He stepped closer. “And I told you, you can’t keep me from going anywhere. If you don’t have the money, I’ll step inside and tell them what you did.”
Pixie’s head spun as she wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. “Please . . . don’t . . . I have no way . . .”
“Yes, you do. Ask him for the money.”
It wasn’t about the money. She could afford to pay him, but if she did, she’d be paying him for the rest of her life, so she played along. “And tell him what? How do I even begin to explain what you did to me, asshole?”
“What I did to you? There was nothing I did that you didn’t want, you ungrateful bitch. The drugs, all of it. I saw you get off on it, remember. Why I should—”
Pixie gasped at the sickening sound of Dred’s fist hitting Arnie’s jaw. Where Dred had suddenly appeared from she had no clue, but she watched in horror as Arnie stumbled backward and fell to the ground. It took her a moment to process what happened, and by the time she had, Dred was already standing over Arnie, lifting him up by the collar, ready to hit him again.
“Dred, no. Don’t!” she shouted.
Dred turned and looked toward her, a blazing look of fury aimed straight at her. Oh my God. How much had he overheard?
With a hard shove, Dred let go of Arnie and dropped him to the ground.
“Fuck you, asshole,” Arnie shouted. “If you won’t give me my money, Sarah-Jane, I’ll sue his fucking ass.” Arnie stood, a little wobbly on his feet. He didn’t attempt to retaliate, clearly knowing when he was physically beaten.
“Go ahead and sue, motherfucker. I can afford to out-lawyer the shit out of you. Leave. Pixie. Alone.’
“She was mine long before she was yours,” Arnie yelled.
Pixie felt sick as she witnessed Trent and Cujo rush outside. Arnie was going to tell them, and she was going to be ruined. Trent and Cujo would no longer look at her as they did right now, with concern for her and absolute fury at Arnie. She reached out her hand to Dred, who took a step further away. The rejection cut through her. Witnessing it, Cujo stepped in and pulled her close under his shoulder.
“Yeah, well, she’s ours now,” Trent said calmly, coming to stand by her other side, although she could see from his fighter’s stance and clenched fists that he was anything but.
“Yours?” Arnie spat. “Used fucking goods is what she is. You want a fucking washed-up druggie for a pet, take her . . . for a price.”
Dred looked from Arnie to her, and she couldn’t bear to see the look on his face at the mention of drugs.
“Arnie, please.” Begging was the last thing she wanted to do, but she was all out of options. She would never ask the men in her life for the kind of money Arnie wanted to go away and leave them alone. And involving the police would likely see her charged with Brewster’s murder, but she would rather do that than allow these wonderful men to pay for Arnie’s silence.
Arnie straightened his collar and wiped his forearm across his mouth to wipe away the blood. “I’m going to ruin you, Sarah-Jane. And I’m going to ruin lover-boy too. You had your chance to pay up and make this go away. Now you better be prepared to face the consequences.”
*
He couldn’t have heard right, because Dred could have sworn he heard the man yelling at Pixie say she was a washed-up druggie. And there was no way the universe was playing such a cruel fucking trick on him.
But the look of abject horror on Pixie’s face told him his hearing was perfectly fine. And when Trent had stepped between the two of them to hug her and tell her that everything was going to be okay because the guy hadn’t told them anything they didn’t already know, his stomach churned like waves hitting the sand down by Hermosa Beach Pier.
The whole time, Cujo glared at him. Dred could feel the penetrating stare, and the weight of the expectancy that he would snap out of it and step up to Pixie any minute to hold her. Or perhaps Cujo was waiting for him to repeat Trent’s words that it was okay, when it wasn’t. It was so fucking not okay.
With a deep breath, he reached for his anchor, gripping it in such a way that the anchor’s bill dug into his palm. But even the sharp pain couldn’t detract from the sheer devastation he felt that Pixie was a junkie like his mom.
Cujo wrapped his arms around Pixie and whispered something that made her cry. He rubbed her back and continued to speak words muttered so low Dred couldn’t hear them.
He felt like an outsider, like he was having an out-of-body experience.
Pixie wiped her face, and Cujo let her go before walking toward him, coming to a stop when their faces were inches apart.
“That’s your fucking girl, and she’s hurting more than you can imagine,” he growled. “You make her feel worse and I swear on Drea’s fucking life, I will pound the crap out of you so fucking hard you won’t know whether to shit or go sailing.”
“You want us to stay out here with you, Pix?” Trent asked all the while glaring at Dred.
“No. Please. Go inside.”
Dred watched Cujo and Trent disappear back into the studio.