Cruel Infidelity

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CH. 19: HEATHER

“Wake up! Get up!”

She opens her eyes, aware now of the hard nudges against her shoulder. She blinks, staring at the outline in the dark of the room. She’s nudged hard again.

“It’s not what it looks like,” she hears Chris say, his voice pleading. He sounds like a child who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

“I’ve got nothing to say to you, Chris.” A woman’s voice says. It’s close, too close. Heather’s eyes shoot open. Tammy.

She sits up, wrapping her upper body in a sheet, watching the small dark figure storm toward the window. She tears it open and bright white light fills the room, illuminating Tammy’s dead features. She glares at Chris, her lips pressed into a firm line. “Pack your shit, I want you out of my house,” she says. Her eyes shift to Heather. “And you.” She grits her teeth. “You must be proud of yourself.” She pulls her phone from her back pocket, holding it in front of herself.

Click, click.

“Tammy! What the hell!” she yells, throwing her hands up seconds too late.

“It’s about time Andy finds out what kind of pig you are.” She taps her phone hard before looking up. “You deserve everything that happens to you.”

Chris sits on the edge of the bed, looking at the floor. “Looking for these?” Tammy asks, dangling his boxers in front of his face. Her nostrils flair, her eyes widen and then narrow. “What the fuck is that?” she asks, pointing to his cock. Chris reaches for his boxers. Tammy pulls them back. “What is that!” she demands, moving closer. “Did you…” She tilts her head up, staring at Heather. She shakes her head and then storms out of the room, snatching pictures off the walls and smashing them along the way.

Heather turns to Chris. “What happened?”

He throws the blankets off of himself, exposing his shit-covered cock. “I guess it got out of hand last night. I was too drunk to notice.”

Heather’s cheeks burn hot. She shuts her eyes, forcing herself to remain calm.

“I’m going to tell her everything,” Chris says. “That you came over here, got me drunk, and then seduced me.”

“You know that’s not what happened!” she loudly whispers.

“You knew exactly what buttons to push.” He stands. “I’m going to wash my dick. I don’t want to see you here when I’m finished.” He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, exhaling. “You’re a sick woman, Heather.” He turns, leaving her by herself. Naked and alone.

She peers around the corner of the living room before picking up her purse. There’s no sign of Tammy, and her car is gone.

She looks down at her phone to find Andrew is calling her. She holds her breath, bracing herself for what’s to come. “Hello?”

“I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I can explain.”

“Explain what? That you’re a lying, cheating whore?”

“Where were you last night?”

“Where was I,” he asks. “Nice deflection.”

“Can’t answer the question?”

“Well, seeing as how yet again you didn’t make dinner, I went to Long Horn. What a surprise that was, by the way. Tammy in my fucking apartment waiting for me. Was that a setup so you could run off with Chris?”

“That’s not what happened!”

He laughs. “Really? I’m looking at the picture right now on my phone.”

“He told me we would just talk!”

“Oh, bullshit. You’re not that stupid, Heather.”

Did he just compliment me? “Can we talk about this? I’m coming back now.”

“No. Stay there. I don’t want you here.”

“Why? So you can be with Tammy?”

“There’s nothing keeping us from crossing that line, now… So thank you, Heather. Thank you for giving me the opportunity to do what you’ve been accusing me of wanting to do for a year now.”

“I know about you and Rachel!” she yells.

“Oh, he told you about that? All the better to seal the deal. Tell him good job for me. Bet it worked like a charm.”

“You’re still in contact with her!”

“She gave birth to my fuckin’ kid, you mongoloid. Of course I’m going to be in contact with her.”

“I hate you,” she whispers, tears filling her eyes. “I hate you!” She hangs up, tossing her phone. She sinks to her knees, clutching at a throw pillow. she bellows into the pillow, her cries deep and guttural, rising to a soprano.

“I thought I told you to get out,” Chris says midway down the stairs.

“It’s over, thanks to you! Done! Where do you think Tammy went, huh?”

He shakes his head, letting out an annoyed grunt. He races down the stairs, shoves one arm into his coat, and grabs his keys off the hook.

She stares at the door, watching it slam behind him. His truck starts and peels out of the driveway. Her worst fear has finally come true. Nobody wants her. Not Andrew and not Chris. It’s Tammy they both want. As usual, the skinny whore wins.

She slumps against the bottom of the sofa, her face slack. She swallows back the threat of bile. How did it get so bad so fast? She sighs. Her days were numbered as they were, this is just a convenient excuse for the lot of them. Everyone got exactly what they wanted—everyone except her.

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