ImPerfectly Happy

“Sienna?” Keith’s voice teetered between agitation and indulgence. My head jerked as I focused my attention on him.

“Smile, beautiful.” He gave me a practiced megawatt smile and nodded toward the official photographer of the Mayor’s Ball.

A bulb flashed. White spots danced in front of my eyes. I grabbed the back of my seat, blinked until I could see, and scanned the spacious ballroom again. I was so nervous the butterflies in my stomach felt like buzzards picking at my insides. Tonight, I’d planned to harass Christopher.

He’d been a slippery fish—avoiding my calls, never responding to my emails or texts. He was a rude one, but he was the best, with over a decade of serving as senior advisor to senators in Washington, DC. I would be darn lucky to snag him. Before tonight ended, I was determined that he would a) work with Keith again and b) become my mentor. Not to mention I was starting to feel like a dud compared to my friends, who’d already made major strides in their goals.

“Don’t worry, sweet cheeks. He’s here. You’ll find him.”

A grin broke across my face. “How did you know?”

He wrapped his arm around my waist. “I just know. And being the confident man that I am, I won’t even get offended that you’re more focused on another man than me. You had that same tenacity in law school when you were determined to get the internship with the Newton Law Group.”

I’d been a terror back then. But after the summer internship, I knew I could never work for corporate, aka the dark side of the law. “Well, I’m doing this for you.”

He gave me a yeah, right look.

“Okay, for us,” I amended.

“I know, sweet cheeks.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against my ear. “Did you notice that we’re just three tables away from the mayor? Much better than last year.”

I patted his knee, remembering how offended Keith had been when we sat toward the back of the room last year.

Servers floated around us as they elegantly cleared off the entrées and quickly replaced them with thick slices of cheesecake. “I’m sure Mayor Edwards will pop by after dessert.”

Keith pointed past my shoulders. “There he is.”

Thinking it was the mayor, I slowly turned my head. My heart sped when I saw him, like a bull spotting a bright red flag. Christopher.

Long, brown dreadlocks were tied behind his head, his piercing blue-gold eyes scanning the room as if on the lookout for someone. His perusal stopped, eyes widening and nostrils flaring when he saw us.

I waved and grinned. He dipped his head and grimaced before pivoting on his heels and marching in the other direction.

I yanked the linen napkin from my lap and tossed it on the table. “What’s up with that?”

“All right, party people, it’s time to dance!” the DJ announced. The diva that is Diana Ross’s sultry voice floated over the speakers, singing, “Ain’t No Mountain High Enough.” I could see Diana’s smile, see her shimmy with all the confidence in the world, telling me to “Go get him, girl!” I didn’t shimmy but instead squared my shoulders and stood.

“Where are you going, sweet cheeks?”

“To go get him.” I stormed away before Keith had the chance to dissuade me or tell me not to embarrass him.

The place was huge. Three hundred people jam-packed, and Chris had effortlessly dodged me. “Dammit. Where is he?” I stretched my neck, even stood on my tiptoes. After ten minutes of fruitlessly circling the room, I wanted to give up. Plus, Diana was no longer cheering me on. Discouraged, I made my way back to my seat when I got a whiff of smoke. Smoke! Chris loves to smoke! Terrible habit, but the man was a chain smoker. He was most likely puffing his poor lungs away outside.

Turning on my heels, I rushed to the entrance of the renovated warehouse and turned a sharp right. My heart revved again when I found him leaning against the brick wall near a silver cigarette bin. Gotcha!

“Christopher,” I said on a sigh. I tried to calm my heavy breathing, still out of breath from speed walking. Grabbing my arms, I attempted to rub away the cold. My strapless black dress was not appropriate for winter weather, even in Georgia.

“Sienna.” He dragged in a long puff of smoke and then exhaled. A thick white cloud billowed between us. Waving my hands, I stepped back and coughed. Probably just as he wanted, to create a divide between us. I still didn’t understand what his damn problem was with me.

