Man, what's wrong with you? novel Chapter 9

Sherry kept all of her attention on Jeffrey as he sang another romantic ballad onstage, determined not to look at her husband as he flirted with waitresses. When the song ended and Jeffrey walked offstage, she couldn't resist glancing over at Jeremy. But their table was empty. He and his friend Steve had already left.

Jeffrey returned to sit with Sherry, smiling shyly, but she was no longer in any mood to chat with him. She looked at his handsome young face and had an idea. Impulsively, she opened her bag, taking out a wad of cash, and tried to press it into Jeffrey's hands. She was literally handing him tens of thousands of dollars.

He looked stunned. "Sherry, what are you doing? I can't accept all this money!" He had never seen such a large sum before in his life. His face flushed with embarrassment. He firmly pushed her hand away. "No, Sherry, I won't take it."

Sherry stood up. "Jeffrey, listen to me. It was very kind of you to keep me company. But I hope I don't see you here again. I'm giving you an opportunity to leave here. Go to school, and don't work in these kinds of places in the future, all right?" Before he could stop her, she dropped the cash in his lap and turned to leave. Sherry moved quickly through the crowded bar, hoping Jeffrey wouldn't try to return the money again.

Some of the patrons of the bar had seen the amount of money she gave Jeffrey, and they stared as she left. Some were laughing and speculating, but others shook their heads and frowned.

Some envied the romance and glamor of being rich, while others were annoyed at their carelessness with their wealth.

Sherry ignored all of them. She hadn't spent too long with Jeffrey, but she had spoken with him long enough to know that he had a genuinely kind heart and good nature. After all, she had met him because he tried to stop her from drinking too much. She hoped he would make good use of the money.

When Sherry emerged from the bar, it was dark. She had been drinking for hours. A cool breeze struck her, and she stopped on the sidewalk, feeling slightly nauseous. She was still a little drunk.

She had decided to go home when she saw a familiar Lamborghini parked on the side of the street. It was Jeremy's car. She moved tentatively closer, but saw that there was no one inside the vehicle.

She frowned. Had Jeremy really left the bar, or was he still somewhere inside?

Sherry sighed and flagged down a taxi, and then got inside.

It was none of her business where Jeremy was. He had clearly and repeatedly shown that he didn't care about her.

She was about to close the door when someone placed a hand on top of the taxi. To her surprise, she heard Jeremy's voice. "Sherry, come with me. We'll ride home together."

Sherry hesitated, and then apologized to the taxi driver and got out. She turned to Jeremy, who was gazing at her coolly. "Where have you been?" she asked. He shrugged and gestured towards some benches near the bar entrance, and she realized that he must have seen her leave the bar.

Without saying another word, Sherry walked to the Lamborghini. Jeremy got into the driver's seat. He slammed the door hard enough to make her wince.

She leaned her head back against the car seat and closed her eyes involuntarily. Her head ached. She wasn't used to drinking so much.

Inside the car, the neon lights outside the bar were dimmed, and the loud noises of the city were silenced. She felt Jeremy moving beside her and opened her eyes. He was leaning over her, his face very close to hers.

Sherry blinked and placed a hand on his chest, gently pushing him back. "I'm sorry, I'm not feeling well. We should just go home now."

She tried to be kind in dodging his kiss, but she couldn't help feeling a hint of disgust. She remembered that just moments ago, those lips had been whispering sweet nothings into the ears of the pretty young women at the bar. She quickly turned to look out the window so he wouldn't see her expression, but Jeremy had recognized the disgust in her eyes.

He smiled coldly and started the car, glancing down at Sherry's wrist.

There was a faint scar on the soft skin, from where Sherry had slit her own wrist.

As he began driving, he said acidly, "I saw you having fun inside with that waiter. Looks like you're not unhappy anymore, right? Good for you!"