Chapter Text
“Did you see Nicole all over David Weston last night?” Tré asked as he took a sip of his drink.
Feeling his heart rate pick up as it was prone to do when he heard the name Nicole, Mike involuntarily groaned aloud, partly at the thought of her and partly at the fact that his best friend’s remarks were not just about anyone. No, if it was a coworker, he would’ve cared a hell of a lot less. No, his best friend was talking about his freshly declared ex-wife and her sudden interest in getting cozy with his boss’s very young son at a mandatory business event before the ink could even dry on their divorce papers.
“It was kind of hard not to see.” Mike grumbled out a response as his best friend Tré smiled sheepishly or actually upon second thought it appeared more like a smirk than anything, either way it was at him from across the way. Where Trè had been sitting comfortably on the outdoor seating at the rooftop bar they were at. Throwing a glare back, Mike couldn’t help but think Tré looked ridiculous with his suit jacket unbuttoned and along with the top two buttons of his dress shirt.
“Well, power to her—she’s, uh, y’know—putting herself out there.” Tré tried in vain to put a positive spin on how much she had embarrassed Mike the night before, which was probably her intention, the wretched woman.
“She’s old enough to be David Weston’s mother.” Sitting at two years older than him, Nicole was forty seven, having waiting only two days after his forty-fifth birthday and strategically two weeks before her birthday to leave him. Leaving her with enough time to make extravagant birthday plans without him but under his credit, she had planned it that way, Mike was sure of it. She had also planned for him to take at minimum three weeks to get himself together to hire a lawyer and start the divorce proceedings.
Mike’s face still felt hot with embarrassment when he thought about how he spent that month trying to change her mind. Much to her delight, Nicole reveled in the attention she got from playing the poor blindsided divorcée to the public, despite being the one to ask for a divorce, but others didn’t know that, coupled with the fact that Mike was doing everything to make sure his marriage didn’t end up like his own parents’ divorce. Thank god they never had kids. Mike thought grimly.
“Yeah, it’s pretty messed up, isn’t it?” Tré nonchalantly spoke as he took a sip of his drink, breaking Mike out of his inward spiral. They had met up for lunch. “She’s what? Pushing fifty? And he’s like twenty-five.” Tré nodded along to himself as he tried to recall their ages.
Mike’s frustration was clear—as he scrunched his eyebrows together. Before stabbing his fork into his salad with more force than necessary, his mind raced. “It’s not just about the age difference, Tré. It’s the fact that she’s flaunting it so soon after the divorce. It’s like she’s trying to rub it in my face.”
Tré winced slightly at Mike’s tone. “Yeah, I get it. It’s definitely a low blow. But, you know, maybe she’s just trying to move on in her own way. She might not be thinking about how it affects you.” Mike didn’t even have to look at Trè’s face to know he was spewing nonsense even he didn't believe.
Mike shook his head. “I get that people move on, but this? It’s just petty.”
Tré, swirling his goddamn drink with a fake thoughtful expression, causing Mike to look on with a raised eyebrow, knew whatever was next had a high probability of pissing him off.
“Well, you know, if she’s going to flaunt it, maybe you should show her you’re not bothered. Why not date someone younger yourself? It could be a way to, I don’t know, get back at her and show you’re moving on too.”
“Are you seriously suggesting I start dating someone just to make her jealous?”
Tré shrugged. “Not just to make her jealous. It’s more about showing that you’re in control of your own life. Plus, it might be a nice distraction for you. You have some fancy math degree and a downtown corner office doing whatever the fuck you math-loving fuckers do in this lovely shithole we call home.” Trè paused as if losing his train of thought before continuing, “I am sure there are plenty of younger.. uh, suitors out there who’d be interested.”
Mike snorted at the math lover jab, he worked in finance, something Tré never understood, and probably wouldn’t ever, considering he worked in music production. “I’m not going to stoop to her level.”
“Hey, it doesn’t have to be anything serious,” Tré said with a grin. “Just a chance to show that you’re moving on and having a good time. If it ends up being something more, that’s a bonus… and I mean this with the utmost respect and concern, you need to get laid, man.”
