Page 62 of Taste of Forever
I stared at him. “Dude, are you losing it? I already sent you my half.”
“No, you didn’t.”
“Jesus Christ, Justin.” I whipped out my phone and pulled up my banking app. “Here, see? I sent it to you right after I got paid.”
He looked at my screen and frowned. “That’s weird. It must not have come through on my end because I never got it.”
“How’s that possible? It’s the same automatic transfer I have set up every month.”
“I dunno. Maybe try it again?”
Discomfort prickled at the back of my skull like a warning. “No. The money never got kicked back to me or anything, so I’m not sending you a second payment. Are you sure you didn’t get it?”
“Positive.”
“Let me see.”
“What?” He said it in the same defensive tone as moments earlier.
“Let me see your account. Maybe you didn’t see it.”
“I definitely didn’t get it.” He was still in front of his computer, blocking the screen and turning ever so slightly as I moved through the apartment—taking off my shoes, setting my purse down, touching the frame of my family photo, taking out my phone.
“Why are you being so shifty?” I asked.
“What the hell are you talking about?” he shot back. “I’m not shifty. Why areyoucoming home at three in the morning?”
I gave him an incredulous look and in the silence that followed, a tinny, feminine voice piped up from his headphones on the desk.
“Hey, where’d you go, BigJ69? ShadowDaddy is about to overthrow you as the highest tipper for the night. You don’t wanna miss my cute little asshole!”
Justin said absolutely nothing, but his expression told me all I needed to know. My nerves were already so frayed about Laith and the rent, that I couldn’t react with anything but tired resignation. And deep down, I wasn’t even surprised.
“BigJ69, huh? Sounds like I interrupted something.”
“No, that’s not me,” he sputtered. “It’s not live or anything. It’s a recording. Just a random clip I found.”
“Oh yeah? Let me see.” I moved toward the computer, reaching for the mouse and he knocked it away.
“Don’t touch my shit. I don’t need to prove anything to you.”
I crossed my arms, stunned as to why he couldn’t own up and take accountability for a single thing. And why had I put up with it for so long?
“Are you lying to me about the rent too?”
“I’m not lying!”
“Did you spend the fucking rent money on tipping cam girls?” My eyes narrowed, remembering what Soren had said. “Did you lose your job and not tell me?”
Justin barked out a laugh that sounded forced and fake. “You’re fucking crazy. Do you feel high and mighty accusing me of all this shit whenyou’rethe one coming home at 3 a.m.?”
“You know what? Whatever. I’m done.”
I marched to the bedroom and pulled a duffel bag out of the closet. Justin stood in the threshold, watching as I packed clothes.
“Didn’t realize you were this dramatic,” he muttered.
I ignored him, filling my bag with essential clothing and shoes before heading to the ensuite to gather my toiletries. He came into the bedroom then, still observing me with an air of ridicule.
