Parisa by Conrad Trump

Author:Conrad Trump [Conrad Trump]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: -
Publisher: BookBaby
Published: 2011-09-10T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Jena’s apartment was small, but even so, living space within the city limits of San Diego wasn’t cheap. There had been a few times, seven, in fact, when Scott had helped her to offset the cost of paying rent. It had never been too much—just a few hundred dollars here and there when she had found herself between modeling jobs. The first couple of times, Jena had made a point to pay him back promptly as soon as work picked up again, but after the third or forth time, Scott had refused to take it.

During the breakup, Scott had wondered if Jena was going to be able to make ends meet without his help. When they got back together briefly, Scott just assumed he would assist her again as she needed, but they weren’t together long enough for the topic of money to resurface, so he never found out if she was financially solvent.

Scott got his answer the next day at 6:30 a.m. when he tried to catch Jena at home. Chances were very good that Jena would still be in bed at 6:30 a.m. When he pulled up in front of her apartment on Cauby Street, he caught her loading boxes into her silver Dodge. He had to double-park, much to the irritation of the drivers in the vehicles behind him.

Scott opened the driver’s door and stepped across the busy street. Jena didn’t see him coming until he was upon her. She caught his reflection in the shiny silver side panel of her car and turned around quickly.

“Go away!”

“You won’t answer my phone.”

“I told you no more calls. I am done.”

“I’m not done,” Scott protested.

“You are done! If I am done, then we are done. And you are done!”

“Jena.”

“We are fucking done!” she suddenly screamed. People stopped and looked. Even the drivers who were penned in behind Scott’s car weren’t quite in so much of a hurry anymore.

“There’s too much going on, Jena. I need to tell you about it.”

“Like the little tramp living in your house? You want to tell me about her?”

“Yes, but it’s not what you think.”

“No, it’s not what I think. See, I think, or I thought, we had a thing. I thought we were a couple. I fucking thought that you were going to be faithful!”

“I have been.”

“And she just wears that skimpy purple outfit when company comes over? You think she’ll put it on for me?” Jena asked before adding, “Fuck you, Scott!”

“Hey, you’re Scott Locke,” someone shouted from the window of a passing gray pickup.

“Oh, Christ,” Scott mumbled, waving the guy on by. All Scott could see was a powder-blue Chargers ball cap and a red and black leg garter hanging from the rearview mirror.

The guy slowed long enough to say, “I thought you had a broken ankle.”

Then the driver in the white Honda behind the truck tooted his horn, and the pickup guy tilted his hat and said, “Good luck, dude. Gotta go.”

Scott shook his head. The audacity of some people.

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