Perfect Chaos

“C’mon, Ty.” He nudges my knee. “Don’t cut your nose off and all that. I’ve never seen you like this. Lainey’s in pieces, and you’re clearly not much better. She fucked up. She was trying to clear up the mess she’d made. Trying to put things right so she could move forward with you.”

“Too late,” I mutter. It’s all too late. “Why the fuck did you agree to have her over for dinner after she’d kissed you, you stupid twat?”

“I tried to wriggle my way out of it, but Moya was having none of it. Makes sense now, huh?”

I recall the hug Moya gave Lainey when she left. The whisper in her ear. She was probably asking how Lainey’s seduction was going. I sensed there was something amiss.

Sal sighs, deep and frustrated. I should ask him if he fancies being in my shoes for a short while. Then he’ll get a real taste of frustration. “You’re a fool, Tyler Christianson. You shouldn’t let your giant ego stop you from having happiness with the only woman you’ve ever truly loved.”

“I don’t love her,” I whisper, folding over the bar. “This is not about my ego. She fucked married men, destroyed marriages. She’s done nothing but lie to me. I’m supposed to ignore that?” No, I don’t love her. I can’t love that. Fuck. Why didn’t she pick some other naïve wanker to play with while she did her job? “She’s nothing to me but a nasty taste in my mouth. And anyway, what’s changed? You warned me off her when you hired her. Now I can have her because she no longer works for us? Well I don’t fucking want her.” My eyes close and I fight off a flashback of Lainey’s smiling face. Damn, go away.

“Fine,” Sal mutters. “Wallow in your misery.” He punches my bicep. “Don’t tell me you didn’t fuck anyone after you first met Lainey. You’re hardly the poster boy for perfect fucking relationships, Ty. You need to man up before you lose her forever.”

“Me man up?” I ask, looking up at him. Is he serious? “She slept with other men for money, Sal. That’s not only called prostitution, but she did it to ruin marriages. She gave her fucking body to any man she was asked to, because her ex cheated on her. I’m supposed to man up and ignore that? Fuck off, Sal. Fuck off and leave me alone.”

His hands come up and he backs away from me. “Fine. But hear this, you bitter fuck. It’s easy to fall in love. It’s so much harder to fall out of it.” He turns and walks out, leaving me with the dreaded realization that she’ll be stuck in my heart for a long time, possibly even forever. And that sucks like hell, because I don’t want her there. If I could, I’d reach into my chest and yank the useless muscle out, just to be rid of her. And then I’d tackle my brain. I want all of it gone, along with her.

I spend at least another hour at the bar supping more Scotch and plotting the demise of my heart and mind before dragging my keys and phone off the bar and half staggering half hobbling to my car, my foot still screaming. My right hand is so fucking swollen, probably broken. But who gives a fuck?

I’m trying to get an imaginary key in the door of my car for a good few minutes before remembering that there’s no key and no lock. I laugh as I press the key fob, chuckling like a twat as I drop into the seat. As soon as my car has picked up the Bluetooth signal from my phone, it rings, and I smile like a loon when I see the name of the only woman in my life. “Moth . . . mu . . . mother,” I slur.

Her sigh is drawn out and loud. I think. “Where are you?”

“Don’t worry, Mummy.” I chuckle senselessly. “I won’t be out l . . . late.”

“Tyler, Christianson, answer me.” She sounds mad. It just makes me laugh harder.

“In my carrrr.” Oops. I slap a hand over my mouth. I shouldn’t have told her that. “I mean on the bus.” Even totally steaming drunk I realize my follow-up answer was lame. I’ve never stepped foot on a bus in my life. “I mean in a tut-tut.”

“As God as my witness, Tyler Alexander Christianson, if you drive that car, I swear, I’ll march up the steps to the pearly gates of Heaven and drag your father from the dead so he can kick your stupid arse.”

I burst into a fit of laughter. “Please do.”

“He’d be ashamed of you.”

I pipe down in a moment, my mind straightening as I stare at my steering wheel. “That’s not fair,” I argue.