Chapter Eight
Wesley
(A few weeks later…)
Rich stretches out on the couch, his long torso bare, his newly formed muscles rippling. At home, he’s not afraid to show his face. He wears his scars with pride, something I wish he did outside of these walls.
“What are you doing?” he questions when he sees me filtering through some social media pictures on our shared computer.
“Is it just me, or was something off about Poppy yesterday?” I question.
“Is this about the little argument you guys got into yesterday?”
Shaking my head, I stop on a recent picture of her and Amber, then move forward a few years… to the years before I saw her again.
To others, it wouldn’t be so evident, but to someone like me. Someone who has spent hours just staring at her and admiring her, it’s more noticeable.
“Look at her eyes, Rich. Can’t you see the difference?”
He moves off the couch and stops just behind me.
“She’s got bags under her eyes, but other than that, I don’t see anything.” He shrugs and stumbles back to the couch.
“I think she’s on drugs.”
“Drugs? You think Poppy Kiplinger is on drugs? Yeah right.”
“I’m serious, Rich. She looks hollow, maybe even a bit haunted. Like something has torn into her body and sucked out her soul.”
Rich shakes his head. “I think you need some sleep, Wes.”
“I’m serious, man. Something is wrong with her.”
He picks up a book from off the table and starts reading it. “Then talk to her about it.”
“And say what? Oh, hey, Poppy. I haven’t seen you in years, but I was just curious if you’re doing drugs?”
Rich laughs. “Sounds good to me.”
“It sounds stupid. Maybe I’m just reading into things, but I seriously feel like something is off with her, Rich. She’s not the same Poppy we knew growing up.”
He barely looks up from his book. “Oh, you mean she’s grown up. For shame.” He rolls his eyes and goes back to reading.
“Make fun of me all you want, but something is seriously wrong here, Rich. And I’m going to get to the bottom of it.”
“You do that,” he says with a laugh. “Just don’t get arrested.”
“I won’t.”
A single eyebrow lifts in my direction.
“I won’t,” I reiterate.
“Okay, but your track record with Poppy Kiplinger isn’t the best. For some reason, when she’s around, you get arrested.”
“It’s not going to happen this time.”
He nods, then places down his book. “Hey, what did you think about the whole motorcycle club discussion we had the other day? Do you think it’s a good idea?”
The night Eddie slept with Pippa was also the night of our last horror flick movie marathon.
Over popcorn and a few beers, the three of us had a discussion about starting a motorcycle club.
I never really thought about it before then, but the idea of riding with my two best friends on the open road didn’t sound so bad to me.
“I like the idea. Even though I’ve barely ridden a motorcycle before.”
“Me too. I just don’t know if Amber will let him do it.”
“She’s definitely got him wrapped around her little finger. We’ve barely seen him since he got back together with her.”
Rich sits up. “Right? I thought I was the only one who noticed.”
“Oh, I’ve definitely noticed. I just want him to be happy, and I’m letting him live his life. Although he did invite me on a double date tomorrow night with Poppy.”
“They invited you and not me? I’m guessing Poppy doesn’t know.”
Shaking my head, I grin. “She has no idea.”
“Shit, you’re in for one hell of a night then, Wes. Seriously, don’t get arrested.”
“Why do you think I’m always going to get arrested?”
“Your track record, bud. When you get around Poppy, shit happens. Bad shit. Shit that gets you thrown in jail. You’re already on thin ice, aren’t you?”
I shrug. “Sort of, I guess. My parole officer said if I do one more thing to fuck up, I’m gone. I’m not exactly sure how I feel about it.”
“You should feel scared… maybe even terrified. I could go on.”
“I’m not scared of prison, Rich. Quite the opposite.”
He rolls his eyes. “It’s your home away from home. Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid tomorrow night. I don’t want to have to pay for this place on my own.”
“You have absolutely nothing to worry about, Rich. Tomorrow night, I’ll be on my best behavior… I promise.”
The sad part was, we both knew I was lying straight through my teeth.
Poppy Kiplinger brings out the best and the absolute worst in me, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.