“Hold on one second. Let me get this straight.” I raise my hand in front of me and close my eyes. I inhale through my nose and exhale through my mouth just like my therapist taught me, only to find out the bitch lied because I’m still mad as hell. When I open my eyes and see Nate still standing there, looking like he won something, red colors my vision. “You can’t handle running into me on your little walks and your precious ego is worried some people won’t like you? So you’re blackmailing me through the freaking HOA?”
It’s so absurd that I almost laugh. As a screenwriter, I worked tirelessly to come up with plots and ideas that would make people laugh or cry or scream. But never, and I mean never, could I come up with something as truly and utterly ridiculous as this.
Some of the cockiness fades from his demeanor, but because he’s Nate, he doesn’t back down.
“It’s obvious you hate it here,” he says. “You’ve always thought you were better than us. So why don’t you just take this as your next excuse to leave?”
Now, if I were thinking clearly—which I’m not—or concerned in the slightest about Nate’s feelings—which I’m also not—I might notice the way his angry words could be masking a deeper hurt and insecurities. But I don’t, and Nate is in large part to thank for that.
“You think I want to be here?” The rhetorical question drips with acid as it falls out of my mouth. “You think I left for LA as soon as possible only to return at nearly thirty to live with my parents for fun? Do you really think if I had literally any other options, I’d be standing in the backyard of my childhood home, arguing with you? Come on, Nate. I may not like you, but even I know you’re smarter than that.”
“Well then, it looks like you have quite the dilemma in front of you.” He shoves his hands into his khaki pockets, rocking back onto the heels of his shoes. “But what was that advice you gave me earlier? Oh, that’s right. Don’t start none, won’t be none?” He pauses, taking a step closer. “Looks like round two goes to me.”
He aims his bright smile at me, winking once before walking away. My hands curl into fists so tight, I can feel the sharp sting as my nails break the skin of my palms. I watch him walk away, trying to think of anything at all to say so that he doesn’t get the last word, but I come up empty-handed.
He may have won this round, but that was because I didn’t know we were playing dirty. Now that I know his game? He better watch out. Because unlike my queen, Michelle Obama, there’s nothing stopping me from going as low as I can.
Chapter 6
He’s leveraging the HOA against me!” I shout in the middle of Ashleigh’s sparsely decorated living room with Ruby on speakerphone. “Who even does that?”
As soon as Nate left, I abandoned the barbecue and spent the entire night staring at the HOA violation notice, frantically googling the consequences of not paying. I mean, really, it’s a made-up system for bored, power-hungry people to feel a slight sense of superiority. What could they really do?
Well, as it turns out, a lot.
Beyond the amount of fees piling up, I found horror stories of liens being put on houses, and—in some cases—forcing homes into foreclosure. Between this news, the steak, two different potato salads, cupcakes, and three glasses of sangria I had at the barbecue, I thought I was going to vomit. I stayed up all night doomscrolling and plotting all the ways I would seek revenge against Nate.
He really thought he had me.
But luckily for me, my best friend is a kick-ass lawyer who’s willing to roll around in the mud with me.
“He’s not leveraging the HOA against you,” Ruby’s semi-distracted voice bursts through the speaker. “He’s blackmailing you and that is a literal crime.”
“Are we sure this isn’t some big misunderstanding?” Ashleigh asks from the kitchen. Her calm and sweet voice is a nice change of pace from the warpaths Ruby and I are on. “Maybe he was just joking and trying to get a rise out of you. I can’t see him really taking this feud of yours to the HOA. It doesn’t seem like him.”
“You don’t know him the way I know him. Trust me, this is exactly like him. He’ll do whatever it takes to win.” I tell her the god-awful truth before I redirect my attention. “But back to what Ruby was saying: When you say literal crime, does that mean he could go to jail?”
Glee I didn’t think was possible to feel on two hours of sleep spikes my adrenaline as I picture Nate being escorted out of his two-story house with the entire neighborhood watching.
“It’s possible,” she says, spurring my fantasy on. “But he’d more than likely just have to pay a fine.”
I deflate on Ashleigh’s couch, which may or may not be more comfortable than my bed. “Boo. That’s not nearly as fun.”
“Awww, Ruby.” Ashleigh sits down next to me and places little glass roller tubes on the coffee table. “You should see her face. It looks like you just kicked her puppy.”
When Ashleigh and I exchanged numbers, I did plan on calling her eventually . . . just not this soon. But after working myself into a frenzy, I knew I had to talk about Nate to somebody and I couldn’t let my parents hear. I considered taking a drive and calling Ruby in the car, but I realized that in this situation, Nate totally has the upper hand. I needed somebody on my side. Someone on the ground. Someone local.
Thank god Ashleigh is so friendly and outgoing, because while meeting new people may come easy to some people, I really struggle with it. I’ve never been the most popular person. I mean, besides Ruby, Nate was one of my closest friends, and we saw how that worked out. Then in LA, I made some friends at school, but because we were all in the same industry, the relationships felt very conditional. Like people were only ever friends if they could get something out of it.
And then, of course, there was Peter.
I met Peter my sophomore year. He was the graduate teaching assistant in my creative writing class. I’ll never forget walking into the lecture hall and seeing him for the first time. All tall, tanned skin, and whiskey-brown eyes I swear you could see from space. He was my California dream in human form.
And I wish I’d never laid eyes on him.
“Sorry to crush your dreams, Colls. But you know, we can always— Luke!” Ruby shouts at her assistant and startles Ashleigh. “Why is Mrs. Grayson complaining that I’m not returning her messages? What messages is she talking about?” She stops yelling and gives poor Luke a second to defend himself. “No, taking messages only works if you deliver them to me. How am I supposed to know to call her back if you’re hoarding them on your desk? This isn’t rocket science.”
While I usually try to defend Ruby’s assistants, I can’t help him out this time. I’m sure he’s afraid to bring them to her because she’s always yelling, but even I know he needs to pass the messages along. Luke has been her assistant for a whopping four months. Unfortunately—or fortunately—for him, I have a sneaking suspicion he won’t make it to five.