Page 181 of Unleashed

Going into the bathroom, I stand there, not having the initiative to do more. Instead, I sit on the floor and lean my head against the pedestal-style basin. I roll my head against it, whispering, “She’s gone,” on repeat, despising Hall & Oates crooning to my misery in hell’s waiting room. I need to listen to something other than ancient carols of devotion, even if they’re about breakups. It hurts too much to hear about that wretched four-letter word. From now on, I hate eighties music. Forget the present. I need a more cheerful decade, like nineties grunge.

After ten minutes or infinity, I pull myself up and find some of Amos’s Visine in the medicine cabinet to fix my red eyes. There’s only one way I’m making it through this meeting, and I need to start now.

Before entering the dining room, I inhale a deep breath. “There’s Rod!” Val greets with a smile while her eyes send a bat signal of concern. I throw on a lame smile with a limp wave. Next to Val, Amos’s beady eyes skate over me. On the other side of the table, Rhonda smiles at me but also views me as a cautionary tale of how not to fuck-up.

On the buffet is a small spread of food, but all the snooty shit: a platter of roast beef, a casserole dish of roasted baby red potatoes, cornbread pudding, sauteed green beans, and a bowl of hummus in the middle of a tray of vegetables. Hoarse, I ask, “Someone get married or die?”

Val laughs. “Brandon sent food. He said to eat without him.” What a generous dick knob.

Not feeling hungry but unable to pass up a golden opportunity, I load up my plate with hummus and vegetables. Grabbing the chair beside Rhonda, I pretend I’m keeping it together. “How’s it going, Ronnie?”

She smiles with a sigh. “I’m...okay. What about you? Today seemed like a rough day for you.” Christ. She saw and heard everything just like every Vaughn, Crick, and Betsy there.

I shrug. “Another average day for me.”

Val shakes her head. “I don’t want to rain on your parade, but that was not average, Gregory.” She arches an eyebrow at me, and the shame floods my existence. I was wondering if that would ever show up, but Val doesn’t fuck around.

I wallow in my newfound shame as despair rips more of my soul. I mutter, “It was a misunderstanding,” as I notice a bottle of red wine on the table and an empty glass next to it. Thank God and Bruce Willis for small miracles. I reach for both and add, “I’ll handle it.”

Amos says, “I think you already did.”

Gripping the bottle as I pour, wishing I were spilling Amos’s open skull into a toilet, I say, “Message received, Boss. Can we drop it?”

Val sets down her fork. “Yes. I believe Amos told you about our Miss Bernard?” It sucks. Just when we became friends, she up and leaves.

Setting down the wine bottle with a heavy thud, I guzzle the entire glassful before asking, “What the hell, Ronnie? You were leaving without saying goodbye?”

“I left the office before, so I’m sort of reluctant to share I’m leaving again. This isn’t a cry for attention. Believe me. I know I’m screwing up our softball team and all, but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity at Stack, Silver, Eaner, Freeze, and Associates.”

I reach for the wine bottle for more, but pull back. “Hold up. North Carolina?”

Rhonda nods. “I need a change, and my uncle has connections there.” She glances at Amos, and my blood runs cold.

Without looking at Vaughn, I shake my head. “Don’t say it.”

Rhonda smiles. “Uncle Amos always has my back.”

“Son of a bitch.” I sigh and pour the rest of the wine into my glass. “I get why you’d keep that sewer nugget of a secret to yourself, but...how?”

Val tries not to laugh. “Honestly, Gregory.”

Vaughn clears his throat. “Rhonda’s mother is my sister, Marsha. Rhonda and I kept it quiet so no one would suspect due to... Well, because of office politics.”

“You got that right.” I down the rest of the wine. I haven’t tracked the bottle’s chain of custody, but I don’t care tonight. These three people wouldn’t hurt me. I suppose realizing that is a step forward in my shithole life. Amos lives to annoy the hell out of me, but his motorcycle, head-to-toe tattoos, deep voice, or detestable vocabulary aren’t lethal. Though, seeing Amos in a turtleneck sweater gives me nightmares for days. Only his meddling matchmaking poses an existential threat to me. I glance at Val between sips. “Did you know this?”

She nods and Amos says, “Val hired her since doing so myself would have appeared inappropriate.”

I frown as I look around for more booze. “But you were okay with hiring Patrice. We need more wine. Or beer. Or liquor.”

“Are you staying here tonight?” Val purses her lips as Amos goes to the kitchen.

“Yep. I have nowhere else to go.”

“That’s not true. You can always stay with Paul and me.”

I shrug. “All my stuff is here, and leaving might hurt Vaughn’s feelings.” See? I have a heart.

Worry laces Val’s smile. “Amos enjoys helping you, Rod. Never take that for granted, though. He’s a gentle soul, and it would hurt Amos if you only used him. He wants your friendship. He’d do anything for you.”

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