My recently manicured nails dug into my palms. “Why have you been avoiding me, Christopher?” My voice was sharp and imperious, like a teacher berating a student.

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

I stepped closer, so close if he breathed deeply his chest would touch mine. It wasn’t appropriate to get in a man’s personal space, but I had to know. “Why don’t you like me?”

He snapped his head back, narrowed his blue-gold eyes. The flash of blue in his eyes showed his surprise. Perhaps he was surprised by my audacity. But if he really knew me, he’d know I could be bold when needed. The blues in his eyes gave way to gold, reflecting twin pools of anger. “I don’t dislike you. I feel sorry for you.” He took a step back and smoked away from me.

Sorry for me? Embarrassment and pain seeped down to the hard concrete lot. Why feel sorry for me? I had a damn good life, thank you very much. A fulfilling career, a wonderful family, a great guy, and the best friends in the entire effing world.

A flame ignited in my stomach. Each puff he carelessly smoked stoked the fire in my belly. “Why?” I bit off, crossing my arms so tightly it pushed up my breasts.

His eyes dipped to my chest. He swallowed. “You’re the living and breathing example of Little Miss Sunshine. You’re so determined to block out the bad, you don’t see what’s going on around you.” He stubbed his cigarette and tossed it in the bin. “You think everything is perfect and wonderful and lovely.” He mimicked my voice, making me sound like a silly cartoon character.

“I don’t think everything is perfect and wonderful and . . . and whatever the hell else you said.” I waved at him.

“Lovely,” he sarcastically supplied.

“I don’t. I’m a second-generation immigrant. My parents both came from humble beginnings, yet they were able to provide for me and my seven siblings. We were rich in love but not much else. If I wanted something that wasn’t a necessity, I worked my ass off,” I growled.

“Sienna—”

“No. Be quiet and listen.” I jammed my finger just above his rib cage, and my finger nearly broke against his granite chest. “Now, where was I?”

“You worked your ass off.” This time the sarcasm was gone, and his already deep voice had gone deeper. The disdain had left his eyes, replaced by something else I was too worked up to analyze. Whatever it was had siphoned away the red-hot anger.

“Yes, I did. I graduated number one in my law school class. And you know what I d-do now?” My teeth were chattering. I needed to wrap this up pronto before I became a Popsicle.

He shrugged out of his black tuxedo jacket and flapped it around my shoulders like a cape. “You’re a public defender for the city of Atlanta.” He stepped closer to me, or had I stepped closer?

“D-damn right. Which means I don’t get to ch-choose my clients. Some are guilty, some are innocent, but all deserve a fair trial. Someone to look them in the eyes and let them know that they aren’t the sum of their mistakes. That they are worth something. Sometimes I’m their last hope, and yes, I’m their Little Miss Sunshine. I do it for them.” I jerked my thumb back, pointing to no one in particular, and then pointed to my chest. “I also do it for me. Because if I let the dark bleed through, I won’t be any good to my clients or to the community. I’ll be just another shitty lawyer shuffling through cases, treating my clients like a number. Just another shitty person who doesn’t care about the welfare of my fellow man.”

This time, he stepped closer. I was pretty sure it wasn’t me.

“You want world peace, Miss America. It’s admirable, but I’m not the man for the job.”

Despite his asshole response, I laughed. “I don’t need you to teach me world peace, Chris. I want you to teach me how to win. I want to help Keith when—”

“I’m not convinced Keith is the right man for you.” His voice was gruff and as bitter as the cold weather. He took a deep breath. “I mean . . . I don’t think Keith is going to be the man to make major changes for the community. He did okay in his first term, but he hasn’t kept most of the promises he made.”

I nodded. “You’re right. He hasn’t addressed the traffic problems, the pothole on Greenwald, or the stop sign needed on MLK Boulevard and First Street; and he takes forever to respond to emails. I’ll make sure he upholds his promises. Keith is a good man.” I rubbed my chilly arms again.

