Chapter 35
Rhea - Return of the Yard Dick
That idiot. I can’t believe he thought that would be enough of an apology for what he did. And how could he call what he did ‘leaving quickly’? That is the understatement of the year.
I’m stomping down the street in just my dress, its open back letting in the frosty evening air, so besides being tense with rage, I’m shivering in the cold. I must have a crazy look on my face or something because every other pedestrian is giving me a wide berth, leaving the illusion that I have my own private sidewalk. Thank god for that, because I absolutely do not have the patience to be battling slow walkers tonight.
How could he even consider that as an apology? He didn’t even realize what he really did wrong. Leaving quickly? Leaving quickly my ass. He sped out of there like he was on fast forward. If I’d blinked, I would have missed it.
And yet I still did what I could to reassure him that there would be no baby to worry about. What did he even mean when he said he can’t allow himself to have kids? I could understand not wanting kids, or not liking kids, but not allowing yourself to have them? That’s some weird shit. He did say that he doesn’t want to pass on his genes, though. Maybe he has some genetic condition that’s hereditary? Like hemophilia? Or something like that?
Gah! If he has a legitimate medical reason, then I might feel a tiny bit sorry for him. But he still shouldn’t have been a dick to me.
Of course, he tried to do something nice for me when he burned a giant penis into that guy’s lawn for getting me fired. He’s lucky that he didn’t get caught for that.
I wonder whatever happened with that drone footage his friend was supposed to send him. I would have liked to have seen that before I erased Aiden from my life forever. Not that it’s going to be hard to stay away from him. If I don’t go back to Alex’s for Sunday dinner, and if I avoid Xena’s coffee shop, then I should be fine.
It was nice having so many girlfriends today, though. I’ve never had such a fun experience shopping as I did today. They’re all so friendly and nice, and fun to hang out with. And I can’t forget Gran and the rest of the Titty Club. I want to be just like them when I grow up. All tracksuits and not giving any fucks. Maybe she’ll waive the droopy boobs requirement just once and let me join?
Luckily, my rage keeps me warm as I stomp my way home the entire ten blocks from Marcus. And thankfully I remembered my tiny purse with my phone and keys, or I’d be stuck outside again, with nowhere to go, and no Aiden to rescue me this time. Not that I need rescuing. But it was nice to not sleep on the street that night.
It’s only when I’m unlocking the door to my apartment that I remember a critical piece of information: I drove to the restaurant.
I rage stomped all the way home, in ridiculously high heels (for me, anyway), in the cold, when I could have driven in comfort. And now I’m going to have to walk my ass back there to pick up my car. I wonder if I can wait until morning for that? Probably not a good idea, considering I parked on the street. Just my luck, I’d get towed and have to pick up at the police compound, just to increase my embarrassment.
Fine. I’ll go pick the damn car up now. I’m not walking there wearing this stupid dress or these stupid shoes, though. I strip out of both until I’m standing in just my underwear, digging around in my closet for something more comfortable. Finally, clad in comfy tie dye joggers with a matching hoodie, I put on socks, lace up my sneakers, grab my keys and phone, and head out on my way to walk the same ten blocks I just walked.
It takes much less time to walk back to my car than it did to walk from the restaurant to my apartment. Thank god for small miracles. I guess my rage stomping wasn’t as effective a method of transportation as I thought. Of course, sneakers are much easier to walk in than heels, which probably contributed to my increase in speed.
I don’t waste any time getting home and parking in my spot behind the building. It’s nice that I don’t have to park on the street here, but having to walk around to the front of the building to get to my apartment is kind of a pain. I’m imagining what it would take to get a window that I can unlock from the outside so I could use the fire escape, so I don’t notice the person standing near the entrance until I run right into him.
“Oh, sorry about that.” I say instinctively, before realizing who it is. The asshole who got me arrested is standing in front of me with a sneer on his face.
“Hello, Officer Ryan. Oops, I guess I mean Miss Ryan. You’re not an officer anymore, are you?”
“What are you doing here, Mr. Martin?” I’m not afraid, necessarily, but I can’t say I feel good about having this guy hanging around my building after dark. “I thought our business concluded when you got me fired.”
“See, that’s what I thought, too. But imagine my surprise when I got home from a nice long weekend away, to see that someone had vandalized my lawn. I wonder who could have done that? Any ideas?” He stands just a little too close to me. Not enough that someone driving by would notice, but enough that I’m uncomfortable.
This guy is crazy if he thinks I would tell him who did this. And he’s even crazier if he thinks I did it. He has a strange gleam in his eye that tells me I should tread carefully.
“Oh dear,” I feign concern with my hand to my chest. “Did you report that to the police? I’m sure they’d be able to help track down the culprit? Or maybe the mayor can step in to help you? You guys are close friends, right?”
Whoops. Guess I’m not so good at heeding warnings emitted from the eyes of crazy assholes who got me fired. That’s probably a character flaw on my part.
“You know,” he says, a smarmy look coming over his face. “That’s a good idea, Offic—I mean, Miss Ryan. Calling on a friend, that is. I have many good friends in Westborough. The mayor is but one of them. Are you aware that I also know many property owners? Why, I believe this building here actually belongs to a friend of mine. Isn’t that interesting?”
This son of a bitch is threatening my home? What can I even do about this? This guy already got me fired from my job. It’s not a big stretch to believe that he could get me kicked out of my apartment.
“Well, Mr. Martin. I didn’t know that. You’re right, it is interesting. If you don’t mind, I’m going to be on my way now. I hope you get your lawn problem sorted out.”
Rather than go into my building and risk having Martin follow me, I run down the street a few blocks until I get to the first place that is open at this time in the evening, which just so happens to be Bump & Grind. It’s not her night to close, but Xena is here anyway, and a uniformed Kaden appears to be keeping her company.
“Whoa, tiger. What’s the big rush?” Kaden asks, when I continue running until I bang right into the counter. “What if I’d been standing there?”
I bend over, hands on my knees, and force my breath to slow.
“Frank Martin was hanging around my building just now. He thinks I vandalized his lawn and basically threatened to get me kicked out of my apartment.”
