She brushed past me as she walked down off the stage, and I wanted to say, “You were amazing.” Or something, give her even a little praise. But the words never came out. Even when they left, I didn’t say anything.
And my silence fucking ate me alive.
How could she think so little of herself? How could he think so little of her? Was this their regular dynamic, or was it different behind closed doors?
For weeks afterward, I would sit in my car debating if I should go in. Into the club I fucking own and operate. I didn’t. I stayed behind the wheel until I drove away. Every fucking time. Because I was too afraid to go back in. I didn’t want to see her with him.
“You okay?” Thiago asks.
“Um, yeah.” I blink at the screen. Doms and subs who are in a relationship have linked profiles, and if the relationship ends, it must be stated why. I don’t want to see her status, or his, for that matter. Instead, I click on her history. She hasn’t been at the club in over a year, and her membership automatically renewed. Fuck. She was a gold member with an eighteen-thousand-dollar annual fee. She cleans dog shit for a living. How the hell can she afford that?
We need to reexamine our auto-renewal policy. I might be a part of the mob, but this shakedown is wrong.
Against my better judgement, I click on her partner history. There’s only one name, and when I click it, I want to throw the computer through the wall. The screen has a picture of her face under fuckwad’s profile, and under her name it says relationship terminated. Fine. He didn’t deserve her anyway. Under reason, it states: Incompatible, refusal to meet Dom’s needs. Subpar in every way.
My vision blurs and spots of red dance in front of my eyes. No. No. No.
Slamming my laptop shut, I announce. “I know what I want to do for Vice Night.”
“Color coding spreadsheets isn’t doing it for you?” Thiago laughs.
As I turn to my oldest friend, he leans back, and all amusement leaves his face.
“Let’s go kick the shit out of someone.”
Thiago swallows. “Well, that took a turn.”
Chapter Five
Jenny
I didn’t get home until midnight, which was super impressive that I stayed out past eleven. Most nights, I’m doom scrolling in bed by nine. But last night, I had fun. I didn’t check my watch a million times. I wasn’t worried about getting a cab home. Instead, I lived in the moment, with women who had equally early bedtimes.
They were weird and open and completely accepting. I found my people. I know it in my bones.
Annoyingly, my people are directly connected to Joey. For better or worse, he’s in my life now. He was the one who waved a gun at me, but I can be the bigger person. Today is a new day. And let’s start off positively.
I check my phone and find twenty missed messages.
I scroll to the top of the group chat with my people. The one the girls added me to before we all went home from karaoke. It’s mostly pictures from last night, memes, and inside jokes. I have inside jokes with people. Not random people, but friends. Oh, and they are so freaking cool. Waverly owns a hotel and has two cows. Cows. And we’re allowed to pet them whenever we want—friend group privileges.
Hmmm, speaking of…there’s a new print I’ve been meaning to try. I head over to my 3D printer, switch out the filament, and hit start. Assuming no catastrophic failures, it should be ready by the time I get home from work.
I’m all aglow as I check my work email. But the glow fades as I see Natalie needs more time off. She assures me she’ll be able to return to work by the end of the week. And she’s normally pretty good about making up her hours or filling in when someone else needs time off. I get it, she’s been sick off and on for a little while now, and recovery is not easy. But now I’ve got to spend the morning shifting clients around and calling in our subs. And when that doesn’t work, I’ve got two doggos I’ll need to walk. It’s fine. I’m still in a good mood.
Closing my laptop, I remind myself it’s time to shower. Sometimes I get so focused on what I’m doing, mundane things are hard to remember. Or there are times when my soul crushing insecurity that comes from the deep recesses of my brain tells me I’m not worth taking care of. Some days it’s a hard task, but today, I’m in and out in under ten minutes. And I think I only rewashed my hair twice because I forgot if I did it the first time, because I was thinking about all the other things I needed to do.
Nonna’s house is my first stop for the day. Kingston gets a quick walk in the morning. Who knows if Joey took him out last night, so I’ll make sure my little furry buddy gets a good walk. Fingers crossed Joey isn’t there, but if he is, I’ll be mature and kind and the fucking delight I always am.
But at seven thirty in the morning, I’m definitely not expecting to see Joey sitting on the couch, his head tilted back against the cushions, with his phone in his face.
“Don’t shoot,” I say, trying to be playful and friendly.
“We’ll see how it goes,” he grumbles back. This doesn’t bode well.
Kingston is sitting on the couch next to Joey, which he’s not allowed to be—the dog, not Joey. I assume he can sit wherever he wants. Kingston lifts his head and hops off the couch, smiling at me as he parks himself at my feet, waiting to go out.
I turn my attention back to Joey. “Did you take him out when you got home?”
