Cocky Bastard

My sister had a knack for picking one loser after the next. The crowd she hung out with wasn’t exactly conducive to meeting CPAs. “As long as he’s good to you.” I couldn’t help myself. “And keeps some damn pants on when I’m around.”

Adele and I spent the entire morning catching up. Talking about Mum was the hardest part. Things could have gone either way for my sister after what happened two years ago. Our mother’s death could have really set her back. I was relieved to find she truly had turned her life around. It made everything I’d went through worth it in the end. She seemed…happy.

“So.” Adele took the mugs we’d been drinking from and placed them in the sink. She leaned her bum against the counter and folded her arms over her chest. “Are you going to go see her?”

“Who?” Why was I playing this game again? I knew damn well who she was referring to.

“Your wife.” Her eyes pointed to the ring I’d already forgotten was on my finger. I shoved my hand into my pocket.

“She’s not my wife.”

Adele rolled her eyes. “Your fake wife. Whatever. Are you going to go see her?”

“Don’t start, Adele.” One lonely visit, I’d turned into a Mary and spilled my guts about Aubrey to my sister. I regretted it instantly. She spent the next twenty-three months trying to talk me into writing to Aubrey and telling her where I was. She even suggested she go visit Aubrey to have a chat and keep the hope alive.

“Have you looked her up yet?”

“I’ve been out for three hours.”

My sister squinted. “So that’s a yes, then?”

I shook my head, not responding, but she knew the answer. “I’m going to take a long, hot shower. It’s been a while.”

The look of hope on my sister’s face dropped. I walked to her and lifted her chin so our eyes met. “Hey. I’m proud of you. Let’s not go backwards anymore. I’m free. You’re wearing a damn bun in your hair and dating a guy who thinks a spoon was invented for stirring. Everything turned out pretty good, I’d say, yeah?”

Her eyes welled up again, and she gave me one last hug. My sister was good. I could sleep soundly tonight. It might just be the first time since before I left Aubrey sleeping in Las Vegas. At the thought, I reached up and rubbed at my chest to soothe the ache.

“Will you be here when I get home tonight?”

“I was actually thinking of heading up north. See about a job opportunity,” I lied. Suddenly, I was in the mood for another road trip.

My anxiety grew as I merged from State Route 91 to I15 and started to see the first signs for Temecula. I had no idea where I was going, or what the fuck I was going to do when I got there, but I needed to see she was okay.

Stopping at a combo gas station-grocery store, I stocked up on typical stalker snacks. Fun dip, Sour Patch Kids, popcorn and, of course, Pixy Stix. The cashier looked at me like I might be luring kids into the back of my van at the corner of the local elementary school. “Sweet tooth,” I offered with a shrug. He didn’t really give a shit.

It may be sunny in this part of California three-hundred and thirty days out of three-hundred and sixty five, but it started to rain as I pulled my pickup truck onto Jefferson Avenue in downtown Temecula. It was nearly five o’clock. People dressed in suits were starting to come out of the office buildings that lined the street. I found the tall building marked 4452, parked a half block away, and slumped down in my seat and waited. With low music and a sack full of candy, I could sit here and bask in the simple things for half the night. Who knew I’d be such an expert stalker?

Two hours passed before I saw her. She stepped out from the building and stood under the overhang as the rain pelted down on the sidewalk in front of her. Not wanting to be seen, I slouched even further into my seat, eyeing her just above the steering wheel.

She looked beautiful. Her auburn hair was longer, the waves looser, cascading halfway down her back. An emerald green silky blouse made her contrasting pale skin even more striking. A black skirt hugged her hips and, even though I couldn’t see the back, I imagined how the material clung to her shapely ass. Gorgeous. Full of all the class and sass that I knew she was. It had been two years, yet what I felt for her hadn’t dimmed one bit. Which is why my knuckles were turning white as I gripped the steering wheel when I saw a man’s hand wrap around her tiny waist.

Mother fucker. I hadn’t expected her to be single, but I wasn’t prepared for what I saw. Some asshat in a navy suit and glasses that looked like Clark Kent’s opened an umbrella and snuggled Aubrey close to him. My Aubrey. I couldn’t breathe as he whisked her into the parking lot across the street, shielding her from the rain, and disappeared out of sight. Minutes later, a car edged out onto the street, waiting for traffic to let it in. I was sure it was them before I even saw the smiling faces in the car. A black goddamn BMW. His name was probably Biffy.