Page 33 of Unhinged Cain

KIRBY

I could see Tina’s confused expression in the mirror, but I ignored it and continued to put on my mascara.

“So, why are you going to this party when you said you’re going to break up with him,” Tina asked.

It was a logical question. In fact, it was the number one question I should be asking myself, but I didn’t have a great or even a good answer.

“I’d agreed to go to this event months ago, and as much as I want to break up with him, I’m just not enough of a bitch to do it right before his family’s business fundraiser. They hold it every year. His family and the media attending will be expecting me since this would technically be my third one.” I finished applying my lip gloss and took a step back to admire the long evening gown that shimmered a soft purple and gold. “I can break up with him after the family brunch tomorrow.”

“So basically, you’re doing it to save face, or you’re too scared to deal with the fallout of just cutting the cord tonight? Weak move for a next-gen FBI agent, just sayin’.”

I turned around to tell Tina off, but she already had her headphones on and was walking over to her desk. Fuming, I grabbed the small matching clutch and marched toward the door. The problem was I didn’t have an argument against what she said. I kinda hated myself for doing it this way as well, and it would be a total boss move to dump him before the party.

Stopping out into the hall, I let the door close with a slam and grumbled as I headed outside to wait for Peter.

“Shit,” I swore and looked back inside the building.

I’d forgotten my shawl, and it was a cool night. Seeing Peter’s car, I decided it was too late to go and get it. A cool breeze picked up, and my hair blew around my face. The long dress’s slit flapped like a flag around my legs. Wrapping my arms around my body, I looked to the right. Lights turned on, revealing the property, but I still felt like I was being watched.

“Not this again,” I mumbled as I mentally scolded myself for being ridiculous. The only thing I could see was a white maintenance truck, and no one was inside.

Peter pulled up, and even though I was standing on the step beside the car, he blew his horn. I was tempted to change my mind, dump him, and go back inside. The window opened as my feet started to move down the stairs.

“Come on, Babe, let’s go. We’re already pushing it to be on time.”

The window went back up, and I rolled my eyes at the stupid comment. I literally couldn’t move any faster in the strappy heels, and he wasn’t even gentlemanly enough to open my door for me. He used to be, and I could clearly remember our first year together. I genuinely liked how he’d jog around and smile as he opened the door for me like I was his Princess.

As I opened the door, a shiver raced down my spine, and my eyes flicked over the roof of Peter’s car, but nothing moved. Shaking it off, I slipped into the warm car and almost gagged on the cloud of cologne that permeated the air.

“Nice dress, but didn’t you wear that last year?”

I looked down at the dress I’d spent hours looking for specifically for this event and then fixed my glare on Peter. “No, I didn’t, and if this is how you’re going to be all night, then stop the car right now. You can go alone.”

As we sped away from the school property, Peter made his usual annoying sound, which was a cross between a snort and a scoff.

“Don’t be so dramatic. I said it’s nice. It just looks familiar. Why are you in such a mood all the time lately? It’s like everything I say annoys the shit out of you.”

That was an understatement. I think his breathing annoyed me. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind,” I said, dancing around the question.

“I keep telling you that adding that shit job onto your schedule was a bad idea, but you never listen to me.”

My hand clenched around the clutch, and I was tempted to beat him with it. I wanted to see the headline for that one: ‘Man Dies In Beating After Girlfriend Bludgeons Him To Death With A Clutch.’

“What did I say about mentioning my job again.”

Peter sighed and shook his head. “Fine, whatever. My mom is excited to see you. She asked if you were coming and said she was looking forward to catching up,” he said, and I wanted to laugh out loud.

I highly doubted that. Peter’s mother could pass for the Ice Queen. She was that cold and calculating. She had no interest in me being with her son the moment he took me home to meet them and had been vocal in her passive-aggressive way about it ever since. Peter didn’t see it. He didn’t see anything she did as wrong. That was the first red flag I should’ve noticed. It would have warned me how our relationship would turn out.

I kept my eyes out the window and ignored Peter as he began telling a story about what happened at his work and how great he made himself look to the board members. His number one goal was to take over for his father when he decided to retire, and there was nothing wrong with that, but he talked about it like it was a life-or-death situation. Meaning if he didn’t get to be the next CEO, then the world would crumble around him. His voice droned on as we reached the city and the bright lights from the tall buildings.

My eyes flicked to the side view mirror and stared at the headlights of the truck that was behind them. Staring directly at the bright lights, it felt like the vehicle was coming for me and would run me over, and maybe I wanted them too.

As usual, whenever one of these events was being held at the sleek silver tower of Peter’s family business, a red carpet was lined up out the door and down the few stairs. Limousines and an array of other fancy cars were lining up to pull up to the VIP section. This was where the media were waiting to take pictures. Mr. and Mrs. Cunningham were standing outside, acting as gracious hosts. We pulled into the line behind another silver car and waited for our turn.

“Now remember what I told you, don’t mention anything about the Fisher debacle,” Peter said, and I turned to look at him for the first time since getting in the car. I had no idea what he was talking about, so he didn’t have to worry about me saying anything.

We pulled up to the front of the building, and I plastered a smile on my face. Guess this was show time.