Page 117 of Tell Me I'm Not Dreaming
On her way, she hears fast footsteps and turns around. Lamar’s in her face before she can say anything. “Who is that nigga, Bridge?”
“That’s Silas Magrady.”
“Don’t play with me, who is he?”
“Um, you left me. So, you have no right to trip about who I’m with. Where’s your wife, Lamar? Did you seriously just leave that woman in the ballroom?”
“Don’t worry about her. Who is this guy? Has he met the kids?”
“He’s the man I’m dating, and the kids have met him, and they like him.”
“Yeah, I bet they do.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You probably pushed that nigga on them like you turned them against me.”
“Nigga, please. I’m their mom—they love me. You left me. They aren’t happy that I got hurt. Maybe if you apologized?—”
“Apologize! For what? For finally getting out of your overwhelming shadow? For finding someone who actually appreciates me?”
“Wow. You’re more diluted than I thought. You don’t want a wife, Lamar. You want a sycophant who worships you. It wasn’t enough that I supported you. I had to treat you like a God ’cause your ego couldn’t take people liking my work a little better than yours.”
“Please, the minute my books started getting more attention, you switched up, Bridge. More book tours, more signings. You took the kids everywhere. You couldn’t handle sharing the spotlight.”
“Motherfucker, you wouldn’t have any books if it wasn’t for me! I built your career. I wrote that shit. People weren’t even checking for your ass until I stepped in. I wrote your books; I fucking carried us, and you know it!”
“She wrote your books?”
They turn around and see Justine with tears in her eyes.
“Lamar, I told you that I fell in love with your words first, then I fell in love with you. Your words weren’t even yours,” Justine laments.
Bridget looks beyond Justine and sees Silas coming her way.
He takes her by the hand and walks her away from the drama. Behind them, Bridget hears Lamar fumbling to explain. Justine is weeping at this point.
They head downstairs and straight for the car, stopping in the lobby so Bridget can pee.
Minutes later, they’re on the road, listening to Tariq Brown’s podcast.
“She fell in love with his books first. Yikes!” Silas cringes.
“I know, right? That’s fucking weird. She fell in love with the parasocial relationship version of Lamar, not the real one. That’s fucked up.”
“The really fucked-up part is she’s going to stay with him in the hopes that she can turn him into her version.”
“Ooof, she has a long road of disappointment ahead of her.”
“For real. I love your books, but I was already falling for you. If anything, they just made me love you more. Falling in love with someone’s writing and characters isn’t the same as falling in love with them. I know one thing, his ass regrets inviting you now.”
Bridget shrugs. “Oh well. Let’s go back to the hotel and fuck before we go home.”
Silas turns and smiles at her. “You’re reading my mind.”
They kiss and hold hands back to the hotel.
EPILOGUE
