Chapter two: I’m getting laid tonight

I pushed through the blinding tears.

“No..." The word slipped out, a broken, breathless chant. "No... no..."

“Vicky... please... Vicky, wait!" Carl scrambled, desperately grabbing his briefs and lunging into a pair of trousers.

“Yes, that's right, Vicky. Run before it gets too late," Trisha sliced in, her voice dripping with malice.

“You wouldn't want to know what happens under these sheets. Or would you?"

“No... Victoria, please!" Carl interjected, but their voices were already drowning into the background.

All I could hear was the echo of their betrayal-the raw, heavy sounds of their affair. How could they do this to me?

Heart wrenched, I sprinted out of the house and threw myself into my car. Carl's speed nearly caught up; his fingers clawed at the edge of my window just as I slammed the gear into reverse. My tires screeched violently.

My hands trembled, but I gripped the steering wheel for dear life and zoomed off, leaving him in the dust.

“Get a grip, Victoria," I muttered, biting down hard on my trembling lip. The bitter taste of salty tears flooded my mouth. My vision remained blurry, but Trisha's vulgar expression was permanently burned into my brains.

It screamed pure satisfaction.

I gasped as realization hit me like a physical blow. Her malicious smile, her casual invitation for me to come over tonight... the affair. It was a setup.

She meant for me to see them.

W-was she jealous?

Right on cue, my phone began to buzz in the console. Endless, frantic rings.

Carl. What the fuck did he want now?

On the final ring, I stomped on the brakes with all the force I could muster, pulling over hard.

Burying my head against the steering wheel, my chest heaved.

My eyes welled, and and raw, ugly, explosive tears burst through like a broken dam.-

Tap. Tap.

A sharp knock on the driver's side window startled me. I looked up; the glass was slightly cracked open.

“What the...? Go away!" I shook my head furiously at the intruder standing outside.

But the man wouldn't budge. He stood there, broad-chested and looming like some damn FBI agent, his chest rising and falling, his lips slightly parted.

Was he a twisted fan, or just weird?

“Fuck you anyway. You're all the same," I spat, sniffing into my palms and painfully wiping my soaked cheeks. I caught a glimpse of my puffy, bloodshot eyes in the rearview mirror and looked away in disgust.

By the time I glanced back out the window, the man was gone.

Good riddance.

“Well, if this is what Trisha wanted, then congratulations. She won the lottery," I muttered through gritted teeth, speeding off toward my apartment.

Somehow, during the rest of the drive, the music felt like a warm hug. The tracks glided seamlessly from Billie Eilish to Taylor Swift, and by the time I pulled into my driveway, the hysterical sobbing had numbed down .

I exhaled deeply and pulled out my keys, ready to drown myself in a puddle of wine.

I couldn't call Mom-she'd find a way to make me the problem anyway.

But as I unlocked my front door and stepped out, a tiny parcel fell out of my jacket pocket, hitting the floor.

“What's this?" I pushed the stray hair out of my face and picked it up.

A small plastic baggie containing a strange, compact substance. I folded it tightly into my palm, my mind racing. Where had this come from? Had someone planted it on me?

I wiped my eyes and walked into the living room, but the mystery vanished the moment my eyes landed on the framed photo of Carl and me on the table.

My blood boiled. Like a toxic cocktail of anger, sadness, and betrayal purging through my veins.

I marched over, grabbed the frame, and screamed, "This is what I get for believing in love!"

And smashed it against the wall. The glass shattering into a million jagged pieces.

I dug my fingernails into my scalp, desperate to feel a different kind of pain. Deep breaths weren't working anymore. Wine had to. I reached for the shelf, grabbed a bottle, and poured glass after glass, gulping it down until the bottle hit the counter, empty.

But the alcohol couldn't drown out the memory.

“Fuck, you taste so good, baby..." Trisha's sloppy voice echoed in my head.

"Arghhhhhhhhh!" I shrieked, hurling the empty bottle against the wall. It exploded in a shower of green glass.

I panicked, scanning the shelves for more. I found a random bottle and checked the label.

“Thirty-seven percent? What the fuck am I supposed to do with thirty-seven percent?"

I popped the cork anyway and threw my head back, letting the harsh liquid scorch my throat dry.

My knees buckled, unable to support my weight anymore.

But as I sank to the floor, a strange heat flushed through me. But It was also a familiar, deeply twisted wave of arousal.