“If you say so.”

“I do.” My eyes bored into his. We were in a stare-off, and now that I had his very warm jacket that smelled of cognac and tobacco, I could stare at him all night. Not because he’s good looking, but because I want him. For my mentor. Nothing else.

“Fine, woman,” he growled.

“Yes!” I pumped my fist in the air. “You won’t regret it.”

“I’m already starting to.” He cracked a small smile, and the victory tasted even sweeter. I got Christopher Lucas to smile. After a few short seconds, he dropped his smile. “I’ll stay on for a few months, see how it goes. You’ll be my second, and I’ll teach you everything I know. But if I find something I don’t like, I’m out of here.”

“I’ll be the best mentee you’ve ever had. You’ll never have a reason to quit on me. I promise.” I stuck out my pinkie to seal the deal.

“Put away your damn pinkie, woman. I’m not worried about you.”

I rolled my eyes. “Look, I’m not sure what you have against Keith, but he’s committed and focused. Trust me.”

“Fine, sunshine.” He pushed off the wall. “Let’s get you inside before you freeze to death.”

* * *

Rain in Atlanta equaled chaos. People thought we’d lost our minds back when our city turned into the real-life version of The Walking Dead after three inches of snow—we’d really lose our big-city street cred if they realized that we were just as bad with rain. My foot stayed glued to the brake. Every couple of minutes, I inched forward on I-75. Nervous energy swarmed in my chest. Today was the worst day for rain or for me to be late.

My Bluetooth-enabled cellphone interrupted my streaming podcast. Christopher’s name flashed across the dashboard.

“Hi, Chris!”

“You’re late.”

I glanced at the dashboard. I had a minute. Technically, I wasn’t late. “Not yet.” But I would be by at least twenty minutes.

“I saw the traffic. You will be, sunshine. Thought you pinkie-swore you’d never let me down.”

Technically, we hadn’t pinkie-sworn. “I distinctly remember you swatting away my finger; therefore, nothing I promised the night of December eighteenth is binding in a court of law.”

“Because pinky-swears are binding in a court of the law.” He laughed. It was a little rough, a little rusty, and it warmed me like a shot of tequila. Like the liquor, his laughter was dangerous.

“Where are you, sunshine?”

“Um, not far, about two miles, but traffic is atrocious. I’m sorry, I’m not normally tardy but—”

“It’s fine. The coffee shop is full. I think people are trying to wait out the bad weather and gridlock. Seats are all taken, and everyone looks comfortable. We’ll need to meet someplace else.”

I rolled my eyes. “Then why did you give me crap about being late?”

“Because you are late. It’s 7:01 now.”

“Fine, Christopher. Let’s meet at Keith’s office, the one he has for city council off Trinity Avenue. I’m less than a mile away from the exit, and it’s only a few blocks from where you are, so you’ll probably get there before I do.”

“Fine.” His voice grew deep and cold. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

The podcast I’d been listening to blared through the speakers again. He’d just hung up, no see you soon or goodbye. The man was moodier than a hormonal teenage girl in the throes of PMS. I attempted to call Keith to let him know about our meeting at his office since traffic was slower than molasses, but he didn’t pick up.

Fifteen minutes later, I finally pulled into the employee parking lot for the building. After I crept my yellow Bug up the slight incline to the lot, I parked my car and pushed the electronic park brake.

“Keys, check. Purse and notebook, check. Umbrella.” I reached into the back seat and grabbed my bright yellow umbrella. I rolled my eyes. Chris was going to get a kick out of the color. I looked down at my outfit, a polka dot navy blue and white blouse with a bright green skirt. God, I looked like a walking rainbow against a storm cloud.

I opened my door and dashed across the lot. As promised, Chris stood outside, below the faded green awning, smoking a cigarette. After Chris and I became real friends, I planned to persuade him to quit. If I could convince my stubborn Baba, my father, to stop smoking, Chris didn’t stand a chance against me.

