Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 97418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97418 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
“Fuck you, David, you coward. You fucking coward.” I’m not moving. I’m not even yelling. I think I’m frozen.
His back straightens and he hesitates but doesn’t turn. He opens the door and walks out.
I guess I follow for a few steps. I mean, I’m staring outside. There’s nothing but emptiness there. It’s void of him.
At long last, I have enough sense to walk back inside and lock the door. Sliding down to the cool hardwood floor, I’m numb and can’t breathe.
He’s gone with all my oxygen. I look down at my hands—they’re shaking, same as his were not three days ago. I’m as sick as he is, just as addicted but not to drugs. I’m addicted to him. David was everything: my fantasy of a perfect man and all I ever wanted. I truly believed that I was enough. The tears drip down my face, wet drops landing on my knees and hands.
I roll into a ball as I face the truth. I’m a liar. I lied to myself even when he told me the truth. It doesn’t matter though. How could I give him up? I try to gasp in some air, but I’ll never breathe the same way again.
CHARLIE
I turn off the engine of my new Ford Explorer and pull down the visor to examine myself in the mirror.
“Christ.” I roll my eyes as I reach for my purse, needing my makeup bag. It would help if I didn’t look like death warmed over. It’s been more than three months since the name I can’t speak left. Saying it, hearing it, will make me burst into tears. It’s fucking pathetic and quite frankly, I’m over it.
I grab the concealer and try to cover my black circles. It’s a daunting task, and considering I’m only meeting Cindy, Dolly, and Doug, who cares?
Not even bothering to check the color, I slather on some lip gloss. After a glance around the new dark leather seat for my phone, I pop the visor and exit, clicking the remote. I had to break down and get a new vehicle because apparently, when it rains, it pours.
Since Asshole left me, my beloved Prius died on me during rush hour in the middle lane of the 405 freeway.
Symbolic? I think so.
My upstairs neighbor’s toaster oven burned up causing a fire, so I moved in with my mom while they fixed and repaired all the damage. The ancient sprinklers sprayed brown-tinged water down the hallway leaking into my apartment and dribbling down into my closet. Half my wardrobe was wrecked thanks to the rusty water stains.
I toss my hair, thankful I’m back even though a slight musty smell lingers in certain parts of the building.
Poor Shelia and her cats had to move into an assisted living facility while all this mess was going on. I still haven’t heard if she’s coming back, which is depressing. I spent a lot of nights crying in her lap about the name I never utter.
Swinging open the door to Casa Vega, I have to blink to let my eyes adjust to the darkness inside.
“Charlize.” I remove my large sunglasses to see Cindy and her big boobs in a red booth in the corner.
Dimly lit in neon light, the bar has countless glasses hanging from an overhead rack. I wonder if I should order a round of shots for us to start with or wait for the waitress.
“Shhh, she’s coming,” Cindy yells at Doug who stares at me. If the wide-eyed look on his face is any indication, maybe I should have put on some more makeup.
“What?” I frown at him as I slide in next to Dolly and they all scoot down.
“Um, are you like some sort of homeless woman now? I thought you moved back to your apartment this week.”
“Doug, save it. I have a headache. I almost canceled, but I knew you’d keep calling, so here I am.” I smile broadly. It’s fake and my right eye starts to twitch, so I stop.
“Am I the only one who has the balls to tell her she needs to eat?” He stands up and motions for the bartender to come over. Dolly tugs on his shirt until he sits back down.
“What? I’m ordering some nachos and we need more chips and guacamole,” he snips.
“Whatever. I’m not hungry. Did you order drinks?”
They all look at each other. I sigh and lean back.
“What? If it’s bad, I don’t want to know. Tell them, Cindy. We have so many things going on at the diner I can’t handle anything bad.”
“Here we go, my friends.” The cute, dark-haired bartender arrives with margaritas. Someone was smart enough to order two per person, so we all have doubles. He happily sets them down along with three baskets of chips. “Enjoy.”
I look around at all of us and almost burst out laughing. It’s either that or cry because we all are like the dark cloud party. We look like someone has killed our pet or something.