Cruel Beloved

Aubrey puts up a finger and shakes it at me. “See that…” she points it at me now and stabs me in the chest a few times, “… that right there is not acceptable. Clearly, your feelings for her are growing as well. So, end it. Try to salvage whatever it is you have with her.” She turns and walks back inside, leaving me sitting on their porch.

I walk to my car and ring Carla, but she doesn’t answer. It’s no surprise. I didn’t think she would after she snuck out the way she did.

Calling Barry, he answers straight away. “So, you fucked her again,” he says.

“What the fuck?”

“She told Emma. I may have been listening in.”

“Did she say anything good?”

Barry goes silent. “She said something along the lines of ‘a means to an end,’ and ‘you both had needs.’”

“We do,” I say, smiling.

“Then, she said she still hates you, even if the sex is good,” he adds.

“Hates me?” I ask him.

“Oh yeah, she then proceeded to call you a lot of names. None which I can repeat, of course, since I am a gentleman.” He laughs then starts, “Fucker, dick head, asshole…”

“Okay, enough.”

“But I’m not finished,” Barry whines. “Blackmailing prick—” He stops. “Oh, hold on, that may have been Emma who said that.”

“This isn’t helping, Barry.”

“She’s at work if you’re looking for her.”

“Thanks.”

“Corton…”

“Yeah…”

“What color are her eyes?”

“Green. There as vivid as a see-through lake,” I answer.

“I’m sorry, man. Real sorry.”

“For what?”

“That this plan of yours is going to fuck you over more so than her. Because it’s you who’s fallen harder.” He hangs up.

I shake my head.

No. What? Just because I know the color of her eyes? No, it can’t be.

I call her again.

Carla doesn’t answer.

Getting into my car, I drive to her bar, and when I arrive, I see her smiling as she walks in.

Maybe Barry is right.

Maybe that’s the reason I pull away without getting out.

Maybe that’s the reason I won’t see her at all today.

28

Carla

“Carla babes.” Aussie smiles at me as he sits at my end of the bar. It’s not busy yet, but it will be when Chase and his band members arrive to play. Then I won’t have time to breathe.

“Aussie,” I say, smiling, walking up to him, “Usual?” I ask.

Chance always makes me smile. I used to think he was the only decent guy out there. Maybe he still is.

“You know it.” Chance winks as I slide his drink to him. He goes to pull out money, but I stop him.

“Nope, it’s on the house.”

He tips the glass bottle my way and looks around. “Hasn’t changed much.”

I smile, it hasn’t. “Still the same, except now we’re booking bands.”

“Nice.”

Then everything changes.

I can feel a shift where our silence becomes uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry, just so you know. Aubrey didn’t know it was you.”

“How could she,” I offer.

“He isn’t a bad man. Corton’s actually one of the better ones.”

I raise a disbelieving eyebrow at him. “You can’t believe that, right? No good ones do what he’s done.” Just as I finish speaking, another customer walks to the bar, so I shift to serve him, then head back to Aussie who’s watching me.

“Maybe give him a chance, is all I’m saying. He hides a lot from others, but you will see it.”

“Thanks for the advice, but I’m good. The minute my time is up, I hope to never see his face again.”

Chace flinches at my harsh words. “I miss ya, Carla babes,” he says, changing the subject.

I remember undressing for this man, wanting him, and hoping to make him forget the woman he married, when I clearly knew he only had eyes for her. But I wanted a good man, I wanted one like Chance Bateman because he is a keeper.

“I miss you, too. But your life is good now. So, no need for me.”

“Can we not be friends?” he asks.

“Friends?” I ask. “Your wife may not be happy about that.”

“Yes, she will. She knows where I am.”

Trust. I’ve never had someone trust me, or been able to trust someone, like that. I’m a little envious of Aubrey, she clearly knows he only has eyes for her.

“Friends then? Clearly, I could use some.” I chuckle.

“Aubrey wanted me to invite you both over. Would you be—”

I tense at his words, and he notices and stops.

I think about it for a second or two and answer, “Sure, I’d love to.”

“We live in Hermosa now.”

“I’m sure Whiskey knows.”

Chance smirks when I say his name.

“Whiskey?” he questions, and cocks his head to the side.

“It’s the name he used when he introduced himself me to, so I don’t know him as Corton.”

Chance stands, leaving a tip on the counter. “Well, maybe you should.” Then he steps off.

Leaving me to ponder his words.

The following day I still haven’t heard from Whiskey, but then again, I haven’t reached out either. I also don’t intend to. I signed the contract, so it’s done, I now have six months to go and I will be free. It’s a relief, and also scary, as I never wanted to be a divorcée. Not once did I see myself as that type of woman. I wanted my marriage to last forever, and with it come a lifetime of happiness.