Ch 002: Dog Days Are Over

CHAPTER TWO - DOG DAYS ARE OVER

ZOEY

———

With Camille’s help and her high profile lawyer, I filed for divorce on grounds of adultery and emotional abuse.

But as expected, Sly Chuck fired back, accusing me of having an affair with some random actor named Jules. A completely fictional person, by the way. His lawyers even presented forged pictures and messages which were clearly AI or Photoshopped.

It was pathetic. But I’d expected he would pull such stunt, knowing he wouldn’t back down so easily.

I’d almost gone berserk when he added that I deceived and robbed him of fatherhood, secretly taking birth control pills in order to avoid pregnancy. An investigation was carried out, and it was discovered that my supplements were a dub.

They were indeed birth control pills, just as Chuck had speculated.

Which meant one thing. Chuck fucking Gilbert had been swapping my supplements for birth control pills all these while. And that was why I couldn’t take in during the three years of our marriage.

It broke my heart to pieces, even more than the pain of his affair. How could he do such a diabolical thing to me?

As if that was enough, someone leaked our divorce proceedings to the notorious popular celebrity blog; Everybody Loves Patricia, and what followed was a total mess. I became a subject of criticism.

The public called me all sorts of awful names, and sent me numerous hate messages.

“Manipulator! You disgust me!”

“You are damaged goods!”

“Ungrateful wrench! A big figure like Chuck Gilbert picked you from the gutters, gave you everything, and this is how you pay him back? You don’t deserve to live!”

Everywhere I turned, paparazzis followed like fleas, eager to shove mics and ridiculous questions up my face.

And if I wasn’t dealing with the paparazzis, then I was battling with Chuck’s crazy die hard fans who assaulted me with insults, reminding me that Hollywood was no place for a bitch like me. That I was done.

Everything I’d feared was now playing right before me. Surprisingly, it didn’t bother me as much as I thought it would.

Instead, I felt delighted that I had heeded Camille’s advice to file for this divorce.

Chuck belonged to the fucking trash. I couldn’t even comprehend how I’d managed to put up with him all these years.

A couple months later, we finally signed the divorce papers, with an agreement to split our assets fifty by fifty, save for my inheritance. Once it was all concluded, Camille escorted me out of the court premises.

“Finally, you’re free from that junk.” Camille sighed as she rubbed my back, comforting me.

But I was far from comforted. My three years long marriage had come to an end. If you’d add the four years Chuck and I had dated, that’ll be seven. SEVEN!

I clutched my chest with my hand, feeling like I couldn’t breathe. Just then, a familiar voice called me to a halt.

“Zoey Anderson.” I could hear the thick sarcasm in her pronunciation of my maiden name.

Chills crawled down my spine.

Josephine Gilbert. Chuck’s bully of a mother.

Camille quickened her pace, pulling me along with her.

“What?” Josephine snickered behind us. “Running away too soon? Weren’t you the same person who was running her mouth in that courtroom just a minute ago?”

My feet suddenly came to a stop. Camille poked her tongue inside her cheek, fighting to contain her irritation.

Planting a fake smile on my face, I turned to face Josephine. Chuck was standing beside her, chin high, a ridiculous grin playing on his lips.

My insides burned and I fought the urge to scratch that good-looking face of his.

“No, Josephine.” I maintained the faux smile on my face. “Camille and I were just on our way to celebrate my divorce. Care to join?”

Josephine scoffed, but I could see the infuriation in her eyes.

“I see you’ve grown some nerves now.” She sized me up. “Well, what else do you expect from a girl whose mother had been married to five husbands before she died?”

“You’d better watch your tongue.” Camille glared daggers at Josephine. Josephine huffed.

“Maybe you’re just triggered because you’re no different. After all, your marriage didn’t even last half a year. What a shame.”

She was indirectly referring to Camille.

Camille, being the ever impatient one, charged towards Josephine. But the blabbermouth was quick to cower behind Chuck.

I scoffed to myself. Coward.

She and her son were just the same. Professionals at leeching off people, milking them until they’d exhausted their targets. Even the high-end boutique that Josephine ran, she had lent the capital from me, and never paid back.

Now, she was acting all high and mighty.

The Gilberts had to be the most shameless, gold digging family to ever exist.

“You know…” I said with a click of my tongue. “Rather than try to pick fights with me, why not teach your son how to keep his dick in his pants? That’ll do him good.”

Camille fought to stifle a laugh. Chuck’s grin fell off his face. His eyes darkened, narrowed at me.

I felt my heart ache all over again. Who could have ever thought that one day, my college sweetheart would look at me with so much contempt in his eyes? The same man I’d secretly spent late nights with in his dorm, both of us sharing our dreams under the duvet covers.

