Page 8 of Pitiful Lies

I grab the remote for the chair and press the button to start the deluxe message.

Fuck this asshole.

I ignore him for the next twenty minutes. And yeah, I'm bouncing around the goddamn massage chair while my toenails are being polished, and I am waiting for him to walk away so I can text Anna or Maria, anyone who will sympathize with me.

But he just stands there. Watching me.

Stupid cheating jerk.

I try to close my eyes to block him out.

Two-timing shithead.

I fucking earned this pedicure and I'm going to goddamn enjoy it

Even if I look like a bag of Jello while the bulky massage chair does its thing.

PROLOGUE FOUR-ANGEL

I’m not made for serious relationships, but something about this woman won’t let me leave her alone.

Giselle Vega.

The one who ran away.

Literally.

I call her Koukla. It means beautiful doll or little doll, which is how I think of Giselle.

She’s short. And she’s beautiful.

Hauntingly so.

She’s got this body that just won’t quit. And her mouth. Her fucking mouth drives me insane.

We were messing around for a little while, and I thought we were good.

But something happened, and I don’t know what. Giselle ran, and I tried to stay away.

Really, I did.

I’m not the kinda guy who chases women. But I am chasing her. I just can’t help it.

I watch my Little Doll bouncing around in that massage chair and it’s all I can do not to toss her over my shoulder.

I’m still not ruling that out yet.

She can spout all the pitiful lies she wants about not needing me or wanting me. But I feel something every time we’re near one another.

And she feels it too.

Whether or not she wants to admit it.

Seven weeks, almost two months, that’s how long she’s been gone. It isn’t a very long time, but it sure feels like it.

My concentration has been shit. Days seem longer, lonelier, too. But maybe that’s from one too many sleepless nights just thinking about where Giselle is and who she’s with.

Why’d you run, Koukla? Is it someone else?

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