Four Letter Word (Dirty Deeds 1)

“Hon? Time to go.”

I gathered my purse and studded cuff off the bed and gripped the phone tightly.

“Good-bye, Brian,” I said curtly.

“Syd …”

I disconnected the call and switched my phone to vibrate mode, already feeling it shudder to life inside the confines of my purse when I took the steps to open the door and got a look at my best friend.

She wore a black sleeveless leotard with fishnets and combat boots. And she was rocking that red lipstick like a pro.

Totally fierce.

“All good?” Tori asked, stepping back so I could move into the hallway.

I hid my bleeding heart behind a smile, nodded, then took her hand.

“All great.”

* * *

The concert was amazing, jam-packed and theatrical.

It was also incredibly distracting.

I stopped thinking about my conversation with Brian five minutes in and danced without a care between sweaty bodies, screaming lyrics at the top of my lungs with my hands raised and my head thrown back.

I seriously needed to send Mr. Rivera a gift basket or something.

Most fun I’d ever had in a little black dress.

We were floor level, standing room only, so when a slower song cut on halfway through the show, Tori and I leaned into each other, arms wrapped around hips and bodies angled, supporting weight.

It was the start of the second verse when I felt the vibration at my thigh from where my purse dangled off my shoulder.

I debated not looking for the whole second it took me to pull out the phone and check the screen, expecting another message or missed call from Brian, he had racked up four in total, but seeing Joyce’s name flashing rhythmically instead.

She was an old co-worker of mine at my job back in Raleigh. Nice woman. Baked the best cherry-almond cookies at Christmastime.

It was strange she was calling me, though. Maybe something terrible had happened to someone I used to work with.

God, I hoped not.

I slid out of Tori’s hold, motioned to her I needed to take a call, then pressed Answer but didn’t speak into the phone until I pushed through the crowd and made it up the stairs, past security at the fence and onto the gravel parking lot surrounding the outdoor arena, where the chances of hearing her seemed most promising.

“Hey, Joyce,” I finally greeted her, feeling the pop of gravel beneath my feet as I meandered aimlessly.

“Hey, sweetie. Um …look, this might not be any of my business, but I just wanted to give you a heads-up. You know, woman to woman. This was a bitch move if you asked me.”

“Okay,” I chuckled, ignorant to where this conversation was headed.

She pushed out a breath.

“I saw Marcus picking up Christine after her shift.”

Christine was another one of my former co-workers, though we never officially worked together. I was day shift. She was night.

The most communication we’d shared was a friendly smile at the time clock during shift change.

Still …

“What?” I stopped meandering aimlessly. “When?”

“This morning. Wanted to call you sooner but I was running late and we’ve been slammed thanks to a ten-car pileup. I spotted his truck at the emergency entrance when I was parking, thought maybe you were back and things with him were patched over, gotta admit, that excited me. Between you and me, this place is now seriously lacking in decent techs, but then I saw Christine getting into the passenger’s seat and she was doing it smiling. He leaned over and kissed her before taking off. I saw it.”

I started breathing differently, quick bursts of air escaping as I locked my knees and focused on remaining upright.

“What a shit, right?” Joyce asked. “Her and him. You don’t dip into your ex’s company ink. That’s just low.”

“He’s …do you know how long they’ve been seeing each other?” I asked, but in my heart I knew the answer to that question already.

It was his reason. Why he wanted out.

Marcus had an affair.

“I don’t know, sweetie. You know I don’t talk to her since we’re on opposite shifts. This could’ve been going on for years for all I know.” She paused, then quietly added, “I’m sure it wasn’t that long.”

I was going to puke all over Tori’s designer dress.

Years?

“I have to go,” I told her, speaking fast, my legs carrying me somewhere, I had no idea where, it felt directionless. I just needed to move. “Thank you for calling me, Joyce. I appreciate it.”

“Sure thing, Syd. You know I got your back.”

“I know. Thank you.”

I hung up the call and scrolled through my contacts until I landed on the most deceitful name in the English language, didn’t hesitate to dial even though I wasn’t entirely sure I was strong enough to handle this conversation right now, but found the strength I needed in my anger and homed in on that as I pressed the phone to my ear and paced at the front of the darkened lot.

“You finally broke,” Marcus answered after two rings, sounding all too pleased with himself. “Took you long enough, Syd. Jesus.”

“What the fuck, Marcus!” I shrieked, uncaring of any audience I might have.

He was silent for a moment, then under his breath, I heard him mumble, “You know.”

I felt his teeth tear into my heart and rip it open.

Pain replaced rage. Tears for temper.

“Joyce called me,” I said brokenly with wet eyes. “She saw you two this morning, saw you kiss her. God, Marcus, you are such an asshole. It had to be someone I knew? Someone I worked with?”