Page 21 of His Best Friend's Wife
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My plan toelevate Manny's self esteem worked brilliantly. Manny worked the grill flawlessly. He sang and danced as he sprinkled spices onto the meat and flipped it high into the air. Over the next few days, word traveled around town about the entertaining new griller at the diner. He became a bit of a local celebrity, and he loved theattention.
The only problem with my brilliant plan was that I talked myself right out of a job. The only opening at the restaurant was the dishwashing post that Manny had just vacated. It's not that I was too proud to be a dishwasher, but if there was one chore on earth that I hated more than any other, it was washing dishes. Besides, it was hell on my hands and rubber gloves were too girly for me to be takenseriously.
I despised my new post, but I tried to bask in Manny's happiness and not let my displeasure show. When I caught Jamie smiling and shaking her head as she watched Manny doing his thing at the grill, I knew that I had done a goodthing.
I couldn't hide out in this town forever, but at least I had accomplished something worthwhile during my stay here. I wasn't quite ready to go home and face Dirk and Cassie, but once I was, I could leave knowing that I had done something other than wallow in sadness while I lived in this lovely beach-sidetown.
That night, I retrieved my cell phone from my car’s glove box and plugged it in to charge. It had been irresponsible of me to leave it off. If something had happened, no one would have been able to reach me. The diner had been paying me in cash under the table, so there really weren't any records of where I had gone. While I wasn't ready to head home yet, I knew that I would need to return someday soon. The first step was checking mymessages.
Once the phone had been charging for a while, I pushed the button and waited for it to boot up. I wasn't sure if I was ready to see what Dirk and Cassie had to say, but I refrained from chickening out and turning it backoff.
It seemed like the phone took forever to come to life. During that time, I couldn't keep at bay the overwhelming bubble of fear that they might not have reached out to me at all. Even though I had been a prick by leaving the way I had, the idea that they might not have tried to find me wassuffocating.
When the phone finally sprang to life, I was pleased to receive numerous notifications of missed calls, texts, and emails. My mother had left a simple "You okay?" message. I was certain that Dirk had shared his side of the story with my family. Knowing how things normally were with them, I was also sure that they would take his side and find some way to blame me for what had happened. My family prided themselves on being charter members of Dirk's biggest fan club––especially mymother.
I moved quickly through the messages, deleting numerous work questions without bothering to listen to them fully. I was confident that Dirk would have handled anything urgent in myabsence.
I hadn't realized that I was holding my breath until I heard Dirk's voice bellowing boldly through the speaker. "We need to talk. Call me back." His voicemail was simple and concise––no apologies or emotion. It irked me that he still felt like he could boss me around. When I did go back, concrete changes were inorder.
After buzzing through a few more messages, I sighed with relief when I finally heard Cassie's voice. "Reed, I'm so sorry." She sounded like she was crying, and it nearly ripped my heart out to hear her voice shake. "Please call me." She signed off, but I heard a sob escape her throat before she clicked thebutton.
I wasn't ready for this. Silencing the phone, I slid down to sit on the floor. Just hearing her voice had me ready to rush back to her, grappling for any sliver of attention that she would toss in my direction. I wasn't strong enough to face them yet, knowing how they had used me. The fact that Cassie had been willing to play me that way––at Dirk's request––made me feel physically ill. I didn't feel ready to forgive and forget. I didn't know if I ever wouldbe.
Curling into myself, I fell asleep on the floor and awoke feeling stiff and sore. My bones popped and cracked as I stood up. In the shower, I decided to make today a fresh, newstart.
Since I had the morning off, I made the most of it by exploring the town that had soothed my aching heart the past few weeks. I walked past the quaint storefronts with no desire to visit the vast majority of them. A painting prominently displayed in the front window of the art gallery had me stopping in my steps,though.
The woman in the painting was pleasuring herself. The brush strokes had been done in an abstract manner, so the subject could be almost anyone. I, of course, sawCassie.
"It's not for sale," the words startled me out of my reverie because I hadn't noticed the man beside me, who was also staring at the phenomenal piece ofart.
"Oh, that's too bad. It reminds me of someone I know." I had no idea why I would reveal such an intimate detail to a total stranger, but it was out therenow.
"Really?" he gushed, and my head jerked back at his overly enthusiastic reaction. Sensing my apprehension, he held out a hand to shake mine. "Sorry, man, didn't mean to scare you. I'm Ethan Drake, the artist. This particular painting is the work I am most proud of, so it's great to have the validation of hearing that it speaks to someone else too. I was really nervous about showingit."
I'd never met an artist, so I wasn't sure what to say to the man. I certainly wasn't an art connoisseur, so whatever I said would probably fall flat. He seemed to be waiting for me to respond, so I finally went with, "She'slovely."
"That she is," he beamed at his painting, obviously proud of it. "Too bad she's married," he added, surprising me. At my raised brow, he clarified, "She's my neighbor. When I stumbled upon the pleasure of seeing that," he tilted his head towards the painting of the woman touching herself, "Ihadto set it tocanvas."
I nodded, understanding. He went on, gazing at his masterpiece and seeming lost in his own thoughts. "It seems like the forbidden fruit is always the mosttempting."
Shocked by how much this man's longing for the one woman he couldn't have mirrored my own situation, I answered, "You've got thatright."
Wondering why we always want what we can't have, I left him there staring at the painted image of hisCassie.