Mike stared at his salad, opting to ignore the comment about his sex life. “I don’t know. It just feels... petty. I’d rather focus on rebuilding my life on my own terms.”
Tré leaned forward, his tone actually this time earnest. “I get it, man. But sometimes a little fun can be a great way to shift your… uh, mindset or something like that, and you deserve to have a good time, too.”
Mike silently took in Tré’s attempt at comfort; he knew he only had a few seconds before it was probably ruined by an off-color joke.
“And—if you want, I can even hook you up, put your face out on a few online profiles.” Tré wiggled his eyebrow at Mike suggestively, and there his best friend was.
Mike sighed, “Absolutely not. I haven’t dated since I was what? Twenty-three? There’s no way I’m gonna jump into the dating scene again anytime soon, let alone online dating.” Mike looked Trè dead in the eye as he explained himself, trying to make himself clear.
Tre's eyes twinkled back with a hint of mischief. “Alright, alright, I get it—you’re a little rusty—I don’t blame you. But all I’m saying is… you don’t have to find the one, just someone to make Nicole jealous. Have you ever considered... something a bit unconventional?”
Giving up on fighting Tré, Mike looked at him skeptically. “Like what?”
“Have you heard of sugar baby websites?” Tré asked casually, trying to gauge Mike’s reaction.
Mike’s eyes involuntarily widened in disbelief. “Are you serious? You’re telling me to hire a hooker to make Nicole jealous?” Mike asked in disbelief.
Tré waved a hand dismissively. “It’s not as bad as it sounds, and it’s not a hooker—so calm your tits, would you? It’s just a way to set up a more, uh, transactional type of relationship. It’s not about getting emotionally involved—just about having someone to accompany you and make it look like you’re doing great.”
Mike frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t want to get involved in something that feels so exploitative. It seems wrong on so many levels…” Mike paused for a second before continuing rather loudly, unintentionally, but still loud. “What would you know about transactional relationships?”
“All I am saying is I work with a lot of loaded old men.” Trè shrugged before moving on,
a thoughtful expression on his face. “Look,” Tré said earnestly, “it’s about creating an image. You’re not using anyone in a malicious way; it’s more about appearances. It could be a good distraction and give you a bit of leverage against Nicole’s cheating ass.”
Mike mulled over Tré’s words, feeling the weight of the situation. The idea felt uncomfortable, but there was something appealing about the notion of turning the tables and showing that he was unaffected.
“I don’t know,” Mike said hesitantly. “It just feels... wrong. I want to move on, but I don’t want to do it in a way that feels so deceptive.”
Tré nodded understandingly. “I get it, just give it some thought—if you ask me—it might be just what you need to move on, and hey, it’s not like the women… or man, would expect you to be emotionally invested or anything.”
Mike chose to ignore the gender comment Trè slid in. He sighed, his mind still swirling with a multitude of conflicting thoughts. “I’ll think about it.”
Mike stared at his half-eaten salad. The idea of using a sugar baby felt wrong, but the thought of Nicole’s antics still stung. He sighed again, shaking his head as he pushed his plate aside.
“I just want to get my life back on track,” he admitted. “But I feel like I’m stuck in this limbo. It’s hard to move on when I’m constantly reminded of her.”
Tré nodded, sipping his drink. “That’s fair. Maybe this is more about giving yourself a sense of freedom than it is about revenge. It’s a way to reclaim your narrative or whatever those chick magazines always say.”
Mike fought a smile at the last comment Tré had made; they had met in college and shared a dorm room, a very small one, where Tré’s love of Cosmo magazine wasn’t exactly a well-kept secret. Moving on from the brief visit to Memory Lane, Mike glanced around the restaurant, noticing couples laughing and families chatting. It felt like everyone else was moving forward while he remained anchored to his past. “What if I’m just not ready?” he asked.
“Then don’t rush it,” Tré replied. “But you can still entertain the idea. It doesn’t mean you have to act on it right away. Just consider what it might be like to have someone who doesn’t come with all the baggage.”
