Chapter Twelve
Chapter
Twelve
Cerebral and Long-Lasting
Dutch
Dutch did a double take when Georgie walked into his
kitchen the next morning.
And that wasn’t about the fact he left her in his bed and
told her to keep her ass there, he was going to bring the coffee.
It was about the fact she was wearing glasses.
“You wear glasses?” he asked.
“Normally, I wear contacts.” She fit herself front-to-front
to his frame, arms curved around his waist, looked up at him and murmured,
“We’re having a lazy day so I’m not going to bother with them until you take me
out to wine and dine me tonight, even though I’m oh-so-totally a sure
thing.”
He grinned down at her and slid a hand along her jaw into
her hair.
“You’re supposed to stay in bed,” he reminded her.
“You were taking too long.”
“Babe, I’m about to fill the cups. You had to wait two more
minutes.”
“Okay then, you don’t want to know why I came out.”
“Yes, I do.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Georgie.”
“Dutch.”
They went into staredown.
His woman talked so he knew he’d win.
And he did.
“It’s gushy, but,” she pushed closer, “you were too far
away.”
He buried his hand in the back of her hair, the curls
wrapping around his fingers like they were holding him there, and he dropped
his face close to hers.
And then he said, “You are so fuckin’ into me.”
She rolled her eyes and replied, “Duh.”
He bent further and kissed her.
When he broke it, he said, “You look cute in glasses.”
“I have it on good authority I’m cute a lot of the time.”
“Yeah? Whose authority is that?”
“He’s a badass biker. You don’t want to cross him.”
Dutch was chuckling at the same time totally not caring if
his caffeine fix came ten days from then, he liked Georgie in his kitchen,
being cute, almost more than he liked her fifteen minutes ago, on her back,
letting him eat her out.
Regrettably, on this thought, there was a knock on the door.
Georgie grabbed onto his biceps, crying, “Quick! Hide!”
“Babe,” he replied, that word shaking because he was
laughing.
He let her go.
She sighed.
He headed to the door.
Murtagh followed him.
He opened it to Carolyn.
He immediately started to close it making a mental note to
get a goddamned peephole, even if he hadn’t gotten one up until then because he
didn’t want it fucking with the look of his door.
She threw out a hand to catch it and begged, “Please, Dutch.
I’m not here to cause problems. I’m here to talk to Georgie.”
“That’s not gonna happen,” he
informed her.
“Serious. I’m not gonna be a
bitch. I promise.”
She said this putting her other hand on the door, and all
her weight into both.
“Stop pushing on the door, Carolyn.”
Her gaze went beyond him, and she exclaimed, “Georgie!
Please. I was out of line and I’m sorry. Totally. But I need to talk to you.”
He felt Georgie’s hand on the skin at the small of his back
because he was again only in his sleep shorts before Georgiana said softly,
“Dutch.”
Fuck.
He opened the door.
Carolyn came in.
He shut the door, then moved to stand in front of Georgie so
he was to the side, in order she could see her sister, but he was still out
front.
And he started it by laying his one ground rule.
“Any shit comes outta your mouth
to your sister that I do not like, I swear to fuck, Carolyn, I’ll put you out.”
She stared at him, a weird longing on her face that started
to make him feel nauseous, until he got it.
It wasn’t about him.
It was about what she lost in Jagger.
“Carolyn,” Georgie called her attention.
Carolyn looked beyond him to her sister.
“I’m in a bind,” she said.
Dutch crossed his arms on his chest.
“I get it,” she continued. “It’s not your problem. It’s not
anyone’s problem. But mine. But I’m going to be evicted, like, tomorrow if I
don’t give them at least three months’ rent.”
She stopped talking and Georgie didn’t start.
“Georgie,” she pleaded.
“I want to help you,” Georgie said in a quiet voice.
Shit.
She said she’d back down on her declaration and there it
was.
“But I can’t help you,” Georgie went on.
Thank fuck.
She was standing strong.
Georgie kept going.
“Because if I give you money…and three months’ rent,
Carolyn, just saying, that will put me in a bind…still, I can’t know
you won’t buy drugs with it.”
“I need a roof over my head more than cocaine.”
“You say that now—”
“It’s not the problem you think it is.”
“How am I supposed to trust that?”
“Because I’m telling you.”
“Can you put yourself in my shoes with me having your
history, and I was saying these things to you, would you risk your nest egg
that isn’t much, but it’s at least a little peace of mind, on me?”
“What am I supposed to do?” Carolyn asked. “I can’t live on
the streets.”
“Move in with Mother.”
“She said no go.”
“Move in with Dad.”
“No way,” Carolyn spat.
Since he knew where this was heading, Dutch had to
intervene.
And he did it to say a warning, “Georgie.”
Georgie was silent.
Carolyn looked between them, back and forth and again and
again, fast.
