Trista Begins to Suspect

Trista stared at Greg. Her face was purple with rage. Her fury bubbled inside her like a pot ready to boil over. "For two weeks, you've been avoiding me."

"I've been busy," Greg replied with a nonchalant shrug.

"Like hell, you have," Trista glared at him. "I can forgive a lot of things. If you needed to blow off steam with some floozy at the park, that's understandable. We were on a break. So as long as you promise not to slip again..."

Greg's face reddened at the inadvertent insult to Lara. "She wasn't a floozy, and we were not on a break. We are broken up!"

This set Trista back on the warpath, now more determined than ever to find out who had come between her and Greg. "We are not broke up till I say we are. NOW WHO THE FUCK IS THE SLUT!"

Greg stared at his ex hard. He would have lashed out in anger if he had been a lesser man. "Do not insult your betters. I'm done being your doormat. I just came to get my camera."

Trista decided to change tactics. "I'm sorry, boo. Let me make it up to you. I'll do all your favorite poses." She then slipped off her shirt to reveal her lacy bra. She pulled at the shoulder strap to show a hint of areola and started back in her most sultry voice. "I'll even take off everything. I'll even spread down there."

Greg just stared at her. A month ago this would have worked as sure as the sun rises, but now things were different. Greg was madly in love with his best friend's mom. Nothing the vicious vixen could do could come close to tempting him.

Greg grabbed his camera and turned to leave. "We're done. Please stop texting. It's undignified."

As the door to Trista's bedroom shut, a glass smashed against it. "God damn, I'll show you undignified."

Trista stewed on her bed. She couldn't shake the memory of that night at the karaoke bar, the night everything had gone to hell. The mysterious text message that had upended her world—*"He's busy."*—had been a catalyst for her spiraling emotions, and now, it was an obsession she couldn't let go of.

She had confiscated Greg's phone and downloaded his history when he wasn't looking. Her heart pounded in her chest as she scrolled through every message, every contact, every social media account. But there was nothing. "Fuck, these are all just mundane messages about video game parties with Ben and innocent conversations with his family. There's no sexting! Fuck there aren't even any hints of infidelity. He shot down every girl in here that tried to slide into his DMs instantly."

"She had loved that Greg had been so loyal. So trusting. He never even suspected when either of them was out of town that Trista had some stud blowing her back out. Now, all of a sudden, he's done with her? There had to be someone bitch who had stolen him."

"He's busy," Trista said mockingly. "Who the fuck sent that text?" Trista asked herself for the hundredth time, her hands clenching into fists. Who was the cunt that finally got chipped away Greg's diamond resolve?

"How could he dump me with so much ease? Was he using me as training for that slut he cheated on me with?" The thought was like a knife twisting in her gut, making her feel sick with rage. "I'm not a fucking starter girlfriend. I'm the fucking blue ribbon best in show bitch and this slut is going to find out what that means when I discover who she is."

She wanted to find this woman, this man-stealing whore, and humiliate her, make her pay for ruining what she and Greg had. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't figure out who it could have been. Greg hadn't been seen with any other woman outside of work or family. No rumors, no whispers of an affair. It was like this mystery woman didn't exist—at least not in the usual places.

"Why is he being so fucking secretive about it? Mister straightforward to a fault, won't announce who his "one true love is."

*"It has to be someone he's not supposed to be with,"* Trista thought bitterly, her mind racing with possibilities. "One of his buddy's girls, a married woman, maybe, or someone with something to lose." The idea made her blood boil even more. It would explain the secrecy and care Greg had hidden this affair.

She went over every possibility in her mind, every woman Greg could have crossed paths with. None of his co-workers fit the bill—they were either too young, too old, or too involved in their own relationships. His friend's girls were out of the question. None of them was dumb enough to cross Trista by trying to steal her man. It has to be someone close to him, someone he could have regular contact with without raising suspicion...

And then it Trista her like a bolt of lightning. *No, it can't be...* But the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Only one woman had been around Greg for an extended period of time in recent weeks, the one who would have more than ample reason to be discreet. Trista would never have considered her a rival in a million years. It was outrageous and taboo, but it seemed the only possibility.

*Lara Thompson.*

Ben's mom. The woman had always been kind and warm and had never given Trista any reason to suspect her of anything. But she was around Greg all the time—whether it was because of him hanging out with Ben or all the guys gathering together for one of their damned game nights.

For an older woman, Lara was beautiful. Trista had heard more than one of Ben's friends joke about how she was the hot mom. Plus, Lara was single. Her husband had passed away years ago, and Trista had never seen another man over any of the countless times she and Greg had hung out at Ben's. And for the last piece of the puzzle, she was definitely off-limits. If it were her, that would explain why Greg had been so careful.

Trista felt a surge of fury so intense that she had to steady herself against the edge of her desk. *That bitch.* How dare she? How dare she take Greg from her, use him like that? The more Trista thought about it, the more everything fell into place—the secretive texts, the sudden improvement in Greg's bedroom skills, his growing distance.

*It's her. It has to be her.*

Trista's mind raced with thoughts of ****, of how she would expose Lara for the cradle robber she was. But as the anger consumed her, a cold, calculating part of her mind began to take over. She couldn't just go in guns blazing; she needed to be smart to make sure she had all the evidence before she made her move.

*I'm going to find out everything, Lara,* she vowed silently. *And when I do, I'm going to destroy you.*

Trista's heart pounded as she grabbed her phone and began to plot her next steps. She knew she had to be cunning, devious, and ruthless but also cautious enough to bide her time for the perfect opportunity. But she also knew that she wouldn't stop until she had what she wanted—**** and Greg.

Because no matter what, Trista was determined to get him back.