Page 68 of I Want to Know What Love Is

“Of course you are. She was always a slut—”

Boom. I don’t waste time cashing my ticket, punching him fast and hard with a right uppercut. Just the way grandpa taught me when I was fourteen years old. Except we were hitting punching bags back then and the thing about hitting a man’s face is, well, when your knuckles hit the bone of his cheek or chin or even his nose, it hurts like god damn hell. “Fuck.” I pull my fist back and close my eyes, not worried he’s going to hit me back because he staggers back, screams bloody murder and covers his face. There’s a trickle of blood, but not a gush, so I got him in the eye—or more accurately, his cheek. Either way, he’s going to have a shiner.

And I may just have broken my hand.

Shelby and Trey finally show up.

“Fuck. What took you so long.” I’m sweating because my hand hurts like a mother fucker as it swells up. Trey goes to Gary who’s bent over.

“Calm down. You’re going to be fine.”

“I’m going to file charges against you,” he says.

“No you’re not. My earlier threat? I’ll double down on that and talk to your father-in-law too. And the press. I know the society page will be interested. That’s where I read about your first wedding—you know—the one you bailed on.”

“Fuck you. My father-in-law doesn’t care.”

“Maybe not about you jilting a bride, or not even about lying to him. But I know he’ll care about your relationship with the SPU Trustee. You know the one, right?” He pales, and his scowl goes slack, the angry energy coming from him changing to fear. I did my homework on this asshole because I figured a guy low enough to marry for money—and jilt a woman like Mandy to do it—has to have a history of assholery. Unfortunately for him, I was right.

Shelby opens a first aid kit and takes care of the cut on his face then starts applying make-up to cover the soon to be blossoming bruise.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Camouflage. Unless you want to go out there with a black eye? No skin off my teeth.” Gary closes his eyes and blows out a breath. When he opens them he nods at Shelby and levels a stare at me. This time there’s more respect than loathing and I’ll take it.

Trey tapes a bag of ice to my knuckles and blows out a whistle.

“Shit man, your hand is already swelling up and bruising. I think you might have a break.”

“That would explain why it hurts like a motherfucker,” I grit out. Gary gives me a snaky smile and I flip him the bird with my good hand.

“This is your throwing hand, man,” Trey says under his breath. I nod, because believe me, I know and I’m a stupid ass for not using my left hand, but the response was too automatic, so ingrained in my instinct to lash out at what he said that the signal came from somewhere deep in my reptile brain where nothing could stop it.

“We’re going to have to take you to get this looked at,” he says.

“Tomorrow,” I say. On the way home we’ll find a clinic.

“You’re all set to go,” Shelby slaps Gary on the back. Hard.

“What are you going to say?” Gary’s looking at me worried. “How do I know this is the last of it? How do I know you’re not going to blackmail me—”

“You don’t know a thing about me. Except I’m not like you. So when I say as long as you stay away from Amanda—and I mean never contact her again in any way—not even carrier pigeon--for any reason, I won’t say a word, I mean it.”

“Who are you?”

“No one. Forget about me, right along with Amanda.” I turn to Shel and Trey, cradling my hand with the ice. Trey puts my coat over my arm, hiding the ice and I wince, but I take it. “We ready to go?” They each nod and we walk out the back of the building and don’t turn around when Gary yells after us.

“Where are you going? What do I tell people?”

I only raise my good hand and give him my middle finger and we keep walking.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Amanda

Dooley takes me away which is fine since I almost caused an unforgivable scene. But Dylan saved me from going too far. He rescued me like his precious princess, the most beautiful and treasured woman in the world and even if he’s putting on an act for Gary and everyone else there I know, all the people who knew us as a couple who are waiting to see me bleed sorry and collapse, I can’t help swooning inside every time he looked at me tonight. Can’t help the goosebumps and the pattering of my heart because they don’t care if he’s acting. And by the way, he ought to quit football tomorrow and head straight for Broadway.

“Come with me,” Dooley says and I wish I didn’t have to, but I’m so out of control I need to. I want Dylan to be the one leading me away to my hotel room, not Dooley.