Page 33 of Creed

“I’ll be around. Maybe.” I smirk, sated as a cat who got to lick the cream.

Creed left me alone to go to his meeting or whatever. I’m not brave enough to leave the privacy his room affords me. I don’t know anyone here or how receptive they will be with the trouble I’ve likely brought to their door.

I shiver at the memory of seeing that guy dead on my bathroom floor. It was a freak accident. Even if he was trespassing, I don’t think the dude deserved to die, unless he was there to hurt me or, worse, take my life. Then, in that case, I’d call what he got karma. Why was he there in the first place and what does all of this have to do with Cade? The more I think about the whole situation, the more pissed off I get.

I dig around in the bag I packed until I find my cell phone. My battery needs to charge. I nose around Creed’s room, looking for a charging cord and block. The drawer of his nightstand practically explodes with condoms when I open it. The sight shouldn’t irritate me, but it does. How many women has he brought back to this room to fuck? Is he having that much sex that he warrants having a hundred rubbers next to his bed? Suddenly, our heated moment of passion seems weak and cheap. I am afraid of what else Iwill find if I poke around in his dresser. For all I know, he’s got a whole stash of sex toys or something.

I can’t sit here and do nothing. I use his bathroom to wash up and change my clothes. I half expect the door to be locked from the outside when I go to exit his room, but it’s open and no one is guarding it to keep me from leaving.

I find my way to the bar area where a guy with a blue mohawk is behind the bar. I faintly remember seeing him at my apartment. I don’t know if it would be weird to thank him for helping dispose of the body in my apartment and cleaning up the evidence. I’m sure there’s a don’t ask, don’t tell code that applies to the situation. I don’t want him to think I’m unappreciative. I know he took a risk, and he doesn’t know me.

“You look like you could use a coffee.” Another prospect by the name of Asphalt with gorgeous olive skin and green eyes that could rival Creed’s hands me a mug. “This will cure anything. Trust me.”

I take a cautious sip, surprised at how good it tastes. “Mmm. That’s delicious. Thank you.”

“Anytime.”

“So, this is the one Creed’s been pinning after,” one of the women I noticed here the other night says.

“Excuse me?”

The dude with the Mohawk coughs and makes a cut it out motion with his hand slicing across his throat.

“I thought you were married with a baby.” She tucks her pink hair behind her ear and leans across the bar to steal some strawberries.

“Ignore Kitty. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Asphalt says with a smile, but I can tell he doesn’t quite believe his own words.

“You thought I was who?” I press.

She shrugs, having read the room. “Nothing.”

“Right. Can one of you tell Creed I need my keys and I need to borrow this?” I go straight for the phone charger behind the bar. I don’t wait for any of them to argue. I take my coffee with me back to his room because I’m not wasting good coffee.

I plug in my phone and gather my belongings. I will text Cade and sort this out, and Creed can be hung up on some married chick all he wants. I don’t do second place. Not anymore. He did that to me one too many times when we were secretly hooking up. I’m not that timid girl who will lap up whatever attention he deems fit to give me. I won’t compete for his affection.

Fuck that.

If he wants further payment for helping me out, then he can bill me.

I grab my phone and see if it has enough juice to turn on. While I wait for my screen to boot up, I snoop even though I know I shouldn’t.

There’s a laptop on top of the dresser and I hope it has charge.

I take it to the bed with me and sip on my coffee. Before I go, I’ll have to ask Asphalt what he does to make his brew this tasty. The computer wants a pin number. I try his birth date and its invalid. I don’t think it would be his father’s, but I give it a test anyway. Nope. Hmm. I’m desperate and delusional but enter my own and voila. I sit stunned that it actually unlocked the screen.

I don’t understand men at all.

AT ALL.

I open the browser to check my social media and his account pops right up and logged in. A good person would log out or go to an incognito window, except I’m a glutton for punishment and wonder how many women he talks to. I know whatever I find will result in me hurting my own feelings. Yet I can’t look away. He’s not messaged with anyone in months, and he only has one new notification, which means maybe he doesn’t use the profile often. I’m aware this is a such a breach in trust and invasion of privacy and if I asked, he’d probably tell me to go for it. He’s never lied to me about other women. That doesn’t make the sting burn any less.

I click on his profile. He doesn’t post much. A few pictures of his motorcycle. Selling bike parts. Normal biker guy stuff. But it’s the person who likes all his posts that catches my attention. Her name is Ember, and sheresembles me too closely for comfort. Dark hair. Blue eyes. She’s gorgeous. I click her profile and my heart stops. He commented on her last photo. ‘Happy looks good on you, beautiful.’ He called her beautiful like he does me. It shouldn’t cut me this deep, but the blade is piercing my heart. Tears form and I bite my bottom lip hard enough to draw blood.

She’s holding a baby and wears a wedding ring.

“So this is the one Creed’s been pinning after?”

“I thought you were married with a baby.”

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