Page 28 of Ex- Factor

I was getting my feet and toes done—the Supreme, or whatever they called it. A week in the woods had wreaked havoc on my nails, and I could still smell campfire in my hair. The salon was full, and we were waiting on our techs.

Angel laughed. “I told you we could’ve done anything except camping, and Silas would’ve loved it.”

Then her eyes narrowed, her gaze trailing behind me.

I didn’t even look up. The smell of overpriced vanilla invaded my nose, and the look on Angel’s face told me exactly who was behind me.

I sank a little deeper into the chair, scrolling through my phone, hoping whatever dusty spirit had conjured her would send her right back out the door.

No such luck. Click-clack. Her designer purse hit the armrest next to me.

“Eshe?” That too-sweet voice I hated. Like the smell of rotten apples—sweet, but something ain’t right.

I sighed before I even turned. “Hey, Sinica.”

She smiled like she was expecting an Oscar for Woman Who Did Nothing Wrong. “You look good!” she chirped. “So good. I was hoping I’d run into you after the incident at the party. I didn’t mean to cause any trouble…”

“Oh, I bet you didn’t,” I murmured, still not looking up from my phone. Out the corner of my eye, I saw Angel mean-mugging her. Now that was friendship.

“I thought you were over Donte and me, but you seemed upset that night. I mean, people can’t help who they fall in love with, right? Y’all were only together, like… what? A year?”

I set my phone down slowly and finally turned to look at her. Her lashes were curled to perfection, lips lined, gloss poppin’. She was a pretty woman on the outside. If only the inside matched.

I let out a short laugh. “You think we were only together a year?”

Sinica blinked like she didn’t understand English. “What’s that supposed to mean?” she asked, voice rising.

I just waved a hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

“No—say what you mean.”

I looked at her fully now. “I mean I got tired of being fake with you, Sinica.” Even I was surprised at how tired my voice sounded. Not angry. Not bitter. Just worn. Like she didn’t even hold enough weight in my life to piss me off anymore.

Sinica frowned, confused. “Fake?”

“You always acted like you didn’t know what you were doing when you took your little digs at me.

Or when you sat there laughing while your friends clowned every man I dated.

That was fine. But I won’t let you sit here and pretend like you tripped and fell into Donte’s bed.

Let’s not lie to each other. You planned that shit.

I knew you added him on your fake little LinkedIn months before he went to Atlanta.

Bitch, I was your friend. I watched you chase successful or upcoming men like it was your sport. You researched them. You plotted.”

I tilted my head, smiling like this was casual conversation. “You made sure to be where he was. I bet you even wore the perfume that would remind him of me. Which was stupid. The nigga would’ve fucked you either way.”

“I didn’t—”

“ Girl. ” I laughed, shaking my head. “You can keep pretending. But I’m not part of the audience anymore. Donte told me about it.”

She tried to look hurt. Like I was the villain.

“As far as it all goes?” I leaned back, relaxing into the seat. “Thank you. For real. Thank you for taking that manipulative, disloyal, gaslighting motherfucker off my hands. I was exhausted, but stupid.”

“I love him,” she snapped, defensive now. “He chose me.”

“I feel sorry for you. Because you probably actually believe that. But one thing I know? He still loves me. He looks like he’s about to cry every time he sees me.

You? He did choose you,” I said. “You have a man who tolerates you because the alternative is poverty. Congratulations.”

Sinica’s jaw dropped. “You always think you’re better than everybody—”

“No.” I gave her a calm smile. “ You always thought you were better than me. And you wanted people to think so, too. That’s why you kept me around—to show off.”

Her eyes glossed over fast. A tear slipped out before she could blink it away. She stood abruptly, purse swinging, pride unraveling. “Fuck you, Eshe.”

“Your husband did it already. Probably would again if I let him.”

She stormed out, shoes clacking loud and dramatic. The whole salon went quiet for a beat.

I turned to Angel, gauging her reaction. Her eyes were wide. She shook her head. “My temper would never. I mean never allow me to be that calm.”

I grinned. “That was calm to you? Who is you hiding behind this innocent face and name?”

“A bitch who would still be dragging her around this nail shop by her hair.”

I laughed. Angel did too, though she frowned a little. “Too bad she a bitch, ’cause I wanna know who do her silk presses.” She added.