Bed of Lies (ON HOLD)

XXVI

It's hot outside. I don't want to take the bus. But it is the only option I have apart from a taxi, which, distressfully, is expensive. If only I had a husband who cared enough for me to wait back so we could go home together. It's likely never going to happen, and I know that.

Yet, I can't for the life of me come up with a good enough reason for the anticipation rising like a cactus in my bosom. A sinister shrub that will only give me endless pain. That pain will be the needles of disappointment that will prickle me soon enough. Because here I am in the reserved parking lot of the company when I have no car and I am not at all close to being an executive.

At first survey of the arena from my stand at the entrance of the parking space, his car is nowhere to be found. I raise a hand up as a shield over my eyes to block the excess streaks of light, making my sight fuzzy. Still, the dark sports car is nowhere to be found.

Feeling a little frazzled, I decide to check each car one after the other and see if I am able to achieve my goal. Then, hugging my bag nearer to my body, I straighten my posture, roll my shoulders back, and strut deeper into the cool shade of the closed canopy.

Wet, saturated air hangs in thick wisps in every corner of the building structure. It smells more than a little damp in here. I try not to hate it as if I do, I'll have to leave and forget about my whole expedition of locating and accosting Tony. Really, I have no time to spend tolerating something that is inconveniencing or making me feel awful.

Wobbling slightly on my heels as I quicken my pace on my pencil-heeled platforms, I am reminded of my sucky reality. I need to get my own car is all I know at this point. This sort of suffering is not for me.

The first car that greets me is a lime green vintage car. I'm not sure what model it is, but a clue is revealed when I note that boldly printed across its bumper is "corvette" in capital letters. Probably is a Chevrolet Corvette. I nod, proud of myself for being close to or actually getting it right.

Inspecting it some more, I deem it a pretty car. One that is very much fancy. However, it most certainly would not be the best for those with a large friend group. Unless they could fit people in its engine. Not very plausible or safe, though.

I pass by all manners of cars, but I don't detect what I'm looking for. Sighing, I lean against a column in the middle of all the cars. The plan had been to wait for Tony by his vehicle. But neither the car nor the husband is anywhere to be seen. I suppose I'm back to square one: walking to the transit centre and taking the stupid train.

Just as I set my sights on the end of the lot, preparing to face the blistering heat, the sound of squealing tyres pounds through my ears. Even worse, the loud hum alerts me that the car is headed in my way. Right for me, if I wanted to be morbid.

I hop out of the driving path hurriedly. But I see them both. My husband and my very own, lovable director. Though they raced off almost in a blur, I know the woman in the passenger seat has a black suit on. That dark hair, red lips and sharp profile. There's no mistaking that it's her.

Regardless, what in the ever-loving fuck just happened? Why is the woman I talked to not long ago in her office sitting contentedly in my husband's car? And not just anywhere, right in the front. The position that belongs to me.

Knowing Tony, he's most likely only giving her a ride. He's never been a cheater. And if he by chance happened to be, I knew he was smart enough to not be so careless with his extramarital relation. Yet, the image of them together flashing in my head rouses a bitter kind of anger that dries my mouth and throat.

Of course, he's helping out a worker of his and not giving a shit about his own wife. See the intelligence Tony Stevens has? It's really marvellous. I have no right to be pissed off the way I am, as there was no agreement made between us that he would take me home today, but that's just all formalities. Tony should have at least tried to see if I wanted a lift. Would it hurt him beyond healing to be a little nice to me at least once?