“Hey!” I retracted my umbrella once I hit the dry zone under the awning. “I’m going inside. Just come in when you’ve finished.”

He nodded and exhaled. “Be there in a minute.”

I waved at the cloud of smoke that wafted toward me. “Okay, I’ll set us up in the conference room. Yay!”

He lifted his eyebrow and shook his head.

Dang it, why did I have to say “Yay”? “I mean, excellent! See you soon.”

I propped my umbrella against the front door to the office. Rap music boomed from the back of the building. Keith was usually a classical music type of guy. If he was feeling the need to turn up, he’d listen to smooth jazz.

“Maybe I’m finally rubbing off on him.” I couldn’t wait to tease him about being a closet rap fan. Bobbing to the beat, I walked toward his office.

I yanked open his door. “Hey!” The smile on my face slipped, tumbled, and splattered on the floor.

Shock rooted me to the spot. I couldn’t move, could only stare and stare and stare as my fiancé fucked his office coordinator in rhythm to the song “Truffle Butter.” The song was so loud they still hadn’t heard me. Keith and . . . and Patricia—yes, that was her name—were facing the back window, away from me.

I closed the door. A chill settled over my bones, a chill I didn’t think anyone or anything could warm. God, Chris was still outside. Thank goodness he hadn’t witnessed my moment of shame.

One step, two.

I walk-shuffled toward the front door. Keith’s empty promises echoed inside my head. “I’ll never cheat on you again, sweet cheeks.”

Three steps, four.

“I was young, immature. I’ve got a good woman, and I’ll be damned if I hurt you again.” Five steps, six.

I pushed the door open. Something wet hit my cheek.

“Sienna?”

I looked down at my feet. I couldn’t remember what number of steps I’d taken. “Ten, I think,” I whispered low to myself.

The cold overwhelmed me. My teeth chattered and clattered like a china cabinet during an earthquake.

“What’s wrong? Let’s get you inside.” He reached for the curve of my arm.

“No!” I screamed, rushing into the rain and toward my car. Eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen.

“God dammit, Sienna, slow down.” Chris grabbed my arm, swinging me around.

I was cold. The car was warm. I could think in the car. I’d be safe in the car. I wiped the water from my eyes, trying to focus on Chris. “W-we . . . we can’t go in there.”

Chris wouldn’t listen. Instead, he pulled me back under the cover from the building. “Why the hell not?”

I couldn’t say it. A tsunami of pain drowned me. I struggled to control the ache, struggled to breathe. “K-Keith’s in th-there.”

His face morphed from irritation to confusion to understanding. “He’s not alone,” he stated simply.

“No.” My voice cracked.

The storm that raged around us mirrored his eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”

He went for my umbrella, but I walked away into the rain. I tilted my head, hoping to wash away the pain. It wasn’t soft and comforting. It was cold, relentless, hard. Suddenly, the rain had stopped. My eyes cleared and I blinked at the swatch of yellow that filled my vision. Chris’s warm body stood behind mine. No, the rain hadn’t stopped, but it had been blocked by my silly bright yellow umbrella. Grabbing my hand, he led us to his sports car, opened the door, and buckled me in. He rushed to his side of the car, shook out the umbrella, and placed it in the back seat.

I opened the window, grabbed the umbrella, and tossed it outside. I wasn’t feeling like Little Miss Sunshine today. Buying a sensible color umbrella had just been added to my to-do list.

Thankfully, Chris hadn’t said anything. After he swerved like 007 out of the parking lot, he punched a series of numbers on his phone. “Jax. Need a favor; a pickup,” he grunted. “No, a car . . . yellow Volkswagen Beetle.” He did some sort of man chuckle and gave me an amused glance. “Yeah, no shit. I’ll send you the coordinates.” He waited for a beat or two. “No keys, but you’ll figure it out. Get it to my place by tonight, soon as possible.” He nodded, although Jax couldn’t see him. “Good.”

