Page 54 of Grease Monkey
She could have stabbed me in the stomach, and it would have hurt less.
“A date?”
The edges of Juliette’s lip twist as her eyes gleam, like she knows all she has to do is turn the knife a little more.
“Yes, with a lovely young man who’s taken her to DouxDésir,the quaint little French place, you know, the one you must be a member of?”
I know which place she’s talking about. The pretentious as fuck place A-list celebs can be spotted at.
Spinning on my heel, I dig my car keys out of my pocket and fling the door open. Tearing out of the driveway, I glance in the rearview mirror at Ana’s mom, a wicked grin on her face and her arms folded across her chest. I have never hated a person more than I do that woman.
I drive on autopilot, barely remembering how I got from my house to outside the restaurant, but the valet guy is yelling at me to come back and move my car. He can go to hell. The whole world can go to hell until I speak to Ana and figure out what the fuck is going on. She doesn’t want this. I know she doesn’t.
“Sir? Sir?” A tall skinny guy in a black suit and tie rounds his Maître D stand and blocks my path to the restaurant. “You cannot go in there dressed likethat.”
I look down at my green Henley, torn jeans, and unlaced combat boots.
“I need to speak to one of your customers,” I practically growl, but the man doesn’t shift. “Please.”
“I’m sorry, Sir, but we have standards we need to maintain, and unfortunately, you do not meet them.”
Fuck’s sake, what is with everyone and their fucking standards?
“Listen, dickhead. My girlfriend is in there with some other dude. Either you let me pass, or I will make you.”
The host flicks his eyes behind me and clicks his fingers, but over his shoulder, I see her. Sitting across the table from herdate, the same guy I had seen kiss her cheek at that fucking gala. And then the douche slides his hand into hers on top of the table.
No.
No.
She squeezes his back just as two security guards grip my shoulders like a vice. Anger flares in my chest, my eyesight narrows on their joined hands, and I thrash in the guard’s hold.
“Right, Son, time to leave.”
“Get the fuck off me,” I snarl, thrashing harder to no avail as their grip tightens, digging deeper into my muscles and sending blinding white pain down my arms.
“Alright, alright, I’m leaving,” I yell loudly, and several diners gaze in my direction. Lips tight and jaw clenched, my whole body winds tight as I stare into the wide sea-green eyes of Ana. Her mouth parts and she guiltily drops the hand of her date and gets to her feet. But she doesn’t move toward me. I’m not even sure what I’d do if she did. And what’s worse is I still see her love for me shining from her eyes. Or is that just wishful thinking on my part? Is this how she always looked at me and I mistook it for more than it was? Let myself be caught up in the forbidden aspect of it all that I was a dumbass to ever think the way she gazed at me, with warmth and sunshine and with somethingmore, that meant she truly loved me? Was she slumming it with me until someone better came along?I saw the way she looked at him. Saw the smile that I thought was only for me. Fucking bitch.
This should never have happened. If I stayed away from her as I told myself to, I wouldn’t be here like a fucking moron being manhandled by some goons while my girlfriend’s date stares.
Fuck this.
Roughly, I shrug out of the bouncer’s hold. No way I’m giving any of the posh pricks the satisfaction of watching someone they deem less worthy getting kicked out. Undoubtedly, it would be the highlight of their pathetic lives witnessing that show.
“Please never return toDouxDésir,sir,” the scrawny host calls after me as I thunder to my car and wheel spin onto the street. My pulse is thrashing in my ears, every muscle in my body spasming with a rage so nuclear it wouldn’t take much to detonate.
I don’t close the car door when I get home, leaving the engine running as I dart to my room, grab a duffle bag and start shoving things inside.
“Son? What’s happened?” Dad asks from the doorway.
Ignoring him, I storm to the bathroom, sweeping a bunch of toiletries off a shelf and into the bag. The coconut shower gel sits on top, the bottle taunting me of the first time she came here, smelt like me, clung to me as we kissed… lifting the bottle, I throw it at the wall with a thunk. The cap flies off, and the creamy white liquid sprays across the blue tiles like blood spatter.
“Teddy, baby? Please speak to us,” Mom implores, her soft touch landing on my back.
I spin, and she steps back like I’d hit her.
“I’m leaving Mom,” I say, marching past her and picking up the car parts on the shelves, deciding which to take now and what to get shipped over later.