Then her hands flew out and she cried, “You’ve known each
other…what? Days? And you’re picking him over me?”
“You can’t live with me. I have a roommate,” Georgie pointed
out.
“She’s not there. She’s in Somalia or whatever.”
“She’s paying for that space and not for you to stay there.”
“I cannot believe my ears,” Carolyn spat, her tone and the
twist in her face saying she was losing it.
And that shit was not happening again.
“Chill the fuck out,” Dutch bit.
Carolyn glared at him then sucked in a breath.
When she got a lock on it, she said, “I’ll sell some stuff.
I have good stuff. Consignment won’t take long. I’ll take extra shifts. They’re
always asking for extra shifts and I get time and a half. It’ll be a month.
Most, two.”
“No, Carolyn.”
Carolyn tossed a hand Dutch’s way. “Okay, seems like you’re gonna be here most of the time, I can stay in your space.”
“Carolyn, I cannot imagine how scary it would be to be
evicted,” Georgie began. “But if it’s taken them three months to do it, you’ve
had plenty of time to sort this out before the final hour. You have to have at
least twenty, maybe it’s even thirty thousand dollars of stuff in your closet.
That’s nearly two years’ rent. This is not my problem. It isn’t Mother’s
problem. It isn’t Dad’s. It’s yours. You’re ticked at Dad he wouldn’t give you
money to overspend and whatnot. But I’d bet he’d give you a room in his house
while you sorted out your life.”
“Guilt money and he owes me and you too,” Carolyn declared.
“I don’t know how you figure that.”
“He left us with her, that’s how I figure that.
Why do you think I bump?” she asked snidely. “I mean, Jesus, Georgie, we can’t
all be you. You never gave a shit about anything anyone thought. You just went
along, being Georgie. Mom rides your ass to lose weight, you’re like,
‘Whatever,’ and off you go to Bonnie Brae Ice Cream with your girl squad.”
“She’s ridiculous, Carolyn. She rode your ass about your
weight too, and you’ve always been thin.”
“Right, because I took diet pills, mainlined Red Bull, and
when I could get my hands on it, snorted coke.”
Dutch heard Georgie’s hissed-in breath.
This right before she asked, “That’s why you do coke?”
“I don’t do it all the time because I can’t afford it. But
I’m not Mom. I don’t have the will-power to starve myself my whole life so I
don’t commit the unforgivable sin of being over a size six.”
“Yes, but you started hiding you were using,” Georgie
pointed out.
“Yeah, because you gave me so much shit about it,” Carolyn
shot back.
“Okay, but seriously. Nobody gives a crap about weight
anymore,” Georgie stated.
“Wrong, girl. You don’t give a crap. Do
you think I’d snag half the guys I snag if I let myself look like you?”
Dutch reentered the conversation.
“Yes.”
Carolyn’s body jerked and she looked at him.
“Some guys like thin girls. Some guys like curvy girls. Some
guys like girls who don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks, are smart, hilarious,
gorgeous and have weird obsessions with their cats. Jagger wasn’t into you
because you’re skinny. In fact, you’re not his type for that reason. He was
into you because you knew how to have fun. But the point is, mostly guys like
girls who have it together and aren’t headcases about stupid shit like that.”
Carolyn said not a word, just stared at him.
So Dutch kept at it.
“But the bottom line in any scenario, if you’re with anyone,
man or woman, who your body size matters more than who the person you are is,
it’s you who should think they’re not worth it and scrape them off,” Dutch
advised, and finished, “Including if that person’s your mother.”
Now Carolyn stared at him, her mouth hanging open.
They had a day, just them, if they could get shot of this
woman, so Dutch moved to end it.
“Now you’re blaming your mother. You’re a grown-ass woman,
Carolyn. Take some fuckin’ responsibility. Call your father. Consign your shit.
Stop doin’ coke, for fuck’s sake, to stay skinny. And
introduce yourself to yourself. I’ve been around you a lot. All this shit
aside, you’re worth knowin’.”
When Carolyn didn’t reply, Georgie came to Dutch’s side,
leaned into it, he slid an arm around her shoulders, she slid both hers around
his middle, and she said to her sister, “Talk to Dad. He’s going to help. If he
doesn’t, you can’t stay at my place. I won’t give you any money. But I’ll ask
around. I’m pretty sure I can find you someplace to crash for a few weeks. But
in that time, you have to unload some of your designer stuff and get yourself
ahead.”
“What’ll I do with my furniture?” Carolyn asked.
“I don’t know. I’ll intervene with Dad. Maybe he can put it
in his basement or something.”
Carolyn shook her head, looked away.
When she looked back, she said, “I’ll talk to Dad.”
Thank Christ.
“I love you and I hate this is happening to you just as I’m
glad it is because I want you to get beyond this,” Georgie told her. “It