Page 40 of The Wicked Virgin

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Tammy

The chimes rang softly as I let myself into the Pink Cherry. It’d been so long since I’d been to the shop but it was just as I remembered. The space was brightly lit with cheery signs that read, “His Stuff,” “Her Stuff,” and “Extreme Restraints,” among other helpful tidbits. Yep, everything was just as I remembered.

I caught a glimpse of Marie helping a customer and waved discreetly to her before making my way to the counter, sitting perched on a stool. My friend came bustling over soon, giving me a big hug.

“Oof, must be cold outside,” she said with a smile. “You feel like a popsicle.”

I gave her a wan smile back.

“Yeah, it’s freezing, I didn’t have time to get my winter jacket.”

The truth was my winter jacket was still at The Meridien, waiting to be shipped to my new digs. Cringing, my heart crumpled slightly again, the coat a reminder of what had once been.

“So get me up to speed,” chattered my blonde friend, pouring two steaming cups of tea. “What’s new?”

Taking a grateful sip, I began slowly.

“Well, you know that my boss, Nick Martin, moved me into his apartment building,” I said.

Marie snorted.

“He should! The way he was banging you at work, he owed you big time.”

I just shook my head slowly.

“It’s not whether Nick should or shouldn’t have, it’s just that I thought I was the only one,” I explained in a quiet voice. “I thought I was special to him when actually I was just one girl among many.”

And Marie gasped.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “He was banging other chicks?” she asked, her eyes wide.

I nodded slowly, my cheeks flushing.

“Nick Martin is a manwhore,” I said bitterly. “He plays with women, gets them to love him, but he’s actually playing a couple violins at once. Get it? He’s strumming several instruments simultaneously, making us all think we’re the only ones, that we’re special.”

Marie was silent again.

“What, did they all live on the same floor as you guys?” she asked. “Was the Meridien like some kind of whore hotel?”

And I paused, thinking.

“No, only Nick and I had apartments on that floor, but then again, there are only two apartments per floor. The other women probably lived nearby,” I said, my face crumpling.

Marie sipped her tea slowly, thoughtful.

“Okay, that could be true,” she granted. “But did you ever see any other women?” she pressed.

“No,” I admitted, “but I have other proof.”

And that’s when I launched into my monologue, my throat clutching as I recounted last night’s events.

“I went by his apartment a little early yesterday evening and heard all these moans and shudders, all these “Oh Nicks!”” I choked, feeling nauseated again. “And then this bitch Jeanette came waltzing out, her hair all messed-up and her clothes on wrong. I know he was fucking her,” I said frozenly, reeling with hurt.

But Marie didn’t let up so easily.

“Did you ask him about it?” she inserted gently. “What did Nick say?”

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