“Paul,” Chris fumed. “You wouldn’t.”
The big guy flattened himself against the wall even further. If he could have melded with it, he would have. “I…”
“Tell me you didn’t.”
“Fuck.” Vaughan wiped a hand across his face. “This is unbelievable.”
“Christopher, you told us you outgrew this nonsense,” said Ray, visibly shaking with anger. “That it was just a phase.”
“Oh, god.” Samantha collapsed onto the nearest worn leather lounge chair. “This is an absolute catastrophe. What will everyone think?”
The half-a-head and superior body mass Paul had on Chris didn’t matter. Not even a little. Chris grabbed him by his lapels, shaking him roughly, making his head whip back and forth. “You betrayed me! You fucking betrayed me!”
“I love you,” shouted Paul, a tear trailing down his cheek. “How the hell could I just stand by and watch you marry someone else, even if it was bullshit, huh?”
“I knew it.” My hands curled into tight fists, lungs laboring. I couldn’t get enough air. Anger filled me to overflowing, leaving room for nothing else.
“Yes.” Over on the lounge, Samantha’s eyes lit with glee. “We’ll tell everyone it’s her fault. That she did something.”
“Excellent,” said Ray. “Perfectly believable.”
“What?” I asked, voice low and deadly.
“You love me?” Chris stumbled back a step.
Face taut, Paul followed. “Of course I do.”
The two men stared at each other, lost to the rest of the unfolding drama. Meanwhile, Ray and his wife talked in hushed tones. Vaughan just leaned against the wall, his expression somewhere between shocked to shit and bemused. Fair enough, it wasn’t his life going to hell in a handbasket. It was mine, making it time to take action.
“But you know she means nothing to me,” said Chris. “Nothing.”
“I know.” Tentatively, Paul reached out a hand, cupping Chris’s face for a moment. How tender. How sweet. And really, I’d about had enough. Some part inside of me had cracked wide open.
Fury pounding through my veins, I advanced on the two secret lovers. The fuckers. Chris turned to face me, oblivious as to my intent. Or perhaps not entirely. He tried to raise a hand, but too late. With fingers curled tight and muscles tensed, I swung. My fist drove into his perfect straight nose with awesome aim. Pain resonated up my arm as blood gushed from his nostrils. Man, there was a lot of it. Niagara would have been jealous.
Wow.
Chris yelped, doubling over, hands covering his face. From behind me, Vaughan’s hand descended upon my shoulder. It seemed everywhere people were yelling. Sure, my knuckles hurt. But it was pure satisfaction curving the smile on my face. I slowly stretched out my fingers, flexing them. Painful, though they all worked. Nothing broken. Far out, I’d actually hit someone and I couldn’t think of anyone more deserving than my own fiancé. The room was a whir of action, everyone on their feet. Lots of noise. All I could hear, however, was the pounding of blood behind my ears.
Only one last thing to do before I was truly free.
Such an obnoxiously large diamond ring. Not me at all. I wrestled it off my finger, dropping it at his feet. He looked up, eyes crimson and face a bloody mess. I’d done that. Me. The nothing to which he’d been referring. My most likely demented smile grew even wider.
“Fuck you, Chris. We’re done.”
*
I had no idea the police could arrive so fast. It was like the old joke about pornography giving young women unrealistic notions of how long it takes a plumber to arrive. One minute Vaughan sat holding ice to my hand, the next I was facing the long arm of the law.
Boom.
The cop who questioned me turned out to be an old school friend of Vaughan’s (who in this town hadn’t he gone to school with?). Officer Andy seemed sweet and somewhat amused by the whole situation though he hid it well. What with my entire statement consisting of “Hell yeah, I did it,” however, my hopes for remaining at liberty were low.
I hovered in the front doorway, keeping an eye on Chris and Co. Much was ado in the front garden. Samantha had been loudly pushing to charge me with assault while attempting to break the sound barrier via her shrieking.
More than a few neighbors had gathered to watch.
Apparently, according to Samantha, I’d turned into a dangerous criminal out to destroy her family (truthfully, I just wanted to escape them). Also, I apparently made Moby Dick look anorexic and I needed to get a life.
She was probably right about the last one.
Her husband, meanwhile, paced back and forth along the small garden path speaking on his cell. There was a lot of head shaking and mumbling. Off to the side stood Paul and Chris, heads huddled together. The latter’s nose was stuffed full of Kleenex to stem the flow of blood. His once pristine white shirt suit was covered in the stuff. All in all, he looked a ruin. It suited him.
“Here,” said Vaughan, draping a checked button-up shirt over my shoulders. “Put that on.”