Without Me by Chelle Bliss

else to say and changed her mind. I’d done it myself a time or two, and the fucking Messenger app gave the illusion of typing even when someone was erasing shit.
    Me: Did she tell you what happened?
    While I waited for her response, I climbed out of bed and began to pace. The stress of not knowing what had been said was making me restless and a bit edgy.
    I ran my hand through my hair, yanking on the ends. Candy hadn’t rid me of the angst I felt over the entire Max situation. I didn’t know what bothered me more: the way she had thrown me out like trash or that I cared how she had gotten rid of me and wanted more.
    Malia: Maybe
    When I read the message, I looked up at the ceiling and cursed. The woman was being cagey with her answers. Maybe she was chatting with Max at the same time and telling her that my dumb ass had contacted her.
    I couldn’t take it anymore. The suspense and not knowing would kill me.
    Me: Malia, I like Max. I like her a lot. I want to see her again, but I don’t have any way to contact her. Please, please, please tell me she wants to see me again.
    The message showed that she’d seen it, but she didn’t respond immediately. My nerves were unraveling as I waited. After a few minutes with no response, I needed a drink. I headed to the kitchen and grabbed the tequila and a glass before I started to really beg.
    As I climbed the steps, my phone beeped. Although patience was never something I’d been able to deal with, I waited until I sat down on the bed to open her message.
    Malia: Sorry, I was in the shower.
    I wanted to scream at her response. Curse her out for making me wait and not telling me that she would be missing in action for a short time. I seriously started to panic. Shit like that wasn’t cool.
    Malia: Max wouldn’t want me to give you her number, but… I know she likes you. You know where she lives. Why don’t you just go to her house?
    My hand began to shake at the possibility that I had a chance with her. Maybe it wasn’t really the end like I had thought.
    Me: I don’t want to seem like a creep. I can’t just knock on her door. I need another way. So, how do I see her again if you won’t give me her number?
    Women could be impossible. I knew that. I’d watched Izzy for years. I’d seen the misery she’d caused in her wake.
    Malia: You could show up at her work.
    I stared at the screen as my mouth hung open.
    Me: How? Do tell.
    Malia: Well, she’s a stylist. She owns her own business. Make an appointment, dummy.
    I laughed at her insult. How had I not thought of that? Why hadn’t I Googled her? I was sure that, with enough searching, I would’ve found her.
    Me: Genius. I’ll have to use a fake name. Hmmm
    Malia: Richard Hung lmfao
    I couldn’t hide my excitement. From the name Malia had picked, I’d say that Max had shared a lot about me—including the best stuff.
    Me: Can I schedule it on a website?
    Malia: Yes. She has a store. Make an appointment and then get to it, Anthony. Don’t let her get rid of you so easily.
    Her words were true. I’d never let anyone treat me the way she had. In all actuality, I’d never given them the chance, always kicking them out of my bed. Maybe she had the same MO as I did. “Hit it and quit it” was a popular phrase when I had been younger, but it had almost become my personal motto. Suddenly, I wasn’t as proud of that fact as I used to be.
    Me: Does she do that shit often?
    Malia: Max? Fuck no. It’s been years since she’s been with someone. She doesn’t want anyone to get hurt.
    I read her message repeatedly and was totally confused.
    Me: What do you mean?
    Malia: I’ve said too much. Just look her up. Her website is…
    With that, we said our goodbyes and I went to her website. I set up an appointment for Wednesday night at seven p.m. I figured I’d be her last of the night.
    I’d have her again.
    Taste and feel her all over me.
    Mark her as mine without letting her escape a second time.

6
    Hung to the Right
    T