Stitches by Sam Mariano

3

Sebastian

“Canyou cover me for a few days?”

I glance up from my ledger, looking up at Griff as he stands in front of my desk and makes this request. He seems tense today. His request comes off as urgent, but he almost looks like he’s hoping I’ll say no.

“For what?” I ask.

“I’m gonna take Ashley to Palm Springs.”

My gaze deadens. He notices and looks vaguely annoyed with me, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

Well, shit.

I can’t let him take the little slut to Palm Springs, thinking everything is just fine. He shouldn’t waste another dime on that dumb bitch, let alone give her a vacation. He should divorce her ass and let her work at the club in earnest.

Well, no, not our club. But let her make her own way in the world and stop sponging off him.

I shoot a glance at the door. He left it open when he came inside. “Can you shut that? We need to talk.”

Griff frowns, but he falls back a few steps and closes the door to my office. He crosses the room and takes a seat on the other side of my desk, regarding me seriously. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s something I need to… I was reviewing the security footage last night and I saw something I shouldn’t have.”

“What do you mean? Someone skimming again?”

I shake my head. “Nah, nothing like that.” I don’t know how to tell my best friend I saw his wife fucking someone else. I don’t know how you hear something like that. Not when you’re not expecting it, at least. If he at least had suspicions, that would be one thing, but he hasn’t told me about it if he does. Maybe I can give him a hint. Call “timber!” before I chop down a tree and crush his fucking marriage.

“Then what?” he asks.

I lean back in my chair. “How are things with you and Ashley lately?”

He frowns—confused, like he doesn’t see what that has to do with what we were just talking about. “Things are… fine, I guess. You know, a little stale. That happens to normal folks,” he adds, rolling his eyes at me. “I thought a few days away from everything might be nice.”

“Yeah, she leads such a stressful life,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“What is your problem with her lately?” he demands, scowling at me. “Moira stays home and you take care of the finances; you don’t have a problem with that.”

“Of course I don’t.”

“So, why are you being snide about me spending money on my wife?”

“She fucked someone else.”

He blinks, then looks surprised. Not crushed, just surprised. “How the hell did you find out about that?”

Now I’m the one scowling. “What? You knew? Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?”

“What do you mean, why didn’t I say anything? Why would I say anything? It was a long fucking time ago. You went off on your honeymoon. You want me to call you up in Rome to cry on your shoulder because my wife got drunk and let someone else fuck her?”

“Rome? My—” I halt, trying to keep up. He’s not talking about right now. He’s not talking about the other time I know about, either.

She cheated a third time.

At least. If she cheated three times, I bet she cheated more than that. She’s not a weak bitch who makes mistakes; she’s a serial offender.

“Aw, fuck,” I mutter, rubbing my temples and closing my eyes. “Griff, no. I don’t mean… I didn’t know about that. Friday night. At the club.”

His face sort of freezes. His expression doesn’t change, he just stares at me, like if he stares long enough, this moment will expire and we can pretend it never happened.

We can’t do that, though. Maybe he’s willing to forgive the stupid whore, but I’m not. He’s not wasting his life on this cheating parasite. Fuck that.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, leaning forward and holding his gaze. “It was tactless, the way I told you. I can do better than that. I just can’t stand seeing you waste another minute on this bitch.”

“Watch it,” he says, but it’s an old instinct to defend her. I assume he’s just used to it, not that he means it. Why would he defend her?

“Just calling a spade a spade,” I inform him.

“No, you’re calling my wife a bitch,” he says, distinctly.

My eyebrows rise. “Yeah, your wife who cheated on you. More than once, apparently. Would you like me to bring up the footage? You can see for yourself.”

“Don’t be a fucking asshole,” he says.

“I’m not trying to be an asshole.”

“Just comes naturally to you, doesn’t it?” he mutters, standing.

I frown and watch him turn his back and head for the door. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know.”

“Griff… come on.”

“You’re the last person I want to talk to about this,” he states.

That’s cold. He’s angry, though. I should have known. No one likes the asshole who has to play messenger in a situation like this. I should’ve made someone else tell him. I just didn’t want to embarrass him. I figured the fewer people who knew, the better.

He’ll come around. He just needs some time to process.

* * *

I don’t seeGriff for the rest of the day. I texted Moira after he stormed out to let her know he might be stopping by the house, but I guess he never did. I didn’t explain why, even though she asked. I figured that was his story to tell, not mine.

Moira’s a good listener, so it’s where he should have gone.

He probably went home to talk to Ashley. Hopefully to burn all her fucking clothes and toss her out on her ass. Poor guy. He has a lot to deal with.

