Before I Break by Portia Moore Page A

myself from the room and step on the front porch. I wrap the phone tightly in my hand and let out a deep breath before answering.
    “Chris, I presume?” he says , his tone slightly amused, and it makes me want to hang up the phone right then and there.
    “Very funny , Dexter,” I say tightly, trying to maintain my composure.
    “I think it’s time we had a little chat . Don’t you?”
    “I think it’s long overdue,” I reply . I see Dexter’s limo pull up. He lets the window down and displays a wide gleeful smile.
    “You picked the perfect time to show up. Want to come in, grab a drink?” I ask sarcastically.
    “That’ won’t be necessary,” he says, opening the door for me, and I begrudgingly get in and feel the car pull off.
    “So. The cat’s been let out of the bag, so to speak?” he asks, closing his laptop.
    “I can imagine how freed you must feel. I personally feel like a burden’s been lifted off me.” He takes a sip from his water bottle. “You know I’m not one who enjoys keeping secrets.” He chuckles, and I want to punch the sarcasm right out of him. “You’re pretty quiet. You called me quite a bit. I’d think you’d have a thousand questions for me,” he says, leaning back into his seat.
    I try to think rationally and calmly. Dexter probably knows more about me or this Cal guy than my parents. Of course him and Cal were close, they’re both jerks and jerks usually tend to get along.
                  “You helped him do this,” I say, clasping my hands together to keep them from wrapping around his neck.  He smirks.
                  “Do what, exactly? “He says, feigning innocence.
                  “Steal, ruin, and take over my life. None of this rings a bell?” I say, not hiding my bitterness. He only smirks.
                  “I did you a big favor Christopher. Without my help, you’d be waking up in prison for something you didn’t even remember doing,” he retorts.
                  “What does that mean?” I say irately.
                  “Let’s just say, before Cal came under my guidance, he didn’t make the greatest decisions,” he says pouring himself a glass of what looks like scotch.
                  “Are you saying I’m a criminal?” I ask him pointedly.
                  “I wouldn’t say that. I think it’d be in your best interest for you not to either,” he says casually before sipping the brown liquid in his glass. I put my head in my hands. What the hell did this Cal guy do? He’s done something, and Dexter knows about it and he’s holding it over my head.
                  “What did he do?!”
                  “Relax, Christopher. He never hurt anyone. He just had a knack for taking the things your life didn’t provide him with sufficiently,” he says allusively.
                  “Besides aren’t there more important things to talk about?”
                  “For instance, you, my comrade, have a daughter, a beautiful wife, a thriving career with my company—whenever you’d like to take it. Cal is quite good at his job.”  The way he’s speaking of all this makes me want to throw up. As if it’s the most normal thing in the world.
                  “You didn’t do me a favor, for one. Let’s get that straight. You helped him destroy my life. He took away my choices. I don’t owe you anything! You can take your job and shove it up…”
                  “I’d advise you to think before you go any further, Chris,” he says, the amusement gone from his demeanor and his tone cold.
                  “I am not here to listen to your verbal tantrums. Since I’m in a charitable mood, instead of ending this meeting, and leaving you just as ignorant of what is going on as before you stepped in this vehicle, I’m letting you know you’re making a very bad