Everyone lies. It’s almost human nature. How much you drank last night, the amount of sex partners you’ve had, whether it be more or less. How great your life is, great job, bad job, it can almost be a sickness for some.
I never found a liking for liars. It wasn’t something I had to do in my life. I was who I was. I didn’t have to make up a story to make myself look cooler or more accepted. I guess that may also be why I’m me. Alone. Simple. Working at a bar, living off of others’ façade lives.
Kristen had the entire east wing of the hotel cleared out to allow me to exit the bathroom with my dignity. Chase was nowhere to be found, nor was his girlfriend. Kristen knew it before I even said it. I wasn’t staying a second longer on the tour. I couldn’t. She offered to pack up my room and got me quickly into a cab to the airport. She suggested I stay and rip him a new one, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t look him in the eyes after last night and this morning and keep it together long enough for him to even attempt to explain.
Because there was nothing he could say that would change the truth. He’s been lying to me since day one. Since the moment we met. The conversation rings in my ear the entire way to the airport about the first time I asked him about a girlfriend, and he told me it was complicated. How complicated does having one have to be? Complicated as in, she was in the dark about his modeling escapades? And how pathetic was I? I fell for it. I fell fast and hard into this web of lies. He had me linked to all the words, endearments, the late-night talks, the passion. It was all for nothing. Because he never took us serious. Was his love even real?
I broke down in the cab, and once again on the flight. I spent half the flight sobbing in the tightly fitted bathroom. When we finally landed, I was exhausted and numb. I didn’t bother turning my phone back on. I knew he would at least call. How could he not? I’m sure he needed half his shit out of my room.
Or maybe he didn’t. I’m sure he also wanted to just forget what just happened. I’m sure he had a lot of explaining to do with his girlfriend. And that didn’t involve trying to explain to me.
I’m shocked, in my condition, I make it home in one piece. When I walk into my apartment, the silence of my small home saddens me even more. I lower my head, taking in breath after breath. I used to love the quietness of my life. But now, being here makes me feel so empty.
I numbly drag my aching legs into my room. I let Gerdie know I’m home, opening his cage and brushing his beak with kisses. “Hey, baby, Mamma’s home early, isn’t that awesome?” I croak, trying not to lose it in front of my bird.
“Awesome. That’s awesome.”
“It is awesome, Gerdie.”
Not.
I wake up feeling groggy, unaware of my surroundings. For a quick moment, I forgot I’m in my own bed, until the memories from the last twenty-four hours blast through me, my gut aching all over again. I must have passed out without putting Gerdie in his cage, because he’s perched on top of my head.
“Gerdie, a little room, buddie.” I swat him away, and he flies, perching himself on my dresser. I lift my legs, dropping them on the ground. I debate on lying back down, but I have to pee and I have the worst taste in my mouth. I get up and relieve myself and brush my teeth. I head to the kitchen, debating on drinking half the bottle of tequila sitting on top of my fridge for breakfast.
My stomach, uneasy as it is, I sadly pass. I make a pot of coffee, straight black, like my mood. I take a squat on my couch. Sipping the dark liquid, I stare at the object on my coffee table. My phone.
Should I turn it on?
Or should I toss it out my window?
The bigger question is if I can handle what comes through once I turn it on.
I know I promised Kristen I would call her once I got home, so I know she has to be worried. At least I need to turn it on to call her, then I can change my number or just lose my phone altogether. I barely used it before this disastrous glitch in my life. I’ll be fine without one. I lean forward, grabbing for it and holding the on button until the phone begins to light up.
Once my home screen pops up, my phone starts vibrating. I toss it on the table, as if it’s going to reach out and bite me. I watch it ping and ping. Notifications, one after another, pop up. My hands shiver, afraid of what I’ll see when I read through the notifications.
One deep breath and I reach for it. I have fourteen voicemails from Chase. Five from Kristen, and a shit-ton of text messages. I can’t do this. I can’t hear his voice or listen to his excuse. I quickly unlock my phone and shoot a text to Kristen, telling her I’m home and sorry I didn’t call last night. I’ll call her soon, and then I toss the phone. As much as my curiosity wants to hear what he has to say, it won’t fix what he did.
