by Penny Blush
I went back to pacing the bathroom as all the events of this bullshit day started tap dancing through my brain, my blood once again boiling. Donavan had the nerve to look at me like I had two heads and was speaking Russian. He had a look of total innocence on his face like he had no earthly idea what I was talking about. In his mind, he had done nothing wrong.
“Donavan, you mother fucking, asshole, do you realise while you were here fucking MY boyfriend the Feds have seized everything! They stormed into the salon and took EVERY-FUCKING-THING! They took my tools as evidence! I don’t know what for? It’s not like my scissors and blades were used to aid you in your embezzlement, for Christ sake! How am I supposed to work without my tools, Donavan? How is a hairdresser supposed to function without scissors? Riddle me that asshole!" I yelled, slamming my palm against the glass shower door. “They wouldn’t let me leave with my Blade Master Scissors! You know they are like my children!”
I stopped pacing, placed my hands on the vanity, closed my eyes and took a deep calming breath, in a vain attempt to control my blistering emotions.
"Thomas, you giant, absolute cocksucker, the piece of shit, you are currently fucking is wanted by the Feds for insider trading and embezzlement. Since you're his accountant," I shrugged no longer giving a shit what happened to either of them. “I’m guessing you’re going to be in a spot of bother,” I said, calmer than I felt. “Hey, maybe you guys can share a cell.”
“Donavan?” Thomas stopped humping him long enough to give him a questioning look. "You said that was a hypothetical question. You told me you wanted to know how to do it so you could prevent it," his voice, rising in anger. "I didn't think that you were serious! I didn't believe that you would go through with it!"
"Honey, you made the whole thing sound just so easy," Donavan cooed. "I just wanted to try it once," his statement was emphasised, by grinding his ass against Thomas. "I didn't think that it was that big of a deal and you know how I love to experiment," he added, winking at Thomas over his shoulder.
In response, Thomas grabbed a fist full of Donavan’s hair pulling his head back roughly kissing him before shoving him hard up against the wall of the shower.
“Oh Lover, you’re in trouble now!” Redoubling his efforts, Thomas shifted from sex, to full on anger banging. Who knew that impending incarceration was such a turn-on?
“I’d say you both are,” I remarked, picking up the last of my gym clothes I had sitting on the shelf above the towels, "but anyway…" I continued with my story, needing to get it all out. Even if it was soundtracked by the thuds of wet flesh slapping and male grunting "…so after the whole Donavan-is-a-selfish-prick debacle, just to top things off, Karma, the Universe who-the-fuck-ever is directing this shit-storm of a day, decided that losing my job, including the tools of my trade wasn’t enough. I must have unknowingly pissed off some cosmic force because for some unknown reason I obviously needed further punishment.” I was on a ranting roll now, and nothing was going to stop me.
“While I was out for a run, trying to deal with the whole your-selfishness-just-blew-a-hole-through-my-life thing. My Fucking apartment building burnt down! Everything. EVERY. SINGLE. FUCKING. THING. I OWN. Went up in flames!" I yelled drawing in a deep breath for my big finish. "Then I come here thinking that although a whole bunch of shitty things had happened to me today, it would be okay. I would be all right because at least I have somewhere to stay. I thought it is okay, Thomas loves me he’ll look after me. But nooo, I came here looking for comfort only to find you balls deep in the asshole that was the catalyst for this EPIC SHIT-FIGHT OF A DAY!”
Throwing my hands in the air, I gathered my belongings and walked to the bathroom door, planning on storming out of both of their lives for good. But I stopped, turned around determined to have the last say, I needed proper closure on this disaster.
"Well boys, as much as I would love to stand around watching live porn, I think it's best that I leave. Thomas Darling, we're over, naturally," I walked out only to stick my head back in the door. "I'm taking the eight hundred dollars that you keep in your sock drawer, I think it's the least you can do. Have a great life, fuckers!"
There was no comment. No argument. Not even a “See ya!” The only sound that trailed me and all my worldly possessions out of the apartment as I closed the door on another chapter of my life was the sound of wet bodies, rhythmically slapping together.
