She came over yesterday, once again, wanting to talk and saying she wanted to play with Georgia because she wants more time with her. That the Wednesday to Saturday this week isn’t enough for her. I could smell the horseshit a mile away, but I let her take Georgia to the park anyway, and I locked myself in the house. When she came back and tried to hang out again, I threatened to call the cops if she didn’t go.
She left. Thankfully.
I'm not ready to deal with her again, so I flip a U-turn and peer at my frowning child in the back, knowing what will make her smile and keep us preoccupied till hopefully the ex leaves.
“Hey, peanut, what do you say we go to Chuck E Cheese?”
CHAPTER NINE
PEYTON
How could he still want her?
My plan was perfect. Perfection. I saw the live feed. There could be no denying that it looked like the little harlot was cheating on him. If he hadn't seen it, I planned to send it directly to his phone. But when I came over that evening, there was no denying that he had. The look of utter devastation and heartbreak was written all over his face.
A look I know too well.
Still, he goes running over to her house the next morning, and now he is playing Mr. White Knight trying to find the boys who had drugged his little princess.
The thing is…he isn't going to find them. I paid enough money to make sure of it. The guys I found from Craigslist were experts, so to speak. They knew their target, and I watched as they spiked her shot and put a little extra in her beer when she wasn't paying any attention.
They were fucking slick, I'll give them that because there were eyes everywhere. Then getting her phone and doing the Facebook video had been gold. They didn't show their faces, the one guy’s face being buried in the side of Lola’s neck the whole time.
The added bonus to this whole thing had been that the trollop hadn't returned to my house after the event. When I was over the other night, I managed to put a listening device under his sofa table. Something I've been trying to do for a month. Now I can listen to all his woes from the comfort of my own home and know just when I need to come over to comfort my big lonely man.
Though the jerk still pushes me away when I make my attempts.
Georgia has mentioned that she misses seeing Lola for the rest of her visit with her father, saying she's sick.
Hmmm, perhaps she is. Maybe I did make those boys give her a little too much.
Oh well. Teach her—the husband and daughter stealing bitch.
What furthers my anger is that locket Georgia wears proudly around her neck. A gift. A promise from Lola that she'll always be around.
That’s a promise you couldn’t keep now, isn’t it Peyton?
But we’ll make sure it’s a promise Lola can’t keep either. One way or another.
Now it brings me here to another step of my plan. Lola's mother is a gossip queen and will sit with me for hours to talk despite knowing what her daughter is doing between the sheets with my husband. I hope I can use Kiki to my advantage, and her big mouth will replay what I say to Lola, planting more seeds of doubt.
I only wish her father, Franco, was in town to really help. Dean and him never have gotten along, so he would be one to help break them up. No way he would approve of a thirty-four-year-old man screwing his eighteen-year-old daughter. But of course, with my luck, he’s overseas serving our country.
It’s all my fault, coming back to the town I ran away from when I was sixteen years old. The one that held every bad memory of my youth.
Why did I ever agree with Dean to move to this neighborhood six years ago?
I did it for him though. I would do anything for Dean, and at the time, the plague of what had happened to me was gone, but I regret it all now because that tramp is here. Always ready to swoop in and steal my man.
I ring the doorbell and tap my foot as I wait. After two minutes, I start to grow impatient and am about to ring again when Kiki answers the door in her emerald green scrubs and her hair in a tight bun. “Peyton, it's lovely to see you, but what are you doing here?”
“I had been hoping to see Lola. We were supposed to get together and talk. She was going to help me around the house the days I have Georgia.”
“She was?” She eyes me skeptically, her voice matching her tone.
“Yeah. I ran into her the other day. Is she home?”
“No. She's in class for another hour.” She looks down at her watch and then back at me. “You're welcome to wait for her if you want. I have to leave shortly though.”
“That would be great. Thanks.” She moves back and lets me into the house.
“Where's Georgia? Do you have her today or is she with Dean?”
Nosey bitch.
“She's actually with my mother.” I do my best to hide the snarl in my voice. It’s none of her business where my daughter is.
Worry about your own.
“Oh.” She frowns momentarily, “I haven’t seen her in a bit since I’ve been working so much. I miss her.” Her lips lift back into a smile. “I’m supposed to teach her how to play Clue. Lola is saving that one for me. Georgia is such a little detective, she’ll love it.” She stops, and her eyes dart behind me, as she chews nervously on her bottom lip. Yeah, you went too far there didn’t you, Kiki.
Did you forget she’s my child? Though I had no idea Georgia is such a little gumshoe?
I bite my tongue and just put on my sweet smile. “Well, maybe we can get together for lunch this weekend? Us girls, Lola and Jasmine too.” Though it’s the last thing I want to do.
“Yeah, that sounds good.” She shifts uncomfortably on her feet. “So, Lola never mentioned babysitting for you over at your place.”
