Page 40 of Octane

“I love the way that name rolls off your tongue.”

She doesn’t answer, and I hear some rustling in the background.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. I was just fixing the sheets.”

“Okay, I’ll let you get back to sleep. I was just calling to tell you I miss you, and I can’t wait to see you in a few days.”

“Miss you, too. Bye.”

Ending the call, I stare at the picture of her on my lock screen. With her long, blonde hair and emerald green eyes, she looks like a goddess. People doubted our relationship when we first got together. I’ll admit, I hadn’t thought it was going to be more than just a fling either. I couldn’t believe that Kristen Devereaux, drop-dead gorgeous, high-profile socialite, and heiress to the Devereaux Oil fortune, would have any interest in me. When I discovered she did, I knew I had to make every moment count before she realized how out of my league she was. I guess whatever I did worked.

Our condominium isn’t far from LAX, but typical of this city, the traffic is horrendous. I’ll be lucky if I can get home within an hour. I open the email app on my phone— at least I can clear my inbox out while we’re stuck in traffic.

Thankfully, it only takes thirty minutes to get home. The closer I get to Kristen, the more I crave wrapping her in my arms. It’s been a long ten days away from her. When I get off the elevator, I hear loud music coming from down the hall.

Someone must be having a party.

As I get closer to our door, the music gets louder. I realize it’s coming from our condo. Confused, I unlock the door as quickly as I can, and when I open it, I’m blown away by the sight before me. There must be at least fifty people inside of our two-story condo.

Beer and liquor bottles cover nearly every inch of counter space, and there are people snorting cocaine off of our coffee table in the living room. Another group of people are smoking a joint in the kitchen, and some asshole is sliding down the railing like it’s a ride at a fucking carnival.

I’m absolutely livid. I scan the downstairs for Kristen, but I don’t see her. I'm still not willing to believe that she would lie to me and have a hand in the destruction of our property. I hope that there is a good— well, an explanation for all of this.

Maybe sheissick, and sheisupstairs in bed. Maybe she invited a friend over to hang out and that friend threw a party, knowing Kristen is too sick to stop it.

There’s no way she would be able to sleep through this, though.

I find the source of the music and hit the power button. A collective groan echoes through the room.

“Everyone out of my house,now,” I order them.

I expect resistance, maybe even a fight from some people, but I am met with only mild pushback. Which I am glad about, because right now, I feel like I could kill someone with one punch. As people file out of the door, I make my way upstairs. I can hear more music as I ascend, coming from one of the back bedrooms. My stomach rolls, thinking the worst.

A couple is making out on the sofa at the top of the stairs. “Beat it,” I tell them, and they scatter quickly.

I turn the corner and stalk slowly toward the master bedroom. The beat of the music mixes with moans of pleasure. As I place my hand on the door handle, my heart feels like it’s going to beat through my chest. Breaking out in a cold sweat, saliva floods my mouth at the sound.

I feel like I’m going to be sick.

Opening the door, I see red. It’s my worst nightmare come true. In our bed is Kristen and another man. I run across the room and pull her off of the guy she’s straddling, fury guiding me the entire way.

“Jackson, oh, my God! What are you doing here?” she shrieks.

I push her to the side, focusing on the mystery man, first. Taking her place, I straddle the motherfucker who just had his dick inside ofmyfucking fiancée.

“What the fuck?” he screams from beneath me.

“Don’t hurt him!” Kristen shouts, grabbing a sheet and covering herself with it.

But it was as if I didn’t hear her. I grab the fucker by the hair, and just as I’m about to deck him in the face, I realize I know who this asshole is.

Derrick.

Mother. Fucker.

Derrick is the result of an affair my Father had with one of his many whores while married to my Mother. He paraded Derrick around in front of us like he was the fucking golden child. I hated him.

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