How to Hack a Heartbreak

by Kristin Rockaway

  The buzzer blared and thirty seconds later, Whitney busted through the front door clutching a bottle of tequila. When she spotted the dead-eyed look on Lia’s face, she made a beeline for the kitchen. “Where do you keep your shot glasses?”

  Lia didn’t answer, but Whit found them, anyway. She lined them up on the countertop and filled them to the brim with Don Julio Blanco.

  “I didn’t have a chance to stop and get limes, so we’ll just have to do them as-is.” She balanced the shot glasses carefully between her outstretched fingers and walked into the living room, handing them off to us one by one. Lia waved hers away, prompting Whit to scowl. “Wallowing won’t make you feel any better. Tequila will.”

  Unwilling to argue, Lia relented. Whit held her glass in the air. “Bottoms up, ladies.”

  It went down surprisingly easy.

  “Where’s that cookie dough at?” she asked. Dani procured two pastel-colored containers from the fridge, along with four spoons, and we all dug in.

  “Oh my God.”

  “This is amazing.”

  “It was totally worth the forty-five-minute wait.”

  Whit nodded toward a pile of random stuff in the center of the floor. “What’s all that?”

  Lia groaned. “That’s everything Jay ever gave me.”

  “Really?” Whit scooched next to it and began rifling through the mishmash of clothing, cards, and candy. A jewelry box fell off the top of the heap and she picked it up, turning it over in her hands. “David Yurman. Nice.” When she popped it open, her eyes went wide. “Holy shit. These are diamonds.”

  “Ugh, I want to burn it all. Or give it away. I think the Goodwill on 8th Street accepts walk-in donations.”

  “No way.” Whit slid the bangle onto her slender wrist and gave it a jiggle. “This stuff is worth a fortune. You should sell it.”

  “I can’t even look at it anymore. I just want it gone.”

  “Let me take care of it for you,” Whit said. “I’ve got a friend who sells stuff on eBay for extra cash. She takes a cut of everything, but you’ll still make a killing.”

  Dani cleared her throat and glared at Whit, who reluctantly removed the bangle with a frown. Then she turned to Lia and asked, “So, what happened? How did you find out about this?”

  Lia reached for a tissue and wiped her nose. “You know how I wanted to plan that spa day in Cabo? Well, I called the hotel last night, but they couldn’t find any reservations under Jay’s name. The only Roswell they could find was a Jeremy Roswell. I’d never heard him go by Jeremy before, but it was definitely him—the dates of our stay matched and everything. At first, I didn’t think much of it. Like, maybe Jay is just a nickname he prefers or something. But the more I thought about it, the more upset I got. I mean, at this point in a relationship, you should know someone’s real name, shouldn’t you?”

  “Definitely,” I said, briefly wondering if Alex was short for something else, like Alexander or Alejandro or Alexandrios. I’d be able to Google stalk him more effectively if I knew his full name.

  “Then I thought,” Lia said, “if he hasn’t told me his real name, what else has he been hiding from me? I don’t know where he works or even understand what he does for a living. I’ve never met any of his friends or family members. Maybe I don’t know him at all. So, I looked him up on JerkAlert, under Jeremy. And this is what I found.”

  She held her phone out for us to see. A picture of Jay splashed across the screen, looking the same as he did in all of Lia’s Instagram photos. Same salt-and-pepper hair, same wrinkles around the eyes.

  The three of us pressed our heads together to read the damning evidence:

  Name: Jeremy

  Age: 41 (but honestly, who knows if he’s lying about that, too)

  Location: Has an apartment in Midtown but his full-time house is in Summit, NJ

  Review: This motherfucker is WIFED UP. That’s right: he’s got a whole secret family out in New Jersey. We dated for a month but then he started acting shady. So one night, when he was in the bathroom, I went through his phone. Found photos of his wife, his kids, his minivan. Tried to explain his way out of it but eventually admitted the truth.

  What the fuck.

