Page 5 of Spice's Halloween

“That’s a nice frame,” Spice said, putting his toolbox down and kneeling by the bed as he began unpacking it.

“Yeah, too many of David’s notches on it,” I snarled, and Spice laughed. “No, I mean it. Check the back of the left post.”

Spice stared at me before doing as I’d said. His eyebrows shot up into his hairline as he gazed at the shocking truth I’d discovered. “Holy shit.”

“Exactly. David literally carved his conquests into the headboard,” I replied.

“What a fucking douche,” Spice murmured, shaking his head.

“And I lost count after eighty. David is a walking STD. I’ve already booked in at my doctor’s. Thank God I made David wrap,” I said, sinking onto the carpet and wrapping my arms around my legs. Somehow, it was easy to be honest with Spice.

“Yeah, I’d be thanking God for that, too. Jesus, woman. What did you see in him?” Spice asked as he got to work.

“I’ll be asking myself that question for a long time. I thought we were in love. But that wasn’t love.”

“Lindy, you’re capable of more than him,” Spice encouraged, unscrewing the top right side.

“David told me I was frigid,” I muttered, his words still hurting.

Spice threw his head back and laughed.

“I’m glad you think that’s funny!” I snapped even more hurt.

“Sweetness, ain’t no way you’re built like that and frigid. Let me guess: douche canoe rarely got you off and blamed you,” Spice said.

“Yeah,” I admitted. I should be ashamed, but I wasn’t.

“Girl, you ain’t the problem. He was. Asshole was probably too interested in getting himself off. You’ve a body made for love,” Spice murmured.

“Thanks. I’ve got pretty low self-esteem at the moment. David had me completely blinkered to his philandering. I still don’t think it’s honestly hit me if I’m truthful with myself.”

“How long were you together?”

“Five years. I was just eighteen when we began dating.”

“Damn, you were a baby,” Spice said.

“Guess what, Spice? That’s the truth there. I was young and impressionable. David seemed so much older and wiser, and he was so charming.”

“When did you inherit the house?”

“Five years ago!” I answered with a bitter laugh.

Spice made the same connection I did.

“Ouch,” he murmured.

“Yeah. A fully paid-off house, and David only had to pay half the bills. No rent or mortgage. Seems pretty obvious how David could afford all his designer shit and take women out to lunches and dinners. And by his bank statements, David visited a couple of hotels regularly,” I spat.

“Not always fucking them in your bed, then.” He shook his head. “Done. Want me to help drag this outside?”

“Please.”

Together, we dragged the wooden frame downstairs, and I threw it on top of the mattress and bedding.

“You got gas to burn it, or need to borrow some?” Spice asked.

“Should be a can in the garage. If not, I’ll take you up on your offer,” I replied, liking the fact Spice knew what I was planning.

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