Page 65 of Anger Bang
Public humiliation.
Well, fuck that shit.
She’d tried having a fight response and ended up asking Kade—in front of the entire live-stream-watching world—if he wanted to go have an anger bang, which (let’s face it) was him throwing her a pity fuck so she could get back at her sister.
Her cheeks burned with humiliation at the memory.
She’d tried freezing when it had come to decorating that stupid giant foam heart for the wedding ceremony.
Kade had come to her rescue on that one, obviously feeling sorry for the dorky sister of the bride. Her own very human heart had melted into a useless puddle of goo in her chest with that one.
Then, of course, there was the motorcycle ride (AKA flight) when Kade had taken her to the museum and they’d hidden in the closet.
What did all of these things have in common? Kade fucking St. James. And what was the result? Her making an ass out of herself.
Well, breaking news alert, if she was going to be miserable and heartbroken, she could do that from her fawning comfort zone. She didn’tneedto try other options. So fuck it. Fuck flight. Fuck freezing. Fuck fighting. She was done.
D.
O.
N.
E.
DONE.
She rested her head back against the tree and watched the stars appear in the night sky as dusk gave way to night. Just like that first night with Kade, the sight filled her with awe, even if tonight it was a little blurrier thanks to the tears that kept falling…and the vodka. She really should get back to her RV. Justine and the camera crew had to be gone by now. As soon as she stood up, the stars went all wibbly-wobbly along with her stomach, and she eased back down so she was sitting on her butt in the grass instead of being planted face-first in it.
All she needed was a few minutes to catch her breath, and she’d go back to the RV. That was a solid plan. At least it was more solid than her on her feet right now.
She leaned back against the tree again to take in the stars, but the insistent buzzing of her phone vibrating against the vodka bottle yanked her attention downward. She grabbed her phone, scrolled past the messages from Jackie, her mom, the producer, and Kade—and tapped on the latest one from the group chat with Astrid and Nola.
ASTRID:ARE YOU OKAY???????????
Okay, the usual freak-out via extra punctuation and all caps from Astrid.
NOLA:You’re starting to scare us. Where are you? Do you need us to call 911? Are you hurt?
And the rapid-fire questions from Nola.
ASTRID:And if you weren’t trying to scare us, that Kade guy sure as fuck did. He said you disappeared upset and no one can find you.
What? Kade called them? She stopped reading the incoming screen and shot back a question of her own.
THEA:How did Kade get your number?
ASTRID:SHE LIVES!!!!!!!! And he said he made the production crew share your offsite emergency contacts from your release forms.
NOLA:Are you okay? Are you in a safe place? Do we need to get on a plane?
THEA:Sorta. Yes. No.
That was probably about as close to the truth as possible at the moment. Plus typing out “fell in love with a guy who said he’s going to forget me as soon as he gets on the airplane out of here” was too pathetic.
ASTRID:Who do we need to harm? All I need is a name. I know people.
NOLA:You know the same people we do, and none of my uncles are actual Irish mobsters. They just talk a lot at the bar.
