And zero smarts when it comes to not biting the hand feeding her.
I didn’t come close to sensing any of those things when I spotted Miranda. For the first time in a long time, a sense of calm washed over me as I stood across from a woman with more grace in her pinkie than Tasha has in her entire body.
The betrayal, the hurt, the utmost desire for revenge was all gone, stolen by the prospect that a woman as refined as Miranda didn’t deserve to face the brunt oftheirbetrayal alone.
You could see her confidence was beaten to hell. Her shoulders hung as obviously low as the defeated gleam clouding her pretty eyes.
Although I told myself time and time again that her anguish was not mine to mollify, I couldn’t walk away. She was a beacon drawing me in and making me forget, and I went from aiming my gun at her head to stuffing it so deep into the armchair that I’ll have to pay Roy a second visit once Miranda has left.
She doesn’t have it in her to kill him. Yet.
I make no promises when the confidence I saw deep inside her months ago fully flourishes.
Not even I may survive that metamorphosis.
5
MIRANDA
The cable I severed to save me from needing to crawl between Roy’s legs to unplug the ancient camcorder sits between his shaky thighs more prominently than his shriveled dick.
He knows what this footage means.
It is my ticket to freedom.
As Roy’s whines ramp up, his mumbles more sobs than pleas for forgiveness, I stuff my arms into the openings of my trench coat. The evidence of a marriage incapable of reconciliation is scattered around me, as undeniable as the droplets of cum dripping down my thighs.
Once I’ve tightened my coat around the teddy making me feel invincible, I search for my purse and phone. I swore I’d left them near the entry of the primary suite, but they are nowhere to be found.
A gun, though. There’s one of them.
Panic hits me, and for a moment, a sense of disappointment.
Having Roy taken care of would be easier than playing him at a game he’s perfected over the past twenty-plus years, but I don’t think I’ll ever see murder as the solution to any predicament.
With that in mind, I dump the gun onto the side table concealing my purse and phone before I grab my things and head for the door. My steps are firm and resolute.
The hallway is eerily quiet, the click of my heels against the polished floor the only sound.
I don’t look back when I spy the man I rode the elevator with earlier a couple of doors down. I can’t. He’ll see my flushed face and think I duped my pimp out of a hefty payday.
The elevator ride to the lobby feels like an eternity, but I keep my head high, refusing to let the heaviness of my somewhat betrayal weigh heavily on my chest.
Roy cheated first, and can you really call it cheating when the mashup occurredafterbeing served divorce papers?
As I step into the lobby, a cool blast of air from an overhead air-conditioning unit hits my face, giving welcomed relief to my blemished cheeks.
I walk through the foyer, acting oblivious as to the cause of the hotel receptionist’s sympathetic smile.
I felt pathetic two hours ago, but those thoughts have now vanished, along with years of sexual frustration.
Outside, the city is alive and bustling, a similar resemblance to the feelings settling over me. I pause for a moment, taking it all in. This is the fresh start I’ve been seeking for the past fourteen years, and it is all thanks to him, Nero, the man across the street who’s eyeballing me like my hair isn’t a mess and my mascara isn’t giving me raccoon eyes.
Like earlier, something in his gaze sets my skin on fire. It is a mix of admiration and disappointment, like he’d rather I be carrying Roy’s testicles than the camcorder that will set me free, but that he also believes the injustice is only temporary.
The reminder of how greatly he built my courage with one exchange fuels my willpower. I lift my chin, determined to face whatever comes next with dignity and respect.
This is my life, and I’m taking it back.
