Page 4 of Lust

“When was the last time you ‘took care’ of me?” Fuck trying not to argue with him. If he wants to fight, then he’s going to get a fight. He knows I hate when he uses our cover names, just like he knew how I’d react if he messed with Manuel’s birthday cake.

“Really?” he laughs. “You really think I give a shit about ‘taking care’ of you when you haven’t made your husband come in months? You should be ashamed of yourself. Useless waste of space. Waaay too much space.” He stalks out to the garage.

I fight to blink back tears. One sneaks down my nose, though, and drops onto the cake, digging a divot in the smooth surface. I wanted the cake to be perfect, but my bestie will understand.

With a sigh, I do my best to repair the icing on Manuel’s birthday cake and pack it carefully onto a tray. At least I can try to enjoy my friend’s birthday.

“Divorce his nasty ass.” Disdain curls Manuel’s lip and he quirks his eyebrows. “Seriously, Carol, what does that troll bring into your life besides a perpetually limp dick?”

Every time Manuel calls me Carol, I feel a familiar twinge of guilt. I wish I could use my real name with him.

“I can’t divorce him,” is all I say. Manuel rolls his eyes. Maybe he’s right and I could divorce my husband, but I don’t know what he’ll do. If he really wants to kill me, what would stop him from selling me out to the Fioravantes if I ask for a divorce? I’m probably worth more to him dead than alive.

“Girl,” Manuel sneers, nostrils flared, “if you think that ogre is the only person who could possibly want your thick thighs and dreamy eyes, then he has you brainwashed worse than I thought.”

“Careful, Manny.” I bump my hip against his. “I’ll start thinking you’re trying to get in on all this juicy goodness.”

“Mmmmm.” He winks. “You know if I wake up straight one day, you’ll be the very first to find out.”

I just shake my head.

“Let’s go have some cake before someone else decides to sample the frosting.”

He smiles.

“You know what my birthday wish is going to be?”

“Shhhh!“ I punch his arm. “Don’t tell me!”

He ignores my admonition.

“That two Prince Charmings will show up and sweep each of us off our feet and out of this dismal place.”

We step into the dingy break room. The cake platter sits open on the table, a large slice already taken out. Nothing here is sacred.

Fuck my life.

“Let’s make some damn wishes.” I pull out a cigarette lighter and a small package of birthday candles.

As I insert the pink and yellow candles into the surface of the cake, I consider wishing that my husband would love me again, but that thought just makes me laugh. Maybe I should wish that I really am crazy and he’s not actually trying to kill me! I look around the windowless breakroom, illuminated by one bare fluorescent bulb, and consider what my life has become. Maybe death wouldn’t be so bad.

Manuel stares expectantly.

“Got your wish, girl?”

“It’s your birthday.” I light the candles. “You’re the one who gets to make a wish.”

“Let’s do it together.” He grabs my hand and closes his eyes.

For a moment, death doesn’t seem so appealing after all. Instead, I close my eyes and wish simply for something to change. For a magic wand to wave over my life and turn all my damn pumpkins into carriages.

Chapter 3

November 27th

Aaron

Cardboardcutoutsofbrightly-coloredturkeys hang from every other light pole in the mall parking lot. I wrap my gray cashmere scarf around my neck before opening the door of my rented Maserati. It’s unseasonably cold in Sacramento, even for late November.

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