Page 8 of All The Broken Pieces: Vol. 1

Chapter 8

Iplace my hand on her wrist. Her eyes flick to the touch.

“What?” she snaps at me and has every right to. I’m being a bitch.

“I saw him. A picture.” The words choke me, and I can’t make them come out. Growling, I down the rest of my drink, slam the glass on the table, and manage, “There was a scar on his side. But it was Zach.”

Vi’s brow creases. She sits down hard. “Wait. What are you saying? That it’s a new picture?” There’s no judgement in her tone. I don’t meet her gaze. I can’t. So, I shrug. Instead of dismissing it, she lets the information sink in, then asks, “Where? Facebook?”

“Yeah.” I pull the cup of coffee in front of me and slide my index finger across the smooth porcelain handle. “It popped up. Freaked me out. And now… I don’t know. The image was only there for a second. I’m wrong. It had to be from our trip—”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it was the Caribbean. The color of the water and the sky. It wasn’t here. But it wasn’t from our trip.”

“So, what are you thinking? That he had another life in the Caribbean and social media decided to show you. Now?” Neither of us says anything for a moment. Then she adds, “It can’t be from now. You buried him. It’s the main reason his mother hates your guts.”

“That’s an understatement. But yeah, I know. So, if it’s not from now, when was it taken? I want to see it again, but I don’t. I can’t go home, Vi.” My face falls, shatters. I wish I could cry but my tears dried up a long time ago. “I can’t deal with all of this.”

Vi’s head jerks back and she lifts a finger. “The reporters will be shot if they step on your lawn. I promise you that. Okay.”

“You can’t promise that.”

“The hell, I can’t!” she leans forward. “I’ve got connections. They’ll stay away. Some asshole might run the story recap, but it’ll be buried if they have no pictures. See what I’m sayin’?”

“Yeah.” My voice sounds hollow. Half alive.

“As for the rest of it. Wait. I’ll watch Facebook for pictures of him. You don’t have to do that.”

I want to pull my hair out, so I feel something. Anything besides pain. “What for? To confirm he went off without me? Vi, if he was cheating on me… I can’t. I don’t want to know.”

Vi taps a red nail in the center of the table. “If you’re holding onto that guy and he was an asshole, disappearing in the middle of the night—”

“That only happened once.”

“You only caught him once. I don’t want to be a bitch about this, but oh-my-effen-God! After Zara died, he lost it. It wasn’t your fault.”

My voice shrinks and I feel so small that it barely comes out. “I don’t remember him like that.”

“I know you don’t, but it’s time to remember all that shady shit that was going on. Zach was up to no good. Guys that stay out all night and get caught aren’t good guys. You forgave before you even found out what happened. Don’t you want to know the truth?” Vi reaches out and touches my hand. Rests hers on top.

I pull away. Indifference fills me from head to toe. “I’m so tired of this. I just don’t want this life anymore. Vi…” my voice cracks and I hate myself for it.

“So, make a new one.”

“If only it were that easy.”

Vi tips back the rest of her drink, then agrees, “If only. Two hot high school teachers take over the town.”

I didn’t realize the music stopped until I glance at the man standing behind Vi. His hair has a bit of a curl to it, dark and tousled. There’s a trace of stubble on lining his jaw and if that t-shirt clings any tighter, it would be skin. “Which town would that be?”

Vi grins, twists in her seat and her face goes neutral before she says, silky smooth—not horrified in the least— “eavesdropping isn’t sexy. Move along.” She waves him off and turns back towards me.

I try not to laugh. The guy doesn’t walk away. There are women drooling at him from across the room, and the one he tried to talk to blew him off. He grabs a chair from another table, flips it around, and straddles it before asking Vi, “Then tell me what is sexy, because I hear that two hot high school teachers are about to do some amazing things.” He winks at me before returning his burning gaze toward Vi.

Before the flirting goes any further, I stand and grab my purse. “Not this one. I’ve got to get home.”

He looks me over, and it’s clearly to make Vi jealous, and says, “Too bad. And then there was one.” He turns his gaze on Vi as he says the last word. The tension is as thick as the night air.

Vi laughs and stands with me. “Yeah, you.”

Smiling, I point at her. “Sit. Talk. Ask him how hard he blows that thing.” I’m referring to the trumpet, but her face turns as red as her nails.

The musician represses a grin, looks up at Vi, “Ask me.”

Vi giggles. She slowly sits as I walk over to the bar and pay our tab. There’s a small painting on the wall by a local guy—Jack Gray. I gesture to the canvas, because it’s out of place here. And I’m a fan. “How’d you come across that piece?”

The barkeep is a college girl, golden hair pulled up into a high ponytail, face full of expertly applied make-up. “It’s the owners.”

“Really?” I look around again. I guess if I can appreciate the artistry of this place, why not?

“Yes, he bought it out a few years back. There’s another one in Port Jeff.”

I nod, taking my change and stuffing some cash in the tip jar, before wishing her a good night.

When I glance back at our table, Vi and the musician talking, inching closer so that they’re nose to nose by the time I leave. At least one of us will have a good night.