Salt And Pepper

His: Why pry?

I fix my gaze upon her, steam still rising from my body. I didn't know if it was the hot water or how pissed I was that was causing the steam but I knew for sure it had just gotten a little too much. The poking, the prodding, the prying. Just when I had started to be able to bear this scumbag of a psychologist.

"Er...nothing!"she says, standing up.

I snatch the iPad from her and see that she had opened my mailbox and sent herself a mail.

A mail.

Of the thing I wrote last night.

She read it.

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU EVEN THINKING?!"

"Jason.. I can explain!"she says, calmly but also with nervousness evident in her voice.

"Right. You can explain why you invaded my privacy?!"I ask furiously.

"Yes! You're an amazing writer, okay? And I had to help you. Publishing these articles will get you money, then you can pay what the amount you owe to Bryce."she says.

"These writings are effin PERSONAL! You cannot just...wait...how do you know about the loan?"I ask, dumbfounded.

I owe Bryce a heck lotta money but no one knows. But then how did she get to know? Did he tell her? That asshole!

"It was very obvious. You always argue with him into not doing something but in the end, you do what he says. You think I'd believe it that you're going to Paris just because I'm allowing you alcohol?"her words leave me shocked.

Fuck. I feel like my life's an open book.

"I needed that money... With everything gone, how do you think I could have survived in New York?"I say, a bit calmly now.

"And now you're gonna pay it back."she says.

"NO!"suddenly I turn aggressive,"I told you these are my personal entries. Dare you share them with the world."

"Do you realise I'm only trying to help you, here? You don't really need to disclose your identity, you know? History has shown us so many great writers that wrote under pen.."

"Get out of my room. NOW," I cut her off mid sentence.

Furious, she flings the iPad towards me and I catch it. 

"Read the online version of "Omerta" magazine today," she says and storms out of the room.

I sit on the sofa by the window, opening the mail she sent to herself. 

"Its better to trust no one," I think to myself.

The skyline distracts me from my furious typing. I look up at the dwindling lights. They grow bigger, yet fainter, and I find my eyes closing. The iPad feels weightless on the newly acquired beer belly and I become dead to the world.

Faint sunlight forces my eyes open and I feel myself fighting back a sinking feeling for some reason. I tap my iPad back into life to see it was 5 am. I close my eyes again, trying to put myself back to sleep but that wasn't happening and I knew it. 

In a few minutes time, I find myself Googling "Omerta e-magazine"

Nebraska based magazine. Of course. 

I browse through some of the recent articles which were pretty damn amazing. I find myself curled up on the sofa itself, going from one article to the next, till I find one that seemed very very familiar.

An article by a someone named "Illuminarty"

18,526 views in just 6 hours.

Illuminarty. I grin a vague grin. Punny, Pepper.