“Fuck you Universe. Fuck you very much!”
Officially an ID-less, moneyless, homeless, jobless, clothingless mess, I used some of the money that I had taken from Thomas and caught a cab to my cousin’s house, placing a call to the Feds on the way. I felt guilty about making the call for about two-point-five seconds, the amount of time it took for the horror movie that was my life imploding, to replay in my head. Then with my guilt assuaged, I handed over Donavan’s location with relish.
I sat with my head resting in between the seat back and the window, watching the world pass me by as my tears silently fell. I had been through trials before in my life, disappointment and devastation were nothing new, but this felt different. I knew in my heart that this was not something that a book could help me come back from, I was empty. I had used all my inner strength to pull myself up and out of the well of despair I languished in when my parents died. Then there was that time after I finished school, but I had the memories of that time locked down tight and refused to think about them. Looking out the window of the cab, I caught sight of the moon rising in the sky.
"Hi, guys," I whispered, speaking to my family through the silvery light shining from the moon. My words were hidden from the driver by the classic rock music softly ebbing from the speakers. "I... I think that this time, it's too much." I said brushing my cheeks, trying to stem the unending tide of tears. "I don't think I have the strength left to come back from this alone, it was all too much all at once. I need help. I don't want to go on forever feeling so completely lost. Please send someone to help me,” my words disappearing in another flood of tears.
The cab slowed, pulling into my cousin’s driveway, I paid the driver gathered the plastic shopping bag that held my only belongings and dragged my exhausted body and my battle-weary soul towards the house.
Jaxon was waiting on the front porch for me when I reached the bottom step. He didn’t say a word he just held the door open, walking me into the house, he sat me on the couch and quietly listened as I spilt the whole horrible story. In true, Jax fashion, he just sat there and let me unload everything that I had been holding in since the Feds walked into the salon, in one ugly crying, fast paced attack of word vomit. Jaxon looked at me saying the only thing he could while handing me a bottle of rum.
“Shit Cuz, sucks to be you.”
It did. It really, really did.
Chapter 5 Hedge
So, there you have it. That was the whole sad, awful, pathetic story which led to my present wretched state and the current pitiful version of myself, a version of myself that I didn't want to be. A version I didn't much like right at this moment.
I found myself once again sitting on my cousin’s couch in my active wear, being anything but active, and contemplating the major bitch slap the universe had served up. Wallowing in self-pity, I made a gladiatorial attempt to eat my way through a pint of chocolate salted caramel Häagen-Dazs while fast approaching ‘bad decision-making’ level of drunk. You know the one, where you think that drunk calling your EX or writing a social media post expressing your wholehearted contempt for your boss is a clever idea.
Taking another mouthful of spiced rum and cola, I thought about calling Thomas again to chew him out. He had called and messaged multiple times over the last month wanting to talk and explain. I had deleted every one of his messages and rejected all his constant calls, not wanting to hear a thing he had to say. After listening to me yelling angrily at him instead of Thomas, Jaxon convinced me to suck it up and answer his call.
“Cuz, speak to him please!” Jaxon begged.
"
There is nothing that he could say that I would want to hear right now, or you know like ever," I replied stubbornly, throwing myself back down on the couch.
“Well don’t do it for you. Do it for me,” Jax demanded, standing over me his eyes boring a hole in mine.
"Why would I do it for you?” I sarcastically asked, crossing my arms over my chest and sinking further into the couch. “This situation doesn't even involve you. It has nothing to do with you!"
"Yes, it does!" He argued back. "It does affect me. You are living in my house, sulking around like a damn thunder cloud, you're miserable to be around."
