Chapter 6
ROMI
It might’ve been a mistake fucking him again.
I even promised myself I wouldn’t, but that guy talks too much and, tries to pry too much.
But if I’m being completely honest, the arrogant asshole knows how to fuck like a god.
I’m not entirely sure what his kinks are, but I’m not opposed to drawing a little blood if I’m close to getting him off—if only to deny him.
I’m yawning at midday as I decide to finally roll out of bed to take Borris for a walk. He’s fallen in sync with me, enjoying his early morning tinkle, then cozying back into bed and snuggling into the warmth of the blankets.
My phone shows two missed calls from Lily, two from my agent, one from Sienna, and one from my mother as well. I don’t return any of them.
I throw on some sweats, wearing a shirt that reads These are spirit fingers with two hands giving the middle finger, and throw on a beanie so I don’t have to brush my hair.
When I step into the living room, I see the mess from last night has been cleaned up.
Looks like the "doctor" is all about cleanliness. I still don’t believe he’s a doctor, but whatever.
As long as he pays his share of the rent on time, why should I care?
I grab my keys, and on the way out, I glance back at the staircase that leads to my studio, then quickly divert my gaze.
I know I need to pick up a paintbrush and continue with my recent collection.
I’m well aware of the countdown until it's due. The thought of painting again repulses me, though. Anything I touch right now, I’ll defile, especially my art.
“Come on, Borris,” I say as I pocket my pack of cigarettes with the smiley face lighter.
We walk our usual route as I text Sienna and Lily back, opting for our group chat conversation, letting them know I’ve found a roommate.
At least that should get them off my back for a few days. They reply with questions about who it is, but I don’t answer.
I know they’re trying to help, but I just want to be left alone. I don’t want everyone in my life coddling me. I don’t deserve or need it, and I’m inevitably going to let them down, just like I did with Lorraine.
I focus on Borris as he chases a butterfly, and a thought weighs heavily in my chest. He’s all I have left of Lorraine. He was, after all, her dog. It’s the least I can do for her to look after him.
"You killed her!" Her mother's voice echoes in my head, how she left me shell-shocked at Lorraine’s funeral. I close my eyes and come to a stop, that well of emotion rising to the surface, and I try my hardest to force it back down.
It’s too hard. Too messy.
It hurts.
I stop by a dispensary, purchasing a pre-rolled joint. I light it, but the cigarette no longer takes away the edge, as I try my hardest to push away everything that revolves around Lorraine and her death.
When I turn onto my street, I notice a motorcycle parked outside the apartment building. Dante walked in with a motorcycle helmet last night. Maybe this is his bike?
I drop the joint to the ground, then step on it to put it out. I'm flying high at two in the afternoon, and I don’t give a shit. My neighbor looks at me like I’m the neighborhood eyesore as I slowly walk up the stairs to my apartment.
“Fuck off, Virginia,” I say, and she gasps in shock. She’s always been a judgy cow. I don’t need other people's opinions.
I make it to my apartment, but drop the keys at the door, for fuck's sake.
I pick up the keys and unlock the door, surprised when I hear my mother’s voice over my shoulder.
“Are you high again?” she asks, hand on her hip, those brown eyes pinning me with disapproval.
Oh, for Christ's sake. I can’t catch a break today.
“Hi, Mom.”
I take Borris’s leash off and step into the apartment, my mother hot on my tail.
“Excuse me, young lady. I’ve called numerous times. I was worried, so I’ve come all this way to see you stumbling into your apartment building. When are you going to give that awful stuff up?”
Please go away.
It’s a constant hum.
I grab the dog food from the top shelf with a sigh. “I could be doing far worse, Mother. Just leave me be.”
“Surely, you don’t want to end up like the Cliftons' daughter. Remember how she got addicted to ice and ended up going to prison? It ruined her entire family.”
I huff, having heard this story for the majority of my upbringing. “You chose to marry back into those wealthy circles, Mom, not me. I’m just keeping to myself like a good girl. Isn’t that what you want? A quiet, obedient daughter?” I stare at her, exhausted already.
