First trip to NYC is in the (Dolce & Gabbana) bag!! (See what I did there haha) Thank you, lady liberty and bae!!!
Bae? What the hell is bae? Marin googles it, and according to Urban Dictionary, it’s a term of endearment. It means baby, sweetie, “before anything else.” Apparently nobody over the age of thirty would ever use it.
The picture got over a thousand likes and a couple dozen comments. McKenzie’s followers all asked the same thing: Who’s the mystery man? or Who is bae? She only responded to one person, and she used no words, posting only the emoji with the smile and the tongue hanging out.
If it’s possible for a person’s blood to boil, then Marin’s is on fire. Her temperature shoots up so hard and fast, she wonders if she’s having a hot flash. But as strange as it might sound, it’s helpful to know who, exactly, is trying to destroy her life. The person who took Sebastian doesn’t have a face. But the woman trying to steal her husband does.
Her phone pings with a sound she’s never heard before, and she jumps slightly. It’s the Shadow app. The little notification badge beside the app icon indicates that there’s one new message, and Marin’s heart thumps as she clicks on it, afraid of what she’ll read but compelled to read it anyway. She added McKenzie to the app’s contacts list, so her name shows up just as it might on Derek’s phone. Assuming he’s programmed it under McKenzie’s actual name.
McKenzie: The train got in 10 mins early, so I got to work on time! Yay!! Super busy here, already slammed with customers. Boo!! Miss you already. Text me later.
Marin exhales. That wasn’t so bad. The younger woman could have said something sexual or explicit. Although, upon reflection, this might be worse. Her text reads like the kind of lighthearted everyday exchange she would have sent her … boyfriend.
Marin needs to see her. She knows exactly where the Green Bean is, is pretty certain she’s stopped in for a latte at some point in the past. She could go there right now. Introduce herself to the bitch. Confront her. Make a scene. Embarrass her in front of her coworkers. Scratch her pretty eyes out.
It’s a terrible idea, of course. Marin’s filled with caffeine and pent-up rage-fueled adrenaline, and perhaps this isn’t the best time to publicly scream at her husband’s young lover. She should wait until Derek is home, talk to him first, find out his side of things, find out how he feels about this girl. Maybe it’s not a relationship. Maybe it’s just sex. A man has needs, sweet Simon had said yesterday.
No offense, but fuck you, Simon.
She’s in the car before she can change her mind. As she’s backing out of the garage, a text from Sal comes in.
Still alive?
Marin hits the brakes so she can type back a quick reply.
As alive as I’ve ever been.
Chapter 7
Marin catches a glimpse of pink hair and long limbs as soon as she walks in, but then the younger woman is gone, disappearing into the back room, both arms weighed down with trash bags.
The Green Bean Coffee Bar is enormous, more like a pub than a place that specializes in coffee. Like almost every coffee shop in the U District, it’s extremely busy, packed with tables full of college students, hipster professionals, and half a dozen aspiring writers who look as if they’re seriously questioning all their life choices. Marin knows she doesn’t fit in. Her heels are too high, her coat too tailored, her makeup too perfect. She looks like the owner of a high-end salon that caters almost exclusively to celebrities and wealthy women, which is exactly what she is. But she knows she looks good. And she needs to. It’s the only armor she has.
She is equal parts furious and terrified.
The smell of coffee permeates her nostrils. Some kind of lounge music, folksy guitar-and-vocals-only covers of Nirvana and Pearl Jam, is playing over the loudspeakers mounted throughout the coffee shop. She can see why this place is so popular; it’s expansive, but cozy. There’s a variety of table shapes and sizes—round tables that seat six, a rectangular table that seats twelve, square tables that can squeeze four. A couple of sofas and a gas fireplace line the side opposite the counter, and in the far corner, there’s a tiny stage with a chair, microphone, and amp set up. Signage at the front entrance announces live