It's like those horror movies where the person turns the corner of a hallway, and it stretches endlessly. The further the person walks, the longer it becomes, making their destination impossible.

Well, that's what it's like when I spot Angie. Except, I don't even want to reach the end of the corridor because the last time I saw this psycho killer was at the warehouse where I murdered two supposed pedophiles, all to convince Kay I've got the balls to kill Richie Reddy and not fuck it up. Except that Neanderthal, Kay, doesn't know I'm already holding him prisoner. Oops.

Angie's head whips my way, a cold glare piercing me with a fold of her arms.

"Fucking finally!" she says.

"What are you doing here?" I nudge her aside and shove my key into the knob.

"Where have you been?"

"I don't think that's any of your business."

"We are a team. Everything is my business now!" She barges into the apartment without an invitation.

"Really? Because it feels one-sided."

"How?" She narrows her eyes as I shut the door behind me.

"I don't know anything about you."

"Well, you've never taken the time to ask." She folds her arms.

"How can I when you always scurry off and never tell me where you're going? All of our interactions are on your watch. So yeah, one-sided." I head into the kitchen, and she follows.

"I'm a private person."

"So am I." I open the fridge and pull out a water jug. "Yet you know my dirty secrets because you paid for them. How is that fair, Angie? You say we're a team, but there is no team here."

Her eyes widen. "How are we not? I've introduced you to all my connections, and I let you take the lead on coming up with a plan to present to the Sisters!"

"You think that makes us a team?" I scoff and pour the water into a glass. "We don't even trust each other. Not to mention, I still know nothing about you, aside from having a sister who is hidden away."

"What is with you!?" Angie barks.

Ignoring her, I keep going. "And I don't know what you do on the days I don't hear from you. So you're not helping me in the trust department."

"Why are you being even more of a dick than usual? Besides, you're not entitled to know my every move."

"Then I don't owe you any explanations about where I've been."

"You know I can just have Franky find out for me," she challenges with an arched brow.

"Funny because now that you've introduced us, I can do the same."

"Franky would never," Angie scoffs.

"Franky's language is money. I'm sure I can get her to tell me lots about you." I grin, and Angie jabs her finger in my face.

"Franky is my source. So back off, bucko!"

"Sounds like I've hit a nerve." I swat her hand away.

"Handsome, you couldn't hit a nerve even if I drew you a map."

"Pretty sure I've hit several nerves every time we fuck. I still have the scratches on my back to prove it."

"Touché, lover."

"So why are you here, Angie?" I ask, then gulp down the water while eyeing her.

"Maybe if you stop acting like a stubborn asshole, I'll tell you."

Smirking, I brush past her and tease her ear with my words, "Sure, that would be easy, but I kind of like you angry."

She pulls away, scowling, and nudges my chest with her forearms, but I hardly budge. To make her angrier, I boop her nose, and her furrowed brows soften, despite her trying to remain tough as leather.

"You're such a little Hobbit," I chuckle, and she bites back a smile.

"And you're an ogre!"

"An ogre you like." I wink.

But this is starting to feel too comfortable, and I can't allow myself to get sucked into her vortex again. I don't care how hot she looks with her tight black tank top tucked into high-waisted jeans, which hug every curvature of her legs as if Bob Ross painted them on her.

And fuck me running!

Mindy, Mindy, Mindy, I remind myself and look away because I know what Angie looks like naked, and I've placed my mouth on every inch of her skin.

Our proximity is too intimate. As much as I like teasing Angie, a hot shower calls me, so I proceed to the bathroom. But the she-devil follows me and leans against the threshold as I adjust the water temperature. I don't overlook the fact she's salivating while studying me from head to toe as I remove my shirt.

"So why are you here?" I throw it at her, and she snatches it mid-air.

"We have somewhere to be, but it can wait till after..." she saunters in, and her hands go to the hem of her shirt.

"I can't," I hold up my hand, stopping her.

Angie reels her head back, her arms dropping. "Since when have you not been in the mood to fuck?"

This isn't how I wanted to break the news, but it's best to rip off the bandaid. So, I inhale a deep breath, then exhale as Angie studies me, the gears in her head visibly turning. Why am I nervous?

"I was with Mindy last night. And this morning," I say.

"Oh..." Angie's mouth forms a shape around the word as she nods.

"I'm sorry—"

"For what?" she cuts me off. "We were just fucking around. You've always had eyes for Mindy, so I'm not surprised. Is she your girlfriend now?"

"No. We're just exclusive. As in, we're not going to sleep with anyone else."

Angie rolls her eyes. "I know what it means!"

"Ok. I just wanted to clarify."

"Whatever. This is dumb. We're wasting time. We have to leave." She snaps her fingers.

"Not today. I have shit to do."

