Like, hello.
Not that dumb.
Wrapping my arms around my waist, I grasp at the silky material of my violet insanely short minidress that clings to every curve of my body. The one I wore to make him happy. He prefers it when my dresses are short. Easy access, he likes to say.
Which is weird considering it’s been months since we’ve fucked.
“Wait, Dillan.” I’m not able to keep up with his pace in my heels, but he doesn’t seem to notice nor care as he approaches a door in the distance. He stops and spins around, a smile spreading across his face that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, then knocks on the door three times.
I’m about to tell him that we’re at the wrong place, that no one would be down here. There are only three cars on this street and no other businesses are open. But as I go to open my mouth, the door opens, and standing there is a woman dressed in green. From her extravagant jewelry to her beautiful form-fitting dress, down to her embellished stilettos—all green.
Her eyes lock on Dillan, then move to me. She assesses me, taking her time to scan me from top to toe, leaving me even more confused than I was before. Once she’s satisfied, she nods once and steps back as Dillan grabs my hand and jerks me in behind him. I momentarily try to stay where I am, but his pull is clearly stronger than mine.
I’m hesitant to move forward, but I do, afraid of tripping in these black heels that are extra high tonight because I wanted to impress my husband, who, by the way, hasn’t even noticed that I’m wearing these gorgeous heels to begin with. Never mind the fact that they cost more than my monthly paycheck. Thank God for rentals. Yes, you heard it through me, I rented them. They are not mine, but how I wish they were. Even if I was brought up to not waste my money on material things, that doesn’t stop me from wanting them. Badly. They make my soul happy.
“Color?” the woman asks as she shuts the door. I look to her for an explanation, but her eyes are only on Dillan. Mine scan the room, and I don’t notice anything out of the ordinary. It looks like a normal reception area with a seat, black walls, and a white desk.
“Yellow,” Dillan answers for the both of us, still not bothering to tell me what exactly is going on.
What the fuck?
“And your friend?” Her brow raises as if she knows the answer that will be coming. I’m glad she does because I have no idea.
Dillan finally looks at me, then his gaze continues down my body before squeezing my hand too firmly. He smiles back at the woman in green. “Yellow as well.”
“Yellow it is.” She places a wristband on Dillan’s arm, then reaches for me and starts to do the same.
“What’s this for?” I ask, but she’s quiet and won’t look me in the eyes.
It’s Dillan who answers, “It’s a club, sweetie.” He gently pushes a stray hair back from my face, and I grind my teeth at the sweet gesture.
“What kind?”
The woman finishes with my band and tries unsuccessfully to hide her smile as she walks off. Turning to face Dillan, I look down at the yellow wristband and back up at him.
“Just go with it, okay?”
I want to argue, to tell him that I just go with a lot of things, and every single one of those things, I do for him and only him.
But what does he do for me? Nothing lately.
He comes home smelling of other women, tells me it’s from his work colleagues, and lies about going out all night while I stay home.
He has brought me with him tonight, thinking I should be thankful.
I’m not.
I don’t want to be here.
A long time ago, I moved away from my family and friends to live with him, and I have been a good wife.
I can’t say the same for him being a good husband.
Unfortunately for me, I fell in love with him thinking I could have a nice, normal life. Now, I’m not the same woman as I once was, and times have changed.
I have changed.
He has not.
Dillan pushes open a set of double doors and soft music flows out from behind them. He keeps on walking while I take slow steps, following him cautiously toward the party I can see coming into view. I slink past him, unable to keep my curiosity at bay any longer. Taking one look over the railing, what I see below us has my exceptionally expensive heels locking in place.
“Dillan,” I say in a soft voice, my words barely making it past my lips. “Where are we?”
He chuckles and walks up behind me, one hand going to my waist as he moves my hair over my shoulder with his other before whispering in my ear, “We are at a traffic party.”