Bruce is at the front desk when I come storming into the building. “He in?” I ask as I pass. I don’t wait for an answer. I get in the elevator and keep pressing the button until it closes. As the elevator lifts, so does my rage. I’m almost vibrating with it when the doors open. I knock and knock continuously until he opens the door, dressed in pajamas.
“You asshole!” I push past him into the apartment. “You unbelievable piece of shit!”
He shuts the door. “Jo—”
“No! You don’t get to talk, I get to talk. I’m the one who had to go to her best friend’s party alone. I’m the one who had to deflect and lie about why she didn’t show up with someone when she said she would.”
He seems confused. “Jo, I—”
“Shut up! I’m not done!” I step toward him, fury cutting through the hooch, so I’m fast. “You made a promise to me, and I take promises seriously. I don’t ask for a lot, Harry. I don’t pressure you, I don’t smother you, and I haven’t asked you for any kind of commitment. I listen to you, I help you out at work, I never turn you down for sex, and I have lied to everyone I know and love to protect you. This was the first time I ever asked you for anything. Anything! And you said you would. You said you would be there. I needed you tonight, and you weren’t there! You didn’t show up! You lied to me!”
“I didn’t—”
“I’m not even worth a damn phone call to you. I’m nothing but a fuck to you. A roll in the hay to make you feel virile. You’ve been using me, haven’t you? You’ve been pretending to care for me, but you don’t. Not really. And if you were just honest about it, that’d be different. I’m used to it. I just thought you were better than that, but obviously I’m an idiot. Because I forgot. No one ever gives a damn about me. I don’t get a happy ending. What’s the matter with me? Why can’t anyone…” I ball my hands into fists, digging my fingernails in so deep I almost draw blood to stop those fucking tears from falling. My chin trembles. “I thought you were one of the good ones, Harry. I thought you wanted…me. And here I thought you were too good for me.”
Harry takes a step toward me. “Jo…”
I back away, holding out my arms to stop him. “Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me. Just…go to hell. Go to hell.” I turn around and storm out before he can see the tears I can’t stop this time. Bastard doesn’t deserve them.
He doesn’t follow me. I don’t expect him to.
Fuck.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
HORROR
Light is bad. Light hurts Joanna. It burns my eyes, and makes the percussion band in my brain double their rhythm. I’d stay in bed until Armageddon if it wasn’t for the immediate need to vomit up all my internal organs. I rest my head on the cool porcelain after my second round. I shouldn’t have mixed drinks like that. I know better. Punishing myself, I guess. I’m very good at doing that.
Last night I got home and just dived into bed. Fell asleep in my dress, which did it no favors. Neither do the specks of spit, vomit, and sweat on it now. Shannon is going to kill me. Sadly, I’m not one of those drunks who black out. I can never get a break. The whole awful night came back the moment I woke, adding to the general “I want to die” feeling. I push the memory of Harry’s confused face, then that final look of betrayal as I walked out far from my consciousness. It just makes me sad and angry, as if I did something wrong to him.
Yeah, the repression of the memory lasts all of a minute. As I replay the scene over and over again as the near boiling water of my shower works its magic, I realize I’m not that innocent in this. I was horrible. I was needlessly cruel, like bringing an Uzi to a pillow fight. But he hurt me. Deeply. I’m madder at myself than him. I let myself get involved, and I know better. I saw a future for us that he obviously didn’t. I can understand that, God knows the roles have been reversed before, but it’s the fact that he lied about it. I don’t suffer liars well.
After half an hour in the shower, I feel almost human. I grab the newspaper and plop down on the couch with my black coffee. New record. I made the front and society pages. The front just has an article about Stu Moore. Looks like V landed an interview with Kelly Moore. There’s just a mention of me and my “impassioned speech,” about how Moore deserves justice, and how we’ll catch Alkaline no matter what. There’s a picture of me and Kelly at the press conference. I really need a haircut.
The society page is much kinder to my vanity. Taking up half the page is a photograph of all of us looking like a royal family, arrogant and classy. Underneath are candid shots of various guests and one of Marnie and Rebecca laughing at something I’m saying. Sparkle’s article is a loving piece about how magical the night was, and how perfect the couple is together. I’m quoted here too. “She’s like my sister…he doesn’t deserve her.”