Page 29 of The Southern Submission

Archer: You can’t hide from me. We were fucking for over a year. The least you could have done was save my number, but you were never a good girlfriend, so I didn't warrant that kind of respect from you, did I?

Archer: My parents were right. You werejust a desperate redneck scholarship girl who wasn't worth my time. I should have fucked you out of my system and thrown you away like the garbage you are. Your true colors were showing long before you got with this piece of Olsen trash.

A cold sweat beads along my hairline. I swipe at my clammy skin as my past stares me in the face in the form of a text thread, and everything I’ve tried to put behind me comes rushing back. But I’m a different woman now, with a little more steel in my spine. I can stand up for myself where Archer used to walk all over me. More than that, I can protect my public relationship with Payton, who doesn’t deserve Archer’s rage just because I’m with him,even if it’s fake. I push through the fear and let the anger I’ve allowed to become my personality seep through. I pull it around me like armor and draw a sword of steely words to cut through the bullshit Archer is spewing. I can do this. I’m better than the broken woman he made me.

Me: Why are you messaging me now if I’m not worth your time?

I swallow a mouthful of bile as I hit send and set my phone down with shaking hands. It vibrates a moment later, and I’m reminded why it’s better not to goad Archer. He just gets meaner.

Archer: Because you were seen with Payton fucking Olsen, one of the assholes who stole my father’s company then sent him to fucking prison you brainless cunt, and I want to know why.Now stop playing dumb bitch and answer me, goddammit!

I cringe at his tone, even through text. I can’t believe I thought I was in love with this man at one point. I rub my face and take a deep breath that does little to quell the panic seizing me. I know exactly why Archer hates that I’m with Payton. They have bad blood due to business dealings that went wrong for Archer’s father. I’d celebrated the news of the downfall of Donner Investments, knowing Andreas Donovan had gotten what was coming to him, thinking maybe Archer would have learned some humility from watching his father lose everything. That was too much to hope for because I knew Archer better than anyone.

Archer started out nice, like most manipulative narcissists do, but quickly turned into a controlling asshole who put me down every chance he got in insidious ways. It was never this blatant, but I guess the gloves are off now that we’ve been broken up for years and he wants information on whatever he thinks is going on with Payton. If he’s freaking out about my connection with Payton after a few gossip column stories, it’s only going to get worse when photos and accounts of my fake relationship with Payton get steamier. Great, just what I need. Archer thinking he should be all up in my business because he has some beef with the Olsens over Olympus business dealings. I type back a quick reply while I have the fortitude to do it.

Me: I don’t owe you anything. Get a life.

I quickly block his number with shaking fingers.

“Hey, do you have the Peachtree Plaza story for me yet?”

I jump in my chair as Reid comes up beside my desk, myface flaming hot in embarrassment. My heart races as I’m caught texting instead of working, feeling like a scolded child. I should’ve sent my story already. I’m off my game, and it’s all Payton’s fault. It’s not like me to let a man distract me. Well, it's not like menow, and I hate that I’m falling into old habits, especially right as my past has come back to remind me of my failings.

“Yeah, I’ll email that right over.”

“Any fun plans this weekend?” Reid asks, leaning his hip against my desk. Reid’s in his early fifties, has been with the Gazette for a decade, and acts like the paper is God’s gift to suburban Atlanta. He thinks we need to cover every shopping center's grand opening and pothole petition like they mean just as much as national news. He’s a warrior for lost causes, which is endearing in its own way but truly comical when you pick your head up and look at real problems compared to the things he focuses on.

“Reid, we’ve talked about entering my personal space. Get off my desk,” I say with measured calm and a bite to my words that precede a true snap. He stands up without argument, used to my bluntness at this point. It’s easier to fall back on that than give in to the panic that’s swirling inside of me from Archer’s texts and unexpected reentry into my life after two years of silence.

“Oh, sorry. Send me the story and chase down your next. You had some good ideas in our meeting this morning. Run with those and get me something to edit.” He starts to walk away before turning with his finger in the air. “And no extra stories this weekend, kiddo. You’re too young to waste all that time working. Learn from my mistakes.”

He smiles like he’s imparting some secret wisdom. In reality, he’s the one who assigns me the stories and makes me work onthe weekends more often than not. Reid has children my age and tends to treat me like them. I remind him regularly that I’m on his staff, no matter how much he wants the newsroom to bea family.

“My personal life is none of your concern. The story’s already in your inbox.” I close out my email for emphasis. I stopped playing along with social niceties when I moved to Atlanta for a fresh start. I like to blame my time in New York for the curt replies and testy attitude, but it just feels better this way, less likely to get hurt if you keep everyone away.

He waves. “Get out of here, kid.”

I look around the office and notice everyone shutting down computers, chatting about evening plans or dinner recipes. I follow their lead, closing my ancient laptop. I’m supposed to meet up with Della for after-work drinks in a bit, which I desperately need following that awful text exchange. My phone vibrates in my purse and I pull it out, wondering if it’s her asking where we’re meeting up. Instead, it’s Payton.

Okay Payton: Miss me yet?

I feel a two-fold sense of relief that Payton’s texting me and it’s not Archer from some other number harassing me. I wouldn’t put it past him to have another way to do just that. I take a relieved breath and smile because the egotistical jerk I enjoy a whole lot more is the one wanting my attention. I type out a quick reply as I head to my car.

Me: Sorry, who is this?

Okay Payton: You want to wound me, but you can’t. I missed your insults and crankiness. My life wasn’t thesame without you.

Damn. I know he’s messing with me, but reading that last sentence strikes a chord that feels like a melody I haven’t heard in far too long. His attention feels a little too good after the absence and I allow myself a moment to enjoy it before I quickly shut it down, despite wanting more of the reassurance that when I’m not hearing from him, he’s missing me.

Me: I doubt it.

Okay Payton: Never doubt me, Muffin. Do you like espresso martinis as much as you like iced coffee? There’s a bar by Olympus that has the best and I’m heading there now. You’re coming with me.

He doesn’t even bother to invite me. He sends me the address in a pin with the expectation that I’ll join him. It’s a bold move that I rather like. I call him out on it.

Me: You’re a smug bastard. I’m meeting a friend for drinks tonight so I’m busy. Can’t make it.

Okay Payton: Not a bastard. Arrogant asshole was a previous insult and it was more fitting. I know you miss my annoying smile. Invite your friend. I have a friend, too. We’ll put on a show for them. Get ready for our first double date. See you soon. I can’t wait to get my hands on you again. This time, youwon’t even have to pretend to enjoy it. I’m fucking excited.

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