Page 10 of Meet Hate Love
Theo.
I would say wear a condom, but that ship has sailed.
Seriously. I’m freaking out. She’s like twenty-one. She said her dad is insane.
Like pulled his molars out with a set of pliers insane.
PLIERS!
If that were true, I’d say the man wasn’t the most stable, but then the fact that she’d voluntarily told him this led me to believe maybe she wasn’t, either.
Why is she telling you this?
I don’t know. But I can’t die. I have too much left in life to do.
If I’m missing when you come back from Europe, know it was him.
He’s not going to kill you. I’ll bring home beer and try to help you sort out your life.
Because that’s what I always had to do. Help Theo sort out his shit. Shaking my head, I pulled up an article due before I left for Europe. I’d just typed out bullet point number five of why a person should visit Rio de Janeiro when I heard the creak of Margot undoubtedly rolling her chair to Blake’s side of the cubicle. She did it every day after lunch so they could discuss their newest book.
“I just got to that chapter inBad,” Margot’s attempt at a whisper floated through the divider. “I would totally let that mafia lord fuck me with a gun.”
My fingers froze over my keyboard. Had she just said a gun?
A tap of keys came from Blake’s side, then stopped. “Just wait until he plays Russian Roulette with her…” A subtle sigh followed that statement. “While fucking her.”
I stared straight ahead at the calendar tacked to the fabric divider. Did the woman actually want to have a man stick a firearm in her pussy? Because if so, I was way out of my league. They continued to “whisper” explicit details about their newest book club read. Loaded firearms, blood play… When Blake whispered the word “pussy,” I gripped the edge of my desk, trying not to think about what other fetishes she may have.
I went back to editing my article onFive Tips to Enjoy Your Time in Brazilin the hopes the distraction would deflate the raging hard-on tenting my slacks. Two lines into the article, an email [email protected] up on my screen.SUBJECT:All the sh!t I did for the project you stole.
I hadn’tstolenit. More like finagled it, but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t a little seed of guilt niggling at my conscience. Okay, maybe it was more than a little seed of guilt. I felt like a complete asshole.
I finished up my edits just before the recurring afternoon reminder went off on my phone.Call Grandma to take blood pressure medicine.And that was why I couldn’t feel too guilty for taking Blake’s assignment. Regardless of whether she went to Paris or to the Lunchbox Museum in Georgia, her paycheck would be the same.My going to Europe, though, meant the difference between possibly paying off my grandmother’s debt before the bank foreclosed on her house. And I owed Grandma everything because growing up, she’d given me everything.
ChapterFive
BLAKE
The day of blackmail had arrived. Early that morning, I stood in front of the fogged-over bathroom mirror, questioning whether I had finally reached rock bottom. Surely I had. There would be no other excuse for what I’d just done… used my showerhead to masturbate to the mental image of my hated coworker’s penis hours before I would use said penis to exploit him. Crap. My cheeks were still flushed from the orgasm. If that wasn’t an extremely humiliating record low, I didn’t want to know what was.
“It’s fine,” I said to myself, reaching for my toothbrush and toothpaste. “He’s an asshole with a pretty face.” And an impressive dick. Just because everything about him turned me on didn’t mean I was a hypocrite. I used the toothpaste-covered brush to point at my reflection. “I’m not going to do it again. I will not masturbate to the mental image of anything to do with that man.”
Halfway through my pep talk to myself, the screech of my neighbor serenading her cats bled through my apartment wall. The dog across the hall howled when she hit some god-awful note.
By the time I’d gotten dressed, she’d moved from Mariah Carey to Adele.
“God, please don’t let me end up like her…” I grabbed my purse from the kitchen counter, followed by the blackmail letter Margot and I had put together last night over a bottle of wine. We’d cut out letters from aWomen’s Healthmagazine and used a glue stick to adhere the message to a piece of computer paper. It looked more like a ransom note than anything else. Except, instead of demanding money, the mismatched print spelled out:Iknow about Paul. Meet me at the Drip Drip Coffee Café at eleven, or else.Margot had insisted on adding the “or else.” I’d thought it was over the top, but then again, blackmailing a penis was over the top. Below the ridiculous, ominous message, we’d glued a picture of Paul in all his pierced glory.
“And this is the day my life takes a wrong turn…” I whispered, folding the paper and shoving it inside my purse before I left my apartment.
* * *
The subway was eerilyempty at six a.m., as was most of Broadway. A few joggers here and there. People sleeping on the street, but not a businessman in sight.
Margot met me outside the revolving doors of our office building. “I brought this in case we need to distract someone.” She opened her massive purse, tilting it so I could see inside. “It’s a replica of Johnny Depth’s dick.” Her favorite porn star…
“You can’t be serious?” I stared down at the glittery-purple silicone dildo. “How in the hell is that supposed to distract someone? I swear to God, Margot, if you tell me your plan is to throw it at someone or smack them in the face—”
