Took My Star Dress, I Said Goodbye

It was well past midnight when I walked into the bar to pick up Scott Griffith and drag him home. I spotted him instantly. He wasn't hard to find—he was always the center of gravity in the loudest, most obnoxious VIP section in the room. Holding court. Lately, his entourage was a toxic mix of new hangers-on from the past two years, old "friends" who had vanished the second his bank account hit zero, and a rotating cast of hostesses catering to his every whim. Scott was drunk on it all, basking in the thrill of being treated like royalty again. As I threaded my way through the packed room, I watched him playfully pinch the cheek of the gorgeous brunette pressed against his side. "Her?" he murmured, his tone dripping with flippant amusement. "She's got a much better temper than you, sweetheart. And she's a hell of a lot smarter." The woman feigned annoyance, slapping his hand away, but Scott just laughed and pulled her right back into his lap. "Too bad she isn't half as breathtaking as you. And unfortunately for me, I've always had a weakness for beautiful women." I froze, instinctively stepping back into the shadows where the neon lights couldn't reach me. My stomach did a slow, sickening flip. Someone in the booth chuckled, raising a glass. "Careful, Scott. You can't compare these girls to your right-hand woman. If Daisy finds out you said that, she's going to raise hell." Scott shrugged, utterly dismissive. He didn't even blink. "She won't get mad. Daisy is loyal to a fault. Like a dog. Have you ever seen a dog snap at its master?" A roar of laughter went up around the table. The bass was rattling the floorboards, and the club was bursting with life, but I stood there rooted to the spot, completely numb. The crowd blurred around me. It had never even crossed my mind that this was how he saw me. Three years ago, when the sky fell and he lost everything, his fair-weather friends had vanished into thin air. His fiancée had packed her bags before the ink on his bankruptcy papers was even dry. I was the one who stayed. I was the one who worked eighty-hour weeks to help him rebuild his life from scratch. And in the end, it turned out he just viewed me as a well-trained pet. Suddenly, the air felt too thick to breathe. All I wanted—all I needed—was to get back to my car, lock the doors, and find some quiet. The music swelled, deafeningly loud. I turned to push my way out, but the surging crowd surged against me, shoving me backward. I was trapped in the sea of moving bodies, suffocating, with absolutely no way out.