CHAPTER NINETEEN
Tammy
The chimes rang softly as I let myself into the Pink Cherry. It’d been so long since I’d been to the shop but it was just as I remembered. The space was brightly lit with cheery signs that read, “His Stuff,” “Her Stuff,” and “Extreme Restraints,” among other helpful tidbits. Yep, everything was just as I remembered.
I caught a glimpse of Marie helping a customer and waved discreetly to her before making my way to the counter, sitting perched on a stool. My friend came bustling over soon, giving me a big hug.
“Oof, must be cold outside,” she said with a smile. “You feel like a popsicle.”
I gave her a wan smile back.
“Yeah, it’s freezing, I didn’t have time to get my winter jacket.”
The truth was my winter jacket was still at The Meridien, waiting to be shipped to my new digs. Cringing, my heart crumpled slightly again, the coat a reminder of what had once been.
“So get me up to speed,” chattered my blonde friend, pouring two steaming cups of tea. “What’s new?”
Taking a grateful sip, I began slowly.
“Well, you know that my boss, Nick Martin, moved me into his apartment building,” I said.
Marie snorted.
“He should! The way he was banging you at work, he owed you big time.”
I just shook my head slowly.
“It’s not whether Nick should or shouldn’t have, it’s just that I thought I was the only one,” I explained in a quiet voice. “I thought I was special to him when actually I was just one girl among many.”
And Marie gasped.
“What do you mean?” she asked. “He was banging other chicks?” she asked, her eyes wide.
I nodded slowly, my cheeks flushing.
“Nick Martin is a manwhore,” I said bitterly. “He plays with women, gets them to love him, but he’s actually playing a couple violins at once. Get it? He’s strumming several instruments simultaneously, making us all think we’re the only ones, that we’re special.”
Marie was silent again.
“What, did they all live on the same floor as you guys?” she asked. “Was the Meridien like some kind of whore hotel?”
And I paused, thinking.
“No, only Nick and I had apartments on that floor, but then again, there are only two apartments per floor. The other women probably lived nearby,” I said, my face crumpling.
Marie sipped her tea slowly, thoughtful.
“Okay, that could be true,” she granted. “But did you ever see any other women?” she pressed.
“No,” I admitted, “but I have other proof.”
And that’s when I launched into a monologue, my throat clutching as I recounted last night’s events.
“I went by his apartment a little early yesterday evening and heard all these moans and shudders, all these “Oh Nicks!”” I choked, feeling nauseated again. “And then this bitch Jeanette came waltzing out, her hair all messed-up and her clothes on wrong. I know he was fucking her,” I said frozenly, reeling with hurt.
But Marie didn’t let up so easily.
“Did you ask him about it?” she inserted gently. “What did Nick say?”
“I confronted him but he didn’t say anything,” I replied dully, my eyes listless. “He didn’t defend himself, didn’t say a word,” I repeated again.
Marie paused, looking puzzled before speaking.
“That’s weird. Mr. Martin didn’t defend himself? Usually guys like this are manipulators, they’ll gaslight you, make you think that everything you saw was a mirage, make you question yourself. He didn’t do any of that?” she asked quizzically while taking another sip of tea.
I shook my head miserably.
“Everything just happened so fast, you know, I tore into his office ready to confront him and then I … I … I found panties in his suit jacket pocket,” I choked, tears welling up again. This was the humiliating part, that I’d been so trusting, so naïve. I’d been a fucking dunce and Nick had worked me for what it was worth.
Marie patted me comfortingly on the shoulder, leaning over to hand me a Kleenex. Gratefully, I took it and blew into the paper with a huge honk.
“I take it they were another woman’s panties, right?” my friend said gently. “They weren’t yours?”
“They definitely weren’t mine,” I said vehemently. “These were so disgusting, they were crusted and gross, and it was obvious she’d creamed into them.”
Marie leaned back and giggled slightly, trying to look serious even as she held a hand over her mouth
“I know it’s TMI,” I said huffily, sitting up straighter, “but seriously, there was all this crusted gunk, it was flaking off like dandruff or some shit, totally ratched.”
And Marie lost her battle then, bursting out into full-fledged laughter, gale force gasps that made the few customers in the store turn to stare our way. I was so mad and humiliated at once that I glared at her, my eyes volcanic.
“I’m glad you still have a sense of humor,” I said frigidly, “when my life has been ruined.”
And the blonde heaved and gasped, trying to sit up straight on her small stool but failing, bent double from deep belly laughs.
“Honey, I’m so sorry, I know you’re in pain,” she apologized through wheezing chuckles, “It’s just … you’re a really funny girl, you know that?”
I wouldn’t even grace that with a reply, instead shooting her another frigid glare. How could she think this was funny? Hello, I was suffering in the ninth circle of Hell.
