Page 2 of Business Casual

“Avery, you know what my car means to me.” I beat my hand against the steering wheel. “If I see her—”

“I’ll pay for it. I’ll pay for the damage,” he said quickly.

I pursed my lips. “So, you know she did it.”

“I mean I don’t know,” he sighed. “But I know her. She called when she left and said something about seeing your car. She didn’t say she did anything, but knowing her, she would be on some keying cars type of shit. So, yeah, I’ll handle it.”

“You better handle her, or I will! I swear to God,” I retorted, frustration getting the best of me.

“I’ll handle it. I’ll handle her,” he assured me. “She won’t do anything else to you or your stuff again. Cool?”

“No, it’s not cool! This is so childish. You know that, right? Childish! What is wrong with her?”

“Yeah… I don’t know what to say.”

“What the hell?” I shook my head in disbelief. “Is it drugs?”

He let out a short, dry laugh. “She’s not on drugs. She’s just… twenty-two.”

“No, areyouon drugs? Because you’re thirty-five dating someone who is immature enough to key my car for no reason. You’re thirty-five dating someone who you enjoy making jealous by flirting with me every chance you get. I mean, what is going on?”

He sighed. “I don’t know. At this point, I don’t think I could get out of this situation even if I wanted to,” he muttered jokingly.

“Avery, I’m not playing,” I growled irritably. “We have too many mutual friends and we keep crossing each other’s path so this can’t continue.”

“Yeah, she’s gone too far,” he agreed. “Send me the amount you need to fix it.”

I bit my tongue as I eased onto the highway. There was so much I wanted to say, but I planned to wait until after he paid for my car to get fixed before I really told him about himself.

“I don’t know how much it’ll cost. The whole thing will likely need to be done. Your girlfriend keyed it from headlight to taillight,” I explained tersely.

“You still take it to the garage on Sixth Street? Take it Monday morning and I’ll meet you there.”

Hearing his offer made my anger dissipate. “I have an interview Monday morning,” I told him.

“Monday afternoon?” he suggested. “I worked today so I’m off on Monday.”

“Monday afternoon is fine.”

“It’s a date, baby girl.”

I rolled my eyes. “No. It’s an appointment. Goodbye, Avery.”

He chuckled. “Bye, Imani.”

When I got off the phone, I turned the volume up on my music and tried to clear my mind.

Avery Hughes was my boyfriend for two and a half years. We were never going to be together forever, but we were always going to be in each other’s lives. His best friend was married to my best friend. We broke up amicably a year and a half ago because we didn’t want to make it awkward for them. We’d known each other for seven years, but when I walked into the bank where he worked a few years ago, he asked me out. I ended it when I suspected that he was involved with the new bank teller at his branch. He denied cheating; however, two days later, he was dating her. And just before she found out she was pregnant, she discovered that he cheated on her with Katrina.

I shook my head.

“He’s an idiot,” I said to myself as I eased into the parking spot at my condo.

After getting out of my car, I walked around and stared at the damage to my paint job. I pursed my lips and trailed my fingers along the deep gash. Thoughts of my dad flooded my brain and I blinked back tears. Until my car was fixed, I wasn’t going to get any rest. Everything already started feeling off. Turning on my heel, I went inside my home.

I was supposed to spend Sunday getting prepared for my interview, but I overslept. The dry cleaner was closed, so I couldn’t pick up my favorite interview suit. I ordered takeout and got a small case of food poisoning. I wasn’t superstitious. But anytime something happened to the candy-coated paint job, the world moved differently. And when I woke up Monday morning, I prayed for a better day.

I didn’t feel good, but I looked good.

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