But people change, don’t they? And Chuck was unfortunately one of them.

“This isn’t over, Zoey…” Chuck braced his jaw, his eyes cold and hard. “We will meet at the production house.”

I rolled my eyes at his preposterous attempt to indirectly threaten me.

“Only the Studio Head has the power to have me fired, Chuck. Therefore, you cannot do shit. Maybe worry less about your so-called ‘bitter, washed-up ex-wife’ and more about that hairline that's running faster than your marriage did."

This time, Camille burst into laughter.

Ignoring the steam fuming from Chuck’s head, I reached for Camille’s arm, pulling her away from them.

“Let’s go, Camille. We shouldn’t let them spoil our fun.”

Both Chuck and Josephine remained stuck to their spot, scowling as Camille and I headed for my car in the parking lot. We hopped in and drove off, not sparing them another glance.

Beside me in the driver's seat, Camille turned on the stereo, blaring loud music.

“Woo-hoo!” She yelped in excitement, gripping the steering wheels tighter. “My best friend is single again!”

I laughed, forgetting about my broken heart for a second.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Camille.”

“I’ll be dramatic all I want, babes. Anyway, guess where we’re celebrating at tonight?”

I shrugged. Her brows danced teasingly as she announced;

“To Velvet Vibe, baby! Beverly Hill’s most exclusive underground strip club. We’re pole dancing for rich, hot Hollywood daddies tonight.”

I gasped in disbelief, horrified by the mere idea of that. “No way, Camille!”

She couldn’t possibly be serious, could she?

~~~~~

THAT SAME NIGHT - AT THE CLUB

Camille was serious.

I should have known better that she never joked about wild stuff like this.

But why wasn’t she here yet? It had been two hours since I’d been waiting, and the only response I’d gotten from Camille was a simple text message;

CAMILLE: Running late, bee. Emergency at the hospital. Be there in an hour!

I sighed, clutching my drink tighter. I took a big swallow, feeling it burn down my throat. My eyes lingered to the dance floor.

The dancer was a goddess dressed in a rhinestone bikini that barely covered anything. She had one leg wrapped around the metal pole, swinging into a slow, controlled spin. Heavy bass thumped heavily, vibrating through the floorboards.

Cheers followed. Cash flew onto the stage.

I swallowed another mouthful, losing count of how many shots I’ve had so far. I was beginning to feel lightheaded, the tequila finally kicking in.

For the love of God, why wasn’t Camille here yet?

Reaching for my phone lying beside me on the couch, I dialed Camille’s number through the noise. It went unanswered for the twentieth time.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…” I breathed. Frustration churned inside me.

I lifted my gaze just in time to catch a man eyeing me with desire. I quickly reached for the short hem of my backless dress, adjusting it as it barely covered my ass.

I pressed my lips in a tight line, seething. Even this little slutty dress was Camille’s idea. And the woman still wasn’t here to hold my hand through the stares!

My gaze returned to the dancer. Another girl had joined her on the stage, strutting like she was walking on air as she smacked her ass to the beat. She dropped to the floor in a perfect split.

A man hollered from behind.

“I want you to sit on my face!”

I wrinkled my nose, disgusted. My eyes drifted in an attempt to find the ‘cheerleader’. I paused as they mistakenly landed at the darkest corner of the VIP lounge.

My attention was stolen by the brooding frame of a man who sat cross-legged, bathed in the red light. He was sipping whisky. Arms sprawled lazily over the side of the lounge, like a king. And even though I could only see his outline, he looked like pure sin in human form.

And his eyes were on me. Hot, lingering, dangerous. A tear almost ran down my thighs.

I caught myself immediately, averting my gaze from him.

What the hell?

Just then, the spotlight suddenly shifted, landing on me. I froze like a fish straight out of water. All eyes turned to look at me, silence falling upon the room.

What the hell’s going on…

“Tonight, we have a special guest coming up next to set this place on fire.” the DJ’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Everyone, give it up for the sizzling Sasha B on main stage!”

Claps. Whistles. Lustful eyes. Tongues running along lips

“Wait, I think you’re mistaken…

But my words died in my mouth before I could even finish my sentence.

Sasha B… that was my fake stage name that Camille and I came up with, whenever we practiced pole dancing in her apartment.

My eyes widened, my breath hitching. I could feel the ground shifting beneath my feet. Did my crazy best friend set me up to this?

My eyes landed at that dim corner again. The stranger’s eyes never left me. If anything, they seemed intrigued now.

Waiting to see what I had to offer.