I’d cleaned up, made certain my hair wasn’t a mess (it was, the knot I’d tied it in around a ponytail holder had gone wonky so I just pulled it out) and I’d tugged on my panties and tee when my cell rang.
I snatched it up, looked at the display and fought the urge to hurl it across the room.
Fuck. Beau. My most recent ex. That was to say, he was recent in the sense he was the latest guy I’d broken up with not recent in the sense that I broke up with him recently. We’d been officially done and I’d kicked his ass out nearly four months ago. We’d been unofficially done for eight months before that. We’d been teetering on done for six months before that.
Beau just didn’t get that we were Grade A Certified Capital D Done.
And I knew if I didn’t take this call, he’d call me again and again until I did. This was part of how he was working my nerves and had been since I’d kicked his ass out. And considering I had a sister-in-law, two beloved nephews and a Mom and Dad close who had all lost a loved one, I didn’t want to turn off my phone.
Goddamn it. Beau.
When Mike got back, I was going to ask him if he knew how to commit the perfect murder.
Then I hit the button on the screen to take the call and put it to my ear.
“Seriously?” I used as my greeting.
“Dusty, baby,” he said softly.
He knew I loved my brother. He knew we were close. Since he’d lived with me, he had firsthand knowledge that Darrin and I talked on the phone once or twice a week. He knew I doted on my nephews. He knew I, unlike my sister, loved Rhonda. He knew I was grieving and he thought he could use it to get back in there.
“Beau, I’m kinda busy,” I informed him.
“Are you doing okay?” he asked me.
“No. Darrin died four days ago and I’m home in The ‘Burg with my sister breathing my airspace however distantly. It’s still closer than when she’s in DC working to get rapists free and I’m in Texas trying to forget my parents birthed three children. So no, I’m not okay.”
“You stayin’ long? You want me to fly up?”
Why was he so dense?
“Beau, not to be a bitch or anything but what have I done in the last four months that would give you the impression I want you to fly up and be here with me?”
“Dusty, times like these are tough,” he reminded me.
“Uh, yeah, Beau. I’m getting that.”
“And you need to be around people who care about you.”
“No, I need to be around people I want to be around, ergo, not you. Again, not to be a bitch or anything,” I added, well, so I wouldn’t be a bitch or anything even while I was totally being a bitch.
“Baby, I’m tryin’ to look out for you,” he whispered coaxingly and I hated that because it reminded me that used to work on me.
It didn’t anymore.
I didn’t remind him, as I had so many times I lost track, that he should have knocked himself out to look out for me before I dumped his ass. I didn’t remind him that he forgot in a lot of ways to knock himself out for me. I didn’t remind him that I didn’t actually need him to knock himself out but at least put a little effort into us. And I didn’t remind him that I’d knocked myself out trying to make us work and he’d not made an effort until I dumped his ass. Then, when I did, he’d acted surprised like the last fourteen months of our relationship that didn’t crash and burn but died a slow, agonizing death didn’t happen and we’d been riding a high of bounty. So I didn’t remind him how much his being totally clueless pissed me off.
Instead, I reminded him of something that now, because he wanted me back, he’d forget in half a second but he took for granted for the two and a half years we were together.
“I can look out for myself.”
He was silent.
I was wondering how long Mike had been gone and thinking I needed to take his order to heart. I didn’t want to mess this up and although Mike didn’t lapse into a fifteen minute soliloquy about the shit that had gone down in his life, what he said didn’t sound good. I didn’t want to jack him around. I needed to search my feelings and I couldn’t do that when I was getting pissed at my ex-boyfriend who not only couldn’t catch a clue but also had selective hearing and he had this so he wouldn’t have to catch a clue.
“Beau, I gotta go,” I told him.
He was again silent for a moment then in a soft voice he injected with too much sweet, he replied, “Right, baby, you need me, you know where to find me.”
Don’t hold your breath, moron, I thought but, not to be a bitch, I didn’t say.
“Good-bye, Beau,” I said firmly.
“Later, Dusty,” he replied and I rolled my eyes.
Totally couldn’t catch a clue and I wasn’t laying breadcrumbs either. I’d been laying it out, straight up, for four months.
I beeped off my phone, chucked it on the nightstand, got in the rumpled bed, stared at the ceiling and tried to search my feelings.