He ended the call. I felt marginally better. Apparently, I wasn’t the only person whose calls he ended abruptly.

Chris didn’t speak after his call, and there was no music, just the sounds of the windshield wipers and heavy raindrops. Heat blasted through the vents. Oddly enough, I could feel the air, but it still didn’t cut through the freeze that blanketed my body.

Some time later, we pulled into a gated condo community. He opened the passenger-side door and unbuckled my seat belt. Grabbing his umbrella—it was blue, by the way—he guided me out of the car and marched me upstairs to an elevator bay.

Thirty-something floors later, Chris opened the door to his home. He waved me in, and I took a few steps, remaining in the foyer, conscious of my wet skirt, shirt, and shoes. Tilting my head down, I twisted my hair around my fingers. My long, fake tresses clumped together, and no amount of coaxing would bring any semblance of order to the wet mop on my head.

Chris stomped into a room, I assumed his bedroom. Seconds later, he returned with a plain white shirt, basketball shorts, and a plastic bag. “Bathroom is down the hall to the left.”

I nodded and went about getting into something dry. Can’t get sick.

When I returned to his living room, a mug sat on a silver tray. Chris had settled into a recliner chair, but the drink was in front of the love seat. “Chamomile tea.” He waved toward the mug. “Drink up.”

Hands shaking, I grabbed the cup and took a sip. Usually I blew before I drank, but I was desperate to feel. A splash of warmth hit my tongue, but not the sting I craved.

“Drink more. You’re shaking.”

I drank more, even though I knew it wouldn’t help. Keith’s face popped into my mind. The look of ecstasy on his face when we made love. Then my warped brain shot over to the scene with him and his office manager, going at it like animals. I couldn’t see his face, but his head was thrown back, and his moans formed a heartless symphony that looped in my mind.

“Sienna?” Chris had moved closer. He lifted his hand, and his calloused thumb wiped a tear from my cheek. I hadn’t realized I’d been crying.

A fierce expression took over his face. His lips turned up like he was ready to maim someone. His eyes were full-on golden and his body vibrated with raw power.

“You knew. That’s why you didn’t want to work for him.”

He nodded.

“Of course.” I sighed and relaxed into the butter-soft leather couch. “You wouldn’t want to be associated with a scandal.”

“No. I wouldn’t want to be associated with a dumbass.” He stared at me so hard I began to squirm.

“What?” I asked. “My hair doesn’t look that bad, does it?”

He cracked a small smile and sighed. “No. Even drowned in the rain you look . . . nice.” He cleared his throat. “You changed your hair after Keith got elected.”

I curled my fingers into my palms, an effort not to tug at my knotted hair. Keith had suggested the change, saying it was his fantasy to run his fingers through my hair. He couldn’t do it with my coiled fro.

I would not be sharing that tidbit with Chris. He already thought I was pathetic.

“That’s why I didn’t understand you.” Chris’s deep voice broke the silence. “When I caught him, he told me you and he had an understanding. That you were willing to turn a blind eye as long as he didn’t embarrass you in public.”

I jerked my head away as if I’d been slapped. How many people has he told the same lie? Tears freely slipped down my face. That was why Chris had pitied me. He thought I was one of those women who didn’t care, that I was just about the power and fame. Or that I was too stupid for words and had let Keith run over me. An iceberg settled over my heart, encasing it so solidly that I couldn’t tell if I had a heartbeat any longer. I was afraid it would never thaw.

“I’m so cold, Chris,” I whispered, shivering. “I can’t seem to get warm.”

He pulled me into his arms, surprising me. From the way his eyes had widened, he’d surprised himself. The cold eased. “Just a matter of time. Those rays of sunshine will break through.”

I shook my head.

Five years. Five whole years. I should’ve left the second time around. Should’ve been stronger. By this time, I could’ve been happy, been healed by now.

