Page 80 of Game Plan
I mean, she'd probably posted some ugly revenge article about how I was a jerk with a tiny dick. Maybe she'd snuck in a photo of me in the corridor in my underpants. Shit, I hoped she got me at a good angle.
I indulged in my unhealthily conclusion jumping for a few minutes more, while I headed for my car. By the time I slipped into the driver's seat, I was convinced she'd painted me as a three-headed, dickless asshole whose boxers had holes in all the wrong places.
Yeah, my worst case scenario could use some work.
I pulled out my phone before I sat on it too hard and cracked the screen. I hated when that happened. The phone was only a month old. The latest, of course.
I was putting it off again.
I turned on the screen and unlocked it. My background was a generic blue with bubbles that came with the phone. I never bothered to personalise it, in case I lost it. I kept no personalphotos on it either for the same reason. It reduced the risk of photos of family and friends getting uploaded to the net.
I pressed on messages and found the link Brody sent. I stared at it for a minute until the screen turned off.
"Shit." I turned it back on and unlocked the phoneagain, then pressed on the link before I could change my mind.
'Becca Writes' told me little of what I'd find on there. It clearly wasn't a cooking blog, or for book reviews. Shame, I could use some recommendations.
I flicked through the titles of her blog posts. Most of her stories were human interest pieces. Judging by the views and comments, she had quite the audience here. That made me anxious. How many people read the latest post?
One hundred and twelve views and five comments, according to the site stats.
"Lucky one hundred and thirteen," I said to myself. Before I could press on that post, the number changed to one hundred and fourteen.
"Smartasses."
I pressed the link and waited for it to load before I started to read.
Through my phone screen, I felt her hurt and how sorry she was. The more I read, the more I understood her and why she'd done what she had. I appreciated the fact she left my name out of it, although it was obviously about me. Anyone who knew what happened would know.
Should I be angry? Maybe, but I couldn't bring myself to be. She'd poured her heart out onto the page in such a way I actually appreciated her motivation in writing the article and this post. She wanted to help people. That was all she ever wanted. She thought she'd gone about it the wrong way, but I realised now she hadn't. I'd reacted badly, like some three-headed, dickless, underwear-with-holes wearing man-boy. Or was that 'man-boi'?
She apologised to me, but I should be the one to say sorry to her.
I read the comments to the post and smiled. Each one was positive and grateful to her for sharing her experiences. Okay, one was spam, offering her a penis enlargement, but the others were nice.
I thought about adding a comment, but decided against it. Firstly, I'd have to make an account, then I'd be spammed with blog related emails until the end of time. Secondly, this was something I needed to say in person. Besides, I never remembered my passwords for these things anyway.
I tossed my phone toward the passenger seat and missed. It fell into the footwell.
"Shit," I muttered, but for once it wasn't in anger, or even frustration, just minor annoyance.
I leaned down to pick up my phone and placed it carefully on the seat.
I started the car and backed out past a familiar figure with a phone in his hand.
Most of us knew Harvey Danbury on sight.
He looked annoyed as I drove past. I was tempted to flip him off, but he'd take a photo and that would be tomorrow's headline.
"Not today, asshole," I muttered and drove carefully out of the hospital parking lot. Crashing my car would also make a good headline, as well as pissing me off.
A smile on my face and a plan forming in my head, I got onto the road and headed home.
