Chapter 39
Chapter Thirty-Nine
“Traitors,” I spit, pointing at them. “You’re all traitors.”
It’s only day five of my fourteen-day break, and I’m already spiraling.
My time was once filled with constant phone calls and texts, endless emails, and running around town, but now, my days are spent in silence and silencing the silence with running bath water or a rom-com that makes me forget how crappy life is.
“Who else was he supposed to call?” Jo plops down by my feet. Medical school doesn’t start for another week, so she delayed her move to Tennessee after hearing I didn’t get Garrett. “Do you have another group of friends your boyfriend was supposed to call when you’ve been horizontal for days?”
I glare at her, not sure if I want to hug her or shove her. “Adri’s supposed to be the sassy one. Not you.”
Jo clicks on a horror film and smirks. “Since when do we have roles?”
“Since forever.” Adri plops onto the rug and starts separating the M&M’s from the raisins in my trail mix. “First up, we have our fearless leader, Cap. Mallory’s our group mom and resident worrywart.”
The neon orange fingernail on Mallory’s middle finger illuminates her path to the kitchen. “I have anxiety, asshole.”
“Potato, potahto,” Adri chirps. “Shay’s our black-cat workaholic with a secret soft side. I’m the hot fashionista who despises raisins.”
“Hot mess,” I grumble. “And stop wasting my trail mix.”
As expected, she ignores me. “And, Jo, you’re usually the zen one. Until you get stressed. Then you’re our baking queen.”
Jo shrugs. “Kinda hard to be zen when you’re around.”
Up until right now, my home has been peaceful—and borderline depressing—since I didn’t get the promotion, but with them here, it’s pure chaos. Adri tosses a handful of undesirable raisins at Jo, but most of them hit me in the face.
Instead of stopping them, I hand Jo a pillow so she can retaliate.
“Quit it, you two,” Mallory hisses, entering the living room with four water bottles. “We’re here to comfort our friend. Not fight.”
“Okay, Mommy—I mean Cap.” Adri giggles, ignoring the evil glare Mallory shoots her. She loves to antagonize her.
Sitting up, I snatch the remote from the coffee table and rid the scary doll from the screen. “That’s what I like to hear. So, everyone get comfortable. It’s time to watch Bridesmaids.”
Honey eyes shift to me. “Cader Tot told Kenneth you watched Bridesmaids yesterday.”
My boyfriend is a lousy snitch. And so is hers.
“And? It’s a classic I would watch on repeat if I could. Now come on. I’ve got popcorn and plenty of peach rings for Adri—”
“No,” Mallory says curtly, grabbing her bag. “You’ve been cooped up here for days, Shaylene. And yes, the house looks nice with all the paint and decorations, but you need to get up and move around. Feel the sun on your skin and the wind in your face.”
It takes a lot of effort, but I pull myself upright and gesture comically at my body. Then I walk over to the window and peel open the curtains. And to seal the deal, I twist the fan around to blast me in the face.
“Done and done.” After giving her my best smile, I lie back down on the couch. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”
Jo winces. “She’s more sarcastic than usual. Is it time for plan B?”
“Plan B?” I ask, but nobody answers me.
“Plan B it is. Take your positions, ladies.” Standing dutifully, Adri listens to our group mom and makes her way to the back of the couch.
Mallory takes a seat by my head and Jo sits beside my feet.
An ice-cold hand slips beneath my T-shirt and yanks my sports bra strap.
“The girls have some support, so let’s get her out like this, Jo.
Adri, grab sneakers and a pair of socks from her room. ”
“Out?” I watch as Adri sprints to my room. “No! I’m having fun here! Let me watch Maya Rudolph and Melissa McCarthy movies in peace!”
“Hell no. We’re getting you out of here,” Jo says before nodding at Mallory. “Ready. Lift!”
With ease, they lift me off the couch like a sad sack of potatoes.
I’m tempted to writhe until they drop me, but hitting the hard floor isn’t ideal.
Then I remember I’m still wearing the oversized sweatpants and Pilots T-shirt I stole from Cade.
And I smell like I’ve been rotting in it for the last forty-eight hours.
“I can’t go out like this!”
“Well, you can’t stay inside anymore either,” Adri muses. “I’ve got her shoes and child lock is on! We’re good to go.”
Suddenly outside, sunlight hits my face and forearms, setting off a full-on vampire meltdown. I’m pretty sure my skin is sizzling like bacon on a hot grill.
“I swear I’ll stop fighting if you put me down! Please!”
The three people who claim to love me more than anything ignore me and continue down the sidewalk. Mallory’s car, Flintstone, beeps, and Adri jogs around them to open the back door for me.
“Relax, silly. You’re going to enjoy this,” she promises.
I snarl at her as they toss me into the car, but I’ve never been happier to be vertical.
Adri and Jo fall onto the seats beside me and squish me in the middle. The tiny space is almost worse than being dragged out of my house in my comfy clothes with zero idea where I’m going.
Adjusting the rearview mirror, Mallory’s eyes meet mine. “You guys look cozy back there. How are you feeling, Shay?”
“Like I’d rather be at home,” I say, crossing my arms. But I can’t lie, the sun on my skin did feel nice after the initial burn went away. Maybe I did need to go outside. “Where are we going? I deserve to know that at least.”
She pulls onto the road. “To let out some of that feminine rage.”
And now I feel bad for throwing a fit.
