Page 31 of Dirty Chorus

“Okay... umm bye.” I wave my hand at him, walking backwards.

“Bye Trouble.”

I leave the store, gather all my belongings and head to my car. My phone definitely died sometime last night as it blinked the red battery button. I plug it into the car charger while the vehicle is idle, and within a few moments the little apple sign pops up on the screen, and the phone takes a moment to load. Once the signal bars appear on the screen, an influx of messages comes pouring in.

Ryder: Mom’s pissed. Where are you?

Ryder: Hello?

Payton: Hey I stopped by, and you weren’t home? Where are you?

Payton: Dude, it’s so late! Are you lying to me about Brody? I swear to God if you get back together I’m done talking to you.

Brody: Why haven’t you come over to talk to me?

Brody: Classy. You're ignoring me again.

Brody: Where are you? Are you with someone else?

Brody: Fuck you, bitch, and your childish blocking spree.

Brody: Baby, I’m sorry. Can you please talk to me? I didn’t mean it.

I throw my head onto the steering wheel knowing I need to just fully end it with him – make it official in my eyes and tell him I never want him to contact me again. I buckle up, and drive off.

The gravel crunches under the tires as I pull up to Brody’s house. The green lawn, freshly mowed, stretches out for acres. There isn’t another house for at least half a mile. Big-shot Daddy here is a rich lawyer.

I place the car in park, my beaten up Civic with peeling paint doesn’t fit in with all the fancy cars lined up. I unbuckle my seatbelt and breathe in hard several times, prepping myself for a screaming match as I step out.

I stroll past Brody’s white Camaro, and my stomach does somersaults. I want to burst into tears or have my memory wiped of any time I spent with him riding around town. I clench my jaw tight, swallowing up the bitter emotions tangling me in barbed wire. Brody doesn’t deserve a single tear from me, and I know it. I hold my head high knowing I’m still wearing Noah’s boxer briefs and a baggy shirt that smells like heaven.

I climb up the porch steps to the front door that’s at least ten feet tall. Two rose bushes planted in fancy glazed pots sit perfectly aligned next to the entrance. It would be smart of the family not to put spare keys in one of those pots, but it’s there, only guarded by sharp thorns on the vines.

I unlock the door, and re-hide the key. The door creaks as I step into a cavernous home. The floors are pure white marble without a single stain of muddy footprints. I scrape my shoes along the entrance rug because I’m not about to leave any signs that I stopped by.

They have all those fancy gold and silver vases, and strange abstract statues. Even the artwork is odd; to me, it’s as if someone took a gallon of paint and threw it at the canvas, kissed their fingers and called it brilliant.

I’m sure Brody is somewhere upstairs, and I make my way up the spiral staircase. The wrought iron is cold against my skin as I hold onto the railing.

The hallway upstairs is dimly lit, and there are faint voices coming from one of the rooms. I’m overcome with dizziness as I take uneasy steps forward, hearing the sound become clearer. It’s a woman moaning, and a male voice groaning. The office door is slightly ajar, and a faint blue light spills out from under the crack.

I ease forward, making sure my sneakers don’t squeak against the pearly floor. Peeking into the room, I spot Brody’s face saturated in the blue light of the computer screen. His head tilted back in the computer chair. His pants are at his ankles as he strokes his dick.

He’s watching porn.

But the voice coming out of the speakers sounds oddly familiar, and it makes my chest tighten.

“I want you to fuck me,” the girl moans, and the slapping and pounding fills the air. “I’ve wanted this forever. Oh, fuck... yes...” she hisses. I run a hand down my face with heat radiating throughout my body. It’s Brittni’s voice, and I might vomit on this perfectly clean floor.

“I’ll fuck you all night. Tell me I’m better than that running back.” It’s Brody’s voice groaning, and it turns into both of them moaning and balls smacking.

“I’m coming! Oh my god! Brody...” Brittni’s moans fill the empty space.

I plant myself against the wall, with my heart caught in my throat. He filmed himself having sex with Brittni. Now he’s getting off on the video he made with her. My heart is pounding hard into my eardrums, and I know I need to hightail it down the staircase and leave, but it’s like my brain is a prison keeping me stuck in place.

Then the sound is cut off, and there's pure silence everywhere. Its stillness rings in my ears. The computer chair rolls against the floor. He’s getting up.

I scout the hallway and head towards one of the spare bedrooms. My palms sweat as I turn the doorknob as slowly as possible so as not to make a peep. When the door opens, I slip inside, hearing Brody’s footsteps in the hallway, heading towards the bathroom down at the very end in the opposite direction. The shower kicks on, and I know I have about eight minutes exactly before he emerges from the bathroom.