Page 59 of Wall

Too late now. I’m flinging open the door, but this time, no one turns to stare. No one even notices.

There’s an orgy going on.

Okay, not one big orgy, but several smaller orgies. There’s a woman on the pool table buck naked, her head resting in a man’s lap, her legs hanging over the sides. And a man in between them. And another man waiting in line.

I’ve only seen that in porn.

Has John done this? He wasn’t with anyone when we got back together, but I haven’t asked him who his was with when we were split. I didn’t want to know.

Did he stand in line to have sex with some stranger?

And there’s a pantless man on the bar in a leather jacket and a cowboy hat, strutting back and forth, occasionally stopping to swivel his hips so his limp penis swings in circles, and there are three older gentleman—the same from the first time I came here—nursing beers, ignoring him.

The air is thick with marijuana smoke. I’m not a prude. I know it has medicinal qualities, but this isnota recommended dosage. I try to breathe through my mouth, as if that’s somehow better.

Where is John?

Is Stephanie here?

What is my body doing?

The crowd is thick, and damn but there’s dozens of young, attractive women, and every last one of them is blonde. There’s a blonde who looks like a sex doll, dancing like a professional to…”That Smell?” By Lynryd Skynyrd?

There’s a blonde with purple streaks rubbing up on an older man with a beer belly, blondes at the bar, blondes everywhere.

Would I even know Stephanie to look at her?

A wild rage grabs hold of me. I hope she’s here. I want to punch her in the face. I want to call her a homewrecker.

God, where is John?

The smoke’s burning my eyes as I push through the crowd. I don’t know where I’m going. To his room? What if he’s having sex with a woman in his room?

I stop in my tracks. I don’t want to see that.

I’m standing there, beginning to attract attention, when a woman calls out, “Hey, there, Mona Wall. What’s the hurry?”

And then a supermodel elbows me in the ribs and comes to a halt in front of me. She has an arm slung around a much younger man who could also come from a page in a magazine.

She’s not dressed like anyone else in the place. She’s wearing high-waisted, white palazzo pants, those expensive high-heeled shoes with the red bottoms, and a silky spaghetti strap top in silver that shows she’s not wearing a bra, and even though she’s a C-cup, she doesn’t need one.

She reaches out her hand. “Harper Ruth. Heavy’s sister.”

Heavy is the MC president. I’ve heard about Harper. The old ladies do not speak kindly of her, and in the short time I’ve been back with John, I’ve heard her name a lot.

“Hey,” the handsome kid with her protests.

“And Hobs’ sister. Sorry. My bad.” She tousles his hair, and he grins. Harper’s older than me, maybe in her mid-thirties, and Hobs seems to be in his late teens. There’s something off about him. He seems very…docile…for a kid his age.

“Hobs, can you go get us ladies two chardonnays?” Harper already has a full glass of red in her hand.

“I’m just here to see Wall,” I finally manage to sputter.

“You know I’m just going to get lost.” Hobs grins at his sister. He has the friendliest face.

“I know. But I thought it’d be rude to tell you to get lost.” Harper swats him playfully on the butt, and he waves and ventures off. Harper throws her free arm over my shoulder.

Is she drunk?

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