Page 2 of Fractured
Then I heard Talia say, “Not today. Cleared my day.”
I wanted to laugh, because fuck me, Talia was a young girl trapped with an old soul.
Ma said, “Well, alright then. If you're sure.”
Then I guessed she nodded or something, then I heard her say, “Tell Bigfoot I said hello.”
I chuckled then, I couldn’t help it, “Tell Short Stack, hey back.”
Jillian was huffing, but I paid her no mind, as I talked to my Ma for a few minutes longer.
I pocketed my phone once we ended the call, then I said, “Right. You ended things earlier. I’m going to move them along. Papers will be sent to you, sign them, or don’t sign them, I don’t give a fuck.”
Should have clued me in that this relationship, or whatever the hell it was, wasn’t going to last. Because no one knew we were married.
Then, without another word, I left the apartment and headed down to the office.
On the way there, I pulled up my banking app and blocked the card she had on my account.
An hour later, I was walking back into our apartment with a bunch of boxes for my shit.
Jillian was sitting on the couch on the phone, no doubt bitching to her friends about me.
I tossed the papers in front of her, “Got someone to take over the rest of the lease. We have thirty days to be out. Get to fucking packing.”
Hurriedly, I heard her say, “I’ll call you back.”
Then, as I walked to our room, her heels clacking as she followed me, she asked, “What do you mean we have thirty days to be out?”
“They’ve got a long fucking wait list. Had to pay seven grand just to get us moved up the list because you wanted this placeso bad. They got tenants ready to move in the moment a unit becomes available.”
Then I set the boxes on the floor and started packing my shit.
“But... thirty days? I don’t have anywhere to go,” she said.
I shrugged, “You're not my problem anymore. You ended things earlier.” Then I smirked, “Looks like this two-bit mechanic who’s kept you up is now a hell of a lot richer. Damn, but you can spend some cash.”
She screeched, then she nodded, “Fine.”
And something in my gut alerted me, and I had learned a long time ago to trust it, so I said, “I already blocked your card to my account. Guess you need to take this time and find yourself a job.”
She screeched again.
A week later, I had just put my things into the back of my SUV and handed my set of keys to the office manager.
She looked up when heels clacked along the floor, and I sighed.
I knew who that was.
“Hi, I’d really like to stay. How much is it?” Jillian asked in that saccharine sweet tone of hers that always grated on my nerves now that I thought about it.
Joni, the office manager, smiled, then said, “It’s thirty-one hundred dollars a month.”
Jillian’s face paled.
I smirked, “What was it you said...‘Why would I want to be with some two-bit mechanic?”
Then I tapped the counter and walked out.
