He crawled under the covers and prayed for deep, dreamless sleep. The second his head hit the pillow, however, he smelled John’s cologne. He turned his face into it and sobbed until exhaustion overtook him.

Chapter 18

Over the next week, John texted Zack three times, asking if they could talk. Zack studiously ignored him. He went to delete John’s number from his phone, but somehow that felt too extreme. Instead, he erased his text and call history, deleted the photos of them at the Santa Monica Pier, and changed John’s contact name to “Dickhead.” It made him feel better, but he still vacillated on a daily basis between fury and heartache.

Once he told his friends what had happened, a healthy dose of embarrassment got added to the mix. Not because they weren’t supportive, but because he’d never had to deliver this sort of news before. He was completely unprepared for how shameful it felt to admit he’d been cheated on, like he was confessing that there was something wrong with him. It made him all the more determined to move on with his life.

He threw himself into his job, even going so far as to work double shifts, and for a while, it distracted him. There were still plenty of odd and downright disturbing requests, but a few of his regulars called, and it reminded him that he’d had a life before John. He knew it was going to take time, but as the days wore on and he settled back into his old routine, he began to feel like things were returning to normal.

The feeling didn’t last. Zack came into work on Saturday morning and found Colette waiting for him.

“I need to talk to you in my office,” she said in her typical, brusque way.

“Well, hello to you too,” Zack rejoined. The look on Colette’s face cut him off.

“Come with me,” she said. She didn’t seem angry or upset, but rather deathly calm. Whatever it was, it was serious.

Zack’s skin prickled. He immediately thought of the threat she’d made during their last conversation. Had she found a way to prove Zack was dating a client? If she had, she was too late. If Colette accused him, Zack could deny it with a straight face.

He stumbled after Colette to her office at the far end of the building. An imposing door sat between two windows that each bore a black Murmur Inc. logo. The blinds were closed, as they always were. Zack had only been in Colette’s office once, when he’d auditioned for the job. He remembered the layout, however: a magnificent desk in the center, two wingback chairs across from it, and stacks of paperwork on every surface that could bear weight.