Her face softens, and I hate that, much like my friends, she sees through my armor. Sure, I might’ve been sassy with a sharp tongue before, but not like this. And I can’t stop. I just want them to stop tiptoeing around me and treating me like a child.
She runs a hand over her vibrant red hair. “Obedient is a stretch, isn’t it? Why aren’t you answering my calls?”
“Because I just want to be left alone, Mom,” I stress the point.
She folds her arms over her chest and stares me down. I pat the back of Borris's neck as he eats, then deliberately light a cigarette in front of her.
She grimaces. “Oh, now you’ve taken up smoking as well? For God’s sake, Romi. You’re a fucking mess. And that shirt is in poor taste.”
I smile, knowing it’ll only antagonize her more. It’s not that I hate my mother; we’re just very different. She so desperately wants to be admired—the do-gooder, the perfect wife—whereas I couldn’t give a shit. “Did Barry tell you to come over and check in on me?”
When we first moved in with my stepfather, I was eight, and I thought he was an okay guy. My mother divorced my father shortly after my sixth birthday, and she moved us back to Manhattan, leaving my father on the farm.
I got regular visits from my real father, but after he passed away, only a few months after we moved in with Barry, it was like Barry tried to take his place.
It only made our relationship stranger, as I kept him and my mother at a distance.
I was angry at her for choosing Barry over my father.
I was angry that my father had left me, even though it wasn't by his choice, but that was how it felt after he had a farming accident.
Everything moved so quickly, and from then on, I couldn’t pretend to be the perfect daughter, which got me into a lot of trouble with my mother, who only ever wants to make Barry’s life easier.
“Of course, he’s worried. We both are. I came because I wanted to see you. I also received a call from your agent.”
I glare up at the ceiling. Well, fuck. “How did Janet even get your number?”
“I’ll have you know that Janet and I have met a few times at your events and are friends now, and she’s worried just like I am. She said you haven’t spoken to her since the incident, so I wanted to see if there’s something I can do to help.”
I bite so hard on the inside of my cheek, I can taste blood.
It’s ironic that the harder I pray for silence and isolation, the more it would appear everyone is banding against me. I don’t want to be helped, nor do I want to be saved.
“I just want to be alone. Don’t worry about my work. I’m fine.” I take another puff of the cigarette.
“You don’t look fine, darling,” she says with a wobble in her tone, and it unnerves me. I don’t like hurting her.
The second bedroom door opens, and Dante walks out, mouth open wide on a yawn, and naked as the day he was born.
My gaze trails down his abs and straight to his cock, and my mother literally grabs for the pearls around her throat.
“Oh, I didn’t know we had a guest,” he says, still groggy from sleep.
“Yeah, and my mother doesn’t need to see your cock,” I grumble.
Realization dawns on Dante's face, and I roll my eyes as the arrogant asshole grabs for the first cushion to cover his cock before he holds out his hand to my mother.
“It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs. Lutton.”
“Granger,” she corrects, sounding almost hypnotized.
“Not the same last name as your daughter?”
“Oh, no, she has her father’s last name.”
“Mom,” I grit, and pin Dante with a lethal glare.
He’s smirking as he steps toward the bathroom. “Romi Lutton is a lovely name. It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Granger. I need to get ready for work.”
I crush out the cigarette, then stomp over and shove him into the bathroom. He’s laughing as I slam the door, and when I turn, my mother diverts her gaze, as if she weren’t staring at his ass.
“I won’t tell Barry about this if you don’t tell anyone else about this,” I say quickly.
She looks abashed. “I didn’t do anything.”
“Mom, you literally clutched your pearls.”
Her bottom lip quivers, and we both break into light laughter, and it shifts something ever so slightly in me. Laughing now feels foreign.
“Should I be curious about this delicious man in your apartment?”
I usher her to the entryway. “No, Mother, he’s my new roommate.”
“New roommate?”
I gently push her out the door and press a kiss to her cheek. “Please, give me time with this. I don’t want to fight with you.”
Her eyes soften as she places a hand on my cheek. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
I offer an insincere smile because, at the very least, I can pretend for a moment that I’m okay, if that will bring her comfort.