“Okay, okay,” replied my friend, holding her hand up in an appeasing gesture, schooling her expression into a reasonable semblance of seriousness. “I got it now, I’m under control,” she said, just a quirk of her mouth giving her away. “So you found the panties and what did Nick say then?”
And I wailed again.
“He didn’t say anything! He just stood there and took it!”
But Marie leaned back and shook her head.
“Not one thing? He didn’t say one thing to defend himself?” she asked, eyebrow raised somewhat skeptically.
“No, nothing at all!” I wailed. “Nothing at alllllll!” my voice rose about an octave higher, causing customers to look over at us again. Shit, I was going to get Marie fired if we kept carrying on this way.
But the blonde was unperturbed and took another sip of tea.
“Something’s off here,” she said musingly, her eyes contemplative as she looked off into the distance. “Something tells me that the situation’s seriously off. Guys who see multiple women usually have excuses, they try to justify it somehow. ‘Humans aren’t meant to be monogamous,’ ‘Neanderthals had multiple partners,’ heck, even ‘Mohammed had four wives’ and shit like that. Mr. Martin didn’t say anything of the kind?” she asked, eyebrow arched.
I shook my head miserably.
“Nope, nothing,” I replied in a small voice.
Marie was silent again.
“Hold on, let’s back up for a sec and tell me again exactly what happened when you confronted him,” she encouraged.
I took a deep breath, the events so painful, the wound throbbing excruciatingly.
“I was in Nick’s office but he wasn’t there yet,” I recounted, frozen. “I wandered around and saw that his jacket pocket was bulging a little and reached in. Voila! Out tumbled the panties,” I shuddered again at the memory. “Nick came back and I launched myself at him, screaming epithets, I was furious.” God, the memory made me want to bury myself alive, it was literally the lowest point in my life.
“And then what happened?” my friend asked, her eyes encouraging.
“And then nothing!” I finished emphatically. “Mr. Martin said nothing and I ran out of there.”
Silence from my friend again as she looked into her teacup.
“Well,” she mused. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but …”
“But what?” I pressed, my voice sharp. “What?” Anything would help, I was dying for scraps.
“Well,” she began slowly, “Do you think it’s possible that …? Don’t take this the wrong way, Tammy, but do you think it’s possible that you didn’t give him time to answer? That you were like a rocket exploding in a small space, all fire and fury and vengeance, and then just took off before he could get a word in?”
“No,” I shook my head vehemently. “He had a chance, he could have spoken if he wanted to.”
But Marie shook her head.
“I’m not so sure honey,” she said gently. “Just step back for a moment and think,” she added soothingly. “Today, you rushed out of the office, you rushed up to the Bronx, manhandled your way into your old apartment, and then rushed back down here and burst into the Pink Cherry. Maybe all the rushing around was … ah, a little rushed, and left no time for explanations?” she suggested.
I stopped to contemplate for a moment.
“It’s true, I’ve gotten around a lot today,” I admitted. “Covered a lot of mileage. But that doesn’t mean I cut Nick off in any way or interrupted him.”
“No Tammy,” interjected Marie gently. “What I mean is that you never gave the man a chance to explain. You never gave him a chance to put out his side of the story, relay his point of view. It’s not even a question of interrupting, it’s that he couldn’t get a word in edgewise to begin with.”
And I sat on my stool, pondering as my brain dashed in all sorts of directions. Was it true? Had I been so furious that I’d jumped the gun and fled, without giving him a chance to explain, to put something, anything out there? And sensing my doubt, Marie confirmed it.
“You didn’t give him any time, did you?” she said kindly. “You just hurled the accusations at him and took off, right?”
And slowly, I nodded.
“I guess … I guess I was just so angry, you know? There were two pieces of really strong evidence, seeing Jeanette come out of his apartment and the used panties.” I took a deep breath. “Besides, what could Nick possibly say to justify it? Seriously, you have to admit this shit is pretty damning.”
But Marie just shrugged.
“Honey, I honestly don’t know. But I’m in law school now, remember? And one thing I’ve learned is to listen to the whole story, try and see both sides of the picture before rendering judgment. Tammy,” she said gently. “I know you don’t want to hear this but you may have jumped to conclusions. For someone who was as invested as he was, the behavior just sounds odd. Give Nick a chance to explain, hear him out.”
And with a big sigh, I nodded, exhaling slowly. I felt a little calmer now, like my chakra was aligning once more, the Earth rotating in a way I recognized. Maybe Marie had a point. I couldn’t imagine any possible explanations for what had happened, but it was true that I hadn’t given Nick a chance to explain before I’d jumped the gun and come to my own conclusions.
So I took another deep breath and another bracing sip of tea, the hot liquid scalding my tongue. Tomorrow would be another day and I’d confront the billionaire then … whatever the consequences.