“Yes, well, we never got to finish talking about it before she had to run off.” I make my way over to the couch and sit down, running my hand on the soft fabric of the arm. “I’m actually going to be doing a few extracurriculars after school for a few months and would like someone I already trust. I’m sure Georgia would like it better that way.”
It's all shit. I want the little bitch out of my house to hopefully make more time to work over my husband.
Actually, I want to throw her in front of a bus.
“Yes, I'm sure she would. Those two get along so well don't they?” I nod, but inside I cringe, the voices yelling at me to scream at Kiki that Lola can't have my family. “Listen, I have to go. You're welcome to stay or come back. She said she'd be home.”
Perfect. Gotta love how trusting this bitch is.
“I'll stay, if that's okay. I'll shoot her a text to let her know I'm here.” Not.
Once Kiki's car is out of sight, I close the curtain and make my way to little Lola's room to snoop.
I go to her desk and shuffle through some of her school papers and then through the drawers. Nothing. Figures. Next, I dig through her dresser, hoping the little princess will have something hiding beneath her clothes. Besides a vibrator in her underwear drawer, nothing piques my interest.
I guess Dean can’t satisfy every craving she has.
If I’m honest, I don’t know what I’m looking for besides pictures of her with my man. What I would do with them, I haven’t decided yet. I move to her bed and look underneath to find two large flowery keepsake boxes. When I open the lid on the first, I find pay dirt when I uncover her journals. Opening the first brown leather back, the elegant handwriting dates back a few years.
That was one of the things I did admire about her, her neat handwriting. Unlike so many of my other students, I could always read her work. She was smart. We shared the same tastes in books. On good days she reminded me of me.
Shut up, Peyton!
You hate her!
She’s a good for nothing husband stealer! You let her into your house, and she eventually took over your life. She made everything look so easy when you struggled. She had no right to take over just because you weren’t around. It wasn’t your fault you were lost.
8/9/14
<
br /> I want to know where I started. Where I came from and why you left?
What did I do to make you run? Why didn’t you want me?
Oh, how poetic, Lolo. Boohoo.
Moving on
I flip a bunch of pages but find nothing that stands out and move onto the next journal. The second brown leatherback is from this year, and I’m instantly intrigued by the hearts and stars around the entry.
3/15/18
I’ve never felt more alive than I did tonight when Dean wrapped his mouth around my breast and dipped his fingers inside my pussy, making me come so hard, I saw stars.
The man is fucking amazing. He doesn’t even need to use his dick to make me come like a freight train.
Fuck that man’s dick.
I’m getting so achy and wet just thinking about it.
It’s not only that, but I’m so in love with him. He makes me feel so cherished and special…
The date is only four months after our separation.
I wonder if I could change the date to make her younger and use it against Dean.
Blackmail isn't the way I want to go, but if I don't change Dean’s mind about the separation in time, I might have to resort to desperate measures.
Who are you kidding, Peyton. Blackmail is just part of this game we’re playing.
I skim through a couple more pages of her illicit affair with my husband before moving onto the next smaller keepsake box beside it. Opening it up, it's filled with a couple of pictures and a bunch of papers.
None of the pictures are what I’m hoping for, but as I sift through the papers, the first thing that pops up at me is the adoption forms.
“Well, what do we have here?”
Looks like little miss Lola was adopted by Kiki and Franco when she was three months old.
Explains why she looks nothing like them.
Here I thought Kiki messed around on the unsuspecting bastard while he was overseas.
I'm about to dig further into the little princess wanting to know more about her adoption when I hear the front door slam shut.
“Shit.” I shuffle all the papers back into the box and shove it back under the bed along with her journals.
I'll have to find a way to swipe it another time.
CHAPTER TEN
LOLA
It's been five days since that awful night. The one wiped from my memory where I woke up into a complete nightmare. Five days since I've seen Dean and I find myself aching for him desperately.
I'm hopeless.
Realistically, I couldn't fault him for his reaction, but it killed me inside that he didn't believe me. That he didn't take a moment to truly look at the video and see how different I was.
To not know me enough to know I wouldn't do anything to hurt him, to hurt us.
We’re a family.
We are connected in ways he doesn’t even know.
In more ways than one.
I need to talk to him, but I still feel like I’m in a haze from being roofied.
Among one other thing.
I now have the weight of the world on my shoulders and I have no idea how to unload it all without everything crashing around me further.
Not only that, I can't shake this feeling that I'm always being watched. Eyes burning into the back of my head and then when I go to look…nobody's there.
Or if someone is there…it's Peyton.
Yesterday when the feeling arose and goosebumps pricked on my skin at the campus coffee shop, she was there. Then she joined me at my table with her happy go lucky smile telling me all about how they have been doing a lot of talking the last few days and have spoken about doing counseling.
I reallllly don't understand why she feels the need to tell me all this.
Maybe she does know something is up.
Or she's just psycho.
Because I don't believe a word she says.
If I'm honest with myself, I wish I could go back in time and never have met Peyton. Never have known who she was and have my life go on parallel like she never existed.
