Chapter 2 Chapter Two - Gabriella
After a while Mitchell gave up pounding on my door, probably realising I wasn’t going to give his cheating ass another minute of my time. Instead of bothering with him, I’m now on glass of wine number two – red, of course – and listening to the very appropriate Women Don’t Owe You Shit by the singer Aston.
“You’re at the bottom, I’m high like matriarch. You’re hot and bothered when I don’t give a fuck. No explanation, no I don’t have to talk. I don’t like you that much, so I’m cutting you off!” I sing at the top of my lungs, taking a break to take a swig of my drink.
I continue to sing along to what I’m dubbing, The Ultimate Breakup Playlist as I throw all my bedsheets into a trash bag ready to take out with this week’s garbage. Fortunately, I have other sheets, so I’ll be fine. I walk over and pick up a pair of scissors off my little desk just as my phone rings.
I reach over, grab it and answer, “Bad Bitch Resident, Queen Bitch speaking,” I say as I walk over to the little rack of clothes that I call a wardrobe.
“That doesn’t sound like someone who left work early due to a migraine,” chuckles my best friend Derrick.
“Don’t worry, my skull is still the site of an archaeological excavation, but I won’t let it bring down my mood.”
He chuckles some more, “You have gossip, I can tell. What has you in such a delightful mood?” He asks eagerly.
“I kicked Mitchell out. He is finally out of my house and out of my life,” I proudly announce, quickly turning the music down.
“WHAT?! You finally kicked out that loser whose face looks like an old man’s scrotum and didn’t call to tell me? Bitch! What the fuck?” He screams.
I chuckle, “Sorry, I’ve been excitedly clearing out all his shit. I would have called you with the good news eventually.”
“Are you okay? Like, what happened? Girl, I need that tea because I can tell it is piping hot,” he says enthusiastically.
“Well, I came home and found him and my neighbour fucking on my bed, so I doused them with ice water and kicked them out. I’m not as cut up as you’d think I’d be, but I can’t say the same about his clothes,” I say malevolently while cutting through Mitchell’s favourite shirt. Fuck him. I bought it, I can do what I want with it.
I hear silence on the other end and pre-emptively pull the phone away from my ear just in time for Derrick to start screaming through my phone. Do I know the man, or do I know the man?
“YOU WENT ICEBERG FROM THE TITANIC ON YOUR CHEATING BOYFRIEND AND DIDN’T THINK TO CALL ME?!” He screams.
What follows is some incoherent screeching, so I put the phone down as I leisurely cut up more of Mitchell’s clothes and toss them into garbage bags. I’m just about to cut up his third shirt when the vindictive fog lifts from my brain and I realise what the fuck I’m doing. Sure, demolishing his stuff is feeding my need for revenge, but it doesn’t do me or anyone else any good. These are all good items of clothing. I know because I paid for them and cleaned them. He sure as hell doesn’t deserve them, but I can think of homeless people and shelters all over the place that definitely do. I put the scissors back on my desk and separate the items I already cut up – I can use them as cleaning rags – and place everything else in bags. I’ll wash everything and then donate it to those who need it more, that way all the money I spent doesn’t go to waste and these good clothes get to benefit people who need it.
“Hello? HELLO?! GABRIELLA JONES!” Derrick screams.
I quickly race over and pick up the phone, “I’m here, I’m here! Don’t get your tucking panties in a twist. Look, you are more than welcome to come over and indulge in some snacks and booze with me and I will fill you in on everything, okay?” I calmly offer.
“Very well. I’ll let Wyatt know I’m going to your place. I should be there in fifteen.”
“Great! I’ll have a glass of wine waiting for you,” I say chipperly and then hang up.
I look around at the mess I made, and quickly fix it up and quickly change the sheets on my bed. It’s bad enough the world is full of people who need to go to places like Good Will for bedding, but I won’t let them get crusty sheets still stinking of my now exes philandering. They deserve better than that, so I’ll give them a thorough clean before donating them along with the clothes.
“That vile little primate. I can’t believe he spends a year leeching off you, all the while he’s got his uncut dick ploughing into your neighbour and trash-talking you and lying about owning the place,” says Derrick in disbelief while I refill our wine glasses.
I snuggle back into the corner of my grey L-shaped sectional and take a sip of my wine. “I’m not even mad about the cheating or the lying. It’s the fact that I’ve been wanting to break up with him for a year and kept putting it off.”
Derrick nearly chokes on his wine, eager to respond. He swallows and puts the glass down on the coffee table, “My thoughts exactly! You’ve been bitching about this guy for a year, and I kept telling you to just dump him and be done with it. It’s 2026, you don’t need a man to fulfil you.”
I wrinkle my nose at the implication, “I have never needed a man and I’m not starting now, I just felt bad for him. He was jobless and he had no money. I didn’t want to be the woman who dumped her boyfriend at his lowest. I was going to wait until he found a job and then kick him out. I didn’t realise he had no intention of finding work and was more than happy to keep mooching off me while screwing my neighbour, who I am stuck living in the same building with,” I say disdainfully as I take a sip of wine.
“We should put itching powder in her mailbox or something,” he says sneakily.
