The $8,888 Mistake on His Livestream

My ex blocked me the day I agreed to break up.

So I did the mature thing.

I turned our dead chat into my expense log.

Me: [Chicken and rice. 0-02.]

Me: [Poker night. Up $200.]

Me: [Tipped a male stripper. $8,888.]

Every message died the second it left my thumb. Red exclamation point. Not Delivered.

I kept typing anyway. The void didn't argue back, which already made it a better listener than he'd ever been.

Then the void argued back.

Cole: [how much]

Delivered.

Me: [Eight thousand, eight hundred and eighty-eight.]

...

Cole: [Frankie. Those years you spent freeloading off me. What exactly were those.]

Cole: [Everyone else gets to. Why don't I.]

Chapter 1

It was Cole's birthday.

We'd been broken up a few weeks, and I figured we could still be friends, so I sent him a Happy Birthday.

That's how I found out he'd blocked me.

Red exclamation point. Not Delivered.

I stared at it.

Huh.

For the record, here's how we got here.

A few weeks back, he'd caught me watching a couple of thirst traps. Shirtless guys. Good gym lighting. Professionally speaking, I've sketched worse.

He lost it.

"If you like watching them so much," he said, "maybe we should just break up."

Which. Okay. Let's talk about why I was watching them.

I was watching them because he wouldn't let me look at him. Or touch him. The man guarded his own collarbone like it was classified.

A girl has needs. A girl also has an art degree and a professional opinion about a good set of shoulders.

So instead of solving this the easy way, by taking off his shirt, he threatened to break up with me.

Men. So dramatic.

The second I said fine, let's break up, he changed.

He packed a bag that same night and moved out in the dark. Red around the eyes. Jaw set. Back very straight the whole walk to the door.

I didn't stop him.

I did throw the penguin out the window. The one he'd won me from a claw machine, back when he still let me stand close enough to want one.

"Go," I said. "And don't come back."

Later I went down to the street to check.

He'd taken the penguin too.

Didn't leave me a single thing. Not the plush, not a toothbrush, not a number that still went through. Blocked everywhere.

He really did hate me.

Fine. Clean break. Separate ways, both of us thrilled about it.

I pinned his chat to the top of my phone and gave it a new job.

Me: [Chicken and rice. 0-02.]

Me: [Period, the 25th.]

Me: [Scratch ticket. Down $30.]

Me: [Poker night. Up $200.]

Just a little bookkeeping. He couldn't see any of it. That was the whole appeal.

Living alone got quiet, so I watched more thirst traps. For the loneliness. Medicinal.

After I turned down my best friend Sasha's fourth invite to go out, she showed up at my door in person.

She looked heartbroken. For me.

"Frankie." She grabbed my shoulders. "You cannot fall apart over a man. There are plenty of fish in the sea. Older, younger, take your pick."

I peeled myself up out of the couch nest and blinked at her.

"I'm not falling apart over a man."

She pointed at the empty chip bags and the instant ramen cups on the coffee table. Then she held a mirror up to my face.

"Look at yourself. Is any man worth this?"

I looked.

Fair. I did look a little like something that crawls out of a well.

In my defense, that was a gaming all-nighter and a thirty-minute nap she'd just interrupted, not grief. I tried to tell her that. She wasn't buying it.

"Unless," she said, "you come to the bar with me and look at hot guys."

"Okay."

Now that I had energy for.

The bar was loud. DJ screaming over the speakers, the dance floor one long heat wave.

"Two good ones over there." Sasha towed me into the crowd.

She parked us right next to a pair of very pretty men and gave me a look.

I gave the look back. Got it.

We started dancing.

One of them caught my eye. Held it. Smiled.

Promising. I'd take this one. Sasha could have the other.

I was already planning my opening line when the other one reached over, hooked a finger under the first one's shirt, and slid his hand up underneath.

Chapter 2

His fingers pushed the fabric up and moved, slow, underneath.

The guy caught me watching and had the nerve to smirk about it.

Oh hell no.

My eyes went wide.

I turned. Sasha's face had frozen into the exact shape mine had. Like she'd bitten into something with legs.

"No wonder I can't get a boyfriend." She picked up her drink and finished it in one pull. "The hot ones are all dating each other."

She'd taken it hard. I went in with comfort.

"He's just a guy. Plenty of fish in the sea. Older, younger"

That did it. She cracked.

"Last month I crushed on a guy at a family reunion. Went for it. He was my uncle."

"Sasha."

"Before that I got a cute one's number on the street. Six feet, gorgeous. He handed it over off a kids' GPS watch."

