Spencer’s Picked up

The others join you and Krystal in the café when they can. Layla doesn’t appear.

“Did you enjoy it,” you ask the group.

They look to each other before responding, judging what to say. Surprisingly it’s Krystal who speaks up. “You appeared to, except maybe you need to take it less seriously.” She points to Blair.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. It’s not a competition.”

“I agree. You were taking it too seriously.”

Blair’s about to respond, but before she can someone else speaks.

“Yere, it’s a girls’ game, girls’ games are silly.”

This interjection comes from a newcomer. He’s a tall, blond, faintly muscled guy, with a classical handsome face dressed in a grey suit, tie loosened. You don’t need Spencer’s response to recognise him. Yes, he’s older, but a suit can’t muffle your memories; the sneers, the put downs, the threats that never quite turned into ****. Chad Mano. Your high school bully, here in person.

“Darling, you came,” Spencer squeals. She’s up from her chair and embracing her husband. The way he embraces her back appears less passionate, more possessive. The kiss is similar. When they disengage, he keeps his arms around her waist.

Spencer introduces each of you. For the women he’s all smiles and charm. When it comes to you, there’s a appraisal and then a dismissal. When he shakes your hand, he squeezes it until you wince with pain. Only then does relax his grip with a knowing smile. There’s no recognition in his blue eyes. Not when he sees you. Not when Spencer tells him your name. He doesn’t know who you are. He doesn’t remember what he did. But seeing him reminds you.

Blair’s introduction is as frosty as you wanted yours to be. “It’s not girls’ games. It’s women’s sport.”

Chad laughs at the very idea. “No, men play sport. Girls play games. A woman’s place is homemaker.”

“Women can be just as good as men.”

Chad is full of laughter. “Look the only reason anyone goes to so called women’s sports is to perv over the women. Guys like him,” he points at you. “Why’d you think he came to watch. To perv over you lot.”

“I came to support my fellow teachers.”

“Not to ogle women you can’t have? Yere, I believe you. Keep telling yourself that. That’s why you’re a beta.”

“Darling, please?” Spencer flashes an embarrassed smile your way. If you weren’t already chilled at seeing the familiar face from a grim past, you’d be seething with anger, not at the way he insults you, but the way he dismisses the other women. His hands are all over Spencer. His eyes are all over Blair and Anissa.

“Yere, we’ve got to go home. I’m hungry, and you’ve got to cook dinner.”

“You could cook it for her,” you suggest.

Chad’s smile is dismissive. He takes your hand again. “Good to meet you. Heard the school had hired a beta to teach.” He pulls you close to him, so he can whisper. “You might have a chance with the fat one. Fat ones are always ****.”

He’s let go and is escorting Spencer away before you recover your wits. You remember being back at school, an ineffective nerdy teenager. Your bullying had never been as intense as American movies and television describe, but it still left scars, it still makes you feel inadequate.

“What does she see in that man?” Blair asks. She’s pale and controlled. You can tell she enjoyed the encounter as much as you did.

“He’s not always been like that,” Anissa tries to defend. “Spencer says he’s recently got into… what do you call it? The manosphere.”

“What he needs is a good slapping,” Blair continues. “If a man treated me like that he’d be out, regardless of how good his dick was.”

“Girl, your relationships don’t last long enough for men to feel comfortable making faux pas like that,” is Krystal’s response. Blair gives her an evil look but doesn’t contradict her.

Anissa quickly makes her own excuses and leaves. And you depart soon after.