- Lucy -
here was no doubt in my mind.
I had to tell him what I knew. I didn’t even have to mention that I saw her with Brad or accuse her of anything. I could just say she was on Tinder.
I could even broach the topic innocently like “Oh, I didn’t know Chelsea was on Tinder” and see how he reacted. Then I wouldn’t be hurting him by omission like Alex had so quickly accused me of.
But even though I knew it was the right thing to do, I was still conflicted about it because I wasn’t neutral. If anything, I was almost happy that she was being unfaithful, and that made me feel twisted. I mean, I wasn’t happy that she was hurting him, but I was happy knowing he would leave her.
Cause he would never put up with that shit. I’d never known anyone who was more true to his word. If he told you he would be there, he would be. If he made a promise, he didn’t break it. If he entered into a relationship with you, you were given every benefit of the doubt until you crossed him, and then it was like you never existed. His Dad was a lot like that, too, for better or for worse.
And I didn’t want him to think I went out of my way to catch Chelsea up to no good. I didn’t want him to see me as spiteful. I liked the way he looked at me, like I was more innocent than I really was, happier. It made me feel good that he didn’t think I was a mess even though no one had seen me messier than he had over the years.
Yet if I were a guy, I probably would’ve told him what I knew already. So why the hesitation? Was I afraid he would associate me with her treachery? That it might ruin our chance at a future together?
No, that was ridiculous. We were way past that. We crossed the friends’ line so long ago I don’t even remember when it happened. I suspect it had something to do with the fact that our friendship blossomed at a time when we both found the opposite sex totally gross, and I’m sure it didn’t help that our awkward stages kicked in just a few years later.
Of course, sometimes I wish we’d never crossed that line. It would be a lie to say I’d never wondered what might’ve happened if I’d met Aiden randomly in the present day, if our natural chemistry had been able to manifest itself differently.
But I wasn’t stupid. He was an athlete from a family so wealthy they didn’t even know what to do with all their money. And I was a broke but hard saving hairstylist with a messed up family who always wore long sleeves. If we didn’t have our shared history, he probably wouldn’t even do a double take if he saw me in the street.
So as grateful as I was to consider him a dear friend, I learned a long time ago that wishing for more was futile. Plus, his friendship meant everything to me.
I would never do anything to jeopardize it.
If I did, I would just be one more girl he’d hooked up with. I would become disposable overnight, and I’d rather settle for never seeing enough of him then never seeing him again.
After all, no matter how lost I got, his smile always made me feel found. It was like he saw me more clearly than other people, or rather, like he saw me how I wished I was.
I honestly couldn’t imagine my life without him. I mean, he was the one person that could always make me feel grounded when the world around me was a shitstorm. He was the one that would know what food to bring me and what music to put on if I was suddenly paralyzed in a horrible accident and couldn’t communicate.
He was the only guy I ever-
“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay?” Fiona asked, ducking her head in the utility closet.
“Absolutely. Why should you if you don’t have any more clients?” I asked, grabbing the broom from the corner.
“Because if I leave now, you and Chuck will be the only people here.”
I looked at her. “Oh.”
“So do you want me to stay? I really don’t mind.”
“No, don’t be silly. I’m not afraid of Chuck.”
“That doesn’t mean he’s not going to get handsy with you.”
I pursed my lips. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“He rapes you.”
I laughed. “First of all, that wouldn’t be the worst thing at all because then he would go to prison.” If I didn’t kill him in self-defense.
Fiona huffed and crossed her arms.
“Second of all, the guy’s a perv for sure, but he’s not a fucking rapist.”
She shrugged. “Do you want me to stay or not?”
“I want you to go home and order Lou Pizzorno’s so it’s there by the time I get home.”
She sighed. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. Really.”
She pulled a pair of scissors out of her apron and handed them to me. “Put these in your back pocket in case he gets fresh.”
I turned to face her and leaned against the counter. “I’m not going to pull a pair of scissors on our boss, Fiona. Pack up your station and go home.”
“Call me if you need anything.”
“Will do,” I said, turning back to the counter. I took the scissors and combs out of their antiseptic and rinsed them off in the sink. Then I grabbed the broom and left the closet.
Chuck was at the register counting money. I started sweeping the hair from the floor around the chairs, noting once again that the new girl didn’t clean her station properly. I slung her hair dryer and straightener back in their cubbies and resumed sweeping.
When I had all the hair in a pile, I grabbed the dustpan. As I bent over the multicolored mess of hair, I could feel Chuck’s seedy eyes on me, but I didn’t really give a shit. Let him look at my ass. Better than him touching it.
“Can you come here for a second, Lucy? I need a second opinion.”
“Yeah, one sec.” I laid the broom against the closest chair and dumped the contents of the dustpan in the trash before walking over to him. He wheeled his rolling chair back to make space for me, and I stepped in front of the piles of cash. I picked up the first pile and counted the twenties one by one. Then I picked up the stack of tens.
I heard Chuck stand up behind me and look over my shoulder. I could smell the stale smoke on his breath as he watched me count the money.
My heart started beating harder in my chest, but I didn’t want to encourage him or let him get a rise out of me so I focused on counting, laying the bills down one by one.
Then I felt him press his pelvis against my ass.
I could feel that he was aroused. “What the hell are you doing, Chuck?”
“Just watching you work.”
“Watch with your eyes.”
He slipped his hands around my hips.
“Take your hands off me, Chuck. Right now.”
“Or what?”
I set the money down and picked up the phone. “Or I’ll call the police.”
He grabbed my wrist and forced the phone back down, pulling me against him with his other hand. “You’re not fucking calling anyone.”