Chapter 59 Noah
Noah
“You no-good motherfucker!” I shrieked, and flew at Zhan when he walked through the door that evening.
I looked a mess; my process was standing up on my head.
I’d been eating chocolate all day, so there was a brown ring around my mouth.
I smelled to high heaven, because I hadn’t bathed or bothered to roll some deodorant under my arms.
“What!” Zhan cried, and threw his hands up to block the slaps I was trying to levy across his face. He caught my arms and pushed me backward. His pale face was bright red, and the vein in his neck was plump and thumping. “Noah, what in the world is wrong with you?”
“You cheater, cheeeeeaaaater!” I screamed as I jumped up and down in place.
I’d spent the whole day obsessing over what had gone down the other night, and now I was mad all over again.
I’d tried to call Zhan at work to cuss him out, but his secretary said he’d left for the day.
That was two o’clock, so where the hell had he gone?
’Cause he certainly wasn’t here with me!
He and Aldo probably hooked up at the Savoy.
“Cheater?” Zhan truly looked perplexed. He ran his hands through his slick black hair. Something he did when he was trying to think. “Are we back on that again, Noah?”
I folded my hands across my chest and began rapidly tapping my hippo slipper–covered foot on the floor. “Where were you today, huh? Huh? Where?”
Zhan jumped at the crazed pitch my voice had taken on. “I was at work, Noah. Why?”
“But,” I said, and threw my index finger out at him, “you left early! Where did you go, Zhan? Where?”
Zhan’s face went a deeper red, and he dropped his eyes down to the ground. That was a clear look of guilt. It was true!
I felt the tears begin to well up in my eyes. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God,” I said as I brought my hands up to cover my face and began to blubber into my palms.
“But—” Zhan started.
“Don’t say a fucking word to me you lying, conniving, cheating British bastard!” I screamed, storming to the bedroom and beginning to pack my clothes.
I was so filled with rage that I didn’t see the small, brightly wrapped package that Zhan held out to me, and I barely heard him mumble, “I left work early to pick up this gift for you.”
Gifts brought on by guilt, I did not want!
I would go back to America, back to my brownstone on Stuyvesant Avenue, back to my friends and family. Back to my life!
“Fuck you, Zhan, and fuck Mother England!” I screeched.
“What are you doing?” Zhan’s voice was filled with panic. “Are you leaving me, Noah?”
I spun around, and through a waterfall of tears I said, “Yes!”