CHAPTER NINETEEN
Tammy
The chimes rang softly as I let myself into the Pink Cherry. It’d been so long since I’d been to the shop but it was just as I remembered. The space was brightly lit with cheery signs that read, “His Stuff,” “Her Stuff,” and “Extreme Restraints,” among other helpful tidbits. Yep, everything was just as I remembered.
I caught a glimpse of Marie helping a customer and waved discreetly to her before making my way to the counter, sitting perched on a stool. My friend came bustling over soon, giving me a big hug.
“Oof, must be cold outside,” she said with a smile. “You feel like a popsicle.”
I gave her a wan smile back.
“Yeah, it’s freezing, I didn’t have time to get my winter jacket.”
The truth was my winter jacket was still at The Meridien, waiting to be shipped to my new digs. Cringing, my heart crumpled slightly again, the coat a reminder of what had once been.
“So get me up to speed,” chattered my blonde friend, pouring two steaming cups of tea. “What’s new?”
Taking a grateful sip, I began slowly.
“Well, you know that my boss, Nick Martin, moved me into his apartment building,” I said.
Marie snorted.
“He should! The way he was banging you at work, he owed you big time.”
I just shook my head slowly.
“It’s not whether Nick should or shouldn’t have, it’s just that I thought I was the only one,” I explained in a quiet voice. “I thought I was special to him when actually I was just one girl among many.”
And Marie gasped.
“What do you mean?” she asked. “He was banging other chicks?” she asked, her eyes wide.
I nodded slowly, my cheeks flushing.
“Nick Martin is a manwhore,” I said bitterly. “He plays with women, gets them to love him, but he’s actually playing a couple violins at once. Get it? He’s strumming several instruments simultaneously, making us all think we’re the only ones, that we’re special.”
Marie was silent again.
“What, did they all live on the same floor as you guys?” she asked. “Was the Meridien like some kind of whore hotel?”
And I paused, thinking.
“No, only Nick and I had apartments on that floor, but then again, there are only two apartments per floor. The other women probably lived nearby,” I said, my face crumpling.
Marie sipped her tea slowly, thoughtful.
“Okay, that could be true,” she granted. “But did you ever see any other women?” she pressed.
“No,” I admitted, “but I have other proof.”
And that’s when I launched into a monologue, my throat clutching as I recounted last night’s events.
“I went by his apartment a little early yesterday evening and heard all these moans and shudders, all these “Oh Nicks!”” I choked, feeling nauseated again. “And then this bitch Jeanette came waltzing out, her hair all messed-up and her clothes on wrong. I know he was fucking her,” I said frozenly, reeling with hurt.
But Marie didn’t let up so easily.
“Did you ask him about it?” she inserted gently. “What did Nick say?”
“I confronted him but he didn’t say anything,” I replied dully, my eyes listless. “He didn’t defend himself, didn’t say a word,” I repeated again.
Marie paused, looking puzzled before speaking.
“That’s weird. Mr. Martin didn’t defend himself? Usually guys like this are manipulators, they’ll gaslight you, make you think that everything you saw was a mirage, make you question yourself. He didn’t do any of that?” she asked quizzically while taking another sip of tea.
I shook my head miserably.
“Everything just happened so fast, you know, I tore into his office ready to confront him and then I … I … I found panties in his suit jacket pocket,” I choked, tears welling up again. This was the humiliating part, that I’d been so trusting, so naïve. I’d been a fucking dunce and Nick had worked me for what it was worth.
Marie patted me comfortingly on the shoulder, leaning over to hand me a Kleenex. Gratefully, I took it and blew into the paper with a huge honk.
“I take it they were another woman’s panties, right?” my friend said gently. “They weren’t yours?”
“They definitely weren’t mine,” I said vehemently. “These were so disgusting, they were crusted and gross, and it was obvious she’d creamed into them.”
Marie leaned back and giggled slightly, trying to look serious even as she held a hand over her mouth
“I know it’s TMI,” I said huffily, sitting up straighter, “but seriously, there was all this crusted gunk, it was flaking off like dandruff or some shit, totally ratched.”