I wrapped my arms around his torso, sank into his chest, and breathed deep the menthol scent that clung to his clothes.

* * *

Rolling over to snuggle Keith, I cuddled closer to his chest and placed a quick kiss on his neck. I rubbed my hand down his hard, flat stomach. My man must’ve been hitting the gym harder these days, because his abs were like hard ripples under my fingers.

A throat clearing stilled my movements.

Oh, no.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

I yanked my hand back as if I’d slammed it on a hot iron. Sitting up, I grabbed the nearest pillow and pressed the fluffy shield against my braless chest. I didn’t have much in the boob department, but a girl still had pride.

Chris had remained still. In fact, he was propped against his black leather headboard looking as cool and calm as a balmy breeze. His upper body was bare and buff. And good God, his body looked as delicious as it felt. If I hadn’t been in the throes of heartbreak, I’d have appreciated the chocolate eye candy.

“Morning, sunshine.”

“I thought I was sleeping on the couch?” I smoothed down my unruly tresses.

He shook his head. “After the day you had, you needed a good night’s sleep. In a bed.”

“Right. And why are we in bed together?”

“It’s my bed.” He scratched the stubble along his jaw, looking slightly amused.

“Ooookay. I’m going now.” I rolled out of his humongous bed. Had to be a California king, which he needed for his six-foot-four frame.

The basketball shorts he’d let me borrow nearly slipped down my waist. I pulled the drawstrings and tied a bow.

“What’s the plan?” His eyes danced. He looked amused at my fumbling.

“Plan?”

“Yes. What are you going to do? You didn’t go home last night, and Keith blew up your phone with calls and texts.”

“He did?” I asked, scanning the room. “Where’s my phone?”

He reached over to the side table and pulled my phone from the drawer.

I tried to pretend I wasn’t mesmerized by his core muscles and broad shoulders.

“I turned it off.”

My shoulders bunched. “Kind of high-handed of you.”

“He called twenty times before I turned it off. Sent you multiple messages. Messages and calls make noise. You needed to sleep.” He stretched out his arm with my phone in his hand.

I walked to his side of the bed and took the phone. “I don’t have a plan.” I shrugged. “I’ll give him back his ring and stay with my parents until I get my own place. Simple as that.”

“Do you need me to follow you home? Take your back?”

Warmth crept up my neck and flooded my cheeks. Keith made you feel warm, too.

I squared my shoulders and loaded the competent counselor’s voice in my arsenal. “Thanks, but no. He has a thing with the Atlanta Press Club this morning. Won’t be back until after two. I’ll pack my stuff in the meantime.”

“So, he gets the house? Why can’t he leave?”

“Technically, it’s his home.” His parents had given him the keys a few years ago when he turned thirty.

Chris nodded. “Your car is outside. Call me when you get settled.”

The arrogance and demand in his voice made me roll my eyes. “Okay, Christopher. I’m going to use your bathroom and then go. I’ll wash your clothes and return them.”

He gave me a small smile. “No need. Looks better on you.”

Rushing from the room, I hid the small smile on my face. A flutter of appreciation filled my chest. Was he flirting with me? I opened the door to his guest bathroom and leaned against the sink, staring at my reflection.

My eyes, droopy and sad, were tinged with pink. My normally nice stature was saggy, and my rat’s nest hair was the cherry on top of my hot mess sundae. There was no way Chris had been flirting with this wreck staring back at me. He barely liked me. Worse, he pitied me. And right now, I was pretty damned pitiful. Turning on the faucet, I splashed my face with water and scrubbed.

I wish I could scrub away the stupid. Sliding my tongue against my teeth, I grimaced when I felt a light scuzz. I need toothpaste. I rooted around the drawer and found what I was looking for. The toothpaste had been rolled, twisted, which forced me to squeeze until the nearly empty tube pushed paste to the top.

