Play It Safe(112)

Gray had had women after me.

It sucked but I knew that Gray hadn’t remained blindly devoted to the memory of me even while thinking I’d never be back. Cecily was right no one had mentioned it, including Gray. And I was glad he didn’t because I didn’t want to go there. He was a man, all man and no way he would remain celibate, devoted to his hand like I was to my vibrator. I made the decision I made not to put myself out there again. Gray had needs, needs he’d see to and I didn’t know if in quenching them he’d attempted to open his heart and make a go with someone else.

What I did know was that even if he did, he didn’t succeed so when I came back, he was available for me.

And that was all I needed to know.

“I find it fascinating that, twice, I’ve been in your company and, twice, you’ve felt it’s your duty to inform me about Gray and the women in his life. All this while, back then and still now, you’re with Buddy. I mean, obviously, since he’s giving it to me and I like it…a lot,” I leaned in on those last two words to add meaningful and deserved emphasis, “I know how good he is. But you, a married lady, all this attention to my man? My guess is, you liked it a lot too and you miss it. What? Does Buddy not do it for you? Have you been pining for over seven years for Grayson Cody?”

More red drifted into her face and her friend shifted on her feet and there was my answer.

Buddy Sharp didn’t do it for her and for over seven years she’d been pining for Grayson Cody.

She didn’t speak so I did.

Saccharine sweet, I commiserated, “Oh honey, you know, I understand your pain. You…”

I trailed off as my eyes moved to the girlfriend who still wasn’t looking at me.

And that was when I knew. It hit me like a rocket.

I knew that Cecily had helped Buddy separate Gray and me, I didn’t know how but she either helped or he’d told her about it.

And she’d told her girlfriend, a woman who lived in Mustang. A woman who knew that everyone was gleeful we were back together. A woman who was uncomfortable that her friend had a hand in tearing us apart. A woman who might even be wondering why she had a friend who would do something that despicable. And even though she was friends with Cecily, she was a decent enough person not to like it.

My eyes went back to Cecily as everything I had went into stopping myself from launching a full on bitch smackdown in the chiller cabinet aisle of Plack’s.

Instead, locking eyes with her, I finished on a whisper, “You know.”

The girlfriend shifted again, this time differently. Her discomfort had ratcheted up and there was fear wafting off her.

And the red was now draining with all the rest of the color in Cecily’s face.

Yes, the bitch had a hand in it.

I kept speaking and doing it quietly.

“I don’t think you’re getting this but, even back then, when you strutted your ass right up to me happy to be a complete bitch, I wasn’t a pushover. And I’m even less of one now. So I advise you to learn from then, from this and from what I did to foil your troll of a husband’s plans to take down my man, we’re impossible to defeat. That happens when you’ve got good and right at your back and not greed and envy. So I suggest you share that with your husband and you two stop focusing your energies on Gray and me and instead convincing yourself that his money and your big house make up for not having the care and respect of your neighbors.”

“You bitch,” she hissed.

“You would know,” I replied and tossed the cheese into my cart before looking at her friend. “As for you, you should be careful the company you keep. Sometimes a stench shifts and it might be a kind that’s impossible to wash away.”

She didn’t look at me as I spoke to her but she knew I was talking to her. I knew because she swallowed nervously.

And with that, I was done. I put my hands to the handle of the cart and rolled it down the aisle toward the meat without offering my fond farewells. I needed to get the rest of what was on the list, get it in my car and get home before I blew a gasket.

I did this and, wheeling our groceries packed in the canvass tote bags I bought at Hayes to my Lexus, I saw them moving to an SUV. I would do it anyway because that was me but then I did it for different reasons. I put the top down, slid my fabulous shades on my nose and buzzed my expensive, flashy convertible behind their SUV.

Luckily, the uncontrollable urge didn’t strike to reverse it and slam my bumper into theirs. My car was new but it was paid for, I loved it and, if Gray’s truck was anything to go by, I’d need to keep it awhile.

I drove home fuming and as I was coming up the lane, Gray, in a tight, wine colored tee, one of seven (yes seven, I’d investigated, all were equally battered like he inherited them from his father or something) of his tatty baseball caps on his head, leather workman gloves on his hands, came sauntering out of the stables as I did.