I make my way to where my friends are standing in the industrial warehouse, surrounded by metal walls and a buzz of distant crashes. The air smells like dust with a faint tang of cleaning spray that doesn’t quite mask the scent of sweat. Overhead, a yellow sign blinks happily, “LET IT OUT.”
We’re dressed for mass destruction in our coveralls. Mallory looks like an orange traffic cone in hers, struggling to tuck her coils into the helmet. Adri picked a deep red that matches her lipstick. Jo went with burnt orange, mainly because it was the only one left.
I zip my pink coveralls. “A rage room?”
Using the glass as a mirror, Adri wrangles her waist-length curls into a braid. “How better to release rage than breaking a bunch of stuff?”
They kidnapped me for a good reason.
Mallory taps my clear plastic face shield before I can apologize. “You’re allowed to be upset and sad and angry. Baths and comfort food are amazing, but I think you need to break some shit and scream. Nice and calm self-care activities don’t always fix everything.”
If I try to speak, I’m sure I’ll start crying.
“Thank you,” I mouth. “I love you big.”
“I love you bigger,” she mouths back.
“Woah. You four look ready to destroy some stuff.” I turn to find a tattooed woman in a denim jumpsuit sliding behind the counter. “I’m Ellen, and I’ll be monitoring your rage experience today in Heavy Hitters. Are we celebrating a divorce or breakup today?”
“Neither.” Adri grabs my hand. “We’re fighting the patriarchy.”
“I like the sound of that.” Ellen waves us toward a hallway lined with scuffed floor tape. “I’ll add a few extra goodies to your room.”
Mallory raises her hand like a perfect student. “Can I play music?”
“Sure can. Hook up your phone and close the box. If you’re all ready to go, it’s all yours.”
Ellen gives my shoulders a little push, so I take the lead and open the metal door.
Heavy Hitters looks more like an abandoned workshop than a recreational space.
Scarred plywood is painted with scathing graffiti about a man named Carl.
The ground is littered with twisted metal and shards of glass.
In one corner, a battered fridge leans sideways on a wooden pallet.
Next to it, a washer and dryer sit like squat, silent opponents.
A gleaming car door stands bolted upright on a steel frame, spray-painted with a black heart.
Ellen’s voice crackles over the intercom. “You’ve got ninety minutes. Choose your weapon. And remember, helmets down before you swing.”
We all turn toward the steel rack bolted to one wall and gasp.
“Holy shit.” Jo’s already mild voice is muffled behind her face shield.
Full-size sledgehammers and crowbars hang from the rack, heavy and gleaming. Metal pipes are cold and solid, stacked on the ground. A bucket of mallets and hammers sits off to the side, but my eyes are on the aluminum baseball bats floating horizontally on the wall.
But I burst out laughing when “What The Hell” blasts through the speakers and Adri starts dancing like we’re at a bar and not a rage room.
“Did you make a feminine rage playlist for today?” I ask Mallory.
With a wide smile, she closes the box. “You know it. We need good music to get through this. It’s like five hours, so I’ll share it in the group for you to listen to when you get back to work.”
Before I start thinking about returning to work, I need to break stuff.
I cock my head at the washing machine. “So . . . I just hit it?”
“Yup, but this is a talk-and-rage activity. Tell us what’s going through your head while you break shit to your heart’s content.”
The metal bat is heavy in my hand. Standing in front of the machine, I rub my gloved finger over the scuffed paint. The control panel is cracked too, with the door half open, like it’s smirking at me.
Winding up, I feel my body tense, but it releases when the bat connects with the washing machine. The metal caves in almost instantly, buckling like tinfoil, but it echoes like a car crash.
“Whatcha thinking about?” Adri asks after I get in three good swings.
Heavy breaths fog my visor. “I’m worried these two losses will dictate the rest of my career. What if I never get another good chance like this?”
“Garrett Blane will not dictate your future.” Mallory slams the crowbar on top of the microwave. “He was an opportunity, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s the last one you’ll ever have! You’re too damn good at your job for that to happen.”
“And that won’t be your last promotion opportunity at Permian,” Jo reminds me.
A guttural scream rips out of Adri from her corner of the room, swinging a sledgehammer over her head. “Tell us what you want!”
Swing. “I want to be a good agent!” Swing. “The best agent to my clients!” Swing. “Never letting them down and making sure they always know I’m in their corners.” Swing.
“Already accomplished!” The noises from Jo’s side of the room are deliberate and surgical, each hammer tap landing with precision as she destroys ceramic tiles. “What do you want when you go back to work?”
“I want more respect from my coworkers. I want to be treated like a fellow agent, rather than some stepsister they wish didn’t exist.”
Mallory’s fist blasts through the drywall. “What else do you want?”
“I want to sign a client who people would never expect to work with me! I want to take up space and not care that they don’t like me. I want to speak up for myself. Even if Trevor is my boss, I’m tired of taking his shit, as if I haven’t worked just as hard to get here. All because I’m a woman!”
“That’s my girl!” Mallory hollers. “Kick them in the dick!”
I fling the bat aside and spot the extra dinner plates Ellen gifted us. With every crash of the glass against the wall, I feel a crack inside me start to repair itself.
Cade knew I needed my best friends today. He knew Mallory, Jo, and Adri would do whatever they needed to do to make sure I was not only taken care of, but that I’d feel better by the end of the day.
Life without Garrett and the promotion is hard, but I can’t imagine my life without them.
“I love you guys!” I yell over the racket. “So damn much!”
“We love you more!” they shout in unison.
Static crackles overhead, and we all pause to look up at the speaker.
Then Ellen sighs. “Are you guys taking friendship applications?”