The Gallery (Contemporary Reverse Harem 4)

It wasn’t fucking fair.

My distress was obvious, and not going to subside anytime soon, so Blu waved at the waitress for the check. I must have really looked bad because if Blu glances around the room to see if people are looking, they most definitely are.

“Don’t worry, sweetie, we’re getting you out of here.”

I fished through my Birkin bag and placed my AmEx on the table. I figured I’d charge everything to Devon for as long as I could.

But it turned out that wasn’t to be for long. The waitress returned with a smug face.

“Ms. um, Crane. Your card didn’t go through.” She took a step back when she realized the shape I was in.

I fished for another card. I never let Blu pay. After all, I was the one who’d landed a loaded husband.

But that card didn’t go through either.

“Oh, for chrissakes, here take my card,” he said, thrusting his Visa at the waitress.

He could afford one lunch. He did quite well for himself with some party-planning business he had.

“My cards…my cards…” was all I could mumble. Why weren’t my credit cards working?

Blu and I walked over to the closest branch of my bank, my arm hooked through his like I was a feeble old lady. The greeter saw the shape I was in and immediately brought us to a small cubicle in a corner, affording me a modicum of privacy.

“Our manager will be right with you,” she said, backing away slowly.

Blu nodded, and put an arm around me. “Thank you,” he said to her. He was good in a crisis, as long as it wasn’t his crisis.

About five minutes later, a very serious branch manager settled into his desk and looked from me to Blu and back. His mouth pressed into a hard, thin line, and he folded his hands in front of him.

He spoke very slowly. “Has someone important passed away?”

We both looked at him in silence, but Blu came to his senses first.

“My friend here, Avril Crane—sweetie, can you give the man your picture ID?—just had her credit cards refused at lunch. Can you tell us if everything’s okay with her accounts?”

The manager looked at my driver license, and back to me. I guess I was pretty unrecognizable with mascara pooling under my eyes and a tissue constantly under my nose.

“Is there a reason everything might not be okay with your accounts, Ms. Crane?” he asked.

I nodded, but my chest was in convulsions from all the crying, and I still couldn’t speak. I gestured for Blu to explain.

“She’s um…well, there are some problems at home,” Blu said with a nod and a wink, to emphasize the gravity of his euphemism.

And the bank manager understood loud and clear. He jumped to his feet with my ID in hand. The shit they must hear about…

“I see. I’ll be right back. Don’t worry, Ms. Crane. We’ll get this figured out.” He dashed off, shaking his head.

While the bank manager was doing whatever bank managers did, Blu took the opportunity to make me feel worse than I already did, if that were possible.

“So, have you heard from him? I mean, did he tell you to your face?”

I sniffled loudly. It seemed as if the tears were subsiding, at least for a momentary break.

I cleared my throat. “I got home from that party in the Hamptons, after trying to call him the entire ride. He never once picked up.”

Blu thoughtfully reached into my bag for another tissue, after taking the snotty ones from my hand and throwing them in the waste bin. That’s a true friend for you.

“So, couldn’t get ahold of him. When I got home, there was a note, and his closet was cleaned out. The whole thing seemed like a joke. A bad joke.” The tears threatened again.