Chapter 1: Anna—Odd socks and odd behaviors
Anna emptied the washing basket on the sofa, sighing as she realized just how many individual socks were there.How do I even own this many socks? And where are all their partners?Anneliese Harris, it's time to throw out some of these sad, lonely socks. Mason’s socks filled half the sofa cushion, a sea of black and gray, all different brands and with slightly different fabrics. Whatever. She decided to just pair up his socks by color. Do men even care if they are slightly different as long as they mostly match?
It’s unlikely that Mason cared about that, although he could be pretty fussy about his image, particularly at work. Thinking of Mason, even about something as minor as his socks, made Anna’s heart hurt. He’d been different lately. Not really distant, but his mind did seem to be elsewhere. Sometimes he seemed stressed or angry with her, and other times he was overly clingy and affectionate. His focus on money, more so his apparent lack of it lately, was also a concern. Melody, Anna’s best friend and colleague, had suggested maybe a gambling problem could account for his moods. Anna had asked him flat out several times what was wrong, and he just claimed tiredness or work stress, but it didn’t make sense to her. She’d seen him stressed about work, and it was usually a short-term funk, not this prolonged and confusing flurry of moods that he’d indulged in lately.
Her friend Rosa, in her usual blunt and casual way, suggested an affair, but Anna honestly couldn’t see that being the case. No couple was perfect, but they seemed fine in most ways. Occasional arguments over small things, disagreements about budgeting (which was a nice way of referring to hisoverspending), a healthy sex life (though reduced lately because of his hours), and plenty of quality time together. Anna frowned. On second thought, scratch that. Their time together had been limited lately because of all the extra hours he was putting in at the office for the new software product his company was launching. Mason was a sales rep for a software company that sold human resources software and customer relationship management products. Maybe it really was work stress? He was successful, driven, and always received healthy commissions, but how could he be stressed about money and constantly short on his half of the rent and expenses if he was working so hard and such long hours? Surely his commissions would reflect this extra work.
Maybe the stress stemmed from his ongoing rivalry with Lilah, his archnemesis at work. Lilah was another rep, and she and Mason were always clamoring for territory and clients. No, it couldn’t be. He’d been battling Lilah for years without falling into these mood swings, and she hadn’t heard of any new feuds over clients, which brought her back to an affair.
Anna swept the socks to one side, grabbing two white socks that matched enough to pass as a pair. That would have to do. She had to be at work in 10 minutes and was already running late. Throwing on her socks and shoes, she left the house and hurried toward her little blue car. It was at least 15 years old and definitely had its issues, and several mismatched panels, but it had served her well and she loved it. Mason was always on at her to buy a new car, citing safety concerns, but she really didn’t want the extra financial burden.
Fighting Mason on overspending was beginning to be a constant in her life. She came into her trust fund when she turned 25 in four months, and he was determined to start spending now, insisting that they could easily pay it all back once her funds hit the account. They were struggling as it was.By the time rent was paid, groceries bought, and other expenses paid, they were left with less than $400. And lately, Mason had a direct debit of $280 coming out to pay for his mom’s rehab expenses after she broke her hip. Yes, they’d have money soon, but she didn’t fancy spending the next four months scrounging for cash to pay for gas. She’d already taken on extra work in the form of sewing costumes. As a ballet and modern dance teacher, she had plenty of students whose parents didn’t have the time or skills to make costumes, so she’d been spending hours at the table after dinner each night, sewing sequins on and taking up hems.
She pulled into the car park and checked her phone. Perfect, she had two minutes to spare. Madame Celeste, the owner of Dynamics Dance, ran a ship that was tighter than her signature gray bun. She was a tough old cookie, but she was fair and very open about her high expectations. Anna waved to some girls from her junior ballet class and made her way to the staff room to dump her bag. Rosa and Mel were already there, arguing about the partnering of two dancers in the intermediate class.
“They look ridiculous together, Mel. She doesn’t know what she’s doing and he’s a whole head shorter than her. No way he can do a lift without someone busting something,” Rosa insisted.
“You know that strength isn’t always about brawn. He’s wiry but he’s strong. He lifted Lilly, who’s way taller and broader than Ruby,” Mel shot back.
Anna smiled at Mel and Rosa. “Morning ladies. God, I need a coffee but I’m running late for the Ladybugs class.”
