Title: Affection Multiplier App: The Boyfriend
By: BreaktheBar
Chapter 335
“Sherry, do you want some help?” I asked.
I’d walked up to within about six feet of her and she hadn’t opened her eyes, and when I spoke she practically jumped out of her shoes as her eyes flew open and she looked at me in a panic. “Um!” she said loudly.
“It’s OK,” I said, holding up my hands to try and show I didn’t mean any harm. “You just look like you could really use a hand.”
Sherry swallowed, looking at me, then glanced farther into the parking lot after Heather. Then back to me. Then at her bag laying on the ground. Then back to me.
To be honest, her process to think things through almost made me want to walk away, it took her so long. “OK,” she finally said quietly, her lower lip sticking out a little and trembling.
Dear God, don’t do it, I thought, groaning internally as I stepped forward and righted her suitcase before pushing in the retractable pull bar and then lifting it by the hand straps. It was a big suitcase, and it felt like she had a couple of bricks in it, but I managed.
“I just really hurt all over,” Sherry said, looking at me.
“OK,” I grunted. “That really sucks. Let’s get you packed away so that you can get back into the car with some AC.”
I felt bad for her, but not bad enough to really offer her sympathy after what she’d done to her own sister. Then again, I also didn’t want to see her enthralled to Heather either. I had about twenty seconds of walking with her to say something, and started trying to formulate the right combination of words that would suggest, gently, that Heather was a fucking predator and Sherry had the naieveté of a teenager and she was pretty much being groomed to be a sex slave and she could say No whenever she wanted.
That combination of words was slowly clicking into place, but not fast enough because my train of thought got interrupted by a commotion up ahead.
“What the fuck is this?!” Heather yelled.
She was standing at their rental car, the trunk popped open but she hadn’t lifted her luggage in yet. Cattie, meanwhile, was a lane over and a couple spots further up, organising things a bit in the bed of my truck. My girlfriend clearly heard the Bitch Hollar though, and turned to see Heather glaring at her with her arms wide.
“What?” Cattie asked loudly.
I could feel the eyes of everyone on the trip looking at the two of them past me, plus at least one or two employees of the rental place since Becca had been talking to them near the dock.
“Why the fuck aren’t you putting your bags in the car?” Heather asked. “We need to go to the airport.”
“You’re going to the airport,” Cattie said. “I’m not going anywhere with you ever again. I don’t associate with raging cunts.”
“What the fuck do you mean?” Heather snarled, stamping her way between two cars and heading for Cattie. “You booked the fucking tickets.”
“And they’re in your names,” Cattie said stonily. “I also made sure to pull my credit card details off of them, so don’t think you can just order up an upgrade or something. And you signed and paid for the rental car, so you’re the one on the hook if you don’t return it.”
“Cattie, get in the fucking car,” Heather said.
I had reached their rental and put down Sherry’s bag, looking at her quickly. “You can always say no to her,” I said. “Just because you said yes once doesn’t mean you have to keep saying yes.” I couldn’t wait for a reply, turning back and heading towards Heather and Cattie.
“What is your fucking problem?” Cattie demanded. “Get it through your thick skull, Heather. I’m not your girlfriend. I’m not your friend. I don’t want to even remember knowing you. You are nothing to me. That means you don’t have the right to demand anything of me. So back off.”
“So what, then?” Heather asked. “You’re just going to go whore it up in Las Vegas with the fuck boi and his slut wife?”
“Hi, ‘the fuck boy’ here,” I said, startling Heather since she’d been so angry and engaged with Cattie she hadn’t heard me approaching from behind her. “Ma’am, I’m going to have to ask you to back away from my truck and my girlfriend. We don’t know you.”
“Fuck you, you misogynistic, shrimp dick, scumbag, homewrecking man whore,” Heather snarled. “What are you going to do? You put your hands on me and I’ll fucking claw out your eyes.”
“Ma’am, this is the parking lot of a rental dock,” I said. “Do you need help? Are you lost? You seem extremely agitated.”
“Fuck. Off!” Heather screamed.
“I think she’s having some sort of a mental crisis,” I said to Cattie, keeping my town as even as possible. “Should we call an ambulance?” I turned back to Heather. “Ma’am, do you need us to call you some help? Do you need to go to the hospital?”
Heather screamed again, releasing her rage and frustration and stamping her foot down on the gravel. She immediately lifted it up, snarling in pain because she’d stamped chunky gravel in a thin flip flop, and she looked like she was about to kick my truck but thought better of it at the last minute. Instead she huffed out another animalistic angry noise, turned and tried to stomp away—except between her flip flops, her long skirt and the gravel she stumbled, falling forward and face planting onto the hood of someone else’s parked car.
She hit hard enough that I was surprised she didn’t trigger a car alarm, but it thankfully didn’t pop off. Heather did, however, shriek in pain as her sensitive, sunburnt skin on her hands, arms and cheek hit the hot metal of the car that had been sitting in the sun likely since dawn. She leaped back up and careened away between the cars, swearing unintelligibly.
I turned to Cattie, looking up at her with an apologetic smile. “And that is how you de-escalate a situation by escalating the person right off track.”
Cattie chuckled, sitting down from where she’d been standing in the truck bed, and pulled me by the collar of my shirt into a kiss. “God, I love you.”
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