I watch as Logan swallows a lump in his throat and nods. His dad passed away when he was a teenager after being caught in the crossfires of a robbery gone wrong. He was the Chief of Police and Logan has always wanted to follow in his father’s footsteps.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“How many times do I have to tell you, son. You can call me Bob. And if you ever need a reference, you know my number and where to find me. I will happily put in a good word for you.”
Logan smiles and nods again. “I appreciate that.”
“I have to get back to my wife,” Bob announces. “It was a pleasure talking to you both. Logan, you let me know. And Thomas, I will be in touch with you next week about that place downtown.”
“You got it, Sir.” I smile and nod.
Bob walks away leaving Logan and I standing there. “He’s fucking awesome,” Logan laughs.
“He is. How’s the night going so far?”
“Good,” Logan says, scanning the room. “Trying to figure out who I’m taking home tonight.”
“Is that the only reason you come to these things?”
“Duh.” He rolls his eyes. “That and free whiskey, my friend.”
I take a moment to scan the room again, hoping for a glimpse of Peyton’s hair to flash my way. She’s still nowhere to be found. There is no way she’s been in the bathroom this long.
“Hey, have you seen Peyton?” I ask Logan.
“No,” he says before taking a sip of whiskey. “I saw Avery going down the hall towards the bathrooms earlier.”
Now that I look more closely, I don’t see Marc or Avery either.
Where the fuck is everyone?
As I scan the room once more, my eyes lock on long light blonde hair and a wave of nausea hits me with more force than it should. I’d know that blonde hair anywhere. There was a time, one fucking single time, that I had that hair wrapped around my hand while I fucked the thought of Peyton out of my head years ago.
Bile rises in my throat, and I feel my head start to spin with waves of dizziness.
It’s fucking Sheila.
As if she can sense me staring at her, she turns, and her eyes meet mine. A smug grin appears on her face, and I can taste bile sitting in my throat.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Logan laughs.
“I have,” I reply to Logan, but my gaze is fixed on Sheila. Logan's eyes travel to where my furious eyes are stuck.
“Oh fuck,” he mutters under his breath. “What the fuck is that bitch doing here?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“You don’t think she found out who Peyton is and approached her, do you?”
I turn to face Logan and I can feel the color draining from my face. Did she? I don’t know, but the thought of it makes me sick. Sheila is vindictive and will make up any story to make sure I’m forever unhappy.
I don’t say another word to Logan and my feet begin to move on their own towards Sheila. I need to find out why the fuck she is here, back in the city and not in California pursuing the fucking career she was so hell-bent on achieving.
My body feels stiff and cold as ice as I approach her. She has never had an effect on me. Yeah, one night I was attracted to a pretty face at the bar, but the more I got to know her, the more I realized how ugly she is on the inside. She’s not warm, she’s not caring, and she only gives a shit about one person. Herself.
“Sheila.” I taste the acid when her name passes my lips.
“Tommy,” she says. Her voice filled with fake excitement as she starts a show for the world to see. She moves to wrap her arms around me for an embrace and I take a step back. “Long time no see.”