Page 64 of Unhinged

The rest of the night, Simone pretends I don’t exist while I watch every move she makes with this Elijah douchebag. Her ignoring me hurts. A week ago, I was doing just fine without her. Why’d Amos bring her here, complicating my wretched life, my damn feelings, and my dead libido?

The truth? I’m so glad he did. I thought about her every fucking day and night.

But I work that libido now in the shower, courtesy of Simone Garrison.

Chapter 12

Tuesday, I walk into the familiar waiting room and see the asshat who stared at Garrison’s chest all night. Aside from me.

“Can I help you?”

I lean on the counter with a smirk. “I’m beyond help.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I’m here to see Dr. Lizzie Abramson.”

“Uh… Your name?”

“Rod.”

He looks up at me, waiting for more. Tearing a page out of Nico Ferrara’s playbook, I say, “One name like Halsey. She’ll see me.”

Elijah frowns. His blue dress shirt is a cheap synthetic fiber, and his paisley tie screams Dollar General. His light beard isn’t doing him any favors, either, since it’s patchy like he glued it on with Elmer’s. Simone is going out with this Old Navy reject?

Dubious, the fucker reluctantly leaves the counter and goes down the hall to my mother’s office. I miss the old receptionist, Bev. She looked like a goat, talked like Eeyore, and smelled like dying roses, but she was nice and gave me candy.

Elijah returns with my mother, who stops with an eye roll at the doorway. “Honestly?”

“What? I came to see the woman who hatched me.”

She shakes her head but glares at me. “It’s okay to let him in.”

I grin, and Elijah opens the door, so I can enter the back part of the office.

My mother says, “Elijah, this is my son, Greg. Don’t mind him. Next time, call security.”

He’s expectedly all stupid. “Uh, seriously?”

Mom sighs. “I’m joking.” She then side-eyes me and mutters, “Maybe.”

I follow her into her office. She closes her office door, and I ask, “What’s your problem?”

“Rod, I haven’t seen you since the incident with Simone. You’ve been avoiding me.”

“Not so. I’ve been…readjusting.”

“To what? You’ve made yourself quite clear that you dislike Simone. I don’t see the problem with her. She’s hardworking, funny, friendly, and so kind.”

“You practically described a golden retriever.”

She arches an eyebrow as I reach for her jar of mints. “The way you treated her at the country club appalls me. What did she do to you? I want to know.”

Taking a handful, I sit back, put my leg across my knee and go with a lie that isn’t so far-fetched. “I asked her out, and she turned me down.”

“Are you serious?” My mother’s frown takes a dive. “All of this is over a bruised ego?”

I shrug. “And blue balls.”

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