him. Paul whatshisface, with the stupid blue jacket and stupider face. What kind of fucking name was Paul, anyway? They lived in the twenty-first century, not 1900s England.
Of all the moments Blake could’ve chosen to step outside for fresh air, he had to choose that one. The one that ruined his night and month and the rest of his fucking year. He had to walk outside and see her. With him. Holding hands. Her boyfriend.
He should’ve hit the boxing ring today instead of the basketball court. Pummeling a punching bag, pretending it was Paul’s boy-band face, sounded very appealing.
The rational side of Blake told him he had no right to be jealous. He was the one who’d let Farrah go and told her she deserved better.
The rational side of Blake could fuck right off.
“He’s not lying.” Landon unscrewed the cap of his Gatorade. “He’s pissed at Farrah.”
Blake gaped at his friend.
How the fuck did he know?
“I saw you outside Legends the other night.” Landon took a swig of his sports drink. “When you ran into her and that guy she was holding hands with. You were so busy pissing all over your territory you didn’t notice me. Given that display, I’m guessing you two had a falling out.”
“Seriously?” Sammy groaned. “What did you do this time? How is it possible for one person to fuck up so many times?”
“Shut up.” Blake’s blood pressure neared the red zone. He was this close to exploding from anger all over the basketball courts, and if he did, he was going to make sure every last piece haunted Paul whatshisface’s ass for eternity.
Try dating anyone when you had a ghost fucking you up at every turn.
“She slapped him,” Landon added for Sammy and Justin’s benefit.
“She did?” Sammy looked appalled and amused at the same time. “That’s not like Farrah. What did you do?”
“Why do you assume it was my fault?”
“Was it?”
Blake scowled. Fine. He’d been an ass the other night. He’d been an ass the night he kicked Farrah out of his apartment, too. He was just an ass all around.
But he hadn’t expected to see Farrah with another guy so soon, not when his heart wasn’t even finished breaking. He was responsible for his own torture, but dammit, couldn’t she have waited at least a few months before moving on? Or better yet, a few centuries.
You deserve better.
Looked like she’d taken his words to heart.
If Blake were selfless, he’d be happy she’d moved on. But he wasn’t, so he settled for burning mental voodoo dolls of Paul in his free time.
“Of course it’s his fault.” Justin yawned and addressed his next statement to Blake. “I assume your genius plan to fuck your way back into her heart didn’t work.”
He didn’t have time to blink before Blake grabbed him by the collar and slammed him against the fence. The chain-link rattled in alarm.
“It was your idea,” he growled.
“Someone’s got their panties in a twist.” Justin didn’t appear fazed by the semi-violent turn of events. “You should know better than to take my advice. You also need to take a chill pill and sign up for anger management classes. Stat.”
“And you are begging for a shiner.”
“Don’t take it out on me because Farrah dumped your sorry ass.”
Red flickered in front of Blake’s eyes. He drew his arm back, ready to knock that smug grin off Justin’s face before Landon yanked him off.
“Enough,” he said firmly. “Let’s talk about this like adults, not bickering children.”
“Good thing you didn’t hit me.” Justin brushed his shoulders off. “I’m your employee. I could’ve filed for workplace assault.”
Blake lunged at him again. This time, both Landon and Sammy had to hold him back.
“You’re fired,” he hissed.
“Okay.” Justin smiled, cheerful as ever. Crazy motherfucker. Blake was beginning to think he’d hired—and fired—a psychopath.
“Calm the fuck down,” Sammy ordered, sounding like a different person from the easygoing, good-natured Sammy Blake remembered from Shanghai. “Do you want to tell us what happened so we can figure out a solution, or do you want to fight like a temperamental child?”
Blake counted to three and exhaled sharply through his nose. “Let go of me.”
“Only if you promise not to beat Justin to a pulp.”
“I promise. Now let go,” he gritted.
Once Landon and Sammy released him, Blake brushed his shoulders off and gave his friends an abbreviated version of what happened, minus the Cleo part. He didn’t want to, but they’d hound him to the ends of the earth until he did.
By the time he finished,