Page 40 of Let Me
When I feel blood gush down from my nose, I know I deserve it. God, I deserve that and so much more.
THE RESTof the day passes slowly. Much too slowly. I think about going into the office, going over the next merger, catching up on paperwork. Fuck, I’d clean the toilets if it would get my mind off of her.
But Vivian sends me a text, says she wants to come by before she heads to dinner with her actual boyfriend. She wanted more from me—more than this casual fuck—but I couldn’t do it. I’ve never been able to domoresince Riley, and I don’t think I ever will again. I was never one for monogamy in the first place, all throughout high school and university. Then when she came along and then left…well, the idea is hilarious. I like the arrangement I have with Vivian. She works for me, but not directly under me. I mean, I own Scott Virani Enterprise, so maybe she does, but she’s a paralegal and we don’t interact at the office.
Ever.
Which drives her nuts, but I’m not going to fuck her in the office. People already think I bought my way to the top, which isn’t true. That would imply I paid someone off to get there. I didn’t. I only paid myself. And I don’t want anyone to think Vivian is getting special privileges because of me.
She’s not.
Benji left to go do whatever it is he does, which I don’t really want to know about nor did I ask after. He was right when he freaked Riley out in the alley. Hedidfind her flight all on some protected app on his phone. It’s eerie, and I don’t really like him knowing that much about her, but he’s my best friend. At least that’s what I keep telling myself, trying to pretend he didn’t grab her wrist in the alley. Trying to pretend he didn’t hold her against him in the woods, and that he didn’t want to let go. I still kind of want to kill him for that, even if I agreed to it.
And I don’t know why it stings so much.
She isn’t mine.
I don’t even want her.
Not like that.
I tell the live-in housekeeper, Angie—a woman old enough to be my grandmother—that I won’t be home for dinner. I never ask her to make it, but she does almost every single night. She was someone’s grandmother once, and then her grandchild died from an overdose. Now she lives with me. I don’t really need a housekeeper, but when I get home from the office, the last thing I want to do is house work. And this house is too fucking big.
“Where are you going? And what happened to your nose?” she asks with a sly smile. She’s wearing a pink sweater and pink pants and she’s got on a pink pearl necklace and her hair is some strange shade of the color, too.
I roll my eyes and shake my head, standing in the foyer to the house. I put my fingers gingerly on the tip of my nose, relieved it only hurts a little.
I would only ever let Angie ask me questions like those. But I ignore her second one.
“Out,” I say, winking at her.
“Vivian?” she presses. She doesn’t like Vivian, and even now, she scowls just a little, her wrinkles scrunching up as she does.
“No,” I lie. “Not Vivian. Just a friend.”
That last part is kind of true, although Vivian isn’t really my friend, either. She’s just a girl I sleep with. And I don’t want her in my house. She knows that, based on only the handful of times she’s been. I usually go to her place, but she’s paranoid her boyfriend is getting suspicious, so she doesn’t want to go there either. Which means I’ve rented us a hotel room at the only 5-star hotel in Haven. She sounded excited on the phone when I called to tell her, but she’ll probably be disappointed. It’s not like we’re having dinner there. Or even room service. It’s a quick fuck. Nothing more. And I kind of want the room, too, because I want to be alone, when she leaves. In a place that’s smaller than my house because it feels too big when it’s just me in there. And the last thing I need is more space to think about Riley.
“Have fun. Don’t get anyone pregnant,” Angie calls after me and I make a choking sound and then leave, the door locking automatically behind me. I get in the Infiniti, parked in the driveway and not the garage because there’s two more cars in the garage, and then I head to the hotel, Bring Me the Horizon blasting through the speakers.
But I can’t listen toin the dark, and I can’t listen to them at all because they’ll remind me far too much of Riley. She always played this shit when she was waiting for my brother to come home from practice.
I turn the stereo off instead, push the pedal down a little harder, and drive in silence.
NINETEEN
Present
MY CARD IS DECLINED.
I try to book a flight online, and it’s declined. I try to book a flightatthe airport, and it’s declined. I paid the cab with some Canadian cash that looks like Monopoly money that I had on hand, but now I’ve got nothing. There’s not nearly enough to cover the flight in my checking account, my savings doesn’t have enough to order off the dollar menu, so now I’m fucked.
Because Rolland has acted much faster than I thought he would. Because my flight home tomorrow?
He cancelled that already.
Everything is happening too fast, which makes me feel a little nauseous. What else is he going to do? How far is he going to go? I know his threats. His taunts over the last three years. And although I’ve never wentthisfar before—walking out on him like that—we’ve not gotten along since the video. Since he started to use it against me. And definitely not since he sent it to Jack.
And I almost can’t believe that he’s a sick enough fuck that his son’s death didn’t put a stop to him using it against me.
