Page 90 of Lovetown, USA
“Don’t worry. I told him to stay his little ass upstairs.”
“Nooooo,” she says, laughing. “He should join us for dinner. It’s his home. I’m just a guest.”
“Youare a VIP in my house. He ain’t.” I drop the potatoes into boiling water. “He’ll be alright. I’ll take him a plate.”
She tilts her head, shooting me a look. “What’s his name?”
“Camron.”
She smiles. “Camronnnnnn! Come downstairs!”
I shake my head as that boy’s heavy footsteps descend the stairs. Then I hear his voice.
“Wowwwwww.”
He walks straight over to Lane, flashing that charming Montgomery smile. “Well, hello.”
“Lane, this is my son, Camron. Cam, this is Lane.”
“ThebeautifulLane.” He reaches for her hand, kissing the back of it. Eye contact and everything. I almost reach out and pop him in the mouth. “Such a pleasure to meet you.”
She beams. “Trey. I see where you get your good looks from.”
They both laugh while I wash the spinach. I have a few more minutes on the potatoes and salmon, so I set the spinach aside and pick up Lane’s article.
“…but had I known you would be down here, I would have cleaned myself up,” he’s saying.
Lane giggles like that little nigga got game. “I wish the boys were this charming whenIwas your age.”
“Behave yourself,” I mumble to Cam as I sink into a chair.
Their laughter pierces through, warm and easy, while I read words that feel like open wounds. Lane’s writing is visceral, like she’s bleeding all over the page.
The Man. The Myth. The Legend. Reginald Savoy, Tech Wunderkind
By Danielle Washingon
He makes the perfect pitch every single time, which makes Reginald Savoy undefeated in the tech game. It wouldn’t beinaccurate to describe him as a visionary, a boy-genius turned CEO whose name investors evoke like a magic spell. He is, in a word, extraordinary.
But there’s one pitch that rules them all, and it was the one he made to me. Reginald Savoy sold himself to me as a good man.
That was the myth.
The truth about Reginald isn’t extraordinary at all. In fact, it’s quite common. He’s a lying piece of shit who thinks nothing of breaking a woman’s heart.
Reginald is the man who canceled his own wedding fewer than eighteen hours before we were to say our vows to one another.
Why?
Legend has it he had a second family. I don’t think he ever meant to get that far into planning our wedding. But that’s the thing about cowards. They’d rather drown than admit they made a mistake jumping into the pool. He didn’t even have the courage to tell me to my fucking face. The bastard texted me and ended not just our wedding and engagement. He ended the illusion I’d been living in for four years.
And then I started to think about all the signs I missed.
Isn’t it always like that? I want to punch myself in the face for betraying my own fucking trust. Why didn’t I notice back then how he always deflected when I talked about our future? Or how he turned everything into a joke so he never had to show vulnerability? How could I brush off his casual cruelty as honesty, or even tough love? How did I not notice his never-ending cycle of friends becoming inevitable enemies, or the way he polished his own image with the tears and misfortunes of those he pretended to love?
In public, he plays the hero. The innovator. The philanthropist. The mentor and role model. In private, he’s aman who can’t tell the truth, admit fault, or take accountability for anything.
It didn’t start with me. I’m just the latest in a long line of women he used and discarded. And before him, there was his father, the emotional tyrant. Reginald not only inherited his father’s talent for manipulation, he perfected it.
