I take a small step deeper into the pantry. The door is slightly ajar, and I pray they can’t see inside it from where they’re standing. They’ll think I snooped on purpose.
“What, I’m not allowed to speak my mind here anymore?”
“You can speak your mind; I just don’t appreciate you getting involved in my personal life. Or what you think is my personal life.”
“If it’s not your personal life, why don’t you explain why she’s getting all this special treatment?”
I hate those words. Special treatment. I knew it would piss her off that everyone was coddling me so much. Dammit!
“I don’t have to explain anything to you. In case you’ve forgotten, I’m the boss here.”
“There was a time when you shared everything with me, Ozzie. What happened to that? What happened to us? It was so good between us for a long time.”
My heart collapses in on itself. He said they’d never had sex. He lied! What else could she possibly be talking about?
Tears spring to my eyes. Horrible memories of my father come rushing into my brain. Visions of my mother, sobbing, drinking, trying to erase the pain he caused. His stories that were supposed to be believable. The suffering it brought to all of us. I’ll never be able to forget that part of my life, and now it feels like I’m reliving it, only this time I’m my mother and Ozzie is the liar.
Of course Ozzie lied. He was too good to be true. I built him up to be this perfect specimen of a man, a superhero no less, but I should have known better; no man is perfect, including Ozzie. He’s just like the rest of them.
I’m devastated. Shattered, just like I predicted I would be. Of course I thought it would take at least a few weeks for that reality to hit me like a ton of bricks, but whatever. It’s here now. Thanks a lot, asshole, for getting my hopes up and then slapping me down. Dammit, he was so cute! And fun! And we did have massive sex too. My heart literally aches.
I can put up with a lot of crap, but lying is not one of those things. Not only was my father a lying cheat, but so was Jenny’s husband, Miles, which is why his butt got kicked to the curb last year. I hate that I’ve already slept with Ozzie. Twice. I can’t stay here tonight—no way. I’m busy planning my excuse for why I have to leave when he responds.
“You moved on, Toni. You don’t need me that way anymore.”
“Says who?”
“Says me. And you. You’re the one who pulled away, not me. And I think it was the right thing to do.”
“Because she’s here.”
“No, because it just is. It’s time to move on from the past. Look to the future.”
“My past is my future.” Her words sound vicious, even way over here in the back of the pantry. The boots she’s wearing strike the floor hard as she walks away.
“Only if you want it to be!” he shouts out after her.
The door to the warehouse slams shut.
“Goddammit.” Ozzie sounds totally defeated. His footsteps moving down the hall toward his bedroom fade away as I tiptoe up to the pantry door. I need to get out of here asap, before he has time to find out I’m not in his bedroom and that I was hiding in the pantry the whole time.
CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
Thank god, I left my purse downstairs in a locker. I race down the stairs and sprint over to it, yanking it out of the metal space. Felix is struggling to get out of my arms, probably because I left Sahara upstairs.
“Stop it, Fee. We have to go. I’m sorry about your girlfriend.” The tears want to pour out of my head, but I won’t let them. Not here. I’ll collapse in a soggy pity party later, when I’m home and drinking copious amounts of wine.
I fish around in my bag for my keys and find them just as I’m getting to my Sonic. Less than a minute later, I’m pulling out of the warehouse, thankful that Toni left the door open. I didn’t realize how much Ozzie’s home could be like a prison until I remembered I don’t have a key fob to use to get in and out of the big door. I could have left through the small door, but that would have meant leaving my car behind, and no way am I taking that stupid minivan. I have to decide if I’m even going to come back to this place.
As I drive down the highway, taking the fastest way home, my mind wanders. Can I work at Bourbon Street Boys if Ozzie and I are no longer together in a sexual way? Can we step back into the boss–employee relationship? I think I can. I want to, anyway. I’ll have to mourn the loss of that almost-relationship first, but it won’t take long, right? A couple months, tops? Thinking about going back to wedding photography is positively depressing. At Bourbon Street Boys, I felt like I had an exciting life, for once. People admired me for things that came naturally to me. Every minute of the day, there was something new happening. My muscles are sorer than sore, sure, but soon they’ll be strong, and then I’ll know how to protect myself out here in a world where things can get pretty damn crazy.
I nod. Ozzie and I can do this. We can decide to be adults about it and acknowledge that things will be better if we’re not involved. Then he and Toni can get back together, and I can keep my job. She’ll stop hating me when she sees that I’m happy to give him up, and we can maybe even learn to be friends.
I burst out in choking sobs. Why did he lie? Why didn’t he just tell the truth? I liked him sooooo much. I probably loved him already. Oh, how I hate myself right now. Why do I have to be so gullible? It makes me angry enough that the tears stop.
Give Ozzie up? How am I going to do that? Can I pretend I never heard about his lie and make myself not care that he did it? When I try to imagine saying the words Good-bye forever or hearing the words Sorry, but it’s not going to work out, I want to bawl like a baby all over again. Why? Why, dammit? Why did he have to be so amazing and such a liar too? Why can’t the inside of a man match the outside, like, ever?
I grip the steering really hard and shake it. It’s actually my body flying back and forth, but it feels good taking my rage out on the faux-leather cover. I yank the wheel hard to the right, driving up into my driveway way too fast.
I have to slam on the brakes to keep from ramming my garage door. I’ve for sure left skid marks on the ground. Good. I’ll need something to keep me busy for a while after today. I’ll get down on my hands and knees and scrub that rubber off for the next week. I’ll have the cleanest driveway in New Orleans.
My hair swings into my face with the force of my stop, and Felix flies off the seat and lands on the floor. When he gets his feet under him, he looks up at me, and I swear I can see disappointment there.
“I’m sorry, baby. I’m just upset. You know I drive horribly when I’m in a bad mood.”
He’s still glaring.
“Don’t worry. You’ll see Sahara again. I’ll work it out . . .”—my voice catches on the last word—“somehow.”
Walking up the front sidewalk with Felix under my arm, my feet are practically dragging. I don’t want to be here alone, but I don’t want to be at work. I can’t look at Ozzie right now. I need to calm down before he starts lying to my face. And I can’t go to my sister’s place. She’ll try too hard to cheer me up, and I’m not in the mood. I need to wallow in my pain for a little while. Own it. Live in it like a second skin so that when Ozzie begs for my forgiveness, I won’t cave in. I do that too easily. I need to toughen up. Something tells me Ozzie will have amazing powers of persuasion.
I walk in the door and throw my stuff on the ground: my purse, the singlestick Dev told me to keep and practice with, and the folders I had at the table. Felix I lower to the ground gently, of course. He didn’t do anything wrong; he’s guilty of the same crime I am—loving too much, too fast, too easily.
I don’t know why I grabbed all that stuff from work. I guess my heart wants to pretend I’m still working at Bourbon Street Boys, even though my brain is telling me to quit. Stupid heart. Trying to get itself trampled and not just massively bruised.