Want Me (Mess with Me 4)

There’s a loud commotion and I hear Thomas yelling at one of the kids.

“I thought you were going to be a cool dad this time around.”

“Screw that. I don’t have the patience. But we’re not talking about me.”

“Aren’t we? You seem to think I’m desperate for a different life, Tommy. News for you, little brother, not everyone wants the white picket fence ending. But I’m glad it worked out for you.”

“That’s true. This life isn’t for everyone. But if that’s what she wants, you need to let her go so she can find it. I know you’ll do the right thing. You always do. Even if you’re completely clueless about how to do it.”

“Thank you, Oprah. Was there a reason you called or did you just want to bust my balls?”

“That’s reason enough, jackass. Oh shit, take that out of your mouth!” There’s dead air for a few seconds before the call drops.

“Yeah, I’m really missing out on that domestic bliss.”

Before I sit down again, I decide I need music. No wonder I feel so strange sitting here alone. It’s too quiet. I turn on a classic rock playlist and the sound comes through the portable speakers in the kitchen. I carry one of them back into the dining room with me. Just as I’m about to sit down, a text message pops up on my phone.

ANYA: I’ll see you at Club Spectrum at 9. Can’t wait to meet you!

My brow furrows. What is this? But before I can respond, I see the little bubbles moving indicating that she’s typing again.

ANYA: Sorry. Wrong person.

I wait, wondering if she’ll say anything else. Maybe one of the same things I’m thinking.

How are you?

I miss you.

Let’s stop this craziness and get back together.

Then I read over the message she accidentally sent. My jaw clenches at the “can’t wait to meet you” part. Did she send this as a passive aggressive way to shove her new dating life in my face?

Well, she’s in for a surprise.

I don’t care.

At all.

I sit down and take another bite of my chicken. The music continues playing in the background and I move my head to the beat. Then I get up and grab a beer from the fridge, twisting off the cap with a practiced flick of the wrist. I’m just a single guy enjoying a nice dinner with a beer.

Five minutes later, I take my plate into the kitchen and cover it with plastic wrap. Then I call Ethan.

He answers immediately. “Lawson! What’s up, man? I hope you’re not working on a Friday night. I heard about the Sayer account.”

“Yeah, their account rep hasn’t confirmed why they passed. I know our presentation was top notch. But anyway, that’s not why I called. I need you to meet me somewhere.”

“Um, okay. Where?”

“This club called Spectrum. Have you heard of it?”

He laughs. “You want to go to Spectrum?”

Something about the way he says it makes me bristle. Why does everyone assume I’m so boring?

“Yes. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve ever been clubbing.”

Ethan is still laughing. “You’ve been there a lot, huh?”