Shame on Me

Scrambling for our clothes, Matt helps me zip up my dress and I help him button his shirt.

“Shake a tail feather in there, you two. It doesn’t take that long to put your clothes back on,” Mr. Russo shouts. “Ain’t nobody got time for this.”





CHAPTER 18




On the way to the office after the photo shoot, I received a phone call from an unidentified man. He told me to bring the money to an abandoned building on Lincolnway West by the next afternoon or they would start cutting Andy’s appendages off. I told them to start with his penis before I hung up.

The anger over what I’m doing for him makes me want to kick something, but since I’m still wearing the black Manolo Blahniks that Matt loves so much, I refrain from doing them any harm and instead pound my hand against the steering wheel.

I immediately call Dallas and let him know what’s going on while I’m stopped at a red light.

“That’s good. Swing by my office. I’ve got someone here you might want to talk to.”

The dial tone sounds in my ear before I can reply and I roll my eyes. No wonder Lorelei finds him so annoying.

I leave a message on Matt’s voice mail so he knows what’s going on. Even though he trusts me to do my job, he still asked me to keep him updated so he wouldn’t worry. Because of me he has yet another thing added to his plate to fret over. I feel bad. He should be worrying about Melanie and not about my pathetic excuse for an ex-husband.

Parking my car in front of Dallas’s office fifteen minutes later, I hurry into the building and stop in my tracks when I see who is sitting in a chair in the middle of the room filing her nails.

She looks up at me and scowls.

“What is SHE doing here?” Melanie asks Dallas as he comes out of the back room and hands a cup of coffee to her.

“Dallas, what the hell is going on?”

Why would he have Melanie here? She has nothing to do with Andy. And by the looks of it, she remembers me from the night at the club when I pretended to be a drunk socialite with her and her gaggle of girlfriends.

“Melanie, this is Paige Mc—”

She cuts Dallas off mid-introduction. “I know who she is. She’s the woman fucking my husband and trying to steal my boyfriend.”

I’m sorry, what?

“You’re separated. And what the hell would I want with the creepy old guy that you’ve been screwing behind Matt’s back while trying to take his father’s company?” I fire back.

“You skanky tramp! How dare you talk to me like that!” Melanie shouts, getting up from her chair and throwing her nail file in Dallas’s direction.

“Did you seriously just call me a tramp, you home-wrecking whore?”

I don’t even realize we advanced on each other until our hands are in the air, smacking at each other like two cats playing patty-cake.

“LADIES! WHAT THE FUCK?”

We ignore Dallas’s shout and continue with our slapping match. One of my hands manages to make its way past hers and I grab a chunk of her hair, pulling as hard as I can.

“LET GO OF MY HAIR, YOU BITCH! THOSE EXTENSIONS WERE EXPENSIVE!”

“STAY AWAY FROM MATT AND HIS FATHER’S COMPANY, YOU SLUT!”

I pull harder on her hair and she lets out a yelp, taking a chunk of skin out of my arm with her fingernails.

I scream in pain just as strong arms wrap around my waist and yank me away from Melanie before I can throw any more insults at her, or finish pulling out the chunk of weave I had my fingers around. My arms and legs flail as Dallas moves me across the room and far away from Melanie.

“Jesus H. Christ. Why are chicks so batshit crazy?” Dallas asks in exasperation as he sets me down on my feet.

“Get her out of here before I kick her ass,” I tell him, shooting an angry look in Melanie’s direction.

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on with you two, but I just found out this morning that the guy Andy owes money to is this chick’s boyfriend. We need her, Paige.”

Whoa, what?

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”

Dallas raises his eyebrow at me. “Why do I feel like I just got myself into a whole shitload of trouble by helping you out with this?”

“First, tell me something. How do you know for sure that she’s dating the guy Andy owes money to?” I question.

“A couple of calls that came through on your phone were from a number you didn’t have programmed in your contact list. I had my guy trace the number and it was hers,” Dallas explains, pointing his thumb over his shoulder in Melanie’s direction. “I stopped by her place this morning to question her, and she sang like a canary.”

I look over at Melanie and see her pull out a compact from her purse and check her reflection in the small, round mirror. She straightens her hair and adds some powder to her nose before glancing over at us.