She’s trying to tease me, to restore the rapport we had before last night, before right now, but I’m not there yet. I don’t know if I will be again. I’m kind of over taking chances on people.
She seems to understand. Her smile droops and she sighs. “I’ll leave you alone now. I just wanted to explain.” She climbs over me, sliding off the edge of my bed. She turns back to face me in the darkened room, and she still looks like the same girl. The same blonde hair falls around the same dainty shoulders. The same blowjob lips on the same gorgeous face.
Without another word, she pushes her fingers through my hair like it might be the last time, then turns and leaves my bedroom.
—
As it turns out, discovering your girlfriend is a hooker is not the best way to steep yourself in holiday spirit.
Or, was a hooker. Is a retired hooker? Whatever. At one time, she fucked guys for money.
Of course, at one time, I did far worse for money. For less money, frankly. She was out-earning me, but the career track I was on would have had significantly more potential for growth, had Mia not happened and turned me and Mateo against each other. Can’t really move up in the family if the boss hates your guts, unless you plan to take his seat.
I get up to grab some whiskey, then I head back to bed and drink until the wrapped present starts to look like two presents.
Two o’clock.
Three o’clock.
Four o’clock.
Carly said afternoon. I wasted the whole afternoon… well, getting wasted.
It’s time to leave for work now. I did not unwrap the present. I did not go to Carly’s house.
Walking to work half-drunk seems like an acceptable life decision, so I do that. Between the low temperature and metabolizing the alcohol on the long, cold walk, I do feel more capable of working by the time I clock in, but I still probably deserve to be written up, at the very least. I won’t be. Dodging consequences seems to be my superpower. Whatever power doles out circumstances knew I’d be a pain in the ass in life, so He threw Mia in the way of me getting murdered, and good looks to keep me from going hungry.
My boss can tell I’m already a little drunk when I get behind the bar, but she doesn’t say anything. I don’t really have to try at this job. For one thing, it’s easy. But more importantly, the drunk girls love to throw themselves at me. Firing me would just mean I go work at the other bar, and the drunk girls go there instead. Consequently, I can get away with pretty much anything. This isn’t even the first time I’ve shown up smelling of whiskey and feeling like shit.
It’s a long-ass night, though. A slow-ass night. Lots of downtime to think about Carly and how sad I probably made her by not showing up to her stupid Christmas photo shoot.
She invited me to be a part of her family tradition, and I was too consumed with trying to figure out exactly how many dicks had been inside her over the last few years to show up.
I’m the biggest dick in the equation, clearly.
I check my phone for the 900th time, but she hasn’t messaged me. Hasn’t called. I don’t know if she’s giving me a breather or giving up.
The problem is, I don’t really want either. I miss her, even if she lied to me. Even if she’s blown every motherfucker but me.
That’s mean. I shouldn’t think things like that. She was in a desperate situation and she used what she had to better her circumstances. To take care of her kid sister. That’s a hell of a sacrifice to make for someone. She accepted the burden of shame so someone she loved could have a good life. I can’t be a dick about that.
She could’ve told me, though.
Of course, reacting like this probably doesn’t make her think she should have told me sooner, it probably just makes her think she shouldn’t have told me at all. She could’ve lied some more. Could’ve told me she was living on some inheritance from her dead grandparents. Not like I ever would have known the truth if she didn’t decide to tell me.
It’s late as hell when I get home. I’m fucking freezing, so I take a hot shower to warm up. Carly comes back to my mind, asking if I’m part penguin, telling me what a shitty burglar I must be if I can’t afford heat in my apartment, asking me for help and telling she’s turning into a Carly-sicle.
I miss her, and I just saw her a few hours ago.
I miss everything else though. I miss her flirting with me and teasing me. I miss her looking at me and not expecting me to judge her. I miss her looking at me and not judging me.