Page 21 of Sins and Secrets

Izzy growls, “You’re the one who threw away three years for one fuck.” God, I missed her.

His pleading and apologetic behavior turns to anger. “This doesn’t have anything to do with you.” He reaches for me, but Alana grabs his wrist and twists it behind his back, slamming him against the wall. He unleashes a slew of hateful words, and with every second of his tirade, whatever remained of any good opinion I had of him diminishes.

“I can’t believe I ever cried over you.” My growing disgust swells at his whimpering sob.

“Ow! You’re hurting me!” he cries like a little bitch.

Alana’s voice darkens in a way I’ve never heard before. “You hurt the nicest and sweetest person in my life. It’s not a matter of if, or when, I hurt you, but how and to what extent. You have until the count of fifteen to get your shit and leave. One. Two…” She releases him from the wall.

Adam stammers, “Waverly gave me 24 hours.”

“I’m giving you, four, five…”

He throws his hands in the air. “Crazy bitch.”

“Ten. Eleven…”

“Wait, what happened to the other numbers?”

“Grab your wallet and phone and go,” Izzy warns.

He starts to pat himself down. “Um, I need my keys.”

“Call an Uber.”

“Thirteen, Fourteen…” Alana says as she reaches behind her and unholsters her gun. “Fifteen.” She brandishes the Glock to his skull. “Go. Now.”

“Shit, alright.” He scurries out and slams the door. Izzy flips the lock. It isn’t until everything’s quiet for a moment, Alana lowers her gun.

Izzy narrows her eyes. “Waverly’s the nicest person you know? I’m deeply offended.”

“What superlative would you like?” Alana slides her gun back into the holster. “Most likely to run into a burning building to save the man you slept with a few times?”

Izzy taps her chin and looks to the ceiling. “Most badass…nice.”

Alana huffs, and it’s the closest thing I’ve heard to a laugh. “You’re not even in the top ten for my badass list, but I’ll give you Best Mom.”

Izzy frows. “I guess I’ll take it.” Then she turns to me, but pauses when her phone chimes “Oh, Dad’s sending Uri and a bunch of guys over to pack your douchebag ex’s shit. Why don’t we watch a movie while they work.”

A half an hour later, we’re eating popcorn and laughing our asses off while ten Russian low level lackies box up my ex’s stuff. Uri sits on the arm of the couch, his attention floating between the movie and his men. None of us talk about the breakup or revenge, or even about the billions of things circling around my head. No. We all distract ourselves from reality for as long as we can.

Alana scrolls on her phone and the ever-present frown on her face deepens. I glance at her screen. “You don’t strike me as a flower sort of person.” She has a zoomed in picture of small purple flowers with blue, teardrop shaped petals. “Those are pretty. Maybe Angie should’ve gotten those in her centerpieces.”

Alana huffs through her nose. “Those centerpieces would be worth more than a car.”

“Oh, they’re rare?”

“Valuable, but not rare.” She flips the phone over in her lap, a neon sign she doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.

How could something be valuable but not rare? Rarity increases value. It’s a fundamental aspect of supply and demand.

There’s stomping upstairs followed by one of the guys yelling down to Uri in Russian. I only know Russian curse words, but whatever’s said causes Uri and Alana to leave the room.

I’m fully absorbed in the movie, laughing every few minutes. Izzy leans her head on my shoulder and whispers, “We should do this more often.”

“Well I could do without the whole finding my boyfriend cheating on me, but I do miss hanging out with you.”

“I never liked him, even back when we were kids,” Izzy admits. “I get why you were friends with Angie, and I totally understood why you hung out a lot more during the summers when Lukas was around, but Adam was born a douche.”

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