Nearly empty.

That’s me. Somehow, I’d allowed a man to twist and roll me into his desires, and when he’d used me up, simply sling me into a drawer, forgotten.

Nearly empty. I had nothing else to give. And I didn’t want to give anything away.

Fuck Keith and fuck men. I was done, and if it wasn’t battery-operated or my fingers, nothing would penetrate me. I turned on my phone, deleted all texts from Keith, and messaged my girls.

Keith is a lying piece of shit, and I’m leaving him. I need to pack my stuff and go. Meet me in an hour?

My phone rang like I knew it would. Nikki’s name flashed across the screen.

“Girl, what happened?”

“I caught Keith banging his office manager.” My voice sounded deceptively calm, despite the new surge of anger rolling through me. I opened the bathroom door, grabbed my stuff, and walked out of the condo.

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry. The kids are with my mom and James is upstairs working. I’m so there. Keep your head up, okay?”

“Okay.” I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. “Oh, and Nikki?”

“What’s up?

“Bring Louella.”

* * *

My besties all showed up within an hour. I’d already started packing my clothes. Keith could have the furniture and the bed he’d probably used to screw other women.

The ladies had rallied around me. Kara had even forgone wine for margaritas. I was feeling nice, easy, and loose after my fourth one.

“Okay, ladies.” I knocked my fist on the granite island countertop. “Hear ye, hear ye!”

“We’re listening, honey.” Raina’s voice was soothing, kind. Her eyes were understanding and sad. I didn’t need sadness. It was Independence Day, and I was officially an independent woman.

“No sad face, Raina! And don’t use that tone you use with your drippity-drop listeners.”

“My listeners are called raindrops,” Raina gently corrected and shrugged when Kara sent her a shut-up look.

Raina raised a hand in defense. “Or whatever. Drippity-drop works, too.”

“That’s right! Besides, I’m happy—no!” I snapped my fingers. “I’m static!”

“Ecstatic,” Raina cut in again. This time Nikki gave her a look above the rim of her margarita glass. “What?” Raina asked, tone defensive. “Friends don’t let friends use poor grammar.”

Kara walked up next to me. “Sweetie.” She rubbed my shoulders and gave me a hug. “What do you need us to do? I see you have your clothes packed. Raina bought boxes. Nikki’s got the tape. We should get you packed and out of here before Keith returns.”

I drank the last of the margarita in my glass and wanted more. Shaking the nearly empty pitcher, I looked at Nikki. “We need more margaritas, stat!”

“What time is Keith coming back?” Kara followed me around the kitchen while Nikki and Raina sat at the counter that bled into the living room.

“Sheesh! Relax, Kaaaara!” I bopped her on the nose. “We’ve got until two-ish.”

Kara looked at the watch on her wrist. “That’s great. We’ve got four hours. Plenty of time.” She walked away from the kitchen and up the stairs. After a minute, she returned with a piece of paper. “Do you think you can step us through what you want to pack?” She looked around. “Not sure what’s yours and what’s Keith’s.”

My head swam. She was talking too much. I needed more margaritas. Why couldn’t we drink? Oh, and maybe some edibles. We hadn’t done that since college. “I just want my clothes and that painting over there.” I pointed to the gift Baba had given me for our housewarming party. Keith hated it. Said it looked too urban. Should’ve known then he was a bastard.

“You know Baba hates Keith. Said he’s too slick. Said I needed a man’s man.”

“Amen to that!” Nikki lifted her glass.

Kara wrote down the painting. “Anything else? No towels? What about your books?”

I shrugged. “My books are at my parents’. Keith said my bookcase didn’t fit in with the décor. Plus, he didn’t think it was appropriate to have all my romance novels out for everyone to see.”

“Good riddance,” Kara growled. “He’s an asshole.”

“He is,” I quickly agreed. “Now, for the important part. Nikki, where’s Louella?”