  “It explains so much,” Lia continued. “Like why he would never let me tag him on Instagram, or why he was always canceling at the last minute with some excuse about work.”

  “What did he say when you confronted him?” I asked.

  “He didn’t even try to deny it. He was just like, ‘Yeah, that’s me.’ Like it was no big deal. Can you believe that someone could be so callous?”

  Whit said what we all were thinking: “Yes.”

  “So that’s it.” Her voice warbled, threatening to crack. “I guess I’m not going to Cabo now.”

  “Fuck Cabo,” Dani said. “And fuck Jay. Or Jeremy. Or whatever the hell his name is.”

  Lia’s lower lip twitched and she crumpled forward in another sobbing fit. I resumed my patting and shushing, while Whit poured us another round of tequila shots.

  “Let’s plan our revenge on this asshole,” she said, handing out the glasses. “What if we called up his wife and told her what a dick her husband is?”

  “I’m sure she already knows,” Dani said.

  “Ugh. Stuck in the burbs with two kids and a cheating husband. What a miserable life.” Whit knocked back her shot.

  “This is my own fault,” Lia said. “I should’ve asked more questions. Demanded more answers.” She turned to me with a mournful look. “You’re lucky you found Alex on JerkAlert now, before you got in too deep.”

  Funny, I didn’t feel lucky.

  “How are things going with him?” Dani asked.

  I downed my shot and wiped my lips with the back of my hand. “There’s another review on his profile.”

  “What does it say?”

  “Lying scumbag.” A chorus of gasps erupted all around. “The thing is, I looked at the database, and it was written by the same woman who wrote the first review. So I’m not sure if I should even believe it.”

  “Why shouldn’t you believe it?” Lia’s question sounded suspiciously like an accusation.

  “Don’t you think it’s strange that the same person posted two different reviews?”

  “No. Not if she was hurt and wanted to warn other women about his despicable behavior.”

  I shook my head, more confused than ever. “I’m just not sure.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Please.”

  Man, Lia was really fired up. Tequila and heartbreak were a dangerous combination. I looked to Whit and Dani for backup, but they were suddenly regarding the ceiling as if there was a Michelangelo fresco up there.

  “If you’re really that unsure,” Lia continued, “why don’t you just ask him about it?”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?” Anger burned in her eyes.

  “I told you—it would be too weird.”

  “So, you have all this information that he doesn’t know about, all these suspicions and doubts, and you’re just gonna keep them a secret?”

  That was exactly what I’d planned to do. But hearing Lia articulate it like that made me think twice about whether it was such a good idea.

  “Forget it,” she said, pouring herself another shot of tequila and guzzling it down. “It doesn’t really matter what you do. Your relationship’s doomed either way.”

  Dani squeezed my thigh, an unspoken message: Let it go.

  But I couldn’t let it go. “What do you mean by that?”

  “Have you told him you run JerkAlert yet?”

  Ashamed, I muttered, “No.”

  “So, how do you expect him to be honest with you if you’re not being honest with him?”

  “It’s completely different.” Even as I said the words, I knew my argument was flim
sy. “No one can know I run JerkAlert. It’s the whole secret marketing plan, remember?”

  “Okay. Fine. But eventually the cat’s gonna get out of the bag. And if these reviews turn out to be phony, do you really think he’ll want to stay in a relationship with someone who knowingly allowed people to trash him on the internet?”

  A fierce pressure began to build throughout my body. My eyes stung, my throat tensed, my heart clenched. Because I knew everything Lia said was true.

  In an instant, I was on my feet. “I should get going.”

  “You just got here,” Dani said.

  “It’s laundry day. I’m down to my last pair of underwear.” It wasn’t laundry day, and I had at least three more clean pairs of panties in my dresser drawer. But I couldn’t stay here when Lia was obviously so upset with me. I felt bad for everything she was going through with Jay, but that didn’t mean I was willing to be her punching bag. Patting her on the back, I said, “If you need anything, just call me.”

  She nodded, avoiding eye contact. “Thanks.”

