Page 223 of Unhinged

“I know you’re not her. Everything will be okay. Yeah, it’ll be a hard-as-hell challenge, but we’ll get through it. I promise. I fucking love you, buttercup.”

“Are you crying? I fucking love you too, swizzle stick. Now, I’m crying, and my mascara isn’t waterproof, so I probably look like a bloated raccoon. But I can’t stop smiling.”

“Me neither, but I’m not the one who has to push a human you made with a dumbass from your bearded clam, all because of a faulty screw. But now it’s the best screw of my life. Let’s relive it.”

I shake my head at the window. This view isn’t that exciting with a tree and a parking lot beyond it. I prefer Hadley’s office window overlooking the cemetery to this shit.

“Push, baby, push.”

“Fuck off!”

“Come on, buttercup. I’ll buy you an ice cream sundae with Oreos if you get this baby out. If not, this kid will ruin our sex life, and you can’t wear those yoga pants I love.”

“I will hurt you if you don’t shut up! Oh, my God! Greg, don’t go!”

“I’m right here. Baby! We have a baby! Holy shit! It’s a boy! We’re parents, Simone! I can’t believe that just happened!”

“I sure in the hell do! It hurt like a motherfucker, and I’m a mess.”

“Yeah, sorry. But you’re still the most beautiful woman in the world. And now, the mother of my first child.”

“First? How many times do I have to do this crap?”

“Two? Six? I don’t know. It’s up to you, really. This kid is already good-looking. I bet it’s the position we conceived him in.”

“That would be when you smashed me against my car in Amos’s driveway.”

“Your dress was so short and tight. And when I found you weren’t wearing underwear, I couldn’t unzip fast enough before plowing you.”

“Because of that, Greg Rodwell is a daddy. For real this time.”

“So having sex with you while pregnant, does that make me a motherfucker?”

“It does.”

“I love it and you. And him.”

I mouth, “Idiot” to the window, seeing my reflection mocking me. My life would be so different if I dealt with my issues.

I haven’t talked to Simone since she left. Hell, I haven’t said more than two words to Vaughn, either. He’s not been at the bar much and is working at the firm’s sister office. He may not have directly helped Simone with pulling the trigger, but he gave her directions to the nearest assassin.

Noticing I still have two hours until work, I return to the books I shoved into a drawer. After reading the same paragraph three times and glancing at my marriage’s grand finale and screeching letter, I slam the book shut and sit back, covering my face with my hands. No fucking crybaby tears appear, which is a miracle. But why should I cry? I’m a free man again. No Shasta or Simone in my life.

No one. As it’s supposed to be.

I pull on my black Rob Zombie t-shirt with him swinging a scythe in a celebratory mood. Heartwarming. I only bring it out for special occasions, like wishing I were his target.

Sitting on the bed before I leave for work, the conversation with my dad haunts me. Even my mother took it better. I guess I get my looks from her, but my sensitivity and humor from Dad.

“Oh, God, no. Greg… Shit. This is what you’ve been going through all these years? Why didn’t you tell me? We could’ve gone to the police. I can’t believe this. I would’ve helped you get through it and bring them to justice. You didn’t have to carry this alone. I feel like I failed you.”

My ringing phone interrupts the joyride on the highway to hell. I sigh, and when I pick up the phone from my nightstand, I debate whether or not to answer it.

Hitting the green button, I close my eyes. I don’t fucking know why but it’s easier somewhat when I answer, “Hey.”

“Happy birthday!”

I open my eyes and inhale. “Uh, thanks.” Hadley doesn’t say more, so I laugh. “This could’ve been a text.”

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