"Okay"

"And now this. Now I'm hitting on a gay man in a bar. Why is my life like this."

She wrapped both arms around the bottle and started chugging.

I did feel for her. Mostly I wanted her out of the pit.

I leaned in. "Want me to get you a male dancer?"

She pouted. "What's a stripper going to do, heal my wounded soul?"

"One word. Yes or no."

"...Yes."

I raised one hand like I was flagging down a waiter and called over the club's top guy.

"My girl just got dumped," I told him. "Cheer her up."

He was good at the job. Handsome, warm, said all the right things. Two minutes in, Sasha was glowing.

Then she got drunk-brave and started grabbing.

He caught her wrist, polite about it. "Ma'am. Company only."

Sasha turned to me. Bottom lip out. Eyes enormous. Reporting the crime. Somebody was bullying her again.

What's a girl supposed to do. You spoil your own best friend.

I slapped the table.

"More money."

By the end of the night Sasha had touched a real, unretouched eight-pack, walked away with his number, and I was out eight thousand, eight hundred and eighty-eight dollars.

Worth it. Mostly.

I nursed the financial wound the whole way home.

First thing through the door, I opened his chat and filed my entry.

Me: [Tipped a male stripper. $8,888.]

I didn't even watch it go. Three weeks of red exclamation points teaches you not to bother.

I didn't see the little Delivered.

I definitely didn't know he was live.

Here's the part I had to piece together after, along with tens of thousands of other people, because it all happened on stream.

Cole was mid-broadcast, playing ranked, being quietly terrifying at it the way he is. Then his account kicked him out. Wrong password.

His chat lost its mind.

Chat: [BOSS you got hacked??]

Chat: [recover it recover it]

Chat: [someone's in your account LMAO]

He frowned at the login screen. "Recovery's tied to my ex's number."

The whole stream sat up at once.

Chat: [EX. since WHEN does Boss Ashford have an ex]

Chat: [did she dump you or did you dump her, we need the full report]

Chat: [tell me you didn't change your password after the breakup. petty king]

Chat: [go ask for your account back. or are you scared]

They kept at it. He sat there, jaw tight, and let them.

Then he opened his messages.

"Fine," he said. To the camera. To no one. "Let me take her off the block list first."

He unblocked me.

The second he did, the message I'd sent an hour ago stopped being undeliverable and simply arrived. Live. On his screen. In front of a stadium's worth of strangers.

Me: [Tipped a male stripper. $8,888.]

He went very still.

Meanwhile, across town, I was in the shower scrubbing the club off my skin, blissfully unaware I'd just detonated a man on live television.

I came out to my phone buzzing itself toward the edge of the counter.

His avatar. Unmistakable.

Cole: [How much.]

Cole: [I'm asking again. How much.]

Cole: [Don't play dead. Answer me.]

Cole: [Don't push me. When I lose it I do things, Frankie. I mean it.]

Huh.

When did he pull me back out of the block list?

And why right then. Right as the $8,888 went through.

Chapter 3

I typed it back the formal way. No digits. The way you'd spell it out on a check.

Me: [Eight thousand eight hundred and eighty-eight dollars. Even.]

He sent back a full minute of audio.

I played it.

"On what grounds." His voice was already shaking. "You tell me on what grounds. Have you ever spent that kind of money on me? Am I some kind of am I that cheap to you? We break up and you run straight to a stripper. A stripper, Frankie. What do you take me for. Do you even have a heart."

It cracked in three separate places.

For about half a second, I felt bad.

Then I remembered exactly who I was dealing with.

Nobody would believe me if I told them. Two months living together, and I never once got to kiss him.

Two blankets on that bed. His and mine. A hard line down the center, drawn like a border.

One night I kicked mine off on purpose and climbed onto him, all four limbs.

He rolled over, peeled me off, and tucked me back in. Tight. Corners and everything.

Later I whined that I was cold and burrowed into his chest.

He got up. Dug through the closet like a man who'd found buried treasure.

"See? I knew there was a third blanket. You won't be cold now."

...

Even a monk couldn't out-chaste him.

And this was the man losing his mind because I watched a couple of thirst traps.

For the record, without the occasional thirst trap my cycle wouldn't even run on time.

The soft feeling died on the spot.

Me: [On the grounds that he's the top guy.]

Me: [On the grounds that he's gorgeous.]

Me: [What exactly are you bringing to this comparison?]

Me: [He's fun AND there's an eight-pack I can touch whenever I want. Honestly $8,888 was underpaying. I'm booking him again.]