  Whit walked me out. In the hallway, she said, “Don’t listen to her. She’s a train wreck right now because of that asshole. Who, by the way, I hated from the very beginning. And it is taking every ounce of my strength not to scream, ‘I told you so.’ But I won’t, of course, because I’m a great friend.”

  “What if it’s true?” I asked.

  “What if what’s true?”

  “All that stuff about Alex on JerkAlert.”

  “Honestly? I can’t see it. He really seems like a stand-up guy.”

  I nodded, feeling relieved. Whit had killer instincts. If she thought Alex could be trusted, she was probably right.

  “That being said,” she continued, “you can never know everything there is to know about someone. And even if you did, there’s still a chance you’ll get your heart broken. Dating is always a risk, no matter how much you know about a person beforehand. Sometimes, you just have to cross your fingers and hope everything works out.”

  “Wow. That was profound, Whit. For someone who shuns relationships, you know a lot about the way they work.”

  “I shun relationships because I know a lot about the way they work. I do not have the patience for that bullshit.” She squeezed my shoulder. “Anyway, don’t let Lia make you feel bad about anything. Especially not about JerkAlert. You’re doing good work with that site. And there’s so much excitement building about it. I’ve been working a couple of my contacts, trying to score this amazing opportunity I heard about.”

  “Really? What is it?”

  “I don’t wanna jinx it. But if I manage to pull it off, you’ll never have to work another day at your shitty job.”

  That was the best news I’d heard all day. Possibly all week.

  With a hug and a kiss, Whit and I said our goodbyes. As I walked toward the subway, I lost myself in daydreams, speculating about this “amazing opportunity.” Maybe there was an angel investor with deep pockets who wanted to sink some cash into JerkAlert. Or maybe the lead engineer at some tech company was impressed by my coding skills and wanted to offer me a high-paying job.

  The whole way home, I was so preoccupied with my own fantasies that I didn’t bother to look at my phone. It wasn’t until I’d arrived back home that I pulled it from my purse to find a message waiting for me from Alex.

  Got pulled into meetings all day but wanted to see how you were doing. Everything OK after that thing with Bob?

  I forgot Alex had witnessed me getting pulled into Bob’s office. That was embarrassing enough without having to tell him the whole story of what went down behind closed doors.

  MEL:

  Totally fine. It was just a misunderstanding.

  ALEX:

  Cool.

  ALEX:

  You free to talk?

  Ugh. I’d had enough talking for one day. I knew what he wanted to talk about, too: he wanted to pick up where we’d left off earlier, when I’d called him out on his Rico Suave act with Greg. I was in no mood to deal with this right now.

  I typed two letters—N-O—but hesitated before hitting Send. There was no avoiding this conversation; we’d have to have it sooner or later. And I’d rather have it in private, on the phone, than in my cubicle, surrounded by a bunch of eavesdropping Hatchlings. So I deleted my response and tapped the call button.

  He picked up on the first ring. “Hey.”

  “Hey.”

  Silence ensued. He cleared his throat once, twice, then said, “I don’t know if I should say I’m sorry again. I know I say it so much it’s probably lost all meaning by now. But I really am sorry.”

  “Are you sorry for what happened, or are you just sorry I overheard it?”

  “Both,” he said. “But I hope you know there was no bet going on. Nothing like that happened at all. I only told Greg you and I were hanging out so he’d understand why I wanted the night off. Of course, he’s so useless, it turns out I can’t take a night off, but that’s not the point.”

  “What’s the point, then?”

  “The point is, I like you, and I told him I liked you. But that was a mistake, because he’s...well, he’s a pig. So he started giving me a hard time, with all this ‘Rico Suave Latin lover’ shit. I’ve just been ignoring it because he’s an idiot, and this whole thing is complicated, you know? I have to at least try to get along with him, for Fizz. Even though most of the time I really wanna punch him in the face.”

