Tipsy knelt beside her. She collected her thoughts. “Shelby. Stop beating yourself up. You loved him—of course you were tempted to keep seeing him. It’s like…when you have insomnia, sometimes even a nightmare sounds appealing.”
Lindsey chimed in. “You didn’t agree to it. That’s the point.”
Tipsy nodded. “Now, you told me true when I needed to hear it. So I’m telling you. Stop talking to him. Block his number. Unfriend him. Whatever. You cannot communicate with him at all.”
Tears finally leaked over Shelby’s eyelids. “I’ll try.”
“Give me the phone,” said Tipsy. “Hand it over.”
Tipsy hit Glen’s number. The phone rang once, before his frantic voice came on the other end. “Baby—Jesus, what took you so long—”
“It’s Tipsy, Glen.”
“Oh—where’s Shelby?”
“She’s not talking to you.”
“Put her on the damn phone, Tipsy.”
“No, you asshole.”
“What the hell—”
“Listen to me. Don’t call her. Don’t text her or Facebook message or tweet at her or Insta-snap her or whatever the hell y’all do. You made your choice.”
“You don’t know my business. Don’t tell me what I can and can’t do.”
“Go back to your wife. Be miserable. Drink your life away. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to screw around with you. Like that blonde chick from the boat. She looked ready to go.”
“Put Shelby on the phone!”
“I swear to god, Glen, you keep calling Shelby I will go all trailer park on your ass and you will regret it. Move on. With your wife or someone else. It’s not going to be Shelby.” And she hit the end button.
“Lord, it used to be so much more satisfying when you slammed the phone down in someone’s ear.” Tipsy looked up at Shelby and Lindsey. Both stared at her with eyes on stalks, like two startled praying mantises.
Lindsey started laughing. “What exactly does going trailer park on someone entail?”
Shelby joined her. “You going to empty a septic tank in his front yard?”
“Set a bunch of coon dogs on him?” Lindsey doubled over. “Shoot his tires out with a twelve gauge?”
Tipsy snorted. “Maybe I’ll force feed him SPAM covered in hot sauce and steal all the toilet paper in his house.”
They laughed until Shelby’s sad tears had turned to happy ones, at least for the time being. “Thanks, Tips,” she said. “And I’m sorry, Linds. P.D. is a good guy. And he’s not too old, or too young, for once.” Shelby walked toward Tipsy’s painting, as if seeing it for the first time. “Damn. This one is going to go big.”
She turned around. “You know the thing about you, Tipsy, that makes me wonder? Artistic genius aside.”
“Haha,” Tipsy said. “What’s that?”
“You protect everyone, even when your own life is going to shit. Your friends. Your kids. Annoying old boyfriends. Sometimes you even protect your ex-husband— the cause of all your problems. You should try sticking up for yourself the way you stick up for other people.”
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