Marital Bitch(33)

“I made you cookies,” she says. I kiss her forehead and look to the ceiling to buy myself a moment. My girl can’t cook and she sure as hell don’t bake, either; but it’s damn cute of her to try. “You should look in the basket,” she whispers.

I start reach in and pull out an old Tupperware container. It looks beaten up from much use, but I don’t own anything like it and neither does she. I packed up all her kitchen shit personally. So, now I know she didn’t bake these cookies. On the plus side, that means they’re probably safe to eat.

James’s big hands grab for the container of cookies as I pull out a DVD copy of “The Notebook,” before quickly sticking it back in the basket and at the bottom is a box of tissues. And suddenly, the past week makes sense—I think. I don’t want to think Colleen’s such a bitch that she would try to tell everyone about ‘The Notebook Incident of 2004’, but then—I also never thought she’d mess with my girlfriend and she did that, too.

“Thanks,” I mumble, embarrassed and agitated, but trying to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“There’s a note,” she says, her smile about the split her face in two. She’s way too eager about this. Something smells fishy. James hears her and grabs the note before I can.

“Bradley—,” James begins, trying to imitate Colleen. “—I wanted to replace your worn, but well-loved copy of “The Notebook—,” I reach for the note but the fucking hyena evades me. “—and the tissues are because I know that you can never make it through Noah and Ally’s reunion   without tearing up—,” James trails off, hopefully realizing that I’m going to have to beat him senseless later on.

I glare at Colleen who is playing the part of the poor, embarrassed little wife. Oh, she’s good, but not good enough. All week, Colleen Frasier has been acting like she’s got a thing for me… feeding me and shit. I should have known she was working on some kind of master plan. She must be pissed about me packing up her apartment or telling her how stupid she is for signing that goddamn performance policy thing.

Well played, but baby, you don’t know who the fuck you’re messing with. My dad puts his hand on my shoulder and giggles like a fucking girl. “You know, son,” he clears his throat, “there’s no shame in liking those girly movies.” I turn away from my traitorous fucking wife and stare at the wall. It isn’t bad enough I’ve got a dead hooker on my hands, now I have to put up with this, too?

“John’s right, kid,” the Chief says, “those movies keep Louise’s engine going strong, even with the on-set of menopause.” I block them out after that. They’re actually getting laid by their wives; all I’m getting is humiliation.

I turn to Colleen and lean in close. I am not amused by this little stunt of hers. “So that’s your game, Frasier?” I quip. She looks sorry, so I look away. I don’t want to be deterred by crocodile tears.

“Patrick,” she retorts, sticking her nose in the air like the snob she is. Had I called her Patrick, she would have responded that her last name is Frasier. I can’t win.

“Okay, then,” I grin, putting on my work mask—the one I use for a perp. “Game on, Patrick.”

I walk out of the squad room, ignoring the guys as they quote “The Notebook” to me. I refrain from telling those jerks that if they can quote it to me that means they watched it, too.

Meatheads.

I stomp to the lobby and sit down in the same chair I occupied earlier in the day. Vicky grins at me, a little too happily.

“I met your girl,” Vicky says. I nod. “She’s kind of a bitch.” Normally, that would piss me off and I’d have to put Vic back in her place, but I’m too pissed to even argue.

“Yeah, she is,” I agree, because really, she is.

“She pulled some ‘do you even know who I am?’ crap when she blew past here. Cute though. Really cute,” Vicky says nonchalantly. I decide not to tell Vicky exactly how insecure Colleen is and just let her think she’s a royal bitch.

Vicky is hot—no doubt—but she’s also a lesbian and according to her, I wouldn’t be her type even if she did go back to men. Whatever. Her girlfriend, Joanne, is hot too; and she’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. They’re great for each other—and for my fantasies. Not that I ever think about them… naked… in the shower… washing each other. Okay. So, at least I don’t think about it often. As hot as it is in my head, the chick-on-chick thing always brings me back to Colleen and Heather and I lose it.