Silent Whisper by Andrea Smith

Dominic. After all, his main business interests had been without him for two weeks, I’m sure he had bigger fish to fry with those investments than with my little boutique.
    Once I stopped in at West End Storage and made sure that Lily and Rita were working to finish the machine sewing on the last of the fall line designs, I headed over to the boutique.
    Beth, the window designer was waiting for me and presented some sketches of how she wanted to lay out the front window. I approved them and she started getting the props ordered.
    At noon, Sherry came in, looking well fucked and rosy-cheeked.
    “Hi-hi!” she greeted. Her usually quiet demeanor was not in attendance this afternoon. My God, she was practically giddy.
    Guess she’s had her fix of Italian sausage…Ewww….
    “Hey Sherry, glad you’re here. Can you take over hanging up the merchandise? I need to go back over to West End and handle the cash receipts that came in on the storage units over the weekend.
    The slight smirk that crossed over her face didn’t go unnoticed.
    “Is there a problem?” I asked, throwing a glare her way.
    “No, not at all. Go ahead. I’ll cover things here.”
    The longer the day dragged on without hearing from Dominic, the pissier I got.
    I got the cash receipts entered for the storage units, and updated the general ledger. I then snapped at Lily for asking me a question on one of the new designs she was working on and had a mini-meltdown when Rita’s sewing machine started making a god awful racket.
    I had just gotten off the phone with the company that had leased us the sewing machines trying to get a repair person dispatched when the office phone rang.
    “West End Storage,” I practically barked.
    A female voice on the other end asked for Dominic Castellano.
    “This isn’t his office number,” I replied curtly.
    “Well he gave me several numbers as to where he might be reached before he left Fire Island yesterday. Are you his secretary?”
    “No, sweetie. I’m his whore, ” I replied, “But I’ll be happy to give him a message the next time he’s between my legs.”
    Brief silence.
    “Uh…that’s alright. I’ll try one of the other numbers.”
    Click.
    I was seething as I slammed the receiver back into its cradle. What an inopportune time for poor Rita to walk up to me and ask about her broken machine.
    “I don’t give a fuck about any of this,” I hissed, grabbing my shoulder bag from my desk drawer. “I’m outta here, Rita. Will you handle the phone and lock up? I’m going home.”
    “Sure,” she stammered, stepping out of my way as I hauled ass out the door.
    I was so thoroughly pissed that I didn’t even remember driving from Camden to Cherry Hill. I was lucky I hadn’t rammed another car from behind or taken out a pedestrian or two along the way. I was pretty sure I might’ve given myself whiplash from the abrupt starts and stops I did the whole way home.
    Note to myself: Have brakes checked this week.
    How dare Dominic treat me like this! It was obvious that he’d hooked up with someone new on Fire Island, or maybe not new. Had I even bothered to consider that?
    Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!
    Once home, I kicked off my sandals and headed for the fridge, grabbing a chilled bottle of white wine and poured a generous portion into a wine goblet.
    I turned on my stereo, and sank down into the soft cushions of my sofa, sipping my wine and trying my best to calm down. I glanced at the clock. It was only three-thirty.
    I sat there for a few minutes, sipping my wine and trying to figure out why my fuse had shorted out like that. I generally didn’t have meltdowns.
    Was I that insecure?
    When had that happened?
    Was I just some weak bitch that had taken the path of least resistance to try and put some type of normalcy in my life? Had I used vengeance as an excuse for hopping onto Dominic’s gravy train, loving that he lavished me with gifts and attention that I never would have known had I remained in the