Two Wrongs -𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕖-

late night surfing

ᒪᗩƳᒪᗩ

ᗴᗩᖇᒪƳ ᒎᗩᑎᑌᗩᖇƳ
ᖇᗴᗪᗝᑎᗪᗝ ᗷᗴᗩᑕᕼ, ᑕᗩ

❤️

"I never trusted that white boy, and now your father's down there ready to whoop his ass," my mother mumbled more to herself than me after she opened my door.

"Fuck a whoopin', I'ma shoot the mothafucka," I could hear my dad yelling from downstairs as I groaned and rolled over to face my mom.

"Mom, tell Daddy to calm down. And turn off the tv, would you? It's only going to make him more upset," I begged as she entered the room, turning on the light as she approached the bed.

I yanked the covers back over my head before I felt a dip in the bed and a gentle pitter-patter getting closer to me. I gently pulled the blanket away and was immediately greeted by wet kisses from Duchess, my tan French Bulldog.

I scratched her head and rubbed down her back, watching as she settled next to me, softly whimpering.

"She's been doing that a lot this week," my mom noted, commenting on how Duchess hadn't been her normal playful self.

"Can you blame her? She wants to go home," I said, looking down at her. I gently played with her jaw as she licked and chewed on my hand, and I knew my dog wasn't the only homesick bitch in the room.

"Have you... have you talked to him?" my mom asked, cautiously.

"No, Mom. I haven't, okay? And, no, I don't know when I'm going to be speaking to him, but don't worry, alright? I know I can't just ignore him forever," I said, not meaning to lash out at my mom, but after having her and my dad treat me like I was living in a bubble the last week, I had finally snapped.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. We just want you to be okay," she said, patting my butt before getting up to leave. She stopped at my door and turned my light off before speaking.

"I'll make sure your father stops watching the news."

"Thanks, Mom," I said before she closed the door.

I sat in bed for a few minutes, mindlessly playing with Duchess' ears before my heart finally beat my brain in their current battle. I pulled my laptop from under my bed and opened it, quickly entering our names in a search engine.

"Shawn Cooper + Layla James"

In less than a second, millions of results popped up, and the masochist in me decided to click on the first video.

It was from a famous celebrity news company, who regularly photographed Shawn and me whenever they had a chance. I took a breath before finally clicking 'play'.

"So, remember that story we broke this past weekend about Shawn Cooper and Layla James apparently separating? Yeah, well, sources are telling us that the couple haven't been together since last year."

**Clips of Shawn and I are shown, some from when we first met 4 years ago, a few from our wedding last year, and most recently a few pictures where we seemed to be 'on the outs'.**

That's the thing with the paparazzi. They can make nothing look like everything.

"The duo, who were wed in an intimate ceremony off the coast of Bali just last year, hasn't been seen in public together since November when Cooper escorted James to the American Music Awards, where she won for 'Favorite Album- Soul/R&B' and 'Artist of the Year."

"Cooper, who led the Dodger's to a national championship this year, was seen hiking earlier this week in the Hollywood Hills. James was seen arriving at LAX just this morning."

**Two pictures appeared on the screen side by side. On the left was Shawn, leading up his two pitbull-mastiffs on their leashes up a dirt trail and on the right I was photographed, holding Duchess' and a large purse as I entered the airport.**

"For up-to-the-minute news on this developing story, stay with--"

I paused the video as it focused on Shawn and the dogs. I traced my finger over his tired-looking features just as Duchess' began clawing at the screen.

I pulled her closer and kissed the top of her head just as my phone began to ring.

"I miss them too, baby girl," I said setting her on the floor.

"Hey bitch," I said casually.

"Don't you 'hey bitch' me. As your best friend, don't you think you shoulda told me you were leaving? I mean, after 17 years, you'd think someone could pick up a phone, but noooooo."

"Chill, Mace, chill. I didn't go anywhere."

"But...I just heard--"

"I had my publicist hire a look-a-like to make everyone think I skipped town," I explained, sitting up in bed. I turned on my bedside lamp before closing my laptop and slipping it back under my bed.

"Oh...".

"I just didn't wanna be in town once everything inevitably hit the fan,"

"You know that video's just going to make it worse, right?"

"I know, but having to explain everything that happened up until that point... neither of us would survive it."

"I suppose... But why didn't you tell me about the 'Other Layla' running around? Don't you think your assistant should know these things?"

"My assistant? Yes. My best friend who would go blabbing and disclose my whereabouts to my husband? I don't think so, babe."

After talking to Macie for a few more minutes, I finally settle back into bed, with a million things on my mind.

No doubt that the paparazzi would get their hands on the video in just a few days and Shawn and I would have to explain.

But how could I explain what was began as a normal conversation resulted in him slamming me against the elevator wall with his hands around my throat?

How could I explain that me clawing at his hands and spitting on him was only after finding out he'd gotten someone else pregnant?

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Oop.
Here's chapter 1.
I've got a pretty good idea of how this story will play out.
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