“I’m pretty sure that’s a federal crime.”
He pouts, “There should be a law against cheaters. How does a boring, ugly, uncut moron like him get a woman anyway?” He says in confusion. I just stare at him. Has he already forgotten I was dating him for two years? He notices me staring at him and quickly waves a dismissive hand. “You don’t count, you’re the sweetest person on Earth, you don’t care about superficial stuff. Though I still don’t know what you saw in that guy.”
I shrug, “I don’t know. And what is with you and uncut dicks?”
“Are you serious? Girl, they look like a Shar Pei,” he shudders in disgust.
I throw my head back and laugh, “That is so stupid! So are you saying you’d have dumped Wyatt if you found out he wasn’t circumcised?” I ask in amusement.
He contemplates my question hard, and then takes a thoughtful breath as he crosses his legs, “It would have given me a lot to think about.”
“You’re so extra sometimes, I can’t,” I chuckle into my glass, taking another sip.
When my parents passed away, I had no living relatives, and I was going to end up in foster care until I turned eighteen. It was Derrick and his family who took me in, treated me like family, and helped me get through the worst moment of my life. Derrick and his parents were there for me when I needed them, which is no surprise because Derrick and I have been friends since we were 12.
Derrick Allan is 26, just like me. He’s a decent 5’8” with tanned skin that he has spent many years working on. He’s very lean, with broad shoulders, and a long neck that leads up to his money-maker. Derrick has the most chiselled face I’ve ever seen and looks perfectly sculpted from clay making it the perfect canvas. He has a sharp jawline, a goatee with some light five o’clock shadow, cheekbones so high they touch the heavens and piercing sapphire blue eyes. He has warm chocolate brown hair that is quaffed at the top and shaved at the sides. Derrick is also the manager/lead entertainer at the gay bar we both work at called the Glitter Hole here in San Fransisco and since he just came from work, that would explain why he is in a rainbow suit jacket, rainbow slacks with a white business shirt and burgundy tie. He likes to make a statement.
Derrick and I both got jobs at the Glitter Hole right out of high school even though we were under 21. We both worked odd jobs and Derrick quickly fell in love with the art of drag. He worked his way up to manager as well, whereas I am a bartender and also do the occasional live performance at the club. It’s a great atmosphere, the patrons are amazing, and the tips are incredible.
“We should go out and celebrate,” announces Derrick.
“I still have a head on me. Can’t we just enjoy some wine and trashing my ex?”
“Of course, but you have been stuck with this lump of wood for a year and you didn’t even have feelings for him anymore. You deserve your freedom, and you know what they say, no better way to get over someone than to get under someone else,” he says charismatically.
“I am already over him, so I don’t need to get under anyone,” I argue.
“Okay, but how long has it been since someone pounded your pussy like they were tenderising meat? I mean, when was the last time a man went treasure hunting in your Cave of Wonders?” He asks animatedly, making me cover my mouth to stop from spitting up my wine.
I put the wine down and quickly swallow so I don’t choke and then finally allow myself to laugh, “Stop trying to kill me with laughter.”
He gasps and clutches his chest while pressing his fingers to his lips while making a sad face. “Oh my God, it’s been so long your gag reflex has come back,” he says with dramatic hysteria.
I roll my eyes, “Fuck off,” I say, shoving him, “Look, just because things have been lacking in that department for a while, doesn’t mean I need to go and spread my legs for the next guy to show me attention.”
“Why not? Mitchell went dumpster diving into the first woman who spread her legs for him.”
I snort with laughter, “That’s hilarious.”
“But seriously, tomorrow night is Mystery Sinner’s night at the club. Instead of working, come as a guest. It’s going to be a great night of masquerades and sinning. Wyatt and I are attending,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.
“What for? You’re monogamous.”
“Yeah, but we enjoy the thrill of public seduction, and I know you do too. That dickhead was snuffing out your fun and your light, my young diva. Show him he hasn’t broken you. Go out there and have fun. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, but just go and let your hair out and have some fun. You deserve it. You’ve spent so much time taking care of him and everyone else around you, even me. You deserve a little indulgence,” he says, reaching over and squeezing my knee.
I look at the kind and supportive face of my friend who has been there beside me through everything as I have been for him. He’s right. I stopped having fun because I was working my ass off to support me and Mitchell. I miss the fun Gabriella. I don’t want the times I’m performing at the club to be the only time I feel alive. I want to have fun again, and I’m not saying I’ll go looking, but God I’ve missed good sex.
“Alright, you’ve broken me down. I’ll go the Mystery Sinners night,” I announce in surrender.
“YAS! That’s my girl!” He cheers, high-fiving me.
“Now I just need to figure out what to wear.”
He gasps, “It’s like you’ve forgotten who your best friend is.”
Derrick gets up, grabs his glass of wine, and makes his way up the stairs swishing his hips, “Time to dust off the sluttiest thing you own.”
I chuckle and shake my head but smile as I watch Derrick up on the landing going through my outfits like he’s judging a fashion show. I don’t know what I’d do without him. But he’s right, I need a night of unashamed, switched-off debauchery, and Mystery Sinner’s night is just what the doctor ordered.