"Excuse me?"

"I have a job, you know. I can't just go wherever you want at the snap of your fingers."

"Well, handsome, you don't have a choice." She throws my shirt back at me and spins to leave. "So, hurry up and try not to jerk off in there. I'm giving you five minutes."

"Oooo, is that a threat?" I mock. "As I said, I'm not going anywhere with you. I have shit to do."

"Listen, it's one thing if you don't feel like fucking, but you don't have a choice in the other part. We're supposed to meet with Kay, so giddy-up."

Angie slams the door behind her, leaving me alone in the steam-filled bathroom as the humidity fogs the mirror. Dropping the news about Mindy could have gone worse, and I'm surprised at how nonchalant she's being about it, but if she thinks she can boss me around whenever she wants, she has another thing coming. So I take my time, and at the five-minute mark, she's banging on the door. But I keep washing and even begin singing to drown out her shouting.

Eventually, the noise stops, and I don't exit the bathroom until ten minutes later. She's livid when she sees me, and her face is as red as a period stain on white undies.

Yet I don't give one single fuck as I waltz over to the bedroom and take my sweet time getting dressed, all while she taps her foot in the doorway. Then I brush past her, grab my keys, and head back out.

"Now, where are you going?" she says, clomping down the stairs after me, barking like a chihuahua, but I hop onto my motorcycle and pull my helmet on. "Miguel, stop ignoring me!"

"Listen, Angie, I don't give a fuck about jumping whenever Kay tells me to, and I'm not doing anything for the Sisters until after I pay them a visit."

Her head reels back, causing her curls to jostle in the process. "And why do you need to see them?"

"Reasons."

I roar the motorcycle to life, give it some throttle, and vroom the hell out of there, leaving that pain in the ass behind.

∆∆∆

I'm pacing in front of Gwen, fraying a hole in the expensive Persian rug covering the hardwood floor of her office. I was late for our weekly therapy session, but she didn't seem to mind, and I have no idea why she always lets me get away with tardiness.

Sunlight beams through the stained glass windows and creates a prism-like aura across her chest. It's distracting, and because of the way this day started with Chloe and then Richie, I'm on edge.

And when I'm on edge, I self-destruct.

Which is why I'm paying too close attention to Gwen. She's always just been the shrink who I'm required to see because of the restraining order my ex-wife has against me. However, in this lighting, Gwen is beautiful, with her cat-shaped eyes lined in black ink and ebony hair with hints of silver trailing past her shoulders. The sexy librarian look doesn't usually do it for me, but the thick red frames resting on her tiny nose are hot. She's also dressed a bit sassy today, with the slit of her pencil skirt riding up her crossed thighs. Not to mention how her teal blue v-neck sweater flashes her cleavage anytime she leans forward in her wingback chair, jotting down notes.

Mindy, Mindy, Mindy, I remind myself. Don't self-destruct. You have a good thing going with her.

"Please continue," Gwen says, her eyes not leaving the notepad on her lap.

"Well, I just feel all this pressure to do what's right, but what if what is right will make things worse?"

Gwen sets her pen down and looks up at me. "I've said this before, but I must repeat it, Miguel. You desire to be a hero—the one who comes to the rescue with all the answers."

"I do not!"

"Yes, you do. The people in this group are your friends—not your problem to solve."

"I'm not trying to solve their problems!"

"No?" Gwen adjusts her glasses and turns to her notes. "Moments ago, you said it's my responsibility to guide them so they don't fuck up their lives. Now, what I'm trying to understand is, why do you think they're going to mess up their lives?"

"I— I don't know."

"Yes, you do," Gwen sighs. "Last week, it was Mindy you were worried about, and the week before, it was Jackson and Alma. Today it's Chloe. Something is bothering you, and you're keeping it bottled up instead of talking to me about it so I can help you."

"I'm not bottling it up! I'm managing my anger."

"Miguel..." Gwen smirks and motions to me. "Look at you. From the moment you arrived, you haven't sat down. Instead, you've paced back and forth while vaguely rattling about Chloe's divorce issues. I can't help Chloe if you don't tell me what I should be worried about."

"I'm not asking you to help her."

"Then why are you talking to me about her? I still don't understand the issue because you aren't giving me any details. I only know that Chloe said something to you this morning that you found alarming, and as a medical professional, this worries me. If Chloe plans to hurt herself, I need to know."

"She's not trying to hurt herself!" I stop pacing because I've shit the bed ranting about Chloe. No wonder Gwen's forehead is wrinkled like a raisin. I must sound like a crazy person!

"Then what was so alarming?" she asks.

"Nothing. Forget it." I finally sink into the seat across from her and bury my head in my hands.

"Miguel," Gwen sighs. "Can I be frank with you?"

"Sure," I say into my hands.

