“Head not in the right place.” Fucking asshole. He’s pissed, I know he is. I down another two beers, locking eyes with Dee. She has a look about her that says she’s down for whatever but clearly confused by my agreement to visit Smudge. She brought it up, so she better be ready.
Greg leans over and says something to Beck before getting up and marching out the door again. I watch him throw the door open and storm out and then look over at Beck. “What the hell is his problem now?”
“Don’t know, sugar. He just said he needed to do something and he would meet us there.”
Okay, I might have overreacted slightly. But you know what? I am sick of being treated with kid gloves like some breakable porcelain doll that might shatter with the smallest touch. My path to find the old Izzy starts right now, and I’m not going to let Greg and his shit-fit mess this up.
“You two almost ready to go? I’m going to go track down our ticket so we can get out of here. Think about what you want to get, you little bitch. Remember this was your idea.”
I stand up and walk off, once again leaving them at the table, but I doubt they are drenched in their lust cloud anymore. Beck is probably trying to figure out what brand of fucked up he has stumbled on and Dee is probably back to worrying. At least this time she isn’t worried about my mental stability—or at least I hope she isn’t. She is probably worried about this big-ass boulder that seems to have popped up between Greg and me.
CHAPTER 9
Dee is pretty silent when we first get in the cab after leaving Heavy’s. She is probably still playing back my refusal to ride with the boys. We left her car at Heavy’s and jumped in the first cab I saw, leaving a fuming Greg and a confused Beck standing at his truck. Greg was waiting outside of Heavy’s when we walked out. So much for his having something to take care of. I knew that if we let Greg drive he would control the destination, and I was seeing this through.
For the first five minutes, she sits silently gazing out her window. Soft country music plays through the speakers, not loud but enough that the silence isn’t awkward. She finally has enough and turns to me.
“All right, tell me what this really is about, Iz. This is more than a few drinks and sex jokes. What’s really going on up there?” She reaches over and taps my head.
“Nothing is going on up there, Dee. I’m sick of everyone looking at me like I am some unfixable toy. Some toy that, no matter how many times you slather Elmer’s on, keeps falling apart. I’m sick of being that girl, Dee. Greg just pushed my buttons when he said I wasn’t right in the head. I’m fine. Just because I don’t want to talk about . . . Axel, that does not mean I’m not right in the head. It doesn’t.”
“Who exactly are you trying to convince, Izzy?” she asks softly.
“I don’t need to convince anyone. I just need you to have my back and trust me to handle this on my own terms.” I let out a frustrated huff and turn my head to watch the city zoom past. I’m so tired from this week of dodging Greg and running from Axel. I just want it to be over, this bad dream that I am beyond ready to wake up from.
“Okay, Iz. I understand. Or at least I’m trying to. I just don’t like seeing you hurting, and I don’t like seeing you and Greg fight. You know he’s got to be hurting too. He would do anything to take your pain away. You know that. Don’t think he is being pushy to be a dick. He really does care.”
I don’t reply. What’s the point? I don’t know what to think about Greg. I know he cares, but now that his loyalty is torn, I can honestly say that I don’t know which way he is going with his need to chat with me. He wants me happy, I know that much, but at what cost?
We pull up in front of Smudge a few minutes later; the cabby lets us out right at the front door. I quickly pay him and rush for the door. When I see Greg’s truck roaring up the street, I take off for the inside of the building. He won’t cause a scene, not in a public place like this. He might look at me with his displeasure and judgment, but he won’t say anything. No, I will get that later.
We walk into the brightly lit building. The walls are painted a deep red; the ceiling and the tile are black. They have the room set up with little cubicles against the sidewalls, each one with a wall about four feet tall. There are some rooms against the back wall, but all three have blacked-out windows. Not sure I want to know what happens back there. I walk over to the huge U-shaped display case set up in the middle of the room. There is a young, heavily tattooed woman standing behind it. Her short pixie hair is sticking out in random directions and dyed electric blue. Her face is classically beautiful and would look odd against her body art and hair of choice, but she has the most elaborate makeup on. Her eye shadow is as bright and as blue as her hair, thick black lines outline her almost violet eyes, and her lips are painted red.