“He’s not a good guy,” she said. “I mean, he’s done some good things, I’ll give him that. But these bikers are dangerous, Mel. I’ve told you all along—you have to stay away from him.”
This wasn’t the first time we’d had this talk—she’d been furious when she first learned we’d been writing to each other. Suddenly a dreadful thought occurred to me. I’d had it before, but I’d never asked her about it because it seemed wrong.
I wasn’t feeling so inhibited tonight, though.
“So, I have to know . . .” I started, wondering how to say it. Gee, Jessica, do you still want to have sex with my weird, nonfriend prison pen pal? Hmm. That didn’t sound right. What exactly was the most tactful way to ask your BFF if she hoped to bone the guy you’re secretly in love with but who has no interest in you because he sees you as a helpless child?
This hadn’t been covered in my English lit class.
“What?” she asked, shutting her laptop and leaning it against the side of the couch. “Let me guess—you’re trying really hard to figure out a nice way to ask me if I’m still lusting after Painter, because that’s the kind of girl I am? Always chasing guys?”
I coughed, feeling like a complete bitch for even thinking about it. But that was the problem—it’d been eating at me for a while, which was so not fair on so many levels, because Jess had changed her ways. Mostly. (It was the “mostly” part that caused the concern.)
“Maybe. I noticed he pulled you aside to talk to you for a few minutes during the move . . .”
“I can’t decide if that’s funny or insulting as hell.”
“Funny?” I asked weakly. Jessica leaned her head on my shoulder and sighed.
“One, I’ve taken a temporary vow of celibacy.”
“Yes, but you’ve never said for how long and even you have to admit you’re impulsive as hell,” I pointed out, figuring I might as well play it out now that we’d started the discussion. “For all I knew, the vow ended earlier today.”
“Good point,” she said, rolling her head to grin at me. Oh, thank God. She wasn’t too pissed. But she hadn’t answered my question yet, either. “No worries. I’d never touch Painter, Mel, assuming he was even interested—and he isn’t. He doesn’t give two shits about me. Not only that, you’re way more important to me than some asshole biker. And I’m really working on the whole impulse control thing. I know I’ve got a long way to go, but it’s actually going pretty well. Admit it—there’s been at least a twenty-five percent reduction in drama.”
I laughed, feeling almost giddy with relief. “Give yourself some credit—I’d say thirty. You’d be at forty if it wasn’t for the Tire Iron Incident.”
Jessica sighed.
“Yeah. That wasn’t my finest moment. Although you want to know a secret?” she asked, pulling back to offer me a wicked grin.
“What?”
“I know I told Reese and Loni that I was sorry, but I’d totally do it again. The asshole deserved it in a big way. I swear, I practically came when I finally broke through the windshield on that dickwad’s car. I’ll take vengeance over sex any day.”
She waggled her eyebrows at me again, and I gave her a fake stern look, channeling Reese.
“This isn’t a fuckin’ joke, Jess,” I said, mimicking his tone and words exactly. “Your ass would be in jail right now if that little fuck wasn’t so scared of the Reapers. Next time I’ll let them haul you away, too.”
“I’m sorry, Reese,” she replied, lowering her head and biting her lip. “I guess I just lost control. I’ll have to talk to my counselor about it . . .”
That was enough to set us both off laughing, which really wasn’t very nice because Reese was a good guy—not only was he batshit crazy about Loni, he treated both me and Jess like his own daughters.
“I have a secret for you, too,” I admitted as our giggles finally died down.
“What’s that?”
“Loni totally thought he had it coming, too. I overheard her telling Reese that if you hadn’t taken out the windshield, she would’ve. He got pissed, too.”