Chapter 22

Theo stretched out his long legs on the plush couch and felt no guilt about having his sneakers on Vienna’s favorite, overpriced piece of furniture. Fuck her couch. Fuck her. Fuck Katrina. Fuck everything, he thought, and rubbed his hands across his face, noticing the scruff growing on his cheeks. He wondered when he had last shaved. Not that he really cared. 

He’d really thought Katrina was the one. His forever. Apparently now Marcus thought the same thing. Fuck him too. The TV remote sat untouched on the coffee table. He was terrified that if he turned it on, there would be something on ESPN or TMZ about Marcus and Kat. Normally it wouldn’t be newsworthy, but mixed with her daring rescue of him, it appealed to the public, and public appeal meant money in someone’s pocket, so it was bound to get milked a bit before it died down. He sighed and reached across the table for his bottle of Jack and poured himself another glass. He had never been much