“I’m soooo sorry that my life falling apart has been so hard on you, Jaxon. I apologise that my house burning down has meant that you’ve got to put up with me. I'm sorry that my ex-best friend and boss fucked me over and I lost my job, and because of that jerk-wad, no one will hire me. I'm sorry that I don't want to talk to my ex-boyfriend of over three years. Who, by the way just in case you forgot, I happen to find balls deep fucking that piece of shit that was my boss." Exploding off the couch in a huff I slammed my shoulder into him as I stormed past, "I'm sorry I'm such a fucking burden Jaxon. Let me get out of your hair. I'm going to a hotel."
“C’mon Cuz, you know that's not what I meant." Jaxon stepped in front of me blocking my path to the door. "Besides you can't go to a hotel."
“And why the hell not?” I demanded, slamming my hands down on my hips.
“Honey, you don’t have any money,” he said softly.
With his words, I burst into tears, big fat frustrated tears. The eight-hundred dollars that I took from Thomas went pretty quickly. I bought the bare necessities, paid the deductible for my insurance and reserved money to keep my phone connected and just like that poof the money was gone. Everything I owned went up in flames, destroyed by the fire, and it was taking forever to arrange my new ID, and I couldn't access my bank accounts without ID, therefore no cash.
Fuck my life.
"Cuz, please just talk to him, even if it is just to yell and scream at him.” He swathed me in a brotherly hug, a reassuring hand rubbing between my shoulder blades. “I think it will help a little. You need some closure,"
"I just wish I could talk to him, you know," I said through my tears, Jaxon nodded knowing who I was talking about. "Davan always knew what to say."
“I wish you could too Cuz,” he gave me a squeeze, kissing me on the top of my head. “Sorry, I’m such a poor substitute.”
“Jax, you know you are just as much my brother as Davan,” it was my turn, to give him a squeezing hug.
"I know, but I also know that it's entirely different and that you need your real brother and I'm sorry that you can't have that. I'm sorry that Davan isn't here to hug you and listen to you and make you feel better. If I could do anything to make that happen for you, I would. You know that, right?"
“I know you would Jax,”
He was right, though. I didn't want to say it out loud, but I just wanted my brother. Davan could say the exact same thing that Jaxon had said; it's just that it would mean more, for some stupid reason, coming from my brother. I know it's stupid and I can't explain it, it's just that he's my brother. I wanted my brother; my heart hurt again. My phone ringing broke the moment.
“Well Cuz, no time like the present,” Jaxon said picking up my phone holding it out to me as Thomas’s name flashed across the screen.
“Okay Jaxon, hand it over. Let’s get this over with,” I grumbled holding my hand out for the phone. I took a steadying breath and answered the call. "What do you want Thomas?" I said emotionlessly.
“Hi. Hey. Hello.” He seemed shocked that I accepted the call, “How, how are you?”
“Fine,” I replied bluntly. “What do you want Thomas?”
"I, I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I saw your apartment fire on the news, after all, well you know…"
“I’m fine. If that is all…”
"I'm, I'm sorry. I never meant for any of this to happen," Thomas's apology sounded hollow to my ears.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" If the sole reason he called was to assuage his guilty conscience, then he could fuck right off.
“Please, please don’t be like that. Just let me explain please,” Thomas begged, and then launched into his story.
Thomas told me how he had nothing to do with Donavan's deception. Thomas had been Donavan's friend since high school. After fifteen years of friendship, Thomas believed he knew who Donavan was and that he could be trusted. Donavan had apparently been planning this for years. Slowly syphoning information from Thomas, asking innocuous questions that individually meant nothing, but if you put all the information together, it gave you the key to successfully embezzle money.
Thomas wasn't a complete putz though, he is methodical with his record keeping, every meeting that they had, every cup of coffee, every dinner recorded in his diary. Thomas could provide the Feds with adequate information to exonerate his own selfish ass and provide them with enough critical information to keep Donavan a guest of the state for a very long time.
I believed Thomas when he told me that he had nothing to do with it and I did feel a little better. The information that Thomas provided lifted a little of the heaviness that was weighing down my soul. At least he hadn't completely betrayed me.