Why the hell was I feeling this way? It felt exactly like the dark, heavy tension back at Trisha's house.

“No, no, no," I whimpered, covering my ears, trying to block out the phantom moans of pleasure that were traumatizing me.

Crawling toward the coffee table, my lazy eyes caught the strange little parcel I'd set down.

No, Victoria... this isn't you, a faint voice warned in my head.

“You don't have the slightest clue who I am," I whispered back to the empty room.

I unrolled the plastic. "I failed at my relationship. I tried to build something for myself instead of hiding behind my family name and wealth, and guess what?" I cackled, a manic, broken sound. "I failed at that, too! So don't tell me who I am."

Closing my eyes, I swallowed the substance whole.

**†**†******†***†**†**†****

“Miss... Vic...toria?"

A blurred voice slurred my name. My eyelids felt heavy, peeling open to a harsh, blinding light.

“Oh my God... you're awake!" Becky let out a massive sigh of relief. "Thank God. I almost called 911."

“Ahhh..." I pressed the palms of my hands into my temples. Feeling the migraine seep into my brains.

“You were totally blacked out," Becky said, hovering over me. "After a hundred unanswered calls, I got so worried I came straight here. And when I saw you like this, I knew I had to call him..." She smiled triumphantly.

I furrowed my eyebrows, a knot forming in my stomach. "Call who?"

Right then, the front door swung open.

The architect of my misery walked in.

The memories washed over me like a wave, and in that moment, every emotions I fought to surpress attacked like a tsunami.

“Vicky..." Carl said, treading carefully across the room. "I love you. You know that."

@Becky," I said, my voice cutting through the room like shards of ice. "If you don't get him out of here by the count of three, I'm calling the cops."

Carl stared at me in disbelief, his jaw slightly slack. "You don't mean that. Do you, Victoria Lurkin?"

I swallowed the bitter bile rising in my throat. I needed him to leave before my mask fell. I couldn't let him see the depths of my heartbreak.

“Get out of my house, Carl."

"What was I supposed to do with my hard-on?!" he blurted out.

The pathetic mask he wore finally dropped to the ground.

You wouldn't even..." Carl's eyes darted to Becky, who looked like she needed to evaporate on the spot.

“Becky... would you believe she wouldn't even suck my dick?!" he thundered.

Becky's cheeks turned a violent shade of red.

If she was embarrassed for me, I couldn't even fathom the depth of the pit I was currently residing in. Somewhere near the Earth's crust, chilling with Satan.

"I deliberately dropped my towel the other day with an erect dick, hoping my girlfriend," he spat, throwing up aggressive air quotes, "would help me out. But what did she do? Acted like a fucking nine-year-old and ran out of the room,

“Becky! Victoria, a twenty-five-year-old woman, ran out of the room because she saw her boyfriend naked!"

He let out a harsh, mocking laugh.

“And oh... did I mention she closed her eyes, too?"

He shook his head, looking down at me with pure venom. "We could have been a power couple, Vicky.

“We could have. But you know what you're actually good at?" He stepped forward, thrusting his index finger directly at my face. "You're good at ruining everything."

With that, he stormed out, slamming the heavy door behind him with a deafening bang.

My ears rang. My tongue felt glued. A single, silent tear escaped my eye and tracked down my cheek.

"Miss Victoria..." Becky rushed over, wrapping her arms around my shoulders from behind.

"You know that's not true. I promise you, things are going to get better. Please don't cry."

I harshly wiped the wetness from my face.

"You need rest," Becky sighed deeply, trying to soothe me. "You can't overwhelm yourself with heartbreak right now. Look, I have a list of calls from models who want a slot in the lineup. I scheduled the meetings for tomorrow morning. You need a distraction-"

"Cancel it," I cut in sharply.

Her eyes widened as if I'd just handed her a suicide note. She opened her mouth to protest, but I didn't let her.

"You're right. I need a distraction," I said, a slow satisfaction settling over my chest. "And I'm getting it tonight."

"I... I don't get it," Becky said, nervously adjusting her glasses.

"Carl hurt me," I said, a malicious smirk slowly drawing across my lips. "And the only way to get back at him is to get even."

"I'm sorry, but I still have no idea what you're talking about, Miss Victoria." Becky chuckled nervously.

"What I'm trying to say, Becky, is that I'm getting laid tonight," I whispered.