”
“Yeah,” I sigh. “Then you’re just doing the same thing they’re doing, and you lose your high ground, and blah, blah, blah.”
“I hope you understand,” he says.
“That depends on which part of me you’re asking,” I say. “Yeah, I understand.”
It’s good to know he’s a standup guy like that, but I’m standing here, still trembling with anticipation for something that’s clearly not going to happen, at least not tonight.
Looks like me and my B.O.B. are going to be seeing each other tonight.
Chapter Ten
Benevolent Anarchy
Jace
Melissa gave me a call to tell me when she landed, and that’s when I let her know that we were done.
That was three days ago, and she has just barely walked in the door.
“What the fuck?” she says as she comes into the living room. All of her stuff is already packed and ready to go.
“How was your trip?” I ask.
“It was fine until you told me that you were breaking up with me,” she says.
“What took you so long to get home?”
“Don’t you fucking play coy with me,” she says. “I know it was you that sent those messages to Ty.”
“Actually,” I chuckle, “it wasn’t, but that doesn’t really matter. What matters is that you lied to me. You never had any intention of breaking it off with Ty.”
“He has time for me,” she says. “He makes time for me.”
“I’ve tried making time for you,” I tell her. “I’ve tried really fucking hard, but every time I tell you we should plan something or every time I do something special for you, the best I ever get in return is a lukewarm no.”
“Well, that’s because you-” she starts.
“You know, before we get into a blame game that we both know I’m going to win, why don’t we, you know, not?” I ask. “It’s not going to change anything and it’s just going to piss us both off more. You need to find somewhere to go.”
“I have somewhere to go,” she says.
“Well, I know you’re not going to be moving in with Ty,” I say. “How is his wife, anyway? Let me guess, he’s still giving you the ‘I’ll leave her, but now’s just not the time’ line, right?”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“It doesn’t really matter,” I tell her. “Let me know when you’ve found an apartment. Until then, I’ll give you some money for a hotel. I don’t want you or your crap in my house.”
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“You’re such an asshole,” she says. “Whatever happened to ‘we’ll work it out,’ huh? Whatever happened to ‘we’ll get through this?’”
“I don’t know,” I answer, “what did happen to all of that? From what I can tell, you didn’t even bother taking a break from him.”
“You know what, you don’t know anything about it,” she says. “He loves me and he is going to leave his wife for me. We’re in love.”
“Then why are you so pissed?” I ask. “If everything’s going to work out with the two of you, why does it bother so much that we’re over?”
“This has been going on longer than you know. You think this just started a while ago? Well, you’re wrong. Why do you think I wanted you to get a night job? It was so I could go out and be with him.”
“Yeah, I figured that out,” I tell her. “Although, it did take you getting sloppy before I did.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” she asks.
“I think you wanted to get caught,” I tell her. “I think you knew that you were doing the wrong thing, but you weren’t willing to stop, either, so you started leaving a trail for me to follow.” I sigh. “What happened, Melissa? When did you stop caring?”
She bites the inside of her cheek.
“I guess it really doesn’t matter. Anyway, I’d like your key back now,” I tell her.
“I’m not giving you a damn thing until I know I have all of my things,” she says.
“Go ahead and look through your boxes,” I tell her. “Look through the apartment. I didn’t throw anything out. I’m done being vindictive; I just want you out of here.”
“I can’t believe you’re throwing me out on the street.”
“I’m not,” I tell her. “I already said that I’d put you up in a hotel until you find another apartment. I’m not throwing you out onto the street. I’m just throwing you out.”
She reaches in her pocket, takes her key off of her keyring, and throws it onto the floor.
“Thank you,” I tell her. “Now, just let me know where you’d like to stay for a while, and I’ll call some movers to pick your stuff up. It’s probably going to take up a good amount of space in a hotel, so I’ll even spring for a double room.”
All things considered, the fake trips to Maine and California notwithstanding, I think I’m being pretty fair about all of this. Maybe I’m wrong, but I’m sure if the shoe were on the other foot, Melissa would have just started throwing my stuff out the window.
She has a tendency to be a little dramatic sometimes.
“I’ve got a place,” she says. “Ty’s been renting for us for over a year.”
“Great,” I answer, trying to keep my anger from boiling up to the surface. I pull the phone out of my pocket and pull up the number for the movers I found the night she went to LA.
I hand her the phone. It’s already ringing.
“Yeah, hi,” she says. “I need to hire a couple of guys to help me move. Today would be perfect, if we could work that out…”
She walks out of the room to give the specifics, as apparently, she doesn’t want me to know where her fuck pad is.
I really couldn’t care less about that. There’s a lot to hurt about right now, but knowing where they’ve been doing what they’ve been doing doesn’t matter in the slightest.
She comes back into the room and lobs the phone more at me than to me.
“It’s going to cost an extra couple hundred bucks, but they’re going to have some people come over in the next hour or so,” she says.
“That’s good,” I tell her. “Until then, why don’t you have a seat and I’ll make you some breakfast.”
If we’re going to be stuck in here together for an hour, I may as well try to make it as civil as possible.
