Page 111 of The Spare
I give the bottle girl my order and make myself comfortable, picking up quickly that Melody is having a good time talking with them. Noticing right off the bat she's asking way too many questions abouttheir jobs. I'm ready to haul her out of here so I can discuss the texts with her, but her talk with me about not being sure what she wanted to do with her career forces me to sit still and let her make connections.
But I'm still irritated with her friend, so I don't add anything to the conversation.
Twenty minutes in, the engineer looks at me curiously, leaning past Melody to catch my gaze. "Hey, don't I know you from somewhere?"
"Maybe," I say, swirling my drink in my glass. "Depends."
The wall street broker looks over. "Yeaahhh, I know you. You're Mason King. With King Dynasty financial. I've seen you walking the floor before at Wall Street." His eyes slide to Melody who takes a sip of her drink and keeps quiet. "You didn't say your husband wasMason King."
"Sorry, Lance, it didn't come up," she says simply, shrugging her shoulders.
Usually when people figure out who I am, it's party over so I stand, holding my hand out to Melody who takes it immediately, finally sensing I'm just not in the mood. "Have a great night," I say, waiting until she waves goodbye and puts her drink down to pull her firmly with me and out of the club.
"Mason, why did you even come?" she questions. "You didn't seem like you enjoyed yourself at all."
I click the fob on my car and watch it beep. Opening the door, I gesture for her to get in and then close it back. Rounding the vehicle, I snatch the parking ticket off the windshield wiper and slide into the driver's seat, waiting for Dante to flash his lights before I pull off.
"I came because of this," I say, letting more of my displeasure seep through my tone. I pull out my phone and open it to Karissa's texts and place it in her lap.
I'm met with dead silence as she scrolls through.
After a few minutes she puts my phone in the holder under the radio. "How did you get those? Are you having my texts forwarded to your phone?"
I frown, glancing at her quickly. "What? No," I snap. My voice is rough with irritation. "They just got sent to me."
She scoffs.
"You don't believe me?"
"It's just fucked up, Mason. It doesn't look good."
"No,that,"I half yell, pointing at my phone."That'swhat doesn’t look good,Melody.Why the fuck was she sending you those texts?"
Melody looks over at me with an uncomfortable expression on her face. "I don't know, okay? This is how she acts sometimes, she just…. she likes to play around."
"No, Melody," I breeze through a yellow light, forcing Dante to run a red. "That's not playing around. She's fucking bad news. What if all I had gotten was the picture of her and jizz all over her face and you saw it?Huh?You would have thought I was cheating with the bitch!"
"Okay, okay,I'll talk to her," Melody says, but I'msounhappy.
I don't move to take her hand like I normally do, because in my head I'm making a decision that I know is going to test our relationship. She doesn't say another word to me.
She's quiet while I stew the rest of the way home in my anger.
And what's worse is the true reason as towhyI'm angry. Because I had a friend once upon a time who almost cost me everything. And in the end, he didn't give two fucks about it. Guilt and betrayal that's four years old sours in my stomach as fresh as if it happened yesterday.
I need her to listen to me, because I don't want her feeling the way I feel.
She's quiet on the elevator ride up to our apartment. I clench onto the paperclip in my pocket until my fingers go numb. It's when I decide to break the silence between us, knowing I'm starting a fight.
"I don't want you seeing her anymore," I tell her quietly, watching her closely as she walks by me and through the front door into our home.
She dumps her purse on the side table against the wall, and instead of kicking off her shoes like she normally does, she heads straight into the den, ignoring me. I clench my jaw and place my wallet and keys next to her things before following her.
The lights illuminate our living area even on the dimmed setting.
The twinkling lights of the city shine through the expansive windows, but I can still see her reflection in the window.
I discard my jacket, draping it across the back of the couch and then sitting on the arm. I lean forward, placing my elbow on my knee, rotating a paperclip in my fingers. "Hey, Mel, am I talking to myself here? Did you hear what I said?"
