Page 88 of Nothing to Lose: Lost Trilogy: Part 1
By my shocked gasp, it is obvious that whatever he is telling me right now is nothing I knew.
“Aww,” he tsks. “You didn’t know daddy was in the business of killing people for a living.”
My airwaves are closing. I’m not sure if it is a panic attack or an asthma attack. I haven’t had an asthma attack in years though. It is something that I fought with as a child and into my teens. My dad used to always make sure I was getting my breathing treatments in time, and that I’d have an inhaler on hand, and…
“You need to calm down, Emily,” Steve’s voice calls out to me. “This is not a good time for theatrics.”
It is as if he is admonishing a child, and I almost feel ashamed for a second.
“Here’s some water.” He puts a bottle in my hand, and I don’t think. I just bring it to my mouth and drink it all in one go. I press a hand to my chest and count to ten, slowly.
“You’ve always been so dramatic,” Steve admonishes me. “Here, sit down.”
I drop on the couch behind me without another word.
“I didn’t think you’d just take my word for it,” he starts talking as if I didn’t almost pass out in distress. “I have evidence of your father masterminding the takedown of a bikers’ club.”
My eyes fall to the folder he’s brought in with him. I watch in horror and fascination as he shows me picture after picture of the clubhouse being blown up. Phone transcripts between my father and someone named Shortie, even actual recordings, which Steve has on his tablet.
“I also hate to disappoint you this much in one go,” Steve chuckles, meaning the exact opposite of what he’s saying. He loves every second of what he’s doing to me right now. “But your boyfriend has been no choir boy while you two were apart.”
He opens a picture of Puck in what seems to be a strip club, if judging the background and naked girls dancing on poles are any indication. He has a beautiful woman in his lap. They’re both laughing. Then there’s another picture of her pushing her naked breasts against his chest while grinding herself onto his dick. Another picture of her head thrown back while clutching Puck’s face to her chest.
The pictures go on and on. They seem to be from different days too, so it wasn’t just a one off thing.
“They talk on the phone, too, so you know,” Steve adds more salt to my very raw wound. “And text…”
My head feels fuzzy and my eyes unfocused when he shoves something in my face. It takes me a while to realize it’s copies of their texts to each other. Her name is Lala. How exotic and stripper like.
Lala: I love it when you call me babe when you fuck me
The sob ripping from the back of my throat hurts my chest, and I close my eyes when all the words start blending together.
“And I thought you’d also like to see this,” Steve’s voice reaches me from somewhere far. I’m not sure but it’s like he speaks to me through a tunnel. My head is a mess.
I can’t believe this is happening.
I can’t believe it is Steve out of all people who is showing me all this.
I can’t believe…
I just can’t believe it.
“You need to see this, Emily,” he shakes my shoulder, making my eyes snap open.
When I finally look, it takes me a moment to figure out what is in front of me. It is a picture that, according to the words to the side was sent to Puck by Lala. After some squinting, I realize that I am looking at a picture of her private parts.
Without thinking, my eyes go to the date that is right above the image. It was definitely sent to him, along with the text where she told him how much she loved it when he called herbabewhile they were fucking, after he and I became a thing.
“Get out,” I tell Steve without even looking at him.
I have no energy left in my body. In fact, I feel like I may pass out. But I don’t want to do it with him in my house. Preferably, I wish he wasn’t even in the same zip code as me when I closed my eyes and went to sleep.
“You can be mad at me all you want, Emily,” Steve’s condescending tone reaches me. He sounds vile. He is here to hurt me. “But the reality is,” he continues, “that at least I owned up to my mistake. This… sick individual has been messing around behind your back during all the time you were together.”
“How do you know that?” I slur when I speak. I shake my head a little to clear it. “How do you know any of this?”
Instead of answering my question, Steve drops a different set of pictures in front of me. I look down and recognize my own face. And Puck’s. He has me up against the wall in the hotel we stayed while in Texas. It is obvious that he is making me feel good. I look strong and confident, owning my pleasure, and totally different than the person I am in this very moment.
