Yellow Lines

Chapter 23 - The Ugly

"I don't know any Siena," I said. "You have the wrong number," I hung up.

What the fuck? I had to take ten breaths because my body went into panic mode. At first, I wanted to believe I was dreaming, and that bitch had not just called me. But when my phone started vibrating again with the same private number, I had to think Siena was tripping for even calling my phone. How on earth did she get my number, anyway? And what right did she have for calling me about her man? If she had a problem, then she had to take it up with him, not me. I took my half-full bowl of cereal and went to the couch, ignoring the constant vibration in my hand.

But as I sat there, her words came to mind. Fiancé? Being a fiancé meant being engaged. And if Jerry was engaged, surely I would have known, right? I shook my head and spooned some cereal. On the bright side, my phone stopped ringing. But every time I stared at the TV, my mind wandered to her. I probably missed half of the damn movie because of her. I figured the only way to get over it was to ask Jerry. I didn't want to call because I needed to see his expression—look him straight in the eye.

I peered at my soppy bowl and didn't feel like finishing it. Setting it on the coffee table, I curled up on the couch and tried my best to forget about the situation.

Four bangs rattled my door. I whipped around, not budging to get up. As I sat there, the drumming became constant and irritating even when I asked who was it repeatedly. Annoyed, I dragged my butt off the couch and fetched a knife from the kitchen. No way I would let someone like Marko burst through my apartment again. Slowly, I walked to the door and peeked through the small hole.

Siena. The fuck? "What you want?" I yelled.

"Open the door, you home-wrecking whore."

I yanked the door open and held the butcher knife up for her to see. "What did you just call me? And why the fuck are you at my house?"

Siena took a step back, and her female friend on the side did too. She looked like she was about to pop any day.

"Stay away from my fiancé. He's not yours, he's mine." And as if she tried to prove something, she waved her left hand, revealing a huge diamond ring.

I squinted. Was she for real? God, I would strangle him. "I don't know what you are talking about."

"You've been fucking with him, what do you get from destroying happy relationships?"

Why did everyone have the idea that I was fucking this dude? Maybe I should. I chuckled to myself and then I poker-faced her. "Listen," I gritted, "you came at my home and accused me of something I didn't do, now if your fiancé," I air-quoted, "is cheating on you, then you shouldn't be with him. Also, take it the fuck up with him, not me."

She hacked and spat at my feet. "You're a total bitch."

I stepped to her and held the knife in her face. "Look, Bambi, if you weren't pregnant with another man's child I would have knocked your stupid ass out for doing that. Don't test me. And I still don't know what you're talking about."

"I hired a PI. You're a pathetic liar," she threw an envelope on the floor, and pictures of Jerry and me oozed out. Pictures of us on the beach kissing, when we were at the amusement park, and other places I could barely remember. What the...

I felt my teeth sinking into my cheek. "None of this proves anything." I should have just closed the door after she spat on me, but no, my inquisitive ass had to poke the deer.

"I know you're lying, but you won't get far. Why do you think he hasn't brought you to his place? Hm?"

I folded my arms.