“Jamison, baby. You know you miss me,” Kelsey coos, walking around him again.
“I really don’t, Kelsey,” Jami argues, backing into one of the couches.
“I could make you miss me.” She grins at him, reaching up to palm her very fake double-D boobs.
“I’ve told you this a million times, Kelsey. We’re done. We’ve been done for a while. It was never serious. You know that. I know that. Let’s not pretend otherwise,” he snaps at her, moving around the couch, putting it between the two of them as some kind of shield. “I’m in love with someone else now.”
This is what none of those girls in the books and the movies get a chance to see. None of them get a chance to see this moment. The moment where the guy pushes the whore off him. The moment when he does everything he’s supposed to do, even though he thinks no one is watching.
Up until a few months ago, I would have been one of those girls. I would have bolted, never once giving Jami the benefit of the doubt. I almost did, but I am stronger now. I may have come in here ready to fight him because of his deceit, but I am sure as shit equally as ready to fight this skanky Barbie doll for him. He is mine.
“This because of your whore?” Kelsey hisses at him. “She can’t make you happy like I can, Jamison. You know how good we were together,” she says, dipping her hand into the front of her neon-pink thong, fingering herself slowly. “You should see how wet I am for you, baby.”
Oh, hell fucking no. I’m across the room before I even know what I’m going to do. She’s still touching herself, but when I’m about five feet away, she notices me. Her eyes go wide with panic before she narrows them at me. The bitch doesn’t even have a clue what’s coming her way. I wouldn’t say that I’m a brawler, but I’ve been known to lose my temper a time or two, and when I do, it is far from pretty.
“Speak of the whore and it shall appear,” she taunts, trying to back away from me.
“Kelsey,” Jami warns from somewhere else in the room.
I put my hand up to silence him before he says anything else. I’ve had it with this cunt. Yes, I hate her so much that I used the motherfucking C word, but it suits her nasty personality.
I continue to pin her with my stare, and when I finally reach her, she’s backed herself up against the wall, flanking the fireplace. “Tsk, tsk, Barbie. First rule of a catfight: don’t back yourself into a corner,” I mock.
“He’s mine, you fucking bitch!” she screams in my face, reaching out to claw me with her ugly-ass nails.
I’m faster than she is, grabbing her by the wrists so I don’t get any of her on me and slamming her into the wall. I momentarily find myself hoping that I don’t pop her fake tits in the process. That would be hard to explain. But the look in her eyes shifts from confrontational to downright panic.
Good. She finally realized that I’m not fucking around anymore.
“Listen up, sweetie.” My voice drips with sarcasm as I put my face right in hers. “I’m not sure if all that time under UV lights is messing with your little brain, but let me clear a few things up for you.”
She tries to squirm out of my hold, but it only serves to piss me off further. I slam her back into the wall again, getting even more up in her painted-on face. Our bodies are so close now that I can feel her naked chest pressing into my coat every time she breathes. Nasty.
“First of all and most importantly, he’s not yours. He’s fucking mine. Let me make that abundantly clear. Second of all, I know they taught you this in school, but it looks like you need a little refresher.” I cock my eyebrow at her. “No means no. I don’t care if you think he wants you. He doesn’t. I can assure you his needs are absolutely satisfied.”
Jami stifles a laugh behind us before he tries to disguise it with a cough.
“Help me, Jamison. Please,” she whines. “She’s fucking crazy.”
Bet your ass I am, Barbie. The best way to fight crazy is with crazy.
“Third”—I move my face again so close to hers that our noses are now touching—“if I ever see your Doritos ass in this house again—with or without clothes on—I will mess up that face. Do you understand what I’m saying?” I ask her with the same tone of voice you’d ask a child.
She nods, and I smile an award-winning bitch grin.
“Good. Now get the fuck out of our house.” I drop her wrists, backing away two steps before turning around.
Jami, standing a few feet away by the couch is smirking. I narrow my eyes at him but wink at the same time. I’m about to speak when I see his gaze moves over my shoulder and his eyes go wide. I don’t have time to see what he’s looking at before my hair is yanked viciously, snapping my head backwards.