Page 97 of Takeover

“Not necessary. Alan will keep me company.” I turn to my brother and hook my arms through his. “We can stay up all night watching horror movies like we used to.”

“We’ll order pizza and Chinese food,” he says, smiling down at me.

“No way in hell am I gonna miss out on that.,” Vickie says, and I sigh in resignation. The Taylor five is an impenetrable fortress, and I’m grateful.

“Fine. Family weekend.” No one leaves the room. Dad and Cheryl have a conversation in the corner, loudly whispering about how I should not be left alone. Then she starts making a grocery store list.

The day consists of everyone tiptoeing around me, but I ignore them as much as I can and focus on a book I found in Dad’s office. It’s a suspense novel, and the plot keeps me guessing long enough for me to not think about Ethan or Vincent. Even though we’d be in Montauk now, just the two of us until Vincent and Elizabeth arrived on Saturday.

Elizabeth. That’s one perk about this breakup. I don’t have to see that bitch’s face or hear her voice anymore. But I miss Vincent so much. The confusion in his voice when I called to tell him I wouldn’t be in Montauk, and that I didn’t know when or if I’d see him again, still hurts my heart. That was the one time I allowed myself to cry. Since then, I’ve shut off my phone and have steered clear of all social media.”

The sound of the doorbell gets my attention, and Vickie and Alan, who haven’t left my line of vision all day, both jump up and run to the door. I return to my book, uncaring about who it is.

“Bernie,” I hear Vickie say, “what are you doing here?” Bernie ignores her and comes right over to me. She snatches the book out of my hand, pulls me off of the couch, and pulls me into a tight hug.

“I’m so sorry, baby. I will kill that bastard with my own hands.” She squeezes me even harder until I finally break out of her hold.

“You guys called Bernie?” I ask.

Everyone denies it.

“No one called me. It’s on that damn Twitter. You know I follow you guys and all that playful flirting you do throughout the day.”

“Bernice, what the hell are you talking about?” Dad asks.

“He announced our breakup on Twitter?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“He didn’t have to say anything. You haven’t seen it? Everyone’s going crazy over this.” I ignore Bernice, go to the kitchen, and grab my phone from the top of the fridge. Everyone follows me again, but by the time I turn my phone back on, everyone else has already looked at theirs.

The first thing I see is about thirty text messages. All from Ethan. There are also sixteen new voicemails, which I’m assuming are also from Ethan. Before I can open the Twitter app, Alan tries to take my phone away from me, but I push him away. My heart drops when I see it.

It’s Lindsay against the wall. I’m assuming it’s her apartment because her robe is open, and she’s clearly naked. She wraps her arms around Ethan’s neck, gets on her tippy toes and crashes her mouth on his. The video is only about six seconds, but it might as well be six hours long. It plays in a loop until someone finally pulls the phone from my hand.

I look around the room, dumbfounded, eyes wide and with my mouth hanging open. All the words I want to say are stuck in my throat, and the only thing that comes out is a choked sound. I snatch the phone from Vickie’s hand and look at the video again, still unable to believe what I’m seeing.

“Motherfucker!” I yell right before I slam my phone against the wall, shattering it to pieces. Despite that, it starts to vibrate against the floor, and when I walk over, Ethan’s name flashes across the cracked screen. I stomp on it until I extinguish its last bit of life.

“It’s obvious she set him up,” Bernie explains quickly. “That bony bitch was just waiting to pounce.”

“Bernie, why did you bring that nonsense here?” Cheryl asks. She throws her hands up in disgust and turns away from Bernie.

“Should I get the ice cream?” my dad asks. He goes to the freezer and pulls out an unopened pint of cookies and cream. By the time he has it opened, Alan has already handed me a spoon.

The house phone starts to ring, and everyone looks around, knowing exactly who it is.

“What?” Bernie asks right after she snatches the phone. She leans against the wall and places a hand on one of her wide hips. My mouth is too full of ice cream for me to say anything, and I immediately get a brain freeze. “Tara is not here,” she says. She listens for a while and says, “Well, I don’t care where you tracked her phone to. She ain’t here. And maybe she’d want to talk to you if you kept your tongue in your own mouth, fool.” She slams the phone down hard enough for her to break it.

Bernie looks at me and gives her head a firm nod as if she just accomplished a great goal.

“I’m going to go pack a bag and get myself a hotel room. I don’t want him coming here because if he does, it won’t end well for him,” I say with my mouth full of ice cream.

“Tara, this is your home. If he shows his face here, I’ll punch him in the nose and kick him off my property,” my dad says. Vickie and Alan agree with him, but I stand up from the table, ready to get out of the house. I’m feeling suffocated being here, and seeing the ex-wife of the man I love press her body against his has turned my stomach. I throw the rest of the ice cream back in the freezer and walk away. Just as I approach the stairs and place my hand on the banister, the doorbell rings, and I freeze.

“I’m gonna choke that bastard,” Bernie says.

Several sets of footsteps run to the front door, but the sound of the strange voice does not belong to Ethan. In that moment, I hate myself for feeling disappointed.

“What in the hell?” Bernie yells. “I hope all of these damn flowers don’t affect my allergies. The last thing I need is to be coughing and wheezing all over the damn place.” Alan snickers and so does Vickie. We’ve known Bernie our entire lives, and she’s never once had any issues with allergies.

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