Jeff wasn't quick to respond. He probably never wanted to have this conversation anymore than I did. It's this shameful thing he did, involved me in and we just don't talk about it. Not when it was happening all around me for months. Not when he moved out. Never.
When he did finally speak, I immediately saw red.
"Your mother and I—" he began.
"Nope, try again. My mother wasn't in that laundry room or in your marital bed when you fucked Melissa in it. Don't you dare put sticking your dick in someone else on her," I said, figuring now was the time to return to the bedroom to put my shirt on.
After putting my shirt on, I sat down on the bed and pulled my phone out of my pocket, knowing that I had probably bought precious seconds with that bombshell.
Using Jeff's mistakes against him also meant bringing shit up for myself and I was going to pay for it later. But now wasn't the time to dwell on how this was going to fuck me up or get caught up in what happened in this very bed last night.
Focus, Scott.
Texting as fast as my hungover brain would allow me to, I told Kenny the plan to bust me out of this suite.
Kenny: That is not the plan. What do you mean get you out of FBI custody? What the fuck did you do? The plan is shit. I vote for a new plan, because the plan is shit. Pulling the fire alarm is a felony. I won't survive in jail.
Kenny: Complete shit.
When I got the texts, I grinned from ear to ear. Good old Kenny. I could hear his voice in my head, saying the words while he lost his shit.
Scott: Deep breaths, buddy. I didn't do anything. Jeff's just being a dick, because my girlfriend told him to be. No time for more. You got this. I believe in you. Make sure you keep your face hidden and you're golden.
Kenny: Dammit Scott, you need to stop roping me into your shit.
I pocketed my still buzzing phone. Kenny was having a meltdown, but he'd come through. We always came through for each other. I wasn't worried about that. What was important was going back in there and finishing what I started. The plan depended on it.
Making my way back to Jeff, I sat down across from him.
"I'm waiting for an answer, Jeff. You want to hang out? Hold me hostage? Keep me from the only woman I've ever loved? This is what that looks like," I said, leaning into the pain, making it work for me.
"How many times are you going to make me say I'm sorry?" he asked bitterly, taking his feet off the table.
"Try fucking once. Hey Scott, sorry for fucking Melissa right in front of you or in the room next to you over and over again. Those fucking words never came out of your mouth," I spat back at him.
Seven years later, he still couldn't say it. I was counting on that. His cowardice. His shame. His arrogance. Hopefully eventually his anger.
"It wasn't that simple. Do you have any idea what it's like to feel like you're not a man in your own bedroom? To feel like you did something wrong because she just hates you overnight?" Jeff asked, an edge to his voice as he tapped his foot on the ground.
Throwing my head back, I laughed my ass off and immediately regretted it, the head splitting pain reminding me how hungover I was.
"You want to talk about what happens in my bedroom? Here's what happens, Jeff. I fucking blow their minds. Doesn't matter who she is or what she's into. I fuck her just the way she likes it and then I throw her out like yesterday's trash because I don't feel shit for her. No matter how hard I try. How long I wait to touch her. How many times I fuck her. How beautiful she is. I hate fucking her. That's what you did to me. Until now. Until her. She's my fucking world," I said, getting far too swept up in the moment.
How long had I been waiting to say that out loud? Why couldn't I keep her out of my head long enough to do what needed to be done?
"You don't love her. She's a criminal, Scott. You don't know the real her. You're just a kid trying to get some. Women are a dime a dozen. Tomorrow you'll be fucking someone else with a tighter pussy that won't get you killed," said Jeff, his leg now shaking.
Blood rushed into my ears. What the fuck did he know about loving someone? Any other time I would have torn him a new one for talking about her like that, but I needed to rein it in. I just shared intimate details of how I'd been struggling because of what he put me through and he didn't seem to give a shit. That wasn't happening again. Time to push his buttons.
"You know what a man does, Jeff? He owns his shit. He tells his wife of twenty years that he doesn't love her anymore instead of fucking around and lying to her about it. Telling her that her own son is making shit up to hurt her. She wanted so desperately to believe you. I broke her heart over and over because you couldn't man up and do it once," I said, rising out of my seat, throwing his failure in his face, hopefully hitting where it hurts.
"That wasn't your fucking place," he raged, steam coming out of his ears. "You had no right to get in the middle of things between me and your mother. If it weren't for you—"
"If it weren't for me what? You could have kept fucking Melissa's tighter pussy behind my mom's back? Is that what you threw your twenty year marriage and two children away for? Tighter pussy?" I asked, taunting him, my feet taking me towards him until I was standing right in front of him.
I needed to be up close in his face to really set him off. His hands turned into fists and his face reddened with anger, but I could see him trying to regain control of himself. I had come too far. Too many emotions were rushing through me and honestly I felt a little high on power.
"I'm not that man anymore," he said cautiously. "What I did to you, your sister and your mom was wrong and I'm —"
Some part of me had been waiting years to hear him say it. Not even necessarily to me, but to my mom and Willow. Today wasn't going to be that day. Today I wanted one more moment with Stacy more than his lame ass apology.
"Not six months after you walked out on us she became your wife, Jeff. What was the point when you're probably fucking around on her too?" I said with malice in my voice.
That did it. He punched me, right in the face. In that moment, I felt so numb I didn't even register the pain. I envied him. If I weren't trying to rile him up ins
tead of losing my shit, I probably would have punched him too.