Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
“Your boyfriend broke up with you months ago!” I shouted in return. “And then we got back together like…just last week! This gives you no excuse to stalk him, stalk me, and throw soup at me in a nice restaurant!”
“You never quit messing with his head!” she accused, also on a shout.
“His head was there for me to mess with because he never stopped loving me, and you missed all the clues, you moron!” I retorted, also still loud.
“You should have backed off!” she yelled.
“You should have seen the red flags and left before he scraped you off!” I returned.
“Do not put this on me!” she shrieked.
“Woman, you’re stalking me! You just assaulted me at a fancy restaurant! You ruined my dress!” I looked down. “And my shoes! What’s the matter with you?”
“You’re stalking her?” one of her friends asked.
Cheyenne’s head whipped her way.
“Yuck, you made a huge scene,” another friend said, looking around with distaste.
“I got tackled for trying to get you off her,” yet another friend, who was mildly smeared with borscht, snapped.
“You’ve totally been Carrie from that one time Big broke her heart and all she could talk about was him, and Samantha, Miranda and Charlotte got fed up with it and told her to go to therapy,” the last friend said. She threw an arm out long and finished, “It’s Knox this and Knox that, and Luna this and Luna that. Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah. It’s been doing our heads in. And if you’re not getting it from this crazy scene, girl, you need some serious therapy.”
“He was my guy,” Cheyenne said in a small voice.
“He broke up with you,” Friend One returned. “Deal with it.”
“Did you mess with her car?” Friend Two asked me.
“No,” I fortunately didn’t have to lie. I then went on to say, “But I had to talk to the cops about her. They said don’t engage. So obviously, I was trying to ignore her bullshit. Sadly…” I looked down at my borscht-covered self then back at her and raised my brows.
Friend Two returned to Cheyenne, and her brows were raised as well. “She had to talk to the cops about you?”
“Knox was shot. I was just trying to be sure he was okay.” Now, Cheynne was totally lying.
“Send him a text, don’t follow him around,” Friend Three said.
“I’m outta here,” Friend Four mumbled. “This is embarrassing.”
She started to head toward the door.
Friends One through Three watched her go and then looked at Cheyenne.
“If you want a ride, let’s go,” Friend Two said and looked at the hovering hostess. “Can we borrow a tablecloth? Swear, I’ll clean it and bring it back. But I don’t want her to make a mess of my car.”
I felt Dimitri move and knew he’d given her the go ahead when the hostess scurried off somewhere.
Raye sidled to my side, her eyes on Cheyenne who Titus was letting go because it was clear she wasn’t about to lose her ride.
Then again, not sure a Lyft driver would let her in their car with the state of her.
“Is Luna going to have any more problems with you?” she demanded before she could take off.
Cheyenne’s face contorted with anger. “I—”
“She will have no problems with you, or you will have problems with me,” Dimitri stated. “Starting with me pressing charges for the damage caused by your behavior in my restaurant.”
Cheyenne’s face paled under the remains of the borscht.
I didn’t think she was worried about the charges. I thought she was finally clueing in to all that was Dimitri.
“And Luna will press charges for assault,” Shanti chimed in.
“Come on,” Friend Three said. “Just promise you’ll leave her alone, pull yourself together, for heaven’s sake, and let’s go.”
Cheyenne paused to make a decision, then spat, “You can have him. He’s probably shit in bed anyway.”
She was sooooo wrong.
“She hadn’t even slept with him?” a woman at a table close to our drama whispered loudly to her partner.
“Bunny boiler,” her partner whispered loudly back.
It was then I realized how vast our audience was, how mortifying this was, how ruined my outfit was, how much of a disaster I must look, and I wished I had another bowl of borscht to throw.
But that was when it clicked with Cheyenne, you could see it written all over her face, which was now bright red, and it wasn’t the soup.
She hung her head and mumbled, “I’m over it anyway.”
Ulk.
Not even.
She slunk away.
The hostess handed them a folded tablecloth at the door.
“If you ladies will follow me,” Dimitri said while letting me go.
I looked up at him to assess how upset he was about all of this. Was he lethally upset? Or would we get out of there alive?
The thing was, his brown eyes were dancing, but he appeared in pain, though, that pain was the pain of not busting out laughing.