“Yeah?”
“I stopping drinking about two hours ago.”
The Patron bottle looks damn near empty. No way I drank that much. I just bought that motherfucker a few days ago.
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
Fuck me.
“You sure?”
Nick grabs his jacket. “No, you don’t have a problem.” Sarcasm drips like molasses from his lips, and I flip him the bird.
“Been a long week. Don’t judge.”
“Hey, as long as you’re not drinking and driving, I see no need to discuss the matter any further.”
He slides his big arms through the sleeves of his coat and finds his phone in the pocket. When he checks it, it’s written all over his face. Big mistake.
“Ah, man. Mia’s gonna have my head when I get home.”
I laugh and he scowls. “What’s so funny about that?”
“You said head. And then you said, Mia’s gonna have your…” I wave at him. “Never mind.”
“You are so twelve, you know that?”
“Fuck you very much. Now get out.”
He punches me in the arm and gives me a short wave as he leaves. When I shut the door behind him, I lean against it for a minute. As waves of unbalance pass, I get a sour feeling in the pit of my stomach, and it’s not from the Patron.
The problem with drinking to forget about a shitty day is the more you drink, the more you think about said shitty day.
I start to clean up the place and down a bottle of water I picked up at Target the other night. I try not to think about Green and her cohort working against me. The one thing I can’t stop wondering, though, is why are they working against me?
I’m nobody.
Or so I’ve been told on several occasions over the past decade.
After about a half hour of self-deprecation, foggy theories, and wishing I had another bottle of Patron Silver in stock, I’m ready for lights out. I start down the hallway when a knock at the door stops me dead in my tracks.
It could be Nick. Maybe Mia was more pissed off than he thought she would be.
Or, it could be someone who’s been killing off Redemption’s troubled youth.
I take a peek through the curtain, and I don’t know if I’m relieved or not that it’s neither.
Open or ignore? Open… ignore…
I open it.
Of course, I fucking open it.
“I’ve been looking for you all day.” Funny how Green seems so concerned.
“Really.”
“Yeah, the way you left at brunch, I wondered if you had a new lead or something, but then I never heard from you, and you didn’t respond to any of my texts either. Didn’t you get my texts?”
“Must have missed ’em.”
I’m kidding; I got them. I ignored that shit.
She leans in and takes a whiff of me. “Have you been drinking?”
I shy away. “A little.”
“Are you okay?”
All I can do is laugh at that one.
“Can I come in?” Her voice is different. Quiet.
I think about it. I should probably slam the door in her face. Tell her to fuck off and take her bullshit about caring and sharing and wanting to help and shove it up her ass.
Truth is, I can’t.
I want her here.
Fuck me. I want her.
Here. I mean, I want her here. And I want her.
Fuck.
Me.
Against my better judgement, I leave the door open while I go find another bottle of something in the kitchen.
I know I’m gonna regret this shit.
FUCKERY IN PROGRESS
“WHAT’S THE MATTER WITH YOU?” Green is careful. Deliberate. There’s no trace of betrayal in sight. Always the professional.
“Seriously?” I can’t believe she’s even asking me this shit right now. And where is my fucking cigarette?
Ah.
Tonight could be the night, old friend.
When I grab it from the counter, Green promptly takes it out of my hand and sets it back down. She’s like a bloodhound. She senses something’s not quite right.
“Yeah, seriously.” She takes off her jacket and tosses it down onto the couch along with her purse. She throws it with a force that causes one of the couch cushions fall on top of the heap. When she pushes her sleeves up to her elbows, I know she’s readying for a smack down. As well she should be, if you ask me. Still, she refuses to give anything away. She’s waiting for me to say it.
“Okay.” So I fucking say it. “I saw you with Walker today.”
No reason to beat around the motherfucking bush. Right?
“You…” Her eyes widen. Only a tad. When her eyes drop, so does my give-a-damn. I kinda wanna spit right now.
“When?”
That’s right. Panic, woman.
I ignore the question. She knows when.
“Oh, and I also saw your super-secret text from,” —I wave a hand, dismissively—“whoever the fuck it was from.”
Bam.
Double whammied her ass. Not that it makes this situation any easier to deal with.
Green’s face flushes red—for a different reason than usual. I don’t like it so much.