Then began the story of how they ended up in the shower together. Donavan and Thomas had been innocently flirting for years and had obvious feelings for each other but both choosing to ignore them and not act on them. Then one night, the inevitable happened, one too many drinks, one gentle touch too many, one innocent little flirt too many and they drunkenly fell into each other's arms.
Thomas didn't entirely lay the blame at Donavan's feet though. Thomas manned up and said that they could have stopped what had happened between them the morning after their first time together, but he didn’t want to. They had been seeing each other in secret behind my back for a year and a half. I didn’t care that either of them was gay, love is love, and that's all there is to it, what I did care about was that Thomas cheated on me, with my best friend. Donavan could have been a woman, and I would feel the same way. He cheated on me with my best friend.
"Half our relationship," I whispered into the phone, "our relationship, Thomas was a lie, a complete lie."
“No, my darling, no it wasn’t. Please don’t think that. Don’t believe it for a minute,” he pleaded.
"How could I not Thomas?" I asked my anger rising. "For a year and a half, you were fucking my best friend. How is any of that okay? How is any of that not a lie?”
"Please, I loved you, I still love you."
I scoffed at his declaration. "If you actually, truly loved me, why would you cheat on me? Why did you cheat on me with my best friend?"
“Because I love him,” he said without hesitation. "I think I always have."
“What?”
"I can't explain it."
“Well try,” I said through gritted teeth
"I love you, and I love him. I can't help it; it's just the way I feel. I do love you," silence stretched out between us. "I, I never meant to hurt you."
“But you did Thomas. You did.”
"Darling," Thomas said softly, "please, you have to believe me. I am so very sorry. Tell me how can I make it up to you?"
"You can't. You hurt me, Thomas, you broke my heart but more than that, you violated my trust, and there is nothing you can do to fix that. Goodbye Thomas.”
Ending the call, I dropped to the floor, taking big heaving breaths almost hyperventilating before I completely broke down. An unending flood of tears sprang free along with all my pent-up emotions. Jax came in, didn't speak, just lowered himself to the floor and held me as I cried a torrent of undealt with feelings.
Jax held me until I fell asleep. I haven’t cried that much or that hard in years – it was cathartic and it was exhausting.
Sitting on my cousin’s couch, with a pint of ice cream in one hand and a bottle of rum i
n the other, I thought back on everything that had happened. Not only in the last few months but everything that has happened in my life.
My life wasn’t a tragedy, it was a disaster.
My life was not the opening scene of Bridget Jones Diary, that scene was too fantastic to use as a metaphor for my life. That scene was comical and funny, and everything worked out in the end. My life had become a country song and not the kind that Keith Urban would rock out too. My life was a full-on country music tragedy, all twanging and filled with angst. I had become a - ‘I lost my job, my truck broke down, my love left me, my dog died’ - style of country song.
My soul now paralleled with every bloody massacre scene from every Resident Evil movie ever made.
I laughed at the current state of my once perfect life, thinking that it had become the bastard love child of all three metaphors, the opening scene of Bridget Jones Diary, a horrible country song, Resident Evil massacre. It was ugly, angry and downright pitiful.
But it's okay. I'll be alright. When you're this low; you can't possibly get any lower, the only way is up right?
Wrong!
Things had gotten worse.
My clients wanted nothing to do with me, thanks to Donavan. I was guilty by association you see. I was no longer to be trusted. Working for Donavan, being friends with Donavan had painted me with the same tainted brush as he and therefore my reputation got battered and bruised in the process of Donavan destroying his.
“Fuck you, Donavan,” I muttered taking a swig of rum straight from the bottle.
My insurance claim was being held up, due to the police and fire investigations. It seems the lovely old, Henry Cavill-Superman-loving couple in apartment 4B, the Freeman’s were supplementing their pension with a little hydroponics. The Freeman's had left their small money-making operation unattended with the heat lamps running, they overheated and caught fire. The fire quickly spread throughout the apartment building while the clueless Freeman’s were out walking their damn dog. A chocolate Cavoodle – A King Charles Cavalier Spaniel cross, Miniature Poodle – Named Henry Cavoodle.