When I walk in the front door tonight, I’m even more grateful than usual that I have Moira to come home to. I have a great wife, and I wish Griff did, too.

“So, why did you think Griff might stop by?” she asks me, cutting up her grilled chicken as we sit together at the dinner table.

I tried to get in touch with him all day, but he ignored every text, declined every phone call. “He and Ashley are having problems,” I say, as vaguely as I can.

“Oh no, again?”

I glance up at her, surprised.

She shrugs one shoulder. “Well, Ashley said they were a few months ago, but then she didn’t say much else; I figured it got better.” She pauses, taking a sip of her water. “She seems difficult. I wouldn’t want to be married to her. I feel sorry for him, to be honest.”

“Yeah, so do I,” I murmur.

Moira goes on. “She just seems so mean to him sometimes. Griff is such a sweetheart. I don’t get it.”

“She’s a stupid whore.”

“Whoa,” Moira says, frowning at me. “That’s a little—no, a lot harsh. What did she do?”

I stab a piece of broccoli. “Who did she do, you mean. And I don’t know his name.”

Now her face falls, like I’ve just devastated her. “She didn’t.”

I nod, her dread making my own grow.

Her fork clatters as it hits the plate. “Oh, my God, how could she? Poor Griff.” Heaving a sigh, she throws her napkin, like she can’t even enjoy her meal now. “I can’t believe this. How is he? Is he with her? Are they… trying to work through it?”

“I fucking hope not. If they are, I’ll kick his ass.”

“Well… Sebastian, they’re married. Maybe that means something.”

“If it meant something, she shouldn’t make a hobby of fucking other men and making him look like an asshole. This wasn’t the first time she did it. Apparently she cheated at least two other times.”

Moira stands, shaking her head and walking over to the counter. She grabs her phone and starts scrolling.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m calling him. We need to make sure he isn’t alone, and if he is, he knows he doesn’t have to be. He should come over and spend the evening with us.”

I push back my chair and stand, sighing. “That won’t help, Moira.”

“Why not?” she flings back, ignoring me and tapping her screen before bringing the phone to her ear.

“Because his marriage just fell apart; he doesn’t want to see us enjoying ours.”

“So I’ll ignore you and pay attention to him,” she says. “You get my attention all the time. Griff needs us now.”

I walk up behind my loving wife and wrap my arms snugly around her waist. “I love you.”

Caressing my hand, she tells me, “I love you, too.”

I wait there, holding her. I can hear the phone ringing and ringing, then it clicks and goes to voice mail.

He ignored her call.

She waits for his voice mail message, then says brightly, “Hey Griff, it’s Moira. Sebastian and I were just bumming around at home tonight and we wanted to see if you were busy. If not, you should come over and hang out with us this evening. We already had dinner but there are lots of leftovers. I could make us some drinks and we’ll all watch a movie together like old times. If you’re interested, we will be waiting. Hope to see you soon. Bye!”

I smile as she ends the call, then I grab her jaw and turn her face toward me so I can kiss her. “You’re a good friend.”

“Griff is family,” she states.

I caress her face approvingly. “Agreed.”

“I hate that he’s alone and sad right now. It just breaks my heart. I think it might be even worse if he’s not alone and sad. I’m so mad at Ashley right now; I can’t believe she did this to him. I know she has her bad habits, but I never thought she’d take it this far.”

I’m obviously pissed at Ashley, but I’m also worried I embarrassed Griff. It’s thoughtful that Moira wanted to reach out—natural, given their friendship, but it was also transparent. When he gets that message, he’ll know I told her. I probably shouldn’t have, but I couldn’t keep it from her, either. We don’t have that kind of relationship. Moira and I don’t have secrets.

It takes about three minutes for him to text me. One word: Asshole.

I text right back, “Just stop sulking and come over.”

He doesn’t answer.

“There’s no reason to feel bad. It isn’t your fault Ashley’s a slut. It doesn’t make YOU look bad, it makes HER look bad.”

“Would you stop with the fucking name-calling?”

My eyes widen with surprise. “No. Slut, tramp, cocksucking daughter of a fucking whore. I’ll keep going. Do not defend her. Fuck that bitch. If you haven’t already, call Carrie tomorrow and set up an appointment. Get rid of her ass.”

“So I can sit in the shadows and watch you live your perfect life with your perfect fucking love and your perfect wife? I’ll pass.”

“Don’t be like that,” I text back. “We both love you and neither of us wants you to be alone right now.”

“I’m always alone,” he sends back.

I stare at that one for a minute before sending back, “You don’t have to be.”

“Seems like I do,” he sends back.

“Come over,” I say, again.

He doesn’t respond that time.

He doesn’t respond for the rest of the night.