I get up, ditching my coffee, and grab for the bottle of tequila.
I head back to my room, planning on drinking away the curiosity and sleeping off the regret.
It’s close to nine at night when I stroll into the bar.
Dex spots me instantly, shocked to see me. “Thought you weren’t supposed to be back until next Wednesday?”
I shrug my shoulders. Walking up to the bar, I say, “Plans changed. Why, aren’t you happy to see me?” My smile doesn’t reach my eyes.
“No, it’s fine. You okay? You look… off.”
I sit down, losing my smile completely. “What is it with you always asking me if I’m all right?” I snap unintentionally.
He watches me a bit longer, getting the hint. He drops it. “Got it. So why are you here? You ain’t workin’.”
“Nope, but I want to drink.” I ended up putting a sweet dent into the tequila bottle. I passed out on my floor crying to Gerdie, then woke up to darkness and the silence in my place strangling me. My head was pounding, and I knew I couldn’t stay in the quiet any longer. So, I headed to the bar.
I just needed a place where I can feel like my old self. To pretend I haven’t turned into everything I never wanted to be. I never understood cheating. People who wanted more than what they already had. And working at a bar, I saw a ton of it. People think that being at a dive bar means they can show up and no one will recognize them. It’s the perfect place to have a secret affair and sit in the corner, outside of their ritzy normal establishments and woo it with a woman who’s not their girlfriend or their wife.
Are they that unhappy that they have to stray? Is marriage that hard? Or are men that selfish and don’t know in this century how to stay faithful? My parents loved each other. They showed it in every single way, to a point where my gross face was threatening to become permanent I wore it so often. My dad always had flowers in his hand, and my mom was always smiling, finding ways to make my dad happy. I used to think when I was little that that’s what I wanted. I wanted that forever love my parents had. But then they died and I realized nothing was forever.
That was the starting factor for why I always strayed away from love. Or, maybe it wasn’t, but after the death of my parents, that love I felt died with them. The love they showed to me wasn’t carried on through my extended family. My bright imagination and optimism slowly faded and as life got harder, so did my heart. When you’re little, I guess you’re taught that love is essential. It’s all-around. The one thing in life that is free, my dad would always say. When I would overhear my parents talking about money and bills, my dad always told my mom we would never have to worry because as long as love was still free they would get through anything.
Maybe it’s a good thing they aren’t around anymore because I’m not sure how long they would have survived knowing how much love costs nowadays.
“Another.” I slam my hand on the bar for the third time, and again, Dex puts another shot of tequila in front of me. I haven’t said much since I sat down. Which is for the better. I just want to sit here and remember a time when I wasn’t so stupid.
Because that’s exactly what I am. What happened to built-in girl intuition? That bullshit that says women always know when a man is cheating or unfaithful. I hear it all the time at the bar. How one girlfriend is telling her sobbing friend at the bar to stick to her gut. Her man is definitely not being faithful. She knew her man was cheating. She practically caught him. But she was so in love, she sold herself short, willing to turn a blind eye to it.
I swore I would never be that girl.
I also swore I would never get suckered by fake love.
“Another.” I slam my hand on the bar more aggressively this time.
“You wanna drink yourself stupid, fine. But not until you tell me what’s fucking up with you.”
I lift my head, making eye contact with Dex. His dark eyes seep into mine. He’s always made my skin tingle. No matter our status. He’s never judged me or wanted anything from me but me. And that’s why I don’t back down when I demand he serve me. “Pour me a fucking shot, Dex.”
He continues to stare at me, waiting for me to back down, but I refuse. I won’t be confessing what a mess I’ve secretly become. I came here tonight to bury those feelings and unwanted pains with tequila and then press my reset button. This is just going to be a glitch in my—
Giggling from the corner of the bar distracts me and I lose concentration on my internal speech. I look behind me and see a couple. The couple, holding hands and practically brushing noses. My eyes narrow, as I watch the man scrape his fingers up her arm, his wedding band noticeable in the dim light. The woman, not his wife, giggles once more, and the sound is like nails on a chalkboard for me.
