It’s just like the unexpected explosion of a volcano—rage. It comes out of nowhere. One minute the village people are leading a quiet existence, going about their business, buying shit in the market, and then the next minute they’re petrified. Some are taken completely off guard. You can tell because their facial expressions offer no clues of distress. But some saw the explosion coming after it was too late. It’s cemented on their faces. Absolute fear.
I wanted to see it on Brian’s face—absolute fear. I wanted my rage to petrify him. I was meek and mild during our breakup. I sniveled and wept in solitude. I never once had the emotional breakdown everyone around me thought I was owed. I didn’t freak out on him. I walked away with class.
Yeah. I didn’t really feel like being classy at the moment.
“Bailey?” Erica said. “Now.”
“He knows this is my place,” I spat. “There’s, like, a trillion bars and clubs to go to in this town.”
“Enough. We’re going.” Erica yanked my arm.
I yanked right back and headed for Brian’s table.
“Bailey!” Erica hissed, but it was too late.
“Hi!” I squealed cheerfully.
Brian looked up and frowned. He used to do that a lot—frown at me—expressing his disappointment in something I did or said. Or something I didn’t do or didn’t say. I had a lot to say at the moment. I imagined he’d frown through all of it.
“Bailey, what are you doing here?” he asked.
“Having a girls’ night,” I replied. “What are you doing here?”
He smiled patiently. “Well, obviously I’m on a date.”
I extended my hand to the blonde. “I’m Bailey.”
“Erin,” she replied, shaking my hand. “How do you two know each other?”
“We used to fuck,” I replied.
Erin’s mouth dropped open. Brian scratched the back of his neck and sighed.
“We were engaged, and we used to fuck,” I went on. “But I guess I got a little too complicated for him, so he dumped me.”
“Bailey, let’s go,” Erica said, popping up by my side. “Hi, Brian.”
“Yeah,” he mumbled.
“Wait,” Erin said. “You two were engaged?”
I nodded—big, bright smile plastered across my face.
“‘Were’ being the operative word,” I replied. “It was great for a while there, but I guess Brian needed a more perfect woman. You know the type: perfect body and smile. Says all the right things. Superstar blow job giver.”
Erin’s eyes bugged.
“A girl who’s got it all. One who doesn’t mess up.” I glanced at Brian, and then I leaned in close and spoke softly to his flustered date. “Don’t mess up.”
She furrowed her brow at me, then looked at Brian. I followed her gaze and fastened my eyes right on his exasperated face.
“I never got my Pompeii,” I said, low and even. “And you know I deserved every bit of it. But I’m not going to erupt all over you like I’m owed. Because I’ve already won. She’s not fucking you tonight.”
This time I let Erica yank me all the way out of the bar and to the corner of Front and 18th Street.
“Tell me again why we’ve done our last four beach trips here?” I said. “I mean, we know everyone in this goddamn town. Isn’t the point of a trip to get away? So we don’t have to see people?”
“Bailey, tone down the bitchiness, okay?” Erica ordered. She dug around the inside of her purse for her cell phone. “And you know why. Noah, God love him, is a moron with our kids. I’ve gotta stay close until they get older.”
I snorted, then took off toward another club.
“Bailey!” Erica called, running after me.
“I’m not ready to go back to the hotel,” I said, shrugging off her hand.
“That’s fine. We can hang out, but if you go dark on me . . .”
“Nobody’s going dark, okay? I just wanna get my dance on,” I replied.
I spent the rest of the evening getting wasted and looking like a total slut on the dance floor. My goal was to erase two recent painful memories: shaking my ass for Reece and seeing my ex-fiancé on a booty date.
When Erica and I emerged from the club at 2:30 A.M., a taxi van was waiting. A group of young men (one carrying a case of beer) cut in front of us and threw open the van door.
“Oh, well,” Erica said. “Let’s find another.”
The boy toting the beer spotted us. “Oh, my bad. You wanted this taxi?”
“It’s cool,” Erica replied. “You guys take it. We’ll wait for another.”
“Well, I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you come with us? We’re going to a film screening.”
The others nodded, shuffling around the sidewalk.
A film screening at 2:30 in the morning? Please. I shook my head. “Thanks, but we’re tired. We’re gonna go home.”
“Nah! Come with us. It’s gonna be a fun time,” Beer Boy pleaded.
“No no,” I replied. “You all go have a good time.”
He turned to his friend and muttered, “Fucking bitch.” A few of the boys snickered.
Excuse me?
And then something in my brain snapped. I watched that little college punk stand there, avoiding my face, gripping his bush-league beer while the taxi driver yelled at his punk ass posse to make a decision.
“Hey, son!” I called in his direction. “There’s no need for that. No need for that kind of language.”
He hung his head—literally hung his head—while I chastised him.
“Bailey, let’s go.” Erica tugged on my arm.
“Now, I’m sorry we turned you down, and I’m sorry if that embarrassed you, but maybe we don’t feel like ‘screening’ the bullshit home movie you shot for film class on your bullshit, cheap ass camcorder.”
“Oh my God,” Erica said.
“We got to this cab first. Then you and your dipshit friends come barreling down the sidewalk and steal it. What you need to be saying to me is ‘I’m sorry.’ And then you need to go brush up on the manners you clearly left at home when you came to college. Ain’t nobody gonna wanna fuck a little asshole like you if you can’t be classy,” I said.
“Bailey!” Erica hauled me along.
“Punk ass motherfucker!” I yelled over my shoulder. He flipped me off. I fought Erica as hard as I could. “Let me at him. One minute with that little shit! Just one!”