Chapter 9 Shane—King and Queen Petty
Anna was silent for what seemed like an hour but was probably less than a minute.
“I want to know. Don’t sugarcoat it.”
Shane pulled his phone out and scrolled to the folder that contained the screenshots, photos, and video. He slid the phone over the table.
Anna flicked through the images, her face morphing from steady neutrality, to anger, to clear heartbreak.
“Oh, I just love this one Shane, don’t you?
Babe, this is getting harder and harder to hide from Anna.
I feel so guilty. (April) Don’t feel guilty.
You’re allowed to change your feelings and move on.
You’re bright and ambitious; it’s ok to not want to be tied down to a small-town, minimum-wage earning dance teacher with a high school diploma. ”
Tears slid down her cheeks.
“He doesn’t even defend me. He just says I guess,” she wept.
“He’s an asshole, Tinkerbell.”
Her face tightened and he knew she’d come across the nudes.
“Ugh, you’d think he’d at least get hard before taking a dick pic. It looks like an uncooked breakfast sausage that’s been left on the counter for four days,” she scoffed through her tears.
“Wow, I guess his type is athletic. She has great ... pectorals. We’re so different. She’s tall and elegant, I’m fucking dumpy. I guess he really did want some strange,” Anna said bitterly.
“There was absolutely nothing wrong with what he had at home. April never sent me nudes. She was so self-conscious about her tits. She’s been begging for a boob job for ages now, but I told her she was perfect the way she was and to take some time to think about it,” Shane muttered.
“Well, clearly Mason doesn’t mind. God, how can he be with two women at once?”
Shane stilled. The asshole was definitely still fucking Anna. I wonder if April knows.
Anna’s finger moved across the screen just as loud screeches and moans filled the cozy silence of the restaurant. A middle-aged couple at the next table snapped their gaze to Anna, who appeared to be watching a very second-rate Gonzo porn.
Anna’s tears turned into a strange bitter bout of laughing. She looked at the couple and smiled.
“Sorry, just watching my fiancé giving head to another woman.”
The couple shifted their eyes uneasily and returned to their meal. Anna stopped the video and returned the phone to Shane facedown.
“She often fake it like that? She sounds ridiculous. Even if she wasn’t moaning like a bad porn star, I’d know it was fake. Mason can’t eat pussy for shit. I used to run through choreography in my head while he was down there.” Anna laughed again, but it was lacking any warmth.
It was the bluntest he’d seen Anna. In all his interactions with her, he’d seen brief signs of anger and tough talk, but she was really laying it all out now.
In that moment, he hated Mason even more for throwing away what he had.
For not giving her pleasure. For not taking every opportunity to worship her body, because Shane knew that he would.
He’d take her in every way. He’d make her moan for real.
“I love how she thanked him for the ‘rage fuck’ he gave her a few weeks ago. I’m so fucking stupid.
He never rage-fucked me. Always calm, always vanilla, always a ‘gentleman.’ No passion, I guess, just duty.
What if I wanted to be tossed around a bit?
See a bit of enthusiasm and aggression?” she snapped.
Oh baby, I’ll fuck you any way you want. I can definitely throw you around.
“And what’s with all the ‘babes’ and ‘sweethearts’?” She continued. “He never used a pet name for me. Not once.”
I want you, Tinkerbell. I had a name for you the moment I met you.
“That was my sofa by the way. He was giving your wife oral on my sofa. I’ve sat in her pussy juices. My poor cat Barnabus sleeps on that cum couch. Fucking hell! Any STIs I should know about?” Anna asked sharply.
“None on my behalf but like I said, I haven’t been with her in a year.”
“Ugh, so now I have to get tested. That motherfucker,” Anna seethed.
Shane put his head in his hands. They now had proof. So where to from here?
“Do you want me to send you the folder so you can confront him? Where do you want to go from here?” he asked.
Anna moved her hands from the table as the waiter set down their meals.
“I’m leaving him, obviously. But I want to mess with him for a bit. See I can push him to a confession. Honesty would at least show that he has just even a little respect for me.”
“I get that. I can wait. My divorce papers will take a bit to come through. The moment one of us confronts them, they’ll know it’s over,” he warned.
“Okay. You should mess with her too,” Anna replied. “My friend Rosa has a whole list of pranks. I’m going to be queen of petty. Let me know if you want to be king.”
“Oh, I’ll be your king for sure,” Shane responded instinctively.
What the fuck am I doing flirting with her?
I haven’t flirted in years. Something about Anna was open and accepting.
She took everything with grace, and tears of course, but he just knew she would never mock him or make him feel small or ugly.
“You’re on, King Shane. Let’s eat. Being petty requires energy and taco fortification.” She laughed and smiled at him.
The mood had shifted. They moved on to different topics, spending the rest of the night sharing stories of their past and details of their life, completely unrelated to April and Mason.
Despite what had drawn them together, they were able to laugh together.
Shane felt comfortable, his self-consciousness melted by her warmth and humor.
He found himself not moving his head to the side to hide his scar. What the fuck was Mason thinking?
Despite feeling the inappropriateness of it, Shane began comparing Anna to April.
He hadn’t had a pleasant dinner with April for some time.
In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time they went out together alone, just the two of them.
Anna didn’t harass the wait staff. She didn’t complain about the quality of the wine on offer or constantly go to the restrooms to “fix her face.” She didn’t harangue him about broadening his horizons with new cuisine.
She didn’t ask him to turn his face when she took a photo for Instagram so his scar wouldn’t be seen.
Sure, they weren’t taking photos during this covert dinner, but he had a feeling that even if they were, she would have just taken the shot. No posing to hide imperfections.
She ate her taco with her hands, brushing shreds of lettuce off her chest without fussing about stains.
She ordered extra cheese, not worrying about the calories.
He loved that he could read her facial expressions clearly.
She had a face that could move, eyes that could crinkle in the corners when he made her laugh. She had character.
When it came to the check, Shane immediately took out his card.
“You don’t have to pay. We’ll go halves. I may be a minimum wage earner, but I’m not on the breadline,” Anna joked.
“My wife fucked your fiancé. It’s the least I can do,” Shane said with a straight face.
“Well, my fiancé fucked your wife, so I feel like I owe you too. Why don’t etiquette books cover this situation?” Anna asked in mock seriousness. “I should start a blog on it.”
They said their goodbyes in the car park, with promises to keep each other updated with any new developments.
“Well, oddly enough, I actually had a good time tonight, even with that terrible porn,” Anna said easily.
She reached over and gave him a hug, putting her arms around his neck.
He grabbed her and held her tightly, surprised at the ease of her affection.
She’d hugged him on instinct, her naturally warm and friendly personality prompting her to thank him and give him comfort.
When the duration of the hug moved to a point beyond social politeness, Anna began to pull away.
He held onto her a beat longer than he should have, then released her, but it was too late.
A sense of awkwardness grew at the unexpected interaction.
“Bye Shane. Thanks for a nice night,” Anna said in forced cheer and friendliness.
“Bye Tinkerbell. Look after yourself. And maybe burn that sofa. Say the cat pissed on it,” Shane winked at her as he walked to his car. Fuck, this is messy, he thought.