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This time I can’t contain my laugh and I bring my eyes back to Tillie. “When are you due?”
She rubs her hand over her belly. “I’ve just started my second trimester. We’re having a boy, so I’m lowkey panicking that he’s going to turn out like the rest of these assholes.”
I snort again. “Well, I can’t imagine—” I freeze. Panic seizes my muscles as realization comes crashing into me in waves. “Shit,” I whisper, but not loud enough for anyone to hear.
“Hey.” Tillie brings her hand to my arm, and I peer up at her. Her face falls. “Oh, shit…” The unspoken horror must have been displayed all over my face. She steps closer to me. “My car is here. Do you want me to take you to grab one?”
I can’t muster any words, so I nod my head without saying anything. She starts pulling me away when King’s voice breaks through my panic.
“Where you going? It’s forty-five minutes until the show!”
I chew on my bottom lip.
“I have a Ferrari. I can get her back in twenty.”
“What the fuck?” the pretty boy covered in tattoos snaps at her.
Tillie glares at him pleadingly, and I watch as something falls over his face and he nods, allowing us to leave. Then Tillie’s hand comes to mine and we’re moving through the sea of people. I don’t know who this girl is, but something inside of me says I can trust her. That may be her pregnancy or getting there wasn’t as easy as it looks.
She beeps a black Ferrari and I slide into the passenger seat, my knee jiggling beneath my weight. “Listen,” she says as she starts the car. “First of all, what’s the relationship with the ‘could-be’ father?”
“Rocky,” I answer, clearing my throat as she floors it onto the freeway. “When I say rocky, I mean he’s a bad man.”
She chuckles. “I know all about those kind…” Shaking her head, we pull into the next 7-Eleven and in double time, we run through the store, ignoring the cashier’s raised eyebrow at one already pregnant girl buying a pregnancy test and me dressed like a hooker.
“I don’t think I want to take it back at the bus. I need to know now.” I clutch the box in my hand, and Tillie’s long pink hair swings around as she searches for a bathroom.
“Hey!” She points to the cashier.
The young boy with glasses and teen acne freezes under her gaze. “Yes?” He looks behind himself before looking back to us.
“Where’s your staff bathroom?”
He shakes his head, shoving his glasses up his nose. “Sorry, I can’t let you back there. You will have to use the McDonald’s down the road.”
Tillie walks closer to him and the poor kid cringes beneath her glare. “Unless you want me to drop my fluid all over this floor, I would advise you to show me your fucking bathroom.”
She’s actually scary when she changes her tone, and I find myself wanting to know her. Her story.
The poor kid flicks his finger to the side of the store. “It’s right there. Please don’t. I’m not good with blood.”
Tillie rolls her eyes and takes my hand, shoving us through the doors and locking it behind us. It’s one toilet so we’re both in here.
“Okay, take it.”
I nod, ripping the box apart and taking out the test. “What are you guys doing here tonight?” I need a distraction, so I hope she can give that to me while I pee on a stick in front of someone I’ve never met before.
“Well,” she says, double checking the lock. “My man and his pack of wolves have been friends with Killian since they were babies. Something about our world and your world being best pals. I guess they always visit every time the show is here in NYC.”
Finally, I pee, and breathe in and out. “This is scary. I’m sorry we had to meet like this.”
“Oh please. You should hear how I met my best friends.” She laughs, but I hear the seriousness in her tone. After wiping, I put the test on the counter and wash my hands. “How late are you?”
I cringe. “I think only around two weeks.”
Tillie nods. “I’m sure everything will work out.”
I bring my eyes to hers. “I hope so.”
“So, Tillie and Saskia ran off somewhere.” King runs his tongue over his teeth, smirking. “Gotta say, I’d be worried about that if I was you.”
I still, my hand over Maya’s hair as she spills her guts out the back of the tent. “I’m not worried,” I murmur. “I would if it was Madison, because one, Madison isn’t pregnant and two, she’s crazy as fuck. Tillie isn’t exactly sane, but she runs in a different race.”
Every time Dad and I were in New York, we’d meet up with Hector, Bishop’s old man. As I got older, I learned just how closely our worlds spin together.
