Chapter 26 #2
“You tell me, Lee. What would you do to show your commitment? Your undying, unconditional love? Have you killed someone, Lee? Have you murdered someone for love? Have you made someone bleed for the love of your life?”
He raises his hands in the air, surrendering.
“You got me. I haven't. Damn,” he chuckles. “You’re intense. Did you really kill—”
“Lee!” Mo slams her drink on the table. “Quite the impression you’re making, huh?”
Fire floods my core.
I need a smoke. “I’m going to the bathroom.”
Grabbing Mo’s leather jacket off the back of her chair, I stomp to the bar.
“Do you have a joint?” I ask the bartender. “You can add it to that guy’s tab.”
Dirty Diana's is also the only place where you can buy a joint at the bar. No, it’s not legal. But it should be.
The bartender looks around before reaching behind the counter, sliding one over. He tilts his head outside. We can buy it here, but we can’t smoke it, which is fine by me. I could use the fresh air.
I go out back, hoping for some privacy.
Positioning myself by the back door, the one for employees and deliveries, I spark up. I’m relieved when Mo doesn't follow me.
Joint near my lips, my eyes shift to the dumpster next to the door.
Lola flashes in my mind.
I puff harder on the joint.
Heat tickles my neck.
Snap!
My head pops up towards the sound.
“There she is.”
A familiar face turns the corner.
My heart sinks into my stomach.
It's not the face I hoped for.
Houston, Jonesie and Freddy approach me, black hoodies over their head and shit…
I know what this is about.
“We’ve been looking for you, Zee-Zee,” Freddy uses an old nickname Drey tried to give me, but I hated. And it makes my stomach curdle.
I’m not doing this. Not now.
I move towards the door, but Houston is quick to block me. “What’s the matter, Zee? Can’t face the reaper?”
I lock eyes with his, blown and red. If he’s this high, I know the others are too. “Listen, I didn’t do it.”
“I thought you’d say that.” Freddy tilts his head before Jonesie grabs me.
My back slams against Jonesie’s chest.
He positions his arms underneath me in a way that makes it impossible to move. I still thrash my body forward as he holds on.
“Did you wear this for us?” Houston approaches me, his eyes wandering my outfit, and now I really hate that I let Mo put me in this. “Or for your funeral?”
“I was actually on the way to fuck your dad.” Something slams into my stomach. “Oof!" The air knocks out of me, pain coursing through me as I try to catch my breath.
Jonesie holds me up, stopping me from slumping to the ground.
Freddy cracks his knuckles.
I meet his face with a scowl. “Does hitting a girl make you feel better? Like a man?”
“That was a warning,” Houston says. “From what I remember, you like being tossed around.”
“What’s the matter?” I lunge forward, but Jonesie keeps me in place.“You mad there's no one to give you orders, you blank-minded fu—Oof!”
Another blow to the stomach. Then another.
The wind plummets out of me each time as pain spirals through my body.
Freddy has a sickening punch, but it doesn’t scare me. It’s nothing I haven’t felt from my old foster homes. Or my mother’s exes.
Or Drey.
What actually worries me is the way Houston looks at my body. His eyes drift down to the low V of my dress, his lips curling in.
The girls are out. I get it. But that doesn’t give him permission to look at me like that.
He takes a step towards me. I pull my head back.
A gust of cold air lands on my chest when he tugs at my dress, pulling it low below my tits. "Fuck off! I didn't fucking do it."
“Remember Drey's suggestion when he came to visit?” Houston asks, looking around at his friends, then to me. “It’s him or us. But you decided for him.”
Fuck. “Is it money you want?”
Houston steps closer, his eyes hooded as he licks his thick lips.
“Jewelry? Gold?”
Another breath leaves me when Jonesie slams my body against the cold metal door.
“Guys, hold on!”
Cold air passes between my legs. My dress lifts.
“I didn't do it! Stop!" I yell, loud enough for someone nearby to hear, but I know it’s little use.
That’s the thing about being in the city. It’s so packed that a scream could be anything. It could be someone just having fun or horsing around. It could be an addict having a vivid hallucination.
Bottom line? No one cares.
Cold hands land on my skin. My thighs. My ass.
Someone reaches around to my tits, grabbing them hard.
A sharp pain spreads across my chest as I try forcing my elbows back, but they’re too strong.
Squeezing my eyes shut, Drey comes to my mind. That devilish grin.
This is one hell of a way to haunt me from the grave.
You deserve it.
It’s your fault he’s dead.
That’s the thing about men. They think that being wronged means they own your body. I’ve proven them wrong before. Right now, I wish someone would do the same for me.
Atlas’s voice cuts through my head for the millionth time.
“Some men don’t deserve to live.”
I said I’m better off without him. Now, he’s not coming. No one is. And that’s on me.
A burn stings my nose as a foot forces my legs apart. A hand clamps over my mouth.
I won’t let them see me break.
I won’t let them think they’ve won.
“Hey!” A voice comes from the distance. “What’s going on? Is she okay?”
Pressure releases off my back.
Throwing my elbow back, it plummets into Jonesie's gut. “Fuck!”
That gives me leverage.
While Jonesie's distracted, I turn around and slam my foot into Houston’s nuts.
Jonesie tries to grab me, but I slip off Mo’s leather jacket, leaving it in his grasp.
Then I fucking run.