🔍 Silver Tongue (Slow Updates) 🔎

Ex-Boyfriends Shouldn't Walk Back Into Your Life...Though Driving Isn't Walking

Bradley Aaron Fletcher, the last real boyfriend I had before Ivan turned into Silver Tongue - and normal disappeared from my life - at least had the decency to look sheepish.

"Brad, what the ever-loving fuck are you doing here?" I asked.

I had expected Patience to drive - it's the only reason that I'd gotten into the front seat - yet the toothy ex-minor league slugger was sitting in the driver's seat.

"It's a long story," Brad said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'll tell you while I drive."

He shifted the car into gear and sped onto the empty highway, but I couldn't focus on where we were going. The car itself was typical Brad, with black leather seats and a state of the art sound system with glowing speakers. Your standard gaudy purchase to impress the people back home. We were all impressed too, back when he signed that MLB contract and was dubbed the next Sammy Sosa. Instead, he'd flamed out of the MLB after a couple of years and was sent back to the minors. Which was perfect for me, as I finally stopped hearing about how I let such a great guy get away.

"You see," Brad started. "Me and Ivan have always been pretty close, you know?"

"Uh huh," I said. Of course, I know they were close - Ivan and Brad were best friends growing up - but I figured breaking your little sister's heart would be enough to end a friendship. Guess not. "Did Virtue pull you from your used car lot in South Florida?" I asked. I'd always imagined him selling used cars in Florida. I don't know why I associate used cars and Florida with failed baseball players. Maybe because I hate them both.

"Not exactly," he said, scratching the back of his neck.

"Oh my God, enough with the suspense already," I snapped. "I don't really care. At least you're here to help Ivan."

Brad turned up the radio, blasting some reggaetón hit. At least it wasn't Despacito, I would have jumped out of the car rather than listen to that for the thousandth time.

Suddenly, the music stopped halfway through the first verse. Brad held his finger on the power button and sighed deeply. "Em, promise me you won't get mad," he said.

I narrowed my eyes. "First, don't call me Em, Brad. You lost that right. Second, why would I get mad? Are you the reason Ivan disappeared?"

"No, Emily," he spurted. "It's not like that at all. I'm..."

"He's in Virtue," Charity spat from the back seat.

I gasped. "You're what?"

He grinned and pulled at his collar. "I'm the first member, actually. It was my league contract which funded it to start. Though now, we have our hands in so many pots, we're actually turning a profit."

And just like that, my whole view of the group was shattered. My callous, shitty, "this naked woman in our bedroom isn't what it looks like" ex was working with Ivan and my brother didn't have the decency to tell me. Also turns out Ivan trusted Brad more than me. That stung. A lot.

"Hey, Em, don't be-."

"Don't call me Em!" I fumed. I wanted to scream, to have him pull over the car and let me out on the highway. Anything so that there weren't only inches of space between us.

The silence grew so deep, when Charity or Patience shifted in the backseat, it echoed through the car. When I snapped my head around, they were both staring intently out the window.

I spun towards Charity. "When you mentioned the Bachelorette on the plane, was this what you meant? How much more of my love life is tied up in this stupid group?"