"Forget it," his buddy waved his hand, "Who wants a dead fish? Jimmy, you've been with like eight hundred girls over the years, and Christina didn't catch any of it?"
"She's so dumb, she'd believe any excuse I made up."
James laughed and instructed, "Guys, you gotta learn to report regularly, then clear your phone and show it to her, so she can check it whenever she wants. Over time, she'll trust you."
I pushed the door open angrily.
The room fell silent.
I laughed in anger, "Why so quiet? Weren't you chatting happily just now?"
James's face showed no panic or guilt. Instead, he calmly pointed to a corner.
"Good you're here. Let's sit and talk."
"No need, just say what you want."
"Then I'll get to the point. Abby is great, and I like her a lot. I want to give her a proper title."
He then arrogantly nodded at me, "Our lives have been pretty boring these years. No need to drag this on. Let's break up."
I nodded, trying my best to stay calm.
As I left, I heard the man behind me laughing.
"You can't stand to leave Jimmy, but you're pretending to be indifferent."
"I bet she'll come back within three days to apologize and ask for reconciliation."
"Three days, or maybe three hours! Everyone knows she loves Jimmy to death. She even proposed to him last night!"
I forced myself to swallow the bitterness rising in my throat, calmly closed the door, and walked away.
In the bar, my best friend had a male model on each arm, having a blast drinking the drinks they handed her.
I just focused on my drink and didn't say a word to her invites.
Then a middle-aged guy with sleeve tattoos came over.
“Have a drink,” he put a glass of wine in front of me, not taking no for an answer.
The amber liquid sloshed a bit, spilling on my chest.
His gaze became even more lewd.
Sensing danger, I tried to leave, but he grabbed my arm.
“Trying to run? Dream on.”
I struggled to free myself, "Let go, or I'll call the cops."
“Call the cops?” He laughed like he'd heard the funniest joke, louder than the blaring music, "Do you know who I am? Go ask around about Tom Brown and see if anyone dares to mess with me."
A man suddenly appeared between us.
His chiseled features and deep-set eyes made him look particularly manly.
He looked familiar.
He pried the man's hand off me with a smile, "She's my girlfriend, don't mess with her."
I remembered then—
He was Jack Jackson, James's uncle.