One of Us Is Dead(65)

As I walked away, I glanced back at the table, my eyes lingering on Shannon, my mouth curving into a malicious grin. I loved seeing her like this, pathetic and desperate. It’s what she deserved.





56

Shannon


My foot tapped the floor rapidly while I checked my phone and scanned the room. Where was he? He was now forty-five minutes late. I would have just left if the girls hadn’t been here, but now I felt like I had to stay to save face. I hoped he would show because if not, this was rather embarrassing. I hated that Olivia and Crystal were here to witness this. Bryce would surely find out that the first date I went on didn’t even show up for it. And Olivia just seemed to relish it when any woman around her failed, especially me. Like it somehow elevated her.

Karen, Keisha, and Jenny were being supportive of me in every way they could be. They tried to take my mind off the waiting by making small talk. Even Crystal got Olivia off my back about the housewarming party. I appreciated that from her, but we still weren’t on good terms.

I checked my phone again and this time, I decided I would send him another message.

Are you okay? Are we still on for tonight?

Seconds later Olivia’s phone, which she left on the table, lit up. On the screen it said, Email from Shannon.

For a moment I was confused. I double-checked my email, paying close attention to my sent messages. I hadn’t sent an email to Olivia in weeks. Maybe another Shannon emailed her. Pure coincidence. Who was I kidding? In Buckhead, there were no coincidences.

I typed up a second email.

Forgot to mention. Just in case you show, I’m sitting at a table with some friends. You’ll recognize the brunette as she sticks out like a sore thumb thanks to her overinjected face and bloated tits.

I hit Send.

Olivia’s phone lit up. Email from Shannon popped up on the screen. My heart rate quickened, and I could feel my face flush. I looked around the bar and watched Olivia walk back from the bathroom. She looked like the Cheshire cat with her wide toothy grin. I nearly exploded, but instead, I took a deep breath and a large gulp of my drink.

“Who wants to dance?” Olivia asked as she swayed her hips to the music.

I took a moment to decide what I was going to do. That fucking bitch catfished me. I took a couple of small deep breaths while I decided whether or not I’d leap across the table and bash Olivia’s plastic face in. My body was tense. I could fucking kill her right now. I took another deep breath, trying to center myself. I knew what Olivia had done, but Olivia didn’t know that I knew. I had the upper hand here. I could fly off the handle, scream at her, make a scene, and leave the club, refusing to ever speak to her again. I considered that option.

But then I watched her. I watched her sway her hips, sing along to the music, and try to get everyone to dance. I watched her put her arms up and slither them around like fucking snakes as she tried her best to move with the beat. I watched her smile and laugh and soak in all the attention she was getting from random men at the bar. I decided at that moment I wasn’t going to scream at her. I wasn’t going to make a scene. I wasn’t going to cuss her out. I was just going to pretend like everything was fucking peachy. I regained my composure. I forced my lips to curve into a smile. Standing from my seat, I joined her, swaying my hips. The girls followed us to the dance floor. Olivia raised an eyebrow at me and smiled back. She didn’t know it yet, but her days were numbered.





57

Olivia


After a few songs, we returned to our seats. I was surprised Shannon joined in on the dancing. Then again, rejection and desperation will make you do things completely and totally out of character. She hadn’t checked her phone in a while. Shannon had clearly given up on her date showing at all. Little did she know; her date had shown. I let out a giggle and took another drink. Shannon needed to be reminded of her place in Buckhead, and what better way to remind her than to diminish her self-confidence. She did the same to me once upon a time.

Four years ago, at Buckhead’s gala of the year, Shannon got drunk (nothing has changed) and told everyone about my past, something I had confided to her. She told them how my father was arrested, how my family was slimy, and how he lost all of our money. She belittled me and ridiculed me the whole night, dragging me through the mud, reveling in it like it was a game. From that point on, people looked at Dean and me a little differently. We weren’t the classy Petrovs, we were the smarmy Petrovs, and we ultimately fell into those roles. Because it’s easy to become who people say you are. On top of that, for years the women in Buckhead called me Nemo—“new money,” a constant reminder that I wasn’t like them. I could have spoken to her about it, explained how she hurt me, but where was the fun in that? Forgiveness is boring, but revenge . . . now, that’s a real thrill! Betray me once, and I will bury you, one shovel of dirt at a time.

I had heard Shannon a while back talking about online dating. From then on, I made it a point to routinely look her up on popular dating sites to see if she had created a profile. A few weeks ago, I struck gold when I discovered her. She never even questioned it. Desperate women don’t ask questions. I wondered how long I could keep it going. Could I lure her somewhere? Or humiliate her to the point where she’d never be able to show her face again? Could I make her feel the way she made me feel? Forced into a role that I created for her? Or maybe I could finally unload that last spade of soil, the one that will keep her where she belongs—six feet below the rest of us.