It’s ten a.m. by the time I wake up enough to get my shit together. After the late night and the drama in the desert, I couldn’t sleep. That biker dick calling me a cocksucker was bad enough, but not getting the satisfaction of beating him unconscious itches like a rash.
Restless and eager for a fight, I finally had to succumb and take the pills my shrink gave me to calm my ass down enough to sleep. I went down hard and slept through my alarm.
I’m groggy as hell, moving through my condo like a zombie. Fuck, I hate those pills. The few times I’ve taken them I wake up with a hangover so intense I swear I’ll never touch another one again. But here I am.
As I’m forcing down my morning protein shake, the doorbell rings. I don’t get visitors often because I refuse to have people over. Other than a door-to-door salesman, there’s only one other person it could be.
“Hold up.” I head to the door and swing it open.
It’s my neighbor, Emma.
“Hey there.” She’s smiling and shifts a large duffel bag from her shoulder to the ground.
I reach up to the door frame, stretching out my sore shoulder. “You’re heading out this early?”
“Early?” She giggles and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s ten in the morning.” Her big green eyes travel from my face to my neck and down. “Um . . . thanks, ah, again for helping me out.”
She stares at the ink on my chest and tilts her head to read the writing tattooed on my ribcage. I fight the urge to shift uncomfortably at her blatant ogling.
“Em . . .”
Her eyes move up toward my face but snag on one silver barbell through my right nipple then glide across to the one in my left.
“Emma.”
Her eyes are wide and dart to mine. “Oh, yeah, yes. I’m leaving now.” Pink colors her cheeks.
“Let me grab a shirt and I’ll walk you down.”
“No need. I got it.” She reaches in her pocket and pulls out her keys. “Here ya go. Twice a day would be great, but if you can only get over there once, that should be okay too.”
I tuck the keys into the pocket of my track pants. “Shitty’s food in the same place?”
Her jaw drops open with a big smile. “Oh my gosh, don’t call her that. And yeah, Miss Kitty’s food is under the sink.” Reaching down, she hefts the duffle onto her shoulder. She pulls long strands of her chestnut hair out from under the strap with a wince.
“Let me get that.” I don’t give her a chance to argue and take the bag, cringing slightly as pain twists behind my collarbone. I set the bag down. “Give me a sec.”
I leave the door open, knowing that Emma won’t come in. She knows how things work with me and respects my boundaries.
The first day she moved in she came by to introduce herself. I knew by her jeans, flannel shirt, and hiking boots that she wasn’t from around here. That and transplants are always friendlier than natives.
And that’s Emma. Friendly, beautiful, and na?ve to a fault. Small town girl in the City of Sin. When she goes home to visit her family, I take care of her cat, Miss Kitty.
Leaving her at the door, I go to my closet to grab a T-shirt and a pair of shoes. I pull the shirt over my head, but carry the shoes to the door, popping them on while standing on the doormat, then grab her duffel with my uninjured arm.
“Thanks again, Rex. I owe you.”
“Yeah?” I close the door behind me. “Bring back some of those cookies your mom makes.”
She giggles and the sound of it makes me smile. I’ve never met a more open, bubbly, and all around happy person in all my life. She’s light, comfortable to hang out with, a good girl.
She puts on her sunglasses as we make our way through the courtyard and into the bright late morning sun. “You playing a show tonight?”
“Yep. Usual Sunday night gig.”
Emma has never been to one of my shows. She asks about them and I’ve invited her, but she stays separate from that part of my life, the band and the fighting. I like that. With her, I get to just be me, not T-Rex or the lead singer of Ataxia. Just Rex. Simple.
Once at her Jeep Cherokee, she opens the back and I put in the bag, stepping aside for her to drop the hatch. “Drive safely. I’ll take good care of Miss Shitty.”
“Stop calling her that.” She smacks my chest.
I laugh and feign injury. “What? That’s her name.”
“Miss Kitty. Not Shitty.”
“That’s what I said.” I chuckle.
She shakes her head then looks up at me and uses her hand to shield her face from the overhead sun. “I should be back Tuesday, but if not, I’ll give you a call.”
I hook her around the back of her neck and pull her in for a hug. Her arms go around my waist in a quick, chaste embrace.
“Break a leg tonight.” She hoists her tiny frame into the driver’s seat and fires up the engine.