The three f’s that became an eventual reality for every woman I’d ever been with.
I knew it made me an asshole for having sex with her first. I shouldn’t have and I wasn’t proud of it, but to be fair, Janice initiated the sex tonight, starting with the elevator ride up to my apartment. She would have happily blown me on security camera if I hadn’t insisted we wait. Public fucking was her thing, not mine.
Tonight I’d needed her on my arm for a charity dinner because at five grand a plate it was downright cheap if you went solo. Ten thousand dollars to cancer research was a lot better than five for the charity. I wouldn’t have minded writing a check for ten times that amount and skipping the dinner altogether, but that would be a socially retarded thing to do. Benefitting cancer research in my father’s name was something I would support generously for as long as I lived. My check would always have the extra zero at the end of it anyway.
“So you’re really all done for the night.” I could hear the disdain in her voice. “Caleb, I’m leaving for Hong Kong in the morning. It’ll be at least a week before we can be together again.”
Try never.
I sighed and turned to face her.
“Janice, we need to talk.”
Thirty minutes later I was minus my first “girlfriend” and in possession of a very noticeable shiner. For a hundred-pound woman, Janice could throw down. It helped that she took me by surprise and I never saw it coming. It would also be fair to say she was unhappy about our breakup.
I checked the bruise on my left cheekbone and the accompanying black eye in the entryway mirror. It would look so much worse in the morning. Going into the office would be fun tomorrow. When I asked that her key to my apartment be returned, the crazy bitch had punched me right in the face.
With her motherfucking shoe.
The crying came a minute later, accompanied by hysterical accusations of me leading her along to think we were heading toward marriage and a future together. I knew exactly where that idea had come from the second she screamed it at me in a rage.
Fucking crazy talk. I told her there was only one Mrs. Blackstone alive in my family and that was my recently widowed mother, the person responsible for planting such a ridiculous notion into her head. She’d told me to fuck off before storming out my door, calling me every name in the book as she cat-walked her way toward the elevators. The neighbors would’ve had to be dead to miss her not-so-subtle show.
God.
My phone buzzed and I was afraid to look to see who was messaging me. I wasn’t up for discussing Janice with Mom right now, or any time for that matter.
James. I guessed what he would say before I even started reading because he only lived two floors down from me. She hadn’t had far to travel.
J: Hey man, Jan is here crying b/c u broke up w/ her. That true?
I shook my head as my fingers flew.
C: Yeah.
J: So . . . u don’t care she’s here?
The poor bastard was playing with deadly fire. Like soaking a huge pile of dry leaves with gasoline and blasting it with a blowtorch.
C: Nope. Thx for checking w/ me first but we are over.
J: Ok, man.
Christ, James was gonna go there with Janice.
C: Hey, James?
J: Yeah.
C: Be careful. Don’t die tonight. Jan is a goddamn nympho if u didn’t know already.
J: Yeah I got that impression when she showed up here and said she wanted 2 suck my cock. I won’t die u fool. Talk later—
C: Safe sex, James, and wrap that shit up tight.
J: Yep.
C: Suggest u only go one night. She’s a clinger.
J: <middle finger emoticon>
I went to get a Sam Adams from the fridge. What a cluster of a night. Did it make me a horrible person to be worrying more about what was happening to my friend than my ex-girlfriend right now? James Blakney was in for a night of crazy sex with an even crazier Janice. I couldn’t help but feel grateful for dodging an immediate bullet with her, but knew this shit couldn’t possibly end well for me, or for James. I had to remind myself he was a big boy and he had been warned. He’d find out exactly what Janice was like soon enough.
I needed to put in an order to have my locks changed. I quickly sent a text to my PA, Victoria, to set that up. She’d take care of it tomorrow.
A shower was calling my name. Burning hot with lots of Dial soap—the hard-core yellow stuff that just about took your skin away with the dirt.
I flipped on the light to my bathroom and flinched at the sight of what greeted me.