  “Well,” I said, “I don’t advocate for you punching anyone, but in that moment, it would’ve been nice to hear you speak up. To defend me, instead of just playing along and saying, ‘Yup.’ Because now, who knows what he’s saying about me around the office? People are gonna start talking, if they aren’t already.”

  “So let them talk. Who cares what they think?”

  “I do.” My voice was louder than I’d intended. “It’s hard enough for me to be taken seriously by these Hatchlings as it is. I thought you understood that.”

  He let out a long, heavy breath. “You’re right. You’re absolutely right. I should’ve said something. I will in the future.”

  “Good.”

  “Look, Melanie, I am in this with you, a hundred percent. I know we’ve gotten off to a rough start, but I need you to know that you’re not some meaningless hookup to me. I really like you.”

  “I really like you, too.” The words practically fell out of my mouth, that’s how true they felt. I was falling for Alex, hard.

  Which is why I was so scared.

  I’d seen the pain in Lia’s face, the way her body convulsed with uncontrollable sobs. There was an emptiness in her now, a hollow where hope used to live. The same hollow my mother had formed after Dad walked out. I never wanted to end up like that.

  Before I got in too deep with Alex, I had to find out what was really going on. Was he the kindhearted supportive guy he presented himself to be? Or was he a smooth-talking scumbag who shouldn’t be trusted?

  There was only one way to find out.

  20

  I’m not saying it was the wisest decision to send JBoogie a Twitter DM as soon as I got off the phone with Alex. Without a doubt, it was shady. And looking back on it, a little unhinged.

  In the moment, though, it seemed like I had no other choice. Like it was the only way I could avoid a potential catastrophe.

  Granted, I was two tequila shots in and severely sleep-deprived.

  But I wasn’t hurting anyone, was I? No. I was merely requesting some important information to help me understand what I was dealing with here. Namely, I needed to know exactly what Alex did to this woman to inspire her to call him a lying scumbag on the internet.

  All I did was ask a very simple question: How many guys have you logged on JerkAlert?

  Then I stared at my phone, willing her to respond immediately. I paced t
he room, chewing my thumbnail, waiting to see the bouncing ellipsis appear on her side of the conversation. If only she’d known how urgent this was!

  After a few minutes of silently refreshing my Twitter feed, I realized how ridiculous I was being. It was late. She was probably asleep by now. Or maybe she was out on a Fluttr date. Whatever she was doing, replying to a DM from an internet stranger was most definitely not at the top of her priority list. So I shut down the app and went to bed.

  When my alarm went off the next morning, there was still no answer from JBoogie, but I tried not to despair; it was early. Instead, I grabbed my robe and headed to the bathroom, ready to start my usual morning routine.

  Any hope of a hot shower was immediately dashed, though, because Vanessa was standing in the tub, holding a busted showerhead in her hand.

  “It just fell off.” Her expression was all big-eyed and innocent.

  “What do you mean, ‘It just fell off?’ It was perfectly fine yesterday.”

  “You know these old Brooklyn buildings,” she said, waving the nozzle around for emphasis. “Things fall apart all the time.”

  “Well, did you try putting it back on?”

  “I can’t figure out how. Can you?”

  I stepped into the tub beside her, inspecting the pipe protruding from the tiles. There was no obvious mechanism for screwing it back on. “How did this even happen?”

  “No idea.” She gave an exaggerated shrug, a dramatic sigh. “Guess I’ll have to call Ray.”

  “Vanessa,” I said, slowly and carefully, to prevent myself from screaming, “you didn’t rip the showerhead out of the wall to have an excuse to call Ray, did you?”

  She gasped. “I’m offended you would even suggest that.”

  “If you like Ray, just tell him. Don’t tear apart our bathroom.”

  “You know, I don’t have to listen to this.” With her nose in the air, she stepped out of the tub. “I told you, that night was a mistake, and it won’t be happening again.”

  “Fine, whatever.” I called after her as she fled down the hallway, “But if you have sex in our shower, I expect you to scrub it out when you’re done.”