Even with everything, I don’t hate her. I don’t even think she’s a fundamentally bad person. What pisses me off about the situation isn’t so much that she’s been cheating on me — although that’s not particularly fun — it’s that she’s been lying all this time.
That’s really the worst part about a situation like this. It would be bad enough if she came to me one day and told me what was going on, but having to find out on my own and then finding out later that she just kept on lying…it makes me feel like such an idiot.
If she’d been honest, maybe I could have seen a future for us, though things have been pretty fucked up for a long, long time. But just that simple, small level of honesty would have told me that she cared enough to try.
That’s over now.
“Breakfast?” she asks. Yeah, it took her that long to respond.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “I’ve got stuff for French toast and eggs. That’s still your favorite, right?”
“Why would you make me breakfast?”
After running through the reasons in my own head, I’m a little annoyed at having to explain it out loud, so I simply tell her, “Because I don’t hate you.”
“Yeah,” she says. “French toast and eggs sounds great.”
“All right. I’ll let you know when it’s ready.”
“Okay,” she says, almost hanging her head.
So, I make breakfast. Nice guy that I am, I don’t even try to poison her food.
Even before I found out about her and her boss, I knew that I wasn’t happy. If anything, I should be thanking her for setting me free.
Okay, I’m not that nice a guy.
Still, I don’t know how long I would have stuck with the relationship if it weren’t for her and Ty. Although, I will say that having met Grace, I can’t be certain it would have been too much longer.
After I kissed Grace that night we sent my new ex and her adulterer to different corners of the country, I didn’t feel right staying. I wanted to kiss her, and it felt damn good doing it, but I wanted to be free and clear before anything happened.
Unfortunately, she hasn’t been answering my phone calls.
I left her a message last night, letting her know that I’d set up a meeting between her and Dr. Marcum, my old mentor from med school, but if she got the message, she didn’t let me know.
“Do you need a hand in there?” Melissa calls from the living room.
“I think I’ve got it under control, but you’re welcome to come and talk to me,” I call back.
I really don’t hate her. I just hate what she’s been doing.
Melissa comes in the room and she sits at the counter silently for a while. “Do you have anyone?” she asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you have anyone on the side — a girlfriend, a what-if?”
“What do you mean ‘a what-if?’” I ask return.
“You know, somebody who you’re attracted to, but you haven’t made a move because you were in a relationship,” she says. “Do you have anyone like that?”
“I don’t know,” I tell her. “I haven’t really been looking.”
Now, I’m lying. I’ve never really thought of Grace as my “what-if,” but being around her has been the most fun and the most frustration that I’ve endured in a long time. Call me a masochist, but that’s always been my favorite combination.
“Yeah,” I tell her. “I think so.”
“What’s she like?” Melissa asks.
“Nothing’s happened.”
“I’m not saying that. I really want to know.”
I know I’m the one who offered to make her breakfast, but this has gotten to be pretty surreal.
“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she says. “Although, if you’ve been fucking her behind my back, I think you and I are going to have to have some words.”
“I told you, nothing’s happened,” I answer, but Melissa just titters.
“I’m fucking with you,” she says. “I’m glad you have someone. I hope it works out.”
“Things were good for a while with the two of us, weren’t they?” I ask. “I mean, we are where we are now, and that’s the way it’s got to b
e, but we used to be happy together, didn’t we?”
“I don’t know. I’ve actually been asking myself that question over the last couple of days. I know that I do feel sorry for hurting you, but when I look back, all I can think is that we spent so much time trying to make each other happy or trying to stay out of each other’s way that we kind of lost sight of ourselves. That’s how I feel, anyway.”
“I know what you mean,” I tell her, cracking an egg into a bowl.
“That’s not to say that we haven’t had our good times,” she continues. “I just think that we were never really meant to be with each other that way. I think we made better friends than we did significant others.”
“You’re right,” I agree. “I remember when we first started hanging out, back when you were with one of those morons from that business frat.”
“He wasn’t a moron!” she protests. “I will have you know that Charles Vincent Dunmore III was a very intelligent man.”
“I’d forgotten how ridiculous his name was,” I laugh. “Still, even though I was always envious of him and those other guys you dated before we got together, we really were at our best when we were with different people.”
“I think that was our problem,” she says. “We spent so much time idealizing each other because our own relationships sucked so much that we forgot to think about whether we’d actually work as a couple.”
“I’m glad we’re doing this,” I tell her.
“What, that you’re kicking me out because I’ve been screwing my boss?” she asks, and I can’t believe we’re both laughing about it.
“No, I’m glad that we’re not splitting up by screaming at each other.”
“It’s kind of weird.”
“Yeah, it is,” I agree. “But I think it’s a good weird.”
“I guess so,” she says. “You never did tell me about your ‘what-if’ girl.”
“I don’t think of her that way,” I tell her. “That sounds kind of pompous the way that came out, but I guess I’ve been idealizing her the way I idealized you.”
“Be careful there,” she says. “I don’t know her, and I certainly can’t predict the future — if I could, I’m pretty sure that breakfast and a conversation on a day like today would have still taken me by surprise — I’m just saying that we’ve both been there and look where we’re at now.”