“You gonna talk?”
I shake my head and turn away from the couple. “No, I’m not. I’m going to sit here. Just serve me, Dex.” Both hands are flat on the bar. I need him to know I mean business. I won’t be fucking pushed—
Again. That fucking giggling. I whip my head back to the couple, witnessing them in a lip-lock of betrayal and lies.
“That’s fucking it.” I push off the stool and get up. Storming over, startling them both, I slam my hands on the table.
“Jesus, lady, what’s your problem?” The cheater asshole husband hisses at me.
“What my problem is, you cheating fucking asshole, is that I’m sick of seeing you and your home wrecking girlfriend in my bar!”
“Excuse me?” the man barks, throwing himself out of his seat. “You better step away—”
“Or what? Gonna lose your business? Good! Get the fuck out of here! Go home to your wife!” I step forward, leaning over the table, poking him square in the chest. “I’m sure she would love to know what you’ve been up to!”
His lady tramp comes at me, but before I have a chance to pull her fucking hair out for participating in such a horrible act, Dex is behind me. His arms wrapping around my waist, he lifts me up, dragging me away from the table.
“Put me down! You fucking cheater!” I’m fighting in his grip, trying to still yell at the table. Before I know it, Dex is slamming the office door behind him.
“Calm the fuck down.” His warm breath hitting the back of my earlobe, I struggle to suck air into my lungs, having trouble catching my breath. I just want to go back out there and rip that guy’s balls off for being a liar and a cheater and making his wife feel like she might be something special to him. And making her feel like she finally had a chance at being loved.
Without realizing it, my shoulders begin to shake. I’ve begun to cry with Dex’s strong arms wrapped around me. His hold tightens, his lips pressing to the top of my head. He pulls away, his thumb brushing against the fading bruise on my neck. His voice is low and feral.
“Who the fuck hurt you, Kat?”
At his words, I stiffen. In a blink, my emotions swap, and anger takes over. I break out of his hold, whipping around to face him.
“No one hurt me. Because no one has the power to,” I state, hanging on to my own words, praying I believe my own lies. But I can’t. Because someone did hurt me. I finally took a chance and let go of everything I believed in and fell into the hands of a man who fucking ruined me. I should’ve never let him in. And now I hate myself for it.
Dex is watching me. His eyes darken if that’s even possible. Back in the day when we went at it, our fights got pretty intense. We’re both passionate people in our own fucked up way, so when we fought, it got bad. But those fights would always end up in a heated entanglement of our bodies, scraping at one another to get naked and fuck out all our anger. It was super-hot, but super unhealthy.
The look Dex has in his eyes for me right now is dark. And heated. If I threw myself in his arms right now and asked him to fuck me against this desk, he would. My chest is heaving, in and out. I’m angry. And hurt. I don’t want to feel the way I do anymore. And I know Dex can make it go away.
I throw myself at him, our lips slamming together. My hands go up his chest, pulling at his shirt, as his hands wrap around my ass, lifting me up. He turns, dropping me onto the desk, and as our tongues collide in a feverish kiss, my hands work at the zipper of his jeans, while his dig into my scalp, pulling at my hair.
I just need a release. I need to feel something. I need to forget about Chase fucking Green and every single memory he’s scarred into me.
Chase fucking Green.
My hands release from Dex’s zipper and I pull away. “I can’t do this.”
Dex is less adamant of stopping what I now regret I started. But with a little more force, he pulls away. “Fuck,” he growls, throwing his hands into his hair.
I can’t make eye contact, ashamed at myself. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“Don’t fucking apologize.” The anger is noticeable in his tone.
“But I should. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
He turns his angry eyes on me, and I make the mistake of looking at him. He wants to say something. Yell at me mainly. Fuck me against the table, until we’re both screaming. A small part of him wants to hold me. A side of the big bad Dex I get to see on rare occasions.
But he does nothing. He burns me with his stare, until I break away.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat, but he puts his hand up to stop me.
“Fucking don’t.” And then he turns on his heels, throwing the office door crashing into the wall, and disappears.
Fuck me.
Fuck everyone.