Chapter 55
“THE RED MEANS I LOVE YOU” BY MADS BUCKLEY
The party was packed with people. Most, I had seen before, though many I wouldn’t remember their names if they asked me. The only name I knew today was typed on the newspaper cutting in my pocket.
Indigo Summit.
I knew who she was. At least, I knew of her. She was a cheerleader over at Blackhawk. I’d noticed her at the Chronicles from time to time, working on some volunteering project, according to D’arcy. My friend seemed indifferent about her.
She stood over in the corner talking to some girl.
Her skin was a silky warm umber while her eyes were a light amber.
Her raven hair was woven with blue to match their team.
I couldn’t help but be impressed by the tiny braids in her hair.
Whether she did them or not, I couldn’t braid Estelle’s hair to save my life.
I was officially jealous of whoever achieved such a hairstyle to that length.
My black solo cup raised to my lips, and I stared at her through the many people in one of the back rooms. She was oblivious to danger, continuing to drink and talk with some blonde.
The weapon of choice wasn’t a gun. I’d gotten into the habit of using guns to do my grandfather’s dirty work, but now, it was more complicated. Now, I had to figure out how to slip this poison into one of her drinks without being noticed.
My drink of choice tonight was Smirnoff Green Apple with a side of kush. I was sure my eyes were bloodshot, and everyone moving at such a slow pace blurred because I had made the mistake of getting a little intoxicated after smoking.
“Hey, baby mama!” Duke suddenly appeared, falling onto the couch and throwing his hands over my shoulders. When he opened his mouth to speak again, I handed him my empty cup and stood up from the couch. “Where you going, hot stuff?”
“Anywhere that isn’t with you, you anal abomination,” I grumbled, stealing a bottle off the small bar and slipping out the glass doors.
There was a pool in the backyard. Thankfully, few people were hanging around. It was cold outside with a light wind. Most people wore skimpy clothing to these parties and hated the cold.
Me? I loved it.
Goosebumps rose over my stomach. I had chosen a lacy bralette with a red and black plaid skirt to show off my hips. If only I found someone I wanted to take off my jacket for. My leather jacket contained most of my body heat as I laid back on the pool chair and pulled out a cigarette.
It wasn’t smart for me to be drinking on the job, or smoking weed when trying to get my kid back. I knew this. Sometimes, I could hold off, and other times, I laid there, staring at the stars above me while I killed my lungs at a party filled with people I should be friends with.
I blew smoke out of my mouth and felt the stinging relief of new air entering my lungs. It fogged up the stars above me, lingering until the wind swept the clouds away.
My arms fell straight out to my sides, one toward the pool and the other toward the sliding glass doors. They were my wings. I wish they would carry me away and save me from this never-ending loop I was trapped inside.
The pool chair squished my cheek as I turned my head and took another drag of my cigarettes. It was my luck Indigo looked my way, silently reminding me of my entire reason for this stupid party.
I gave her a small smirk, seeing the way she scanned me over the edge of her glass. Her eyes moved away as she rolled them and turned back to her conversation.
Guess I could flirt this one away from the party.
I brought my hands to my face and rubbed my temples, careful not to burn off my brows with my cigarette. The smoke traveled up and up as I closed my eyes and attempted to ground myself.
I hadn’t gotten drunk in a while. I’d tried to slow down my substance usage after returning from prison, but there weren’t many things that kept me from losing my mind. Until Mustang moved into town, drinking, smoking, and different strands of weed were my only break from this reality.
Now, I was having uncontrollable thoughts about her.
I wished it was innocent too. I thought of her eyes and the way she smiled.
Sometimes, I daydreamed in class about dancing with her and showing her the cassette I made with all the songs that reminded me of her.
Maybe one day, I’d make her a mixtape or something.
I could make one for her birthday. We would dance, and she would turn bright red as I sang to her, swaying close together like we did at her house.
I wouldn’t have to think about hurting her for the chance to be happy.
I could let myself be engrossed in this beautiful woman.
And then, there were the not-so-innocent thoughts that clouded my mind. I worried this was some sort of rage syndrome, like Amanda talked about in dogs. Papa told me time and time again that killing was in my blood, and what if he was right? What if I’d hurt her in every world I’d ever created?