Kara tilted her head. “You can’t be serious. Why do you need Nikki’s bat?”

“To break shit.”

“This isn’t a Beyoncé video, Sienna.” Kara shook her head. “You can’t go around smashing things with bats.”

Nikki walked out the door and a few seconds later returned, bat in hand. “Didn’t think you were serious, but I brought her just in case.”

“Nik!” Kara shouted. “Do not give her the bat.”

Nikki sashayed to me, gave me Louella, and winked. “Go crazy, girl.”

I did a couple of practice swings, and Kara backed away. “You’re an attorney. Hell, Keith’s an attorney. He could press charges, and you could lose your license to practice law.”

“He won’t. Keith’s a fraidy-cat when it comes to negative publicity. He’ll be a good little boy. Probably try to pay me off for my silence during the election.” I stepped away from my worrywart friend. “What should I break first?” I asked no one in particular, scanning the room.

“The television?” Raina suggested. “Guys act like fucking babies over their TVs.”

“Good idea!” I moved toward the TV mounted on the wall. Lifting the bat in the air, I swung with all my might. The television cracked and splintered, like a ripple in the water, but permanent. “Yes!” I jumped in the air. “Asshole.” I hit the television again. “Piece of shit, mother-effing, I mean, fucking scumbag of the earth asshole-fucker!”

Raina leaned and cupped her hand to Nikki’s ear. “We need to step up her cussing game.”

“We’ll have a Samuel L. Jackson fest in a few weeks,” Nikki whispered. “He’s the master.”

“Thinks he’s ”—whack!—“ God’s gift to women.” Whack, Whack! “He’s not even that great in bed. I taught him all the tricks to please me.” I swung harder and harder. “You think I don’t want a guy that fucks me so good I take his ass to Red Lobster? He ain’t even worth a Big Mac at McDonald’s. More like the value menu.”

“Oh, Lord. Now she’s quoting Beyoncé lyrics,” Kara whispered and waved her hands wildly. “Somebody stop her!”

“With his McPick two for two-buck ass,” Nikki yelled, and Raina gave her a high five.

“No.” I shook my head. “Sadly, he’s not even worth two items from the McDonald’s value menu.”

“With his not-even-a-dollar-ninety-nine ass!” Raina shouted.

I spun around to continue my work of art while Raina and Nikki encouraged my shenanigans in the background. I took another deep breath and swung. Small pieces of the television screen fell to the floor. “Stupid, lyin’ piece of crap . . . liar!”

“Damn right he is,” Nikki agreed. “Keith lies more than a possum in the road.”

“Guys, you’re not helping!” Kara screeched, but I noticed there was a thread of laughter in her voice.

“Fine,” Nikki sighed. “I suppose we aren’t helpful.” She cleared her throat. “Sienna, honey?”

“What!” I was tired of my friends interrupting my anger fest. Especially Kara. She should understand and support me, not be a freaking wet blanket. “Let me guess. You’re gonna say this isn’t me. That I’m above this and shouldn’t stoop to his level. Well, you know what? I’m tired of being the nice one. Nice girls finish last.” I marched over to a vase, swung, and destroyed it. My body shook with rage. “And this isn’t the second time he’s cheated on me. This is the third, well, to my knowledge.” I wiggled three fingers in the air. “I didn’t tell y’all about the second time because I knew you guys would think I was stupid. Well, I’m not stupid, and I’m going to break every piece of breakable stuff in this house.” I pointed the bat at Nikki. “And I’m gonna run against him for city council. I’m going to destroy his stuff and his career!” I lifted the bat in the air as if wielding a sword on the battlefield.

“Oh, shit!” Raina whispered. Kara looked at me with wide eyes and slowly walked back to the couch.

Nikki shook her head. “Nice speech, but I was just gonna tell you to put your hips into it. You don’t want to throw out your back. Shoot, we aren’t in our twenties anymore.” Nikki nodded to the TV. “Please, continue.”

And I did.