"For a few weeks, I've sensed a shift in the group. Something feels off. The only thing I can tie it back to is Angelina Mendoza joining our group sessions."

"What?" I spring my gaze back up to hers.

She's leaning forward, an elbow propped on her knee as she taps her chin, thinking. This is causing her boobs to smash together and bulge from her v-neck sweater, but she doesn't notice. Gwen isn't the kind to purposely show off her body as Angie does, and I feel a wee bit of a chub growing in my pants.

Mindy, Mindy, Mindy, I remind myself again. Don't self-destruct, you worthless asshole.

"I hear things." Gwen eyes me from beyond her glasses as they sit on the tip of her nose.

"Like what?"

"Well..." She pushes up the red frames with her index finger. And you know what? It's so fucking hot. "That you and Mrs. Mendoza have been spending time together."

"I guess you can say that."

"I don't think it's a good idea to become romantically involved with someone so new to our therapy group."

"We're not romantically involved. We fuck around."

"Right." Gwen presses her mouth into a straight line. "Which is even more concerning."

"How so? Sex is therapeutic. Eases the tension."

"Yes, sex is healthy, but..." Gwen's lip forms a straight line again as she fidgets with the edge of her notepad. "It's just that I get the sense that Mrs. Mendoza isn't here for the right reasons. She refuses solo sessions, arrives late to group therapy, has a flippant attitude, and there's something about her that gives me pause. I can't put my finger on it, only that since her arrival, the camaraderie of the group has shifted. So, I worry that she might be toxic for you. Before her arrival, we were making great progress during your solo sessions, but now you pace my office and seem unstable. I'm concerned."

"Well, your worries are over. I've cut off sex with Angie because Mindy and I have become exclusive."

"You and Mindy are dating now?"

"No, not exactly. We're... fucking, but exclusively."

"Miguel." Gwen facepalms herself with a heavy sigh. "Mindy is in no shape for a sexual fling."

"It's not a fling. We love each other."

"Love?" Gwen quirks her brow, and I'm not too fond of the pity in her expression.

"Yes, love!"

"No, Miguel." She shakes her head. "Mindy has deep-rooted issues with her husband. He has this power over her that I'm trying to correct, and throwing you into the mix will only hinder her progress."

"Don't you think it would help her? I can show her how a real man treats a woman."

"You're not a superhero. Having sex with her won't fix her issues."

No, but perhaps killing her dick-head ex-husband, Richie fucking Reddy, will.

"You underestimate me," I say.

"And you underestimate the power Mindy's ex-husband has over her."

"He's weak. I can handle him," I scoff

"So much bravado wrapped in stupidity," Gwen sighs. "This is unprofessional for me to say, but you need to hear it, so you understand. Mindy still has sex with her ex-husband. He often charms her into spending the night."

"Yeah, I know. He's a narcissistic asshole." I sit back and taste bile in my throat, remembering how I had to watch him feast between Mindy's legs.

"Wait." Gwen adjusts her glasses. "You know, and you're ok with it?"

"As I said, Mindy and I are exclusive now. She won't be going back to that noodle dick."

Which is partially true. The real reason that assface won't go near her with his wiener again is that I have him in chains.

"Miguel, listen to yourself. You sound like a teenager."

"What the fuck?"

"I know it's unprofessional to say that, but you need complete brutal honesty. Mindy is not ready for any kind of relationship with you. I don't care how many epic orgasms you think you give her."

"Oh, I don't think. I do give them."

"Enough!" Gwen holds up her hand with a look of disgust. "Mindy has anxious attachment issues, and until she develops a secure attachment style, she will never, ever be in a fruitful relationship with you because you suffer from a dismissive attachment style."

"Narcissists have dismissive attachments. I am not a narc!"

"Well..." Gwen sighs heavily.

"I am not a narc," I say again.

"Listen, Miguel. You still have a lot of work to do on yourself, which is why I emphasize the importance of dating outside of the group. Hurt people can't heal other hurt people. We try convincing ourselves we can, but we can't. Which is why you need to leave it to me, the professional."

"Fuck you!" I skyrocket from the chair.

"Miguel..."

"Fuck. You!"

"Our session isn't over."

"Yeah, it is!"

Whatever Gwen is shouting as I storm from the office is lost when I slam the door behind me. Talking to your therapist should make you feel better, not worse.

But you know what? We all have our shit we're dealing with, so I can't fault Mindy for falling for Richie's suave ways. The only way to fix it is by following through with my plan of getting rid of him.

However, I have a day job to get to and a wealthy client who pays me top dollar to give her one—on-one training sessions. So I hop onto my motorcycle and head for the gym.

Despite my life turning upside down, I'm still a responsible professional with bills to pay.

*
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Thanks for reading!

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