“I guess,” Mike said, still uncertain. “But I just don’t want to feel like I’m sinking to her level.”
Tré leaned in, lowering his voice, visibly growing frustrated with Mike’s circling back. “Look, you’re not trying to hurt anyone. It’s about doing something for yourself. If it helps you feel better and move on, isn’t that worth considering?”
Mike thought back to the way Nicole had laughed with David at the event, the way it felt like a knife twisting in his gut. “I don’t know if I want to get into something transactional, though. It feels... hollow.”
“Maybe,” Tré said thoughtfully. “But sometimes hollow can be better than the pain of what you’re feeling now. You can ease yourself back into dating without diving headfirst into anything serious.”
The idea lingered in Mike's mind, a tempting escape from the emotional turmoil. “And what if I end up liking her?” he asked, the concern creeping back into his voice.
“Then that’s a win, isn’t it?” Tré countered. “You might surprise yourself. Just go in with no expectations.”
Mike sighed heavily, weighing the options. “I’ll think about it,” he finally said, albeit reluctantly.
“Good. Just promise me you won’t let Nicole’s actions dictate your happiness. You deserve better than that.”
“Thanks, Tré,” Mike said, a hint of gratitude breaking through his frustration. “I appreciate you looking out for me.”
“Always, man,” Tré replied, raising his glass. “To moving on, however you decide to do it.”
Mike clinked his glass against Tré’s, feeling nothing close to resolve. But some sense of peace. Maybe he didn’t have to rush, but the thought of taking back some control over his life—of moving forward—felt like a step in the right direction.
Mike arrived home, the echo of Tré’s words endlessly swirling in his mind. He immediately kicked off his shoes and let out a weary sigh, the weight of the horrible day, week, and year he had settling on his shoulders. He moved through his luxury apartment, which felt both comforting and eerily empty since his separation from Nicole.
She was the reason they lived in a luxury apartment in their mid- to late forties as opposed to owning a house outside of the city like he had wanted, and to his surprise, when she decided to leave him, one of her reasons was the same damn apartment she had to live in early on in their marriage, claiming that all her friends had nice two-story houses in the richest neighborhood in the city, while she was still living like a postgrad in her twenties—acting as if she hadn’t been so against living in a suburb before.
Mike sighed to himself as he glanced around at all the expensive trinkets and throw pillows and the Tiffany lamps Nicole had to have, amongst other expensive purchases she had made over the years that didn’t quite fit him. It was like Nicole had used his money to build a world around him that he didn’t belong in.
After a moment’s pause, he made his way to the kitchen, pouring himself a generous glass of wine. The rich, deep red liquid swirled in the glass.
Settling onto the plush sofa, he took a sip, forcing himself to swallow despite knowing it would give him a headache. He closed his eyes, trying to shake the image of Nicole with David Weston from his mind. It was maddening, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that he felt trapped in the aftermath of their divorce. The thought of moving on, of taking control of his “narrative” as Tré mentioned, stirred something in him—it was almost like an ember of determination flickered to life, something he hadn’t had since before he married Nicole.
What if Tré was right? He didn’t want to sink to Nicole’s level, but he also didn’t want to remain a victim of her choices. He took another sip, the wine soothing the edges of his frustration. Perhaps he could explore the idea of dating again—if only to remind himself that he was still worthy of affection, still capable of finding joy.
As he settled back into the sofa, he let out a slow breath. Maybe he wouldn’t jump into anything serious right away, but he could at least consider his options. He could open up to the idea of meeting new people—casually, without expectations. The thought felt liberating, a way to reclaim his identity separate from Nicole. That’s what Tré was spewing at lunch, right?
He pulled out his phone, staring at the screen. Could he really entertain the idea of a sugar baby? It felt strange, but a part of him was intrigued by the notion of companionship without emotional entanglement. His hands began to tremble in fear, excitement, or maybe it was confusion; he couldn’t tell as he scrolled through his contacts to Tré’s name, his finger hesitating above the call button.
Fuck it.
Mike pressed call, his heart rate picking up as he heard the phone start to ring.