“How are things at home? Have you checked his phone yet?” Rosa asked.
“No, don’t even try to sell her on the affair thing. He’s gambling. I’m sure of it. Didn’t you say he went through an online poker stage a few years ago Anna?” Mel countered.
“As great as it is that you’re both entertained by playing Nancy Drew on the state of my relationship, I’ve got a class to teach,” Anna said. “Let’s chat at lunch.”
Chapter 2: Anna—Late nights and mystery apps
Sipping her Diet Coke and listening to Mel and Rosa chat about rosters, Anna stared at her chicken sandwich and burst into tears. Mel put her hand over Anna’s and looked at Rosa sadly, seeking some kind of direction.
“Alright babe, what can we do? We need to sort this out, even if I have to buy a magnifying glass and overcoat and follow that sorry asshole myself,” Rosa declared.
“I’m just over it. I’ve given him so many opportunities to tell me what’s wrong. I know he’s worried about his mom, I know he’s stressed about work, but he wasn’t even this moody or unpredictable when his dad died,” Anna sobbed.
“If this was a romance novel, you’d check his phone and smell his clothes when he got home,” Mel helpfully supplied. “Then, we’d track down the other woman, who’d inevitably give us world-class drama, and we’d take our revenge by hosing her down or something.” Mel paused. “Nah, not hosing. Too tame. Something bigger. But legal, of course.”
“I could fuck her husband or boyfriend if she has one,” Rosa generously offered. “But it isn’t a novel Mel; it’s a real-life problem. But as I said, I am happy to do the stalking option,” Rosa continued. “I already stalked his social media, but he’s done nothing in six months except review a restaurant and criticize ‘limp salad’ and share stupid inspirational corporate messages about striving and following your destined path or some bullshit.”
“I’ll sort it out. Maybe I’m just being too sensitive,” Anna sniffled. “I know I can be. But, I mean, we’re still having sex. Not as much, but he doesn’t seem any different in that way.”
Rosa snorted. “Hah! That’s not an indication. My dad was playing the dutiful husband in all ways while screwing knock-kneed Pauline all those years. It’s why my cheating senses are so finely tuned. They’re cake eaters. Of course he’s intimate with you. He doesn’t want to lose his fiancée, the woman doing his housework and partnering him to his work events. He’s also an arrogant dick. If he can have sex with two women, he’ll do it.”
“That’s not helpful Rosa,” Mel admonished. “We have no proof he’s cheating. You could be accusing a good man here without any evidence at all. Even Anna doesn’t think it’s cheating, and she’s the one who should be paranoid and suspicious.”
“Cheating or not, he’s not a good man. You know my feelings on that Mel, so does Anna. She’s so far out of his league he needs a space shuttle to catch her. Seriously Anna, you can do better. He doesn’t treat you right, you’re never a priority, and he wears those ugly pointed shoes. What kind of man is willing to sacrifice his pinkie toe to look like a Wall Street knob? He cares about image. Anna, you’re a beautiful, kind, talented person. You should be loved for that, so loved that you never have doubts about where you sit in his life. You tick all his boxes, but he’s got the wrong boxes. You’re hot, you look good on his arm. You have a career that he isn’t threatened by because he’s a dick who doesn’t appreciate the arts. My abuela doesn’t like him, and she likes everyone, even her cheating bastard of a son.” Rosa stared intently at her, with her mouth fixed in a sympathetic frown.
“I can’t think about this right now. I’ll check his phone when I get home, but I honestly don’t know what I’m looking for,” Anna replied.
“Suspiciously warm messages with a male name as the contact. Messages with just times, dates, or locations. Messages marked with a corporate name but that seem personal. Basically, anything that seems out of place, or attached to a name you’ve never heard. Pauline was in Dad’s phone as ‘Leon – plumber.’”Rosa maintained steady eye contact with Anna as she drained her bottle of water.
Buzz.
Anna’s phone vibrated, displaying a message.
Mason: Gonna work late tonight. Save me dinner? Home about 9:30.
“Another late night. Guess I’ll be checking his phone much later,” Anna sighed. Rosa exchanged a glance with Mel. “Let me know when you want to launch the Asshole Stalking Program Anna. I’m here for it.”