The typing bubble came up. Sat there a long time.

Cole: [So I don't measure up. That's the idea. Fine. Everyone else gets to. So do I.]

Cole: [You wait.]

Right then my little brother, who hadn't texted me in months, surfaced with a midnight hello.

Cody: [sis. do you know Cole Ashford??]

Cody: [his ex's profile pic is EXACTLY yours. do NOT tell me that's actually you]

Cody: [he's my entire idol btw. i would 1000% approve of him as a brother-in-law]

I lobbed it right back.

Me: [Would you believe me if I said yes?]

Cody: [NO. how would YOU know Cole Ashford. you stutter talking to men, there's no way you're out here booking male strippers lmao. sis if you actually landed me a brother-in-law like that i'd wake up laughing]

...

All I'll say is: I had the chance once. I just never gave him the laugh.

From Cody's flailing, I finally pieced together what I'd done.

Bad news: the whole internet knew about the stripper.

Good news: none of them knew it was me.

Other bad news: Cole was coming. Live.

I opened his stream.

Dim car interior. Cole at the wheel, jaw locked, driving like the road owed him money.

The chat was a landslide.

Chat: [shaking. crying. Boss Ashford is going to CONFRONT the ex]

Chat: [she seized his account after the breakup and now he's taking back what's his. cinema]

Chat: [i'm not here for drama i swear. i just need the ex to say WHERE she booked the $8,888 guy]

He didn't answer a single one of them. Just drove, and let the chat froth by itself.

More strangers poured in every second. The number climbed and climbed.

I was still deciding whether to pack a bag and run when an engine cut off downstairs.

I looked out the window.

His car.

That fast?

I killed the lights and pretended nobody was home.

A minute later, the door handle turned.

Chapter 4

Thank god I'd locked it.

On my phone, his stream still filled the screen. That gorgeous, furious face, live and in close-up.

I could have watched it all night.

Then

"FRANKIE. Open the door."

My phone buzzed again.

Cody: [SIS. IT'S ACTUALLY YOU]

Me: [???]

No. Absolutely not. Was he unwell? All this production, and for what?

I pulled a mask up over my face. No way was his livestream getting a clean shot of the ex.

Then I ripped the door open.

His knocking hand nearly caught me across the cheek.

He snatched it back, jammed both hands in his pockets, and rebuilt himself into a man who'd merely been in the neighborhood.

"Oh. You're home."

The chat threw itself on the floor.

Chat: [BOSS. the energy. WHERE did the energy go]

Chat: [do not fold now. STAND FIRM]

Chat: [oh i get it. he went live so WE'D give him a spine]

Chat: [turn the camera. let us see who this ex actually IS]

I looked down at the enormous suitcase parked at his feet.

A penguin sat on top of it. Upright. Prim.

My penguin.

So we were packing our whole life now.

I put my hands on my hips.

"What is all this banging. It's the middle of the night. You've heard of neighbors."

Cole worked his jaw. "You changed my account password."

"Yeah. So?"

His fist tightened. Teeth set. "Okay. Fine. You couldn't just play your games? You had to go find a stripper?"

Flat: "I wanted to."

He dragged a hand through his hair, a man holding a punch with nowhere to put it.

"Anything else? If not, head home."

I moved to shut the door.

He was inside before it could close.

Screw it, apparently.

"What's so great about a stripper? What do I not have that he does? Am I not good-looking enough? Do I not make you happy? Do I not have abs? Everyone else gets to. Why don't I?"

He hauled the suitcase open and dumped every piece of clothing into my closet. Setting up camp.

I watched him carry armloads between the bedroom and the living room and asked, pleasantly, "You sure you can?"

"Yes."

"Can what?"

"Anything."

The confidence really was something.

I took a big bite of apple. "Then go shower. Now."

He stopped. Pulled out a set of pajamas.

"Don't grab clothes."

The chat detonated.

Chat: [HOLD ON. is this something i get to see for FREE]

Chat: [honestly the no-visual is kind of hotter]

Chat: [every gaming streamer should run this exact format. not unsubscribing]

Gift animations swallowed the whole screen.

While the chat lost its collective mind, I leaned in just past the edge of his camera and said, sweetly, "That's all for tonight, everyone. Sleep well."

Then I reached over and ended his stream for him.

I fixed my eyes on the frosted glass of the bathroom door and went back to my apple.

It took a while.

Finally the water shut off.

I sank the apple core dead-center into the trash, wiped my mouth, and stared at that door without blinking