I much preferred the dreams where I woke with my hand down my pants than crying over her lifeless body after I let the monster inside me free.
That was what I was. The fucking monster under her bed.
As if life had it out for me, the face I was avoiding appeared in the glass sliding doors. I looked away, figuring I was once again hallucinating—until I heard how raw her voice sounded in my ears.
“I texted you.”
I almost choked out the smoke trapped in my lungs. My head snapped in her direction as I sat back up. Fuck, I needed another drink.
The cigarette’s end burned bright as I took another drag and tossed it down to the pavement. My platform boots crushed it with a quiet sizzle, and I felt her eyes following my every move.
Sally looked beautiful. Her hair was pulled out of her face and fell down her back in tight, slinky curls.
Her lips were a soft pink, and her eyes had a dash of red near her winged eyeliner.
She wore a pink sweater I’d seen her wear before and acid-washed skinny jeans that hugged her hips as well as my hands could. Snug and comfortable.
Her heart necklace laid on her chest. It matched the black and red hearts drawn cutely on her cheek.
She wasn’t dressed for a Duke Harvestman party.
Quinntessa Dawson was like no other girl I’d ever met. No other woman.
Maybe it was my fault for screwing around with my friends and handling my issues with finding affection and affirmation through sleeping with any girl who showed interest. I’d believed in the fuck or get fucked philosophy since Christian and I broke up.
I came out as a lesbian and ruined myself by sleeping with a friend.
Because apparently, my friends are all hot queers, and it just worked out for me.
I knew them. I spent time with them. I never worried about the girlfriend or crush rumors because I knew I thought of them on one level.
I knew their flaws and their lovely unique qualities, and they all usually kept me in check.
I couldn’t find one flaw about Quinntessa that made me want to leave her.
Sure, she was nosy as hell, she was cranky in the mornings, her bathroom had toothpaste in the sink, sometimes she wore shoes without socks because she was too lazy to grab some, and she ate kiwis with the skin on them.
I mean, seriously? What level of psychopath did you have to be to eat a kiwi with the hair on it?
Even after all that, I wanted the chance to give her what she deserved: a life without so much pain. I wished I didn’t have to be the one to pull the plug. She deserved so much more.
“You look really pretty.” Her words sounded dreamy and slurry. She had been drinking.
Who was the idiot who let her come to this party? There were too many people here—my people. If they knew we were talking and I wasn’t making any moves toward hurting her, or if they gave her drinks with the intention of getting her drunk and touching…
Fuck.
Fuck!
I couldn’t even stay focused. My jealousy forced her into my head.
The thought of her with someone else—even after I made a point to ignore her calls and messages—made my heart ache with fear, sadness, and rage.
Miss Sweet Face wasn’t a party girl. She was a stay at home and read porn girl.
Whoever had convinced her to come to this party was asking for me to pop their tires. They put her in danger!
“You look hot,” She blurted out as we stared at each other. Her face didn’t heat up like normal, but her big brown eyes widened into Bambi-like sirens. “I-I mean, you…you, uh, you’re very aesthetically pleasing to my brain, and I think very highly of your face.”
My heart kicked at my ribs. She was drunk and still so intrigued by me, it wasn’t right. This was so wrong. She shouldn’t look at me like this, and I shouldn’t be blushing at the thought of her enjoying the view.
I sighed, hanging my head. My eyes closed for a moment before I rubbed my face and groaned.
“You shouldn’t be here, Sal,” I told her.
I stood up from the chair and walked up to her. She whined as I took her solo cup and tossed it into the bushes, continuing past her without meeting her eyes.
The sliding glass door slammed open louder than I had meant. It shuttered violently behind me, but I didn’t see any point in apologizing. It was Duke’s door. He could deal with the aftermath of this stupid rental being damaged.
Mustang was probably stumbling stupidly through the party looking for me. I didn’t wait for her and weaved through people in an attempt to lose her. Eventually, I gave up and jogged upstairs, searching rooms for an open spot to hide.
The door closed behind me to an empty room, and I leaned against it, listening for anyone coming up the stairs. When all I heard was giggling, I sighed with relief and walked toward the window.
She had a talent for making me want a cigarette. Every feeling that shot through me when it came to her was like a goddamn knife.