|
|
|
|
|
|
|
She collapsed onto her bed and began beating the pillow with her fist and sobbing big, fat tears. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
"Damn you! Damn you to hell." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
She cried until she was gasping for breath and then went into the bathroom and washed her face. Looking at herself in the mirror only made her start crying again. She couldn't decide whom she hated more: Bryan for setting her up, Cyrus for going off and leaving her or just men in general for being such inconsiderate assholes. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Ten minutes later she washed her face again, all the while glaring at her reflection in the mirror. "Not a tear! Not a fucking tear." |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Kyna hated weepy women and hated herself all the more for acting like one. After drying her face, she climbed back into bed and stared at the clockit was almost four o'clock. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
What to do when he came back? That's what she had to decide. Firing him would only make things harder for her. She could lock him out, but then he'd know how really pissed she was. No! Better to try and go back to sleep and then act like she hadn't even noticed that he was gone. Then, when they got back to Memphis, she'd pay the bastard off with the sharp point of her size-seven pump right between his legs. |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Smiling, Kyna fell asleep five minutes later. |
|
|
|
|
|