Confessions About The Affair

16

Audrey's POV

WHEN I get a call from Veronica, saying that she hasn't seen Gemma in days, I begin to panic. What if something happened to her? What if her car ran off a cliff, and she's dead in the ditch somewhere?

I immediately try to call her. The first few rings, my heart pounding in my chest, feels like forever. She doesn't answer. So I try again. And again. And then it starts to go straight to voicemail.

That's gotta mean she's alive, and just trying to ignore me, right? But to be uncertain, is to continue to worry. So I sit down, put my phone on speaker, and decide to continuously dial her number, so that she gets so frustrated that she finally picks up.

"I'd like to be left alone," she mumbles over the line. I drop my book onto the couch, and take my phone off of the speaker.

"You had me worried for a good two hours, Gemma."

"I'm not dead on the side of the road, Audrey," she exhales a loud breath, "wrong scenario to use, I'm sorry."

I shake off the image of my dead, bloody faced husband, "where are you? Veronica said that—"

"So she's why you're calling me? Forget it. You don't owe me anything. Go back to having your space or whatever."

"Gemma!" I groan, "just shut up, and tell me where you are. I never stopped being your friend, asshole."

"I don't want visitors. Thanks. I'd like to be left alone."

She's so stubborn, I'd strangle her over the line if I could.

"I wasn't asking. Unless you want me to file a missing person's report, and have the police come looking for you."

"You can't. They'll check my phone records and see that—"

"I've got an ex-boyfriend who's a cop. He'll come looking for you with just one call."

"You wouldn't dare—"

"I would. Try me."

Gemma curses for a good twenty seconds before finally giving in, "I'm at the Delamar. Room 39."

"Boujee. Don't choke on all that luxury until I get there."

"I'm hanging up now, you asshole."

Gemma's POV

"SO WHAT'S got your panties in a bundle?" Audrey asks, as she drinks my wine, and eats my toast.

"I'm sure the term is panties in a bunch, Audrey."

"Potato patato. You're so uptight. Did you sleep with Sabrina or something?"

I scoff. Why's that her first assumption to make?

"Did you come here to insult me? I'm not that stupid, Audrey."

"Okay, then. Just had to cross if off the list," she chews on my french toast, "you always fell into bed with her when you two were—"

"Don't finish that sentence," I stick my tongue out in horror, "don't remind me."

"You make it sound like she's an ogre. I remember you gushing over her boobs anytime we got drunk together."

"That was back then," I place my hand over my face, "please, stop. It's not about Sabrina," Audrey leans back against the bed frame, and puts her feet up, "it is but it isn't. I don't want to talk about it."

"Sounds complicated. I told you not to let yourself get involved in her business."

"I'm not. I didn't. Ugh. Her shit seems to follow me."