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“Besides Isaiah,” I say.
“Besides him,” she agrees. “And you. ”
“Why me?” It’s a bold question to ask, but everything about this girl is bold.
“Because,” she answers. When neither one of us say anything for a while she finally continues, “Because you like Isaiah. If you like him, then maybe you can like me. Besides, I like bunnies. ”
I try not to smile. A strange answer, yet normal for her. We watch as the two guys tinker with the underside of my car. Actually, Abby observes, I avoid looking. “Where do you work?”
Abby pulls hard on her string, causing it to become uneven. “What?”
“At the mall,” I prompt.
She scratches her mouth as if attempting to hide the uneven smirk. “I don’t work at the mall. ”
I mull over what she said earlier. No, she said. . .
“I make deliveries to people at the mall. ”
“Oh. ” She must sell cosmetics or something like that. “So you have a home business?”
“Who’s the guy with Isaiah? Is he a friend of yours? He’s hot. ”
“No. He’s Beth’s friend. ” A twinge of jealousy rattles my bones. Abby’s sneakers squeak when she kicks at a nonexistent spot on the floor. While I’ve never asked Isaiah about Beth, Isaiah’s also never offered information. Maybe Abby can fill me in on Beth since Isaiah is closemouthed. “Do you know Beth?”
“Yes,” she says.
Not helpful. “Were you friends with her?”
“Hell no. She twisted Isaiah so damn tight even I couldn’t breathe. ”
The overhead heater clicks three times as we all groan. Isaiah turned it off earlier, but we all began to freeze. Cold fingers aren’t good for my baby so he powered it back on. Isaiah swears as he yanks off his T-shirt.
My heart trips. Last night, I dreamed of touching his body. “He has a lot of tattoos,” I say, hoping Abby doesn’t notice how I stare at Isaiah.
“Yeah,” she replies. “He got his first one, the tiger, when we were fourteen. ”
Huh. “Does it mean something?”
“Don’t know. Isaiah won’t discuss his tattoos. He gets them and moves on. ” “Paint It Black” plays from her cell. Abby presses a hand to her forehead. “I’ve gotta split. ” And she disappears, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
She had Isaiah twisted so damn tight even I couldn’t breathe. Abby’s words circle in my mind. What was an attempt to make me feel better has progressed to nausea tearing at my throat.
A whistle draws my attention. Isaiah flashes the craziest smile I’ve ever seen. “Almost done, angel. You’re going to love how she’ll sing for you. ”
This time when I smile, I have to force the muscles to comply. How can I compete with Beth—the girl who kept, possibly still keeps, him twisted?
Chapter 39
Isaiah
THE GODS ARE ON OUR side. The weather’s warm—upper fifties—with clear skies predicted for this Saturday night. With my hip cocked against Rachel’s car, I assess the Camaro pulling beside me in the waiting lane behind the grandstand. The big-ass dragsters are having their turn in the lanes. Next will be the street cars.
Rachel stands near the hood petting her car like the pony it is. “Promise you won’t wreck. ”
“I’ll take care of your car. ”
“Isaiah, I’m worried about you. ”
