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aren’t going to be offered an all expense paid trip to rehab either.”
“Tell me,” she begged, perking up and sitting straighter. She grabbed my arm and squeezed. “Please, just tell me the fucking truth.”
If anything, I’ve always been “overly honest” so the truth wasn’t a problem for me. It poured easily from my lips and Dre listened intently as I told her, “I’m going to slit their throats, take my motherfucking plants back, call for someone to clean up the bodies so I don’t get my khakis dirty, and probably come back up here and smoke a joint afterward. Maybe snort some blow if I feel like a party. Haven’t really decided yet, depends on my mood.”
Dre didn’t respond right away. She seemed lost in thought, staring over the railing as she mindlessly reached up to her neck, pushing back her hair and exposing a fresh bruise/welt combo in the shape of a large hand print. She ran her fingertips over it and her eyes welled up with tears.
I’d only followed her from Mirna’s because she was a lot slower than those other two cunt-buckets, and I’d thought she’d eventually lead me back to them.
What I hadn’t realized was that she wasn’t just running from me.
She was running from them, too.
“I don’t want the H,” she said, shocking the ever-loving-shit out of me.
“You’re not a very good junkie,” I pointed out.
“I’m not a junkie. I’m a junkie at the end of her rope, which until this very moment, I didn’t know were two different things, but they are a lot different.”
“Yeah, I kind of noticed that while you were circling the drain up there,” I said, again pointing to the ledge. She didn’t look, instead she closed her eyes tightly and wrapped her arms around her stomach, like she couldn’t stand to relive what she’d almost done.
“And it’s not that I don’t want it because I DO WANT it. I want it so bad I can taste it, literally, because when you shoot up it leaves a taste in your mouth and I just…” she said, reaching up to touch her lips. “But…”
“But?”
“But what’s crazy is that I DON’T want it even more,” she exhaled a shaky breath. “I’ll deal with my shit, but I was being honest when I said I wanted something else from you. Two things, actually.”
“You’re not exactly in a position to be making demands,” I reminded her, although both me and my curious cock were very intrigued by what this tiny little person could possibly want from me.
“No, I’m not,” she said, her voice filled with something that sounded a lot like new found determination. She looked up, and when her eyes locked on mine I swear it was like I could see her balls growing bigger with every word out of her mouth. “But I’ll take my chances because life isn’t always sunshine and whiskey.”
“Nope, more like dark storms and moonshine,” I offered, laughing at my own joke. “But if you’re going to ask me to toss you off the tower, the answer is no, and not because I’m morally against it. I’m not actually morally against anything but having morals, I just don’t want you haunting one of my most favorite places. However, I hear the Causeway is excellent. Has mostly five stars on Yelp for best places in Logan’s Beach to end it all. Tell me what you want little junkie.”
She looked up at me, obviously not as amused by my hilarity as I was. “Just need you to tell me where the fuck Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum went and anything within reason is yours,” I pushed.
“And you’re going to kill them.” It wasn’t a question.
“Yes. I’m gonna make ’em Tweedle-Dead.”
* * *
DRE
“Dad?” I asked in a whisper. Surprisingly, when I told Preppy I wanted to use his phone, he’d handed it over without hesitation. His only stipulation was that I make the call on speakerphone so he could make sure I wasn’t calling Conner or Eric to warn them off. It was impossible even if I wanted to do it, considering neither of them had cell phones.
“Andrea? Is that you? What time is it?” my dad asked, clearing his throat. I didn’t answer, and not just because it didn’t matter but because I had no idea. All I knew was that it was really late.
I just hoped it wasn’t TOO late.
“Daddy, I’m coming home.”
“Andrea,” he said, followed by a sigh of frustration. “Do you still have the ticket I sent you?”
“Shit,” I said as panic washed over me. My ticket was in my bra, which was now somewhere below the water tower. “I don’t…” I started, when my dad interrupted.
“I’m not sending you another one, Andrea. This is your last chance. I love you, but you need help and I can get you help, but you have to be on that bus.”
I’d find that ticket if it was the last fucking thing I’d ever do. “I will be. I promise. I’m coming home. For real this time.”
“No more lies.”
“No more lies,” I choked out.
“Andrea, one more thing,” he warned. “If I go to the bus station to pick you up and you’re not there, then this is done. Over. No more excuses. I’m too tired for any more excuses. No more calls. No more chances. If you’re not on that bus, then this isn’t your home anymore, and I’m not your family.” The threat was a well deserved one. The result of a classic case of the-girl-who-cried-heroin, one too many times.
“I promise. I’ll be there,” I agreed. I looked over at Preppy, who held his hand out for the phone, an unreadable expression on his face. “I gotta go. I love you. I’ll see you soon.”
“So, that was one request. What’s next?” Preppy asked, taking the phone, shoving it into his pocket. He flashed me a smile that told me he was up to something. It was all too easy. One minute, he wanted to kill me and the next, he wanted to help me? Maybe he had no intentions of letting me go.
It didn’t matter. I meant what I’d told my dad. I was going to be on that bus this time. No matter what.
Even if it meant I had to kill the man who’d saved my life.
CHAPTER FIVE
PREPPY
Dre’s demands were not at all what I’d thought they’d be. She didn’t even ask for money, and I was so sure she would that I’d have bet my left nut on it. First, she wanted to use my phone to call her dad, which I handed her without hesitation, as a sign of trust.
“I need you to keep one of them alive. Conner,” she said, looking to her hands and fidgeting with her fingers.
“Why?” I asked, irritated by her request. “He your boyfriend or something.”
“No,” was all she said.
“Well, he had to do something to earn that kind of loyalty.”
“He didn’t. But I did. I owe him,” she said.
I didn’t push her for more because it didn’t matter. I helped her down from the tower, found her clothes, shoes, and retrieved her bus ticket from a tree. I even gave her a ride to the bus station to boot because I’m a chivalrous motherfucker.
Even if it was all bullshit.
