Page 92 of Deliah

“Noted,” she said, chuckling. “Alright, babe, I’ll let you go. I’ll get a taxi if I have to.”

“Okay. Speak in the morning, yeah?”

“Yeah. Get some rest. You sound done in.”

“I am.”

The next morning, Cherry came over—dropped off by Damion, who barely made eye contact when I opened the door. He gave me a tired, dramatic roll of the eyes like he’d just survived a full interrogation. I smirked. “She been grilling you?” He didn’t even answer—just shot me a look that said help and drove off.

“Jesus, finally,” Cherry huffed, barging past me and throwing her arms around my neck. “I thought I was gonna have to walk here barefoot if I didn’t get answers soon.”

We flopped down onto the sofa, and she took one look at me before wincing.

“Fucking hell, babe… You look like death that’s been microwaved and left out overnight.”

“Wow,” I said, raising an eyebrow. “Thanks. You really know how to lift a girl’s spirits.”

She shrugged with a grin. “Just keeping it real. Now spill. Every last bit.”

I took a deep breath. “Alright. So basically… Damion and Charlie got into it in the staffroom. Full-blown fight. And in the middle of me trying to split them up, I got knocked and hit my head.”

“Yeah, okay—but why were they fighting? Don’t give me the polite version, Del.”

I hesitated. “Turns out... years ago, they were both seeing the same woman.”

Her eyes nearly bulged out. “A woman? Isn’t Charlie like forty-odd? What was she? Some sort of time-travelling harlot?”

“She was thirty. Damion was about twenty at the time. So technically, it wasn’t that scandalous.”

Cherry gave me a look. “Still, he doesn’t exactly scream ‘into younger women.’ I pictured him with, like... I don’t know, someone terrifying in heels. Not a cougar in a cocktail bar.”

I let out a laugh. “I think she played him. She was working in a club that Damion used to go to, and Charlie managed the place. Long story short—she was playing them both.”

“Classic.” She shook her head. “Okay, fine, but that still doesn’t explain the punch-up. What started it?”

“He walked into the staffroom just as Charlie called me a whore.”

Her jaw dropped. “Oh, fuck. That’ll do it.”

I nodded. “Yeah. Didn’t even hesitate. Straight in.”

She leaned back and grinned. “Something about you, Deliah. You always manage to have men fighting over you. Swear it’s your toxic little superpower.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Cheers, babe. Real supportive.”

She grinned. “I’m just saying—drama follows you like glitter.”

I smiled, then paused for a second. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, course.”

“That night… Damion walked into the staffroom like a man on a mission. But he’s never even set foot in the club before. Did you say something to him? Like when you went outside?”

She looked sheepish. “I did. I told him Charlie was giving you a hard time, but I didn’t think he’d storm in. He practically bolted before I could even finish my sentence.”

I let out a long sigh. “It’s been bugging me. For a second, I thought he’d tapped my phone or something. Like full psycho—listening in.”

Cherry burst out laughing. “What next? Secret earpiece? Babe, you’ve got him so whipped he’d probably wiretap your pillow if he could.”