Page 16 of Friend Zoned

I turn to Camille, and she runs away screaming, but I manage to scratch the back of her legs with the broken bottle. Blood runs down her legs as she rushes into the bathroom, but she doesn’t have time to lock the door before I bust through and grab her. I put the bottle on the counter.

Camille is a few inches shorter than me, but she’s stout. I expected her to be stronger and to put up more of a fight. Maybe she is, and I’m just too far gone for this to be a fair fight. I grab the shirt and rip it open, sending buttons scattering everywhere. Camille screams, and the sound of her voice is like nails on the chalkboard. I punch her in the mouth, shutting her up. I pull the shirt off her body, leaving her completely naked, and with Herculean strength, I grab her by her hair and pull her out of the bathroom toward the hotel door. I open it and push her out.

Once the door is closed, I eye my soon to be ex-husband. He’s just now starting to stand up. As calmly as possible, I go to the bathroom and grab the broken bottle. He holds up both hands when I start toward him.

“Jeanine, wait. You don’t want to do this,” he warns. “This is assault. It’s a felony.” I don’t answer, but I continue my slow approach. Like the coward that he is, he jumps on the bed and runs to the other side of the room. Instead of going outside to check on his girlfriend, the same one who keeps banging on the door, he goes into the bathroom and locks himself inside.

He’s in nothing but a pair of boxers, so I pick up every last stitch of clothing in the room and open the door. Camille jumps back when she sees me. She’s wrapped in a towel now. There’s a cart down the hall with supplies, but I don’t see a maid in sight. I shove the clothes in my tote. Camille starts to run the other way, but she falls. While she’s on the floor, the towel comes undone, and I rip it off her body.

“Stand up. I’m not done with you yet,” I tell her. I don’t raise my voice. My tone is flat but precise. A bedroom door opens, and an elderly woman comes out. Camille pushes her out of the way and runs inside her room before she can shut the door. The woman steps back and puts a hand to her heart.

I don’t say a word. I turn around and go back to the room. I use my key this time. Quintin is by the nightstand, using the hotel phone since I took his cell on my way out. His eyes nearly bug out of his head when he sees me.

He looks around, but he has no weapon. His lips are swollen, and his face is badly scratched. I know his eye will puff up in a few hours. The broken bottle is still on the floor, and I pick it up.

He holds both hands up and says, “No. Jeanine, stop.” He puts down the phone and it rings right away. I can only imagine it’s Camille calling him from the other room.

“Don’t pick up that phone. Don’t come home.”

“What? Jeanine, are you crazy? Of course, I’m coming—”

“If you step foot inside that house, I’ll castrate you, and you won’t ever be able to fuck your side piece again. I’m not going to pack your shit and send them to your mother’s. I’m throwing everything that you own away. This is the last time we will speak without our lawyers.”

All color leaves his face. He must find a bout of bravery because he comes running to me.

“I’m not going to lose you over a stupid mistake.”

“Almost a year. You’ve been fucking my friend for almost a year. You’ve screwed both of us in that time. Is what she said true? Did you fuck her in our bed?” He looks away and refuses to answer. “Wow. You’re a special piece of shit, Quintin, do you know that? You fucked her in our bed. That’s not a mistake. That’s a choice. You chose to go outside of our marriage. This is your disgusting little way of punishing me for going back to school, isn’t it? You are worse than a piece of shit.” I point the broken glass at him, and he steps back. I drop the bottle on the floor and say, “You’re not worth it.”

“Jeanine,” he says to my retreating back. I yank the door open, and Camille is standing on the other side with another towel wrapped around her. She steps back when she sees me, and Quintin runs and tries to grab my elbow. I pull away, walk out of the room, and go down the hall into an elevator.

I expect the police to come and arrest me. When I take all his clothes to the incinerator, I look for the men in uniform, but they never come. I pack up all his shoes and accessories and take them to the dumpster. I do the same with his electronics. Like I promised, everything he owned in the townhouse is taken out and destroyed. The police never come, and Quintin never shows up to try and save his things.

The next day, I find a lawyer.

Chapter 8

Jeannie

The night manager arrives early, allowing me time to shower and change out of my uniform. It’s five minutes before five when I’m standing outside the elevator banks. I could have just gone up to his room, but I didn’t think that would be proper. Right at five, the elevator opens, and he steps out. He’s so tall he has to bend to step out of it.

Not wanting any of the employees to see me with him, I grab his elbow and pull him out the back door and into the cold dark December night. He looks so good that I need to look away, but I can’t. I’ve only seen him once when he was in his bespoke suit. I had no idea he could pull off such a sexy casual look. He’s in dark jeans and a black leather jacket. He looks almost like a regular person, except for being incredibly tall. So tall that I crane my neck to look into his eyes. His hair is a little disheveled now. It’s kind of all over his head, and I shove my hands in my pockets to stop myself from trying to fix it. But I can’t stop staring at him. Images of me wrapped in his arms while we slow danced flash through my mind. Big mistake, so I look away quickly.

This can’t happen. I’m still healing and trying to find myself. My judgment in the past was questionable. That’s what happens when you grow up sheltered and think the entire world will love you as much as your close-knit family. Case in point, Quintin. I should have listened to my mother.

“So, you’ve been here since brunch?” Maybe he’s just looking for a quick hookup. I don’t do hookups. I won’t compromise on that. That’s just not who I am.

“Caught a good nap.” I bet he lives no more than two miles away from here. There was no need for him to drop fifteen hundred dollars on a room for a few hours.

That’s nothing to him. I bet he thinks he’s better than you are too.

Just like Quintin. But unlike Quintin, who thinks he’s above everyone, this man can probably walk the walk. I bet the clothes he’s wearing cost more than I make in one month.

“Well, it was good to see you.” I start to walk out of the alley and onto the main street. More bad judgment on my part. Being in a dark alley with a practical stranger. “Goodnight.”

“Hold on.” He catches up to me in one long stride. “I can give you a ride home.” I stop and face him.

I need to be more direct. That’s another thing I’ve learned in my self-help books. If I’m a doormat, everyone will walk all over me. Just like Quintin did. Or they’ll take advantage like Camille.

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