Alejandro by Renee LaRuse

 
    One
     
    Veronica Ferris hid her five-eleven frame behind the back of the sofa, crouching as another piece of her beautiful white china was thrown across the living room where it hit the wall and exploded into bits. She prayed her behind didn’t split the seams of the brown pantsuit she was wearing, her favorite courtroom ‘power suit’.
    Her knees and her thick thighs were screaming at her for squatting so low in her high heels. Flats were her usual shoe of choice since Quincy refused to be seen in public with her if she stood any taller than him. But this morning she’d dug her suede heels from the back of her closet, dusted them off and slipped them on, knowing that at the end of the day Quincy would be out of her life for good this time. She got home from work around 6 and had all his shit packed up by 6:25. When Quincy came home from “the gym” around 10 and saw the boxes by the door he asked if they were moving to a new place, so sure that Veronica needed him too much to ever kick him to the curb, no matter how badly he treated her.
    After Veronica broke the news that she was breaking up with him, he went insane and started a path of destruction, breaking lamps and smashing picture frames. She’d never seen him act this way before. Now he was in her kitchen, digging through her cupboards and smashing everything he could find. Like he was a woman scorned! Like he was the one wronged! Veronica peeked over the couch and shrieked, “Quincy! Have you lost your damn mind?!”
    He frisbeed another salad plate in her direction. It hit the clear glass flower vase on the end table, shattering it and the plate too. “Yep.” He was on the thin side, but still muscular. Naturally light-skinned, his skin was tanned brown by doing landscaping work under the California sun, while Veronica on the other hand had a milk chocolate complexion and a bottom-heavy hourglass figure. He needed a visit to the barber to freshen his fade. “You think you could tear my heart out and evict me from my own house and I’d just go just like that?”
    A part of Veronica wanted to believe that she was important enough to cause pain to his heart, but she knew that the only thing she’d hurt by dumping him was his oversized ego. Seeing a pause in Quincy’s pelting, she stood up from behind the sofa citadel, adjusted her suit jacket and flipped her long black hair—she paid for it, so she considered it hers—over her right shoulder. “I didn’t break any of your things! So why are you tearin’ up my house that I pay the mortgage on, not you? Breaking all my dishes like a, well, like a little bitch. Just leave!”
    “Oh, now I’m a bitch? Couple nights ago I was your King.” He mimicked her in a high-pitched voice. “Oooh, give it to me, King! Harder !”
    Veronica softly bit the tip of her tongue. Sweat was glistening on his skin, the parts that were exposed by his white tank top and black breakaway pants. Unfortunately, she found him sexiest when he was angry. The sex was great, but so what? The other twenty-three and a half hours of the day being with Quincy were miserable. Veronica squared her shoulders and said in a calm but serious voice, “Get out.”
    Quincy promptly found a tea cup decorated with gold swans and slammed it to the tile floor.
    “Dammit, I’ll call the cops, Quincy, I swear!”
    “Call the fuckin’ cops, man! I’m sure when they take one look at you they’ll understand why I’m pissed. I put up with your judgmental ass for two years. I could’ve had any woman I wanted, but I made the decision to always come home to you, and this is how you do me?”
    “Fuck you!” she exploded, angry tears scorching the apples of her cheeks. “You went ahead and had any woman you wanted while we were together! The problem is you!” She stormed across the living room and stood face to face with him. “I’m sick of your cheating, your lies, and your manipulation. I’m sick and tired of you. So sick of you, Quincy,