“Take me off your calendar!” Karen shouted over the phone.
I ran a hand through my hair. The California Blue Line station had a light crowd for a Friday afternoon: about half a dozen people were on my side of the platform. The sky was clear and bright, and I hadn’t seen the caller ID from the glare. I chided myself for the rookie divorce move, just answering the phone like that.
“Hello, Karen,” I said. “What exactly are you talking about?”
“Your Google calendar, asshole,” my estranged, soon to be ex-wife snapped. “Looks like your divorce dates are up and running, so take me off of it.”
A train was heading in, but it was also interminably slow; no such luck getting out of this stupid conversation like that. “Let me get this straight,” I said. “You are snooping in my calendar, you don’t like what you see…and this is somehow my problem? Do it yourself!”
“Don’t be such a dick,” Karen retorted. “You turned on me so fast, just like you have so many of your friends. I hope Nikki and Jake and Ilyana are tons of fun!”
Fuck it. “Oh no, a train is coming and I can’t hear you,” I said, glaring at the cars moving at a crawl. “I guess I can’t help you. Good luck with all that, though!”
I killed the call in the near-silence of my bored fellow passengers. I didn’t have time for this shit; my kids were off with Piper for her half of spring break, and I had whoring to do. Ilyana had painfully hot pixie hair, cute glasses, and loved weed. I had two eighths of fresh indica, courtesy of my medical cannabis card and the dispensary on Milwaukee and Fullerton. It was exactly the evening I needed.
So Karen couldn’t figure out her own iPhone, one more thing to the list of things she couldn’t figure out, such as boundaries and fellatio. Fuck that; she not only could keep seeing my dates, she could watch me fuck my way around Chicago on my map locator for good measure.
I let out a deep breath, and pulled up my calendar to check Ilyana’s address.
Oh, for fuck’s sake. The date was no longer there. None of them were. Karen had erased them all.
“Bitch,” I muttered as the train finally arrived.
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