Page 23 of Frog Hog
Chapter Eleven
Valen
It’s a conundrum. Conundrum as in, hot mess, not the brand of white, delicious wine. I’ve drank so much since I returned from my work trip, I can’t remember what day it is. Avoiding Hutch has been easy, because hereallyis on a work trip now, but he’s beginning to wonder why I’m not replying to his calls, or texts, or emails. The odds of that run in happening are so ubiquitous, there’s no way it’s not some sign from the universe that Valen is a fucking idiot.
His flaw wasn’t leaving his underwear next to the hamper, it was another goddamn life. Christian Bale style. He’s not a serial killer, that I know of, he is just so skilled at having two separate lives running parallel at the same time I never caught on.
The little dog. The bedroom he kept locked at his house. It all makes sense after seven bottles of wine and twenty-two phone calls to Greer. She told me she’s staying out of it and she’s upset I won’t confront him. We had an Honest War and he played dirty. He lied. He told me there was nothing I needed to know about him. Phrasing shouldn’t play a part. Maybe I didn’t ask the right questions, but this is a big thing he left out. If it was a psycho ex-girlfriend or something normal crazy I’d be up for a discussion.
I am the other woman.
I am the crazy bitch destroying multiple lives. This is what I get for thinking an older man would be a good idea. The questions I have are endless and they cloud my mind so fiercely I can’t finish any of my work. The emails are piling up and the phone calls keep coming, and I’m still feeling sorry for myself.
My hair is dirty and I just ran out of reality TV shows to binge watch. Someone pounds on my door. “Ugh. Take out. Finally. Feed the beast.”
I sludge my way to the door and throw it open. I’m wearing the Van Halen T-shirt my dad gave me for my eighteenth birthday and no pants. The rejuvenating mask I have on my face looks like a tiger. “Greer. What the hell,” I say, as my friend blows into my place like a damn vision of fury and rage.
“We’re going to get you out of this stank box. When is the last time you showered?” Greer asks, setting several bags down on the kitchen counter. Wrinkling her nose, she surveys my kitchen. “I’m calling my people to get some cleaners over here.”
“Did you bring me new clothes? That might help me feel like a human again.” I eye the bags. Some are groceries, but some are definitely clothing. A distraction. Yes. That’s what I need right now.
She narrows her eyes. “You don’t get to keep the stuff unless you look like a human. Go shower and we’re getting out of here. You need to work. You need to join civilization. I cancelled a studio appointment because my best friend is a fucking hot mess. We don’t do this over men. Did you forget?” I didn’t. When I left Dean I didn’t feel anything except broken nostalgia. What I feel now is betrayal and heartbreak on fucking blast.
It’s crippling.
“You have to talk to him, Valen. You have to.”
“I did,” I say, heading to my bathroom. She follows me in. “I told him to stop fucking calling and texting.”
Greer snarls. “That doesn’t count. Don’t be so immature. What if there’s a reasonable explanation. I’m your friend first, but I’m not wrong about people. I’m not. It’s not my business to meddle. I understand why you’re hurt, but talk to him.” I shake my head, get naked and step into the shower. The memory of his epic family strolling hand in hand causes serious bouts of nausea. I thought I was pregnant for a solid three days because of it.
“He had every opportunity to tell me about his secret life. It was a secret. That’s the bust,” I explain. “I can’t possibly forgive him regardless of what it really is or how it seems. He lied. End of story.”
“Baz says it’s not what you think it is. I told him I didn’t want to know details.” Irritation stakes a claim next to my sadness. Greer could know the secret right now, but chose not to. How could it not be what it seemed?
“Oh, fuck Baz. He’s an asshole.”
“Valen.” She says my name like my parents do when they’re scolding me for being salty in public. Grimacing, when I see how hairy my legs are, I pick up my razor. “Don’t talk about it, fine, but don’t be a bitch.”
I sigh. “Fine. You’re off all night so we’re going out.” The decision was made the second I shaved one leg. “I’m going to wear something beautiful, something in those bags out there, and I’m going to feel like a princess. Men will look at me, I’ll smile and wave, and life will feel normal if just for a night.” With my legs shaved, I move on to shampooing my hair. “And we won’t speak his name.”
Greer doesn’t say anything. The bathroom door clicks closed. Basically, that means agreement by silence. I smile for the first time all week.
****
She’s wearing a brown wig to disguise herself. There’s still a bodyguard lurking in the corner because it could get ugly quick if someone discovers who she is. Getting used to her fame was a hard limit for me for a while. I couldn’t go anywhere with her because of the mob it caused. She’s gotten used to it and can play a part now. She looks like Daria with huge glasses and a banging bod.
We look hot as we stroll into the dimly lit club. The lights flicker softly and the scent of a light perfume clings to the air. The DJ is playing a song that reverberates in my chest. With drinks in our hands, we make our way to the dance floor. I made her pregame before we left; the one bonus is that her bodyguard can also be our driver. That went into the perk column when she was trying to convince me to go somewhere with her a few years ago.
Her phone buzzes in her clutch and she has to set her drink down to retrieve her cell. Rolling my eyes, I say, “It’s girl’s night. Put that thing away.” She grins as she opens a text message, and ignoring my pleas she texts back, the blue glow lighting up her face. “You’re so bad.”
“Don’t be jealous, Valen. You’ve never looked good in green.” I drain my drink and head to the dance floor. The room swims a little and I know I’ve imbibed too much in too short a period of time. Mentally, I cut myself off for a while. The bodycon dress is tight, but Mama didn’t’ put on any life sucking underwear tonight. I’m free as a bird under this thing and life feels good. I yell, and wave my arms to get Greer’s attention. The bodies in the club are everywhere and I’m blending into the madness with little effort. A man dances behind me and his wet body heat transfers to my back.
Spinning I get the hell away from that mess fast. I glance over my shoulder to find Greer staring at her phone with a look of horror on her face. Next, she meets my gaze from across the room and I know she’s in trouble. Something’s up. I don’t even try to dance cute on my way off the black, shiny floor, I butt people out of the way using my elbows like a fucking linebacker.
“What?” I ask as soon as I’m close enough to hear a reply. She pulls me by the arm and we barrel into the bathroom. The perfume lady tries to spritz some sweet shit on me and I hold up my palm to stop her. Even in my slur-drunk state, I know I don’t want any perfume. “What?” I say, loudly. A girl in a stall shushes us. “Oh, I’m sorry, is my voice scaring your shit?” I snip.
“They’re coming here, Valen,” Greer says, while I’m distracted with the idea of scaring shit out of a body. “They both lied about being on the trip.”
