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“Excuse me?” She glares at me. “Don’t you stand there and ask me that if care about my brother,” she snaps. “Of course I do. I'm the whole reason he's in here in the first place.”
“I bet you are,” I mutter. Her face goes red.
“I meant that I organized for him to have treatment here,” she retorts. “Not that I put him here.”
“I'm just saying that there were about a million better ways you could've handled that,” I sigh. “If you wanted me to know so badly, you could’ve saved him the embarrassment and just told me. All you did was make things harder for him.”
I glance at my watch and sigh. Thank fuck it’s nearly lunch time.
That’s it.
I walk outside and sure enough, he’s sitting under my tree.
“I thought I’d find you here.”
He looks up, and then he smiles at me as I sit down.
“You’re weird with me now,” he murmurs.
I laugh. “It’s nothing to do with you,” I assure him. “It’s just with you being a client, I’m not even sure if I’m allowed to talk to you.”
“Oh, come on, Darcy. It’s not a cult,” he snaps. “You can talk to who you want to talk to. It’s not like you’re dragging me into your office for sex.”
“As far as some people around here are concerned, I might as well be,” I reply. I’m only half joking. “I promise you, we’re still friends. That hasn’t changed at all,” I assure him. “We just might need to lay low till you get out of here. Especially if you’re sister has a problem with me.”
“My sister?” he repeats, looking confused.
“It’s a long story,” I say, shaking my head.
“Okay, fine,” he nods. “But I’m taking you up on that drink you offered to buy me.”
“I never offered you a drink,” I say, laughing.
“I'm sorry,” he says. “I’m a compulsive liar. Among other things.” Then he laughs. “I’m only joking. Or am I?”
“Well, it’s not like I’m in the position to have a go at you for lying to me,” I smirk. “I feel like that’s all I’ve done recently. Lie to people.”
“Cameron?” he asks. I nod. “How’s that going? he asks.
I wince. “Let’s just say things are becoming quite complicated…”
“Because you slept with him?” he asks. “Was it just once?”
I shake my head. “It’s been many, many times.”
“So how did you go from hating him, to sleeping with him?” he chuckles.
“Oh, I didn’t tell you?” I grin. “I’ve seen a whole new side to him. He’s crossdressing, now.”
Linton laughs. “Say what? Crossdressing? I’m guessing there’s more to that story?”
“Yep,” I laugh. “Much more. He actually wears a dress pretty well,” I admit.
“Ah, so you’re being supportive of his choices?” he smirks.
“I’m doing much more than being supportive,” I giggle.
“So you really are a kinky bitch,” he teases, shaking his head.
“Says the guy who has a thing for men dressed up as animals?” I fire back. “Honestly? I just want the games to be over, because I’m not sure if he really likes me, or if it’s just part of the game.”
Linton nods. “So, talk to him about it?” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. I frown, trying to remember if clients are allowed phones, or not.
“What’s your email address?” he asks.
I tell him. “Why?” I ask.
“Because I just sent you two tickets to a festival. It’s for this weekend and for obvious reasons, I can’t go. I have overnight accommodation in a ritzy hotel nearby, too,” he grins. “Take Cameron and sort your shit out.”
“What’s the festival?” I ask, instantly suspicious.
He grins at me. “It’s called Weird AF.”
“Weird AF?” I repeat.
“Yeah. As in Weird As Fuck?” he explains.
I shrug. Going somewhere to figure all of this out isn’t the worst idea, because I’m losing track of who’s playing who. One of us has to give in, otherwise this is going to go on forever. Besides, what can go wrong at a festival that calls itself weird as fuck?“Are you excited?” I ask.
It’s Friday night, and we’re almost in San Diego, which is just a few miles from where the festival is being held. Cam gives me a look, which makes me laugh. Something tells me he’s not really looking forward to this.
“Excited? I expecting to be chained to the ceiling and whipped on the ass in front of a crowd of people?” he asks, his voice dry. “No, I’m not particularly excited.”
“You have to pay extra for that,” I quip.
“Anyway, I’m not sure excited is the right word.” He thinks for a moment. “Terrified? Yes. Nervous? Yes, but excited? Not so much.”
He shifts, the uncomfortable expression on his face making me wonder what he’s got on under those jeans. I’m picturing white lace and not much coverage, which makes me giggle at the thought.
“What?” he asks, narrowing his eyes at me.
