Page 39 of How We End
“Right, and I’m twenty-three,” Barbra said, rolling her eyes.
No one would believe that Barbra Smith was twenty-three.I doubt she looked that young when she was.She had the look of old money.As in, she looked down her nose at everyone.
Dinner was called, and we found our way to the table.There were four other couples.The men talked about their golf games and sports betting while in Vegas.The wives talked about kids and vacations.I did what I was hired to do.Smile and look pretty.The waitstaff cleared the plates, and the presentation began.
“If you’ll excuse me.”I smiled and pressed a kiss to Gabe’s cheek before weaving my way through the tables and stepping out into the hallway.I made my way to the bathroom and pulled out my phone.Julian had a game.That seemed to be the only way I could see him.
It had been almost a week since I’d heard from him.The podcast reported he had been hurt.In interviews, he looked tired.Beat down.He still texted sometimes, but they were short, and I didn’t push it.If it was over, it was over.
It was the third period, and Vegas was ahead by two.Julian was on the ice.My heart raced with each shot he took and missed.I wanted him to win for him.Maybe then he wouldn’t look so beat down and I could stop losing sleep over him.
Julian skated over to the bench.I needed the camera to stay on him—just a second longer.I wanted to know he was okay.He pulled off his helmet and handed it to the trainer behind him.He looked like every other player on that bench, just trying to make it to the buzzer.
And that didn’t help.I couldn’t tell if he was okay.If that was why he hadn’t called—because he’d worked it all out.Or if he thought he was protecting me from something he assumed I needed protecting from.
“Did Gabe tell you if you were a good girl, you could have some screen time?”Barbra’s words pulled me from the screen.
I tucked my phone back into my purse.“Sorry, work related.”It was.Julian kind of was my job.
“Please.You’re not fooling anyone.I couldn’t remember where I had seen you before.Then I remembered two years ago, I saw you leave a restaurant with Dr.Richard Valentine.”She looked at me in the mirror.“What happened to him?”
I walked over to the mirror, leaning closer to check my lipstick.“People break up.Relationships fail.”
Barbra snorted.“You want me to believe that Richard, the best plastic surgeon in LA, was dating some—what did you say you did?A fitness instructor?What did you weasel out of him while you were ‘in love’?A little nip tuck here and there?Maybe some new tits?Or a little filler?”Her gaze swept over me, slow and scathing.“I know what you are.”
“And what is that?”
“A gold-digging tramp that moves from one bed to another, hoping that someday one of them will marry you.”She laughed.“Gabe won’t.He’s still very much in love with his wife.You might get a trip to some tropical island where you’ll walk around like a topless billboard for breast implants.But in three months, Gabe will grow tired of you, and you will have to find another man to cling to.”
I stepped back from the mirror, checking my reflection.I worked hard for this body.Hours at the gym, restricted diets.I spent more time on the treadmill and stair climber than I did on my back.And I spent a lot of time there too.Because that was the part Barbra didn’t see.All the work it took to be a fantasy.To be the one thing she wasn’t.A thing to look at.“They’re real.As in, I was born with these tits.And this ass.”
“Well, at least god gave you something to work with because it wasn’t a brain.Gabe is a good man.Too good for you.”
I was tired of this conversation, of this night.Sex was so much easier.I could turn it all off and let what happened happen.But playing a role was exhausting, and dealing with people like Barb wasn’t worth it.“Gabe is a grown man who can make his own decisions.”
“He was hurting, and you saw that.You swooped in and took advantage of a broken man.”
This time I scoffed.“A broken man?Please.”
“If you hurt him?—”
“What?”I turned on her.“What will you do?Huh?What power do you really have over me?”
Barbra stepped closer to me.I could see the lines of her life etched on her face, see the wasted years.“I will tell everyone what you are.An overpriced whore in a designer dress.At least that’s what Richard said.”
“And what do you suppose you are, Barbra?How many nights did you have to lie there and let balding Barry fuck you so you could order that designer bag or get the marble countertops everyone else was getting?How many kids did you push out so he wouldn’t leave you?Huh?”I stepped closer to her.Her designer perfume assaulted my senses.“And after those years of taking care of those children, picking up his dirty underwear, he can’t keep his eyes off of some cheap whore.But what must hurt the most is that I didn’t marry the first one.I’m still out here getting the vacations, the diamonds, the filler, the time Barry wouldn’t give you.And that’s why you hate me.Because I won.”I turned to leave.“Before you go out there and tell everyone what you think I am, it’s not me you’ll hurt.It’s Gabe.”I left before she could say another word.
CHAPTERNINETEEN
JULIAN
November 15
DC vs Las Vegas, Final Score 3-2
“Julian, can you tell us what happened in the last period?”
I wiped the sweat from my eyes.This had to be the dumbest question reporters liked to ask.That and what did I think I could’ve done differently.I couldn’t answer the way I wanted to.Instead I had to smile and say, “We had a couple turnovers in the neutral zone that cost us a goal.We need to do better.”I didn’t see any faces in the sea of reporters that were calling out questions.
