“Ev, I’ve never seen you talk about a man the way you do him. It’s not okay. Maybe she’s a relative or friend.”
That’s seeming less and less likely. “He couldn’t get out of my apartment fast enough when she called this morning.” I explain his odd behavior.
Amy squeezes my hand. “Shit, Ev. Men are pigs.”
“I’m aware.”
“We need a night out. Sunday is race day. Let’s go to the track Saturday night.”
“You’re on. Now, tell me how things are going with Wendy.” Amy and I spend an hour catching up before I head to Striking Back.
I hate the dread I feel walking into a place I love. This is why I don’t date those I work with. I’ve had fun with Mason. I mean, who wouldn’t? He’s gorgeous, sweet, funny, and fantastic in bed. He really seemed to be into me too, but it appears I’m one of many.
If he texts or finds me here, I’ll let him know I can’t see him anymore. I usually feel relieved when I make this decision, but for some reason I just feel heavy and tired. It’s ridiculous. I’m in no mood to talk to anyone today. Fortunately, the kids and most of the parents are on a trip to the zoo. I spend a few hours doing laundry and helping prepare meals for the upcoming week. I can’t help but glance at the cameras as I’m leaving.
Was he here today? Was he watching me on the monitors? Is he trying to figure out how to get rid of me, worrying I’ll cause him trouble at work? He doesn’t have to stress over that. I’ve never been the clingy type.
* * **
It’s been seven days since I heard from Mason. I take that back. When I texted him on Wednesday with the messageHope everything’s okay, I got back this winner,All fine. Busy with work. No talk of having me visit his gym. No flirty funny messages. It’s clear he’s done. I don’t know why I even care. I’d already decided dating him was a bad idea.
What I need is a crazy night out with Amy, and tonight I’m going to get it. The night before the Indy 500 is a party like no other. Thousands of race fans and partiers from all over the country descend on the small neighborhood surrounding the track. The streets are closed to traffic and stuffed with people. Cops patrol, but only focus on the troublemakers. For one night, public intoxication and even public nudity is pretty much ignored. It’s a blast.
Ian shows up at my door as I’m getting ready to go out. “Woo, look at you. Tight jeans and a tighter blouse. Where are you headed?”
“It’s the night before the race!”
“You aren’t going alone,” he says with a frown.
“No, Dad, Amy is meeting me.”
“Well, I’m coming too. Make sure some redneck doesn’t pull you into an RV.”
“Maybe I want to be ravaged in an RV.” I laugh, locking my door before we head to the elevator.
He glances at me after I buckle myself in his car. “You get your car back?”
“Yep. Good as new.”
“Still no idea who did that shit?”
“No, some prank probably.”
After a few seconds of silence, he asks, “Still haven’t heard from Mason?”
“We’re done.”
“Who decided?”
I gaze out the window, watching the city go by as I answer, “Since he never contacted me so I could tell him I’m done, I guess he gets credit for this one.”
“The guy’s a moron to break up with you, pup.” Ian reachesto squeeze my hand.
“We weren’t together, so it wasn’t really a breakup.” I look around with a smile as Ian pays a guy twenty bucks to park on his lawn. “Besides, I’m ass deep in horny men at the moment. I don’t give a shit about Mason.”
It’s far from the truth. I let him get under my skin, and I can’t seem to shake him. My usual response would be to find a cute guy to bang my brains out, someone who won’t care if I leave right after. For some reason, it just isn’t appealing this time. I’m just going to get drunk and have fun with my friends.
We make our way through the boisterous drunken crowd to meet Amy on the corner of Sixteenth and Georgetown. She has her arm around her girlfriend, Wendy, and they wave, excited to see us. “Hey, Wendy, I’m glad you made it,” I say, giving Amy a quick hug.
