Page 101 of Gilded Fake

Dynamo: same.

Dynamo: old. sad.

MaybeItsMabel: u?

I almost laugh. There’s not enough space in the text box to even begin to recount all that’s happened since she left town. I hooked up with the queen bitch. Got beaten nearly to death. Lost my memories. Spent months in the hospital. Repeated senior year—apparently she knows that part. Fucked her boyfriend. Recovered my memories. Hooked up with the queen again. Learned she’s not such a bitch. Oh, but she did hit my ex with her car.

Dynamo: same

I close my phone and climb down from my new truck. Dad and Uncle Justin fixed up the third generation Chevy C/K as a surprise graduation gift for me. Now that the Dolces won’t smash up any car they restore, they’ve taken up their old hobby again. Can’t say it isn’t worth it—the truck is sick as fuck, and it turns more than one head in the lot. I pat the hood affectionately as I circle it and head for the door.

A few minutes later, I step into a room so filled with flowers you’d think I was at the florist shop. I didn’t bring flowers, but I’ve spent plenty of time there over the past year filling Dixie’s thirst for proof that I loved her. I’m done paying for my supposed crimes, though.

The moment she sees me, Dixie goes limp on the bed, her lids fluttering as if she’s just waking up. She whimpers pathetically, muttering my name as she focuses on me.

Too bad I saw her through the window before I opened the door, when she was sitting up typing on her phone, giggling over her own cleverness.

“Critical condition sure looks different than I remember,” I say, approaching the bed.

“Colt,” she mumbles weakly. “You came. I knew you loved me.”

“Cut the bullshit, Dixie,” I say. “I have brain damage, but I’m not brainwashed.”

“What are you talking about?” she asks, widening her eyes.

“I’m talking about that,” I say, gesturing to her face. “I know when you’re making yourself cry, so save your energy for your next visitor. I’m sure they’ll believe your victim act.”

“Act?” she asks incredulously. “That psycho ran me over!”

“Technically, she just ran into you,” I point out. “If she’d run you over, you’d have a lot worse injuries.”

“You think this is funny?” Dixie demands. “She could have killed me.”

“Oh, that wouldn’t have been funny at all,” I assure her, then gesture around at the flowers, the cards, the stuffed animals and balloons. “This? This is hilarious.”

She gapes at me, touching the bruise on the side of her face. “How is this a joke to you?”

“You’re right,” I say. “I actually came to apologize. I should have broken up with you for good a long time ago, and not let you seduce me back all those times. The truth is, I was horny, and you made it easy. But that’s not an excuse for how I treated you. So I wanted to say I’m sorry and mean it this time, not just do it because you’re demanding it.”

She sniffs. “Not much of an apology.”

“And I want the ring back,” I say.

Her eyes widen. “Are you serious? You’re going to take the only thing I got from all our time together while I’m lying here on my deathbed?”

I sigh and rub my temple, the edge of the metal plate I got courtesy of her thirst for popularity. Dixie’s not the apologizing sort. I said my part, but I don’t expect her to offer one in return. She is who she is. And I’m done letting her manipulate me.

“You’re hardly on your deathbed,” I point out. “In fact, all in all, I’d say things worked out pretty well for you. No major injuries, you got rid of your enemy, and suddenly everyone’s rushing to offer you sympathy. Guess they’ve forgotten how you admitted you played them for fools.”

“I did put my own spin on it,” she says smugly, picking up her phone. “I thought for a minute they’d turn on me. Gloria couldn’t have picked a better time to show she was always the real villain.”

“Sounds about right,” I say. “You always were the master of spin.”

“I always come out on top,” she agrees, looking pleased with herself. “I play the long game. That’s why I’m always victorious in the end.”

“Except this time,” I say, holding out a hand. “The ring?”

She hesitates, staring down at it. “It’s really over?”

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