Once dressed, I smooth my hands down the front of the dress and look at myself in the mirror.
I can’t help but smile at how well put together I look. Applying a thin layer of gloss to my lips, I give myself the once over one last time and then make a beeline to the kitchen for my phone, purse, and a light jacket.
Checking the time, I bubble over with excitement, realizing he should be here soon. Sitting on the couch, I wait like a child on Christmas morning. Max greets me with a purr as he brushes against my leg, begging for attention as he always does.
Scratching the top of his head, I look down at him. “I can’t believe it, Max. I’ve got a date.” I’d hate to be that crazy cat lady who sits at home and talks to her cats, but if I don’t get a roll on this whole dating train, that’s the path I’m headed down.
Anxiously, I watch the clock, and my excitement slowly turns to disappointment as the minutes continue to tick by without any sign of Shawn.
Opening my text messages, I check to make sure I gave him the right address, which I did. I contemplate sending him a message, and after going back and forth over it, I decide to keep it simple and just ask if he’s still coming. Maybe he had something come up? Maybe he can’t figure out where I live? I try and come up with any excuse I can, but deep down, I know it’s not really any of those things.
It’s pitiful how long I stare at my phone, waiting for a text message to come through that never does. An ache forms in my chest after a short time, and stupidly, tears fill my eyes and slide down my cheeks. I swipe at the treacherous tears, wishing I didn’t care so much.
There must be something wrong with me. I know I’m not that pretty, but I don’t think I’m worthy of always being left in the cold. Every time I have a date, they either don’t show, or there is never a second one even though the first goes great.
Swallowing down the pity I’m feeling, I change out of the dress and into an oversized T-shirt and then go into the bathroom and wash my face. It’s obvious, he’s not coming, and even more obvious, he doesn’t plan to apologize for standing me up.
When I’m done, I crawl into my bed and pull the covers over my head.
What is wrong with me? Am I that repulsive? I don’t want to think about it, but maybe I’m not meant to be with anyone. Maybe I’ll actually become the cat lady with thirty cats, and her virginity intact. God, I hope not, but what are my other options? I can’t find a guy who wants me if I can’t get him to ever go on a second date, let alone a first.
After a while, I doze off, hoping tomorrow will be a better day.
4
Her tears kill me more than anything. I’m a bastard for doing this to her, but I can’t help it. The thought of seeing her with another guy is unbearable. It’s easier to make the guy disappear than let her think she’ll ever have a future with him.
The organ in my chest tightens as I watch her crawl into bed on my cell phone screen. I wish I could wipe her tears away. Tell her that everything is going to be okay. That she has me forever and doesn’t need anyone else.
I doubt she would welcome me with open arms into her life. If she knew the things I’d done, and continue to do, how obsessed with her I am... how closely I watch her, and how often I’m inside her house, she’d be terrified, and I never want to see her look at me with fear in her eyes.
Shoving my phone back into my pocket, I look out at the bright neon sign that’s flashing back at me. I had just finished with the Shawn guy when Christian called me for a job. He asked me to swing by Venus, the mob’s strip club.
Upstairs is the strip club, but downstairs they maintain a brothel. Everyone in this town is paid off, the cops, the judges, any one of importance is paid blood money to keep their mouth shut because when you fuck with the wrong people,