Then maybe I could go on being a naive girl, living my life like every normal eighteen-year-old. Not one wrapped up in a man almost double her age and caring for a child because you have to protect her from her crazy nut of a mom.
A woman I used to crave the attention of.
Attention that came so differently on school grounds, but when you entered her house, you became a toxin.
Peyton has always had this switch that flips back and forth between moods, but now her switch is dismantled and hanging broken.
Then there is Dean.
Could I live without Dean?
Without Georgia?
Could I deal with the craziness of Peyton?
A trait I hope isn't inherited.
Maybe after the divorce is final she’ll go back to what she was like before…the less crazy, the somewhat functional teacher I knew. Maybe all this is some belated broken heart ‘oh what the fuck did I do’ syndrome.
Or will she go extra special loco when she loses? To me.
The younger, more satisfying version of herself.
I smirk and put my car into park outside my house.
Yeah, that will kill her.
But it will be what she deserves.
Unlocking the front door, I realize how vengeful I sound, and I don't like it.
It’s not who I am or who I want to be.
But she makes me this way.
When I throw my backpack to the table, I hear a door slam from upstairs, making me jump and my skin prickle.
Who the fuck is that?
My mom's car isn't outside, and my sister should still be at school. “Hello?”
The floorboards creak, and no one answers as I inch towards the stairs.
I probably should be heading for the front door, instead of being an idiot and investigating in case it's some perp that broke in.
Fuck it.
I'm tired of feeling creeped out, and more than likely someone left a window open and the wind closed the door.
But just in case, I pick up one of my mother's oversized vases and go for the stairs. I get to the top of the landing and raise the vase ready to attack when I hear another door close, and footsteps approach me.
“Who's there?” I call out, that creepy feeling rising on my skin again.
“Lola, is that you?”
Motherfucker.
Like the fucking stalker she's been lately, Peyton appears around the corner, her sunshine smile on her face. I keep the vase gripped tightly in my hands, but let it fall to my side.
This shit is getting way too weird for me.
“Ms. Goodwin. What are you doing here?” I see her flinch when I call her Ms. instead of Mrs., and I get some satisfaction out of it.
“I was going to the bathroom.” She points back behind her. “I didn't mean to scare you.”
“No, I mean what are you doing in my house? Alone.”
“I was talking to your mother. Then she had to get to the hospital. I had a stomach ache.” She rubs her stomach and twists her lips. “If you catch my drift.”
“We have a downstairs bathroom that you could've used.”
“Why all the questions, Lola? You were always welcomed in every part of my house. Still are.”
I bite my tongue and decide to let it go. I'm going to have to have a loooong talk with my mother later.
“Were you going to hit me over the head with that?” She taps the vase in my hand with a chuckle and moves past me.
“I heard someone in my house. I thought you were an intruder.”
“As I said, I didn't mean to scare you. I actually came over to talk to you as well. Remember when I mentioned if you could come over to my place on my days with Georgia?”
“Yeah?”
What the fuck? She was serious about that?
“I'm starting a new job in the afternoons, and I will need some help.”
“I don't know. I'm already so jammed pack
ed…”
And I don’t want to. Nope. Nada.
“But you’re over at my husband's house every day,” she stresses with a glare. “I don't see why you can't return me the same favor.”
“I'm not there today,” I bite back wondering what the fuck she wants from me.
Plus, where is Georgia? This is her week.
“I only pick up Georgia on Tuesdays and Thursdays. And yes, sometimes I hang out when I'm not busy because I'm only next door, but it's not every day.” I sigh, trying to calm myself before I spill the beans. “Maybe I can bring her here.” I compromise.
Her head shakes, and her arms cross. “No. It needs to be at my place.”
“Why don't you ask Dean?”
“Mr. Goodwin,” she snaps, and I take a step back. Ava Max's “Sweet but Psycho” is now playing in my head.
Okay, I need to get the loony bin out of here.
“Right. Listen, I have a huge paper due tomorrow. Can we talk about this later?”
Like never.
Peyton straightens her skirt and lets out a heavy sigh. “I guess. I was hoping I would know your answer today since I start soon. Georgia will be disappointed if I have to find someone else.”
I grind my teeth together and suddenly feel I'm in the middle of a custody battle. “Where is Georgia anyway?”
“With my mother,” she spits.
My lips twist in disgust wishing that GG wasn’t with the horrid old grandma. I wanted to kidnap Georgia because she has gone from one psycho to the next. I'd only met the old lady once, but it was enough to know I didn't like her.
And she definitely didn't like me.
She took one look at me, muttered something in Italian and spat on me when no one was looking. Like a curse. The only word I made out was heathen.
“Oh,” I mutter, now at a loss of what to say. “Listen, can we please talk about this later? Maybe tomorrow? I have so much work to do.”
Please just go.
“Alright. I suppose that will have to do. I did talk to your mom about doing lunch with her, your sister, and you soon.”
I groan inwardly, again I'm going to have to talk to my mother about keeping Peyton separated from my life.
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