Page 125 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

Then her mouth creeps up as she turns to face me, and she gives me that all-knowing conspiratorial smile. “Mmhm… nah, there’s only one reason you need a model at the Clover.” She nods. “We runnin’ a Hoodlum Shit Sting Op on your boy Six-Point-Five, huh?” Her tongue sticks out, shoulders jumping as if her theme song’s playing. “Trust or Bust, baby. Trust or bust.”

// 11:56 PM - THE CLOVER - WEST VILLAGE, NYC //

Engine’s dead.

Lights killed.

The Clover’s eighty feet away.

I’m parked out of range of suspicion, but still close to catch his mouth through the binoculars. He still hasn’t texted or called, so I deleted his contact in my phone again to stop seeing his name.

His silence is deafening.

He’s gotta be thinking about me.

Has to be. No way he’s not.

Unless he’s not.

Unless I’m the only one replaying everything.

Either way, if he’s waiting on me to crack first—text him, call him, crawl to Jersey—he’s got life fucked.

He’ll be waiting forever.

‘Cause he walked. Again. That’s on him.

I don’t want to be here outside his work.

I’m not a stalker. I’m not obsessed.

But I refuse to spend my Cali trip with guilt gnawing at me ‘cause of stupid Brandon. I refuse to be haunted by the sad look on Andrew’s face.

I’m here for balance. For justice.

For proof he’s no better than me.

Proof we’re both fuck-ups.

And this is the window.

He’s still sore from finding that letter.

After what I pulled? He’s got every reason to fuck it off with someone else. And in minutes, the perfect reason to prove I’m replaceable is walking into the bar.

Tonight, pussy-drunk Drew is tripping and falling into va-JY-nuh.

And when he does, I won’t be the only villain holding the knife. I’ll be the hero of my heart—the girl who was right about the guy who swore he was different now.

Celie’s behind me in the backseat, wearing all black. “Operation Trust or Bust,” she mutters serious, rubbing her palms together. “Watch—I already know, we gon’ miss that five a.m. flight ‘cause’a this shit.”

I scoff. “No, we’re not. We’ll make it.”

Celie delivers a dry, deadpan stare.

“Airport don’t wait for dick, ho.”

We used to do this for fun⁠—