Marital Bitch (Men with Badges) - By Jc Emery Page 0,39

are going to start dating.” Vicky looks at me like I’ve grown antlers. “Look—if there’s one thing that woman can’t stand more than anything, it’s another woman being more important in my life than she is. I need to know how she feels—and this is just the thing to draw it out of her,” I scheme proudly, my excitement replacing my earlier anger.

“You really want to do this?” Vicky asks and I nod. I don’t even have time to ask if that means she’s willing to participate in this little game. With no warning, Vicky pulls me in and kisses me on the cheek. It’s not obnoxious or obvious as far as kisses go. But then I hear a voice clear behind me and turn to see Colleen. She looks angry and her eyes are bright red.

“Really, Bradley,” Colleen hisses. “If you’re going to keep your little sluts then we’re going to need ground rules. I will not be made to be embarrassed in public.” I cock an eyebrow at her and lean forward.

“You mean like you just did to me?” I ask. Her face turns an off shade of purple and she lets out a muffled scream before stomping out of the station. I chuckle quietly, and Vicky—God love her—has the decency to turn away and make herself look busy.

As the doors slam, Vicky turns to me all wide-eyed and a little nervous looking. “Oh, that was awful. Did you hear her? She called me a slut.” She doesn’t seem offended, just baffled.

“I told you, she doesn’t like to share; and don’t worry about it—this is going to be fun.” I say, patting her head and walking off back to the squad room, ready to crack some skulls if anyone tries to be funny.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

(Colleen)

That idiot is in love with you.

THIS IS WHY I’ve never tried anything with Brad in the past. Aside from the fact that he is a smelly, loud, hairy, jackass; he is also an aloof womanizer who hops from bed to bed, sometimes before the condom even comes off. And to think I was about to have sex with that pig.

I hold the tears at bay as I rush to my car. I need a drink, or maybe… no, no. I haven’t done that since college when my stupid brother and stupid Brad walked in on me and Lindsay and nearly arrested the both of us. I’ll give Dumb & Dumber one thing—they sure are a couple of goody goodies.

I hastily climb into my car and the tears fall. Before I know it, my hands are covered in snot, my eyes hurt, and I’m hiccupping. I choose not to analyze why I’m this upset. Is it over my gift gone awry or over that other thing—that amazon-looking Barbie in Blue? The station isn’t far from Brad’s house, but I don’t want to go there just yet. My condo is empty, and the very last place I’d want to go right now is my mom’s house. I can’t very well explain the whole fake marriage fiasco and Brad practically dry-humping Vicky the Bimbo at the station to my mother. Okay, rationally I know that it was nowhere near dry-humping, but that’s how it’ll forever be burned into the caverns of my brain.

So, I drive to Darla and James’s house. Not that any of us live very far from one another… I mean, Southie isn’t very big. I park my car in front of Brad’s house, happy to find a spot so close, and I walk the few houses down to see Darla. I just know she’ll see my side of things and we can sit and cry over how much boys suck.

The house is silent, so I use my key to get in; knowing better than to ring the bell if the kids are sleeping. I creep toward the living room. Darla is on the sofa reading a book. She looks up and smiles at me, probably happy to have a conversation that doesn’t include boogers and Disney Princesses. I smile back through my red, puffy eyes and her expression changes. She sets down the book and looks at me solemnly.

“What happened?” she asks, moving her feet and patting the sofa beside her. I curl into her side and sniffle as I begin to tell her the whole story—sans Brad crying at the theater. Okay, that part might be important to Brad’s reaction, but it feels like a major violation of trust—even if half of the