Also, all the time Tucker left me alone had to be filled somehow. Working out helped keep me occupied, but I didn’t realize how bulky I’d gotten.
Until last night, I think in my head I still saw myself as Tucker’s sweet boy. Even after his assistant all but shoved me out the door.
Staring at myself after Milo and I had first fucked, it suddenly felt like in those few months since leaving Tucker, a thousand years had passed.
Maybe that’s why I can’t bring myself to see Milo as the same as Tucker. Even if I probably should.
With Tucker, I was an idealistic teenager who thought the attention of an older man made me special. Now I know better. And I know Milo isn’t sticking around. He’ll be out the door once this contract someone initiated against me is resolved, provided he honors his end of our deal. Right now I’m going to focus on staying alive, and if I can manage it, finding some pleasure.
As I watch Iggy munch a piece of curly kale, I have to acknowledge that Milo has been sweeter to Iggy than Tucker ever was.
If I had a dollar for every time Tucker said, “Keep that lizard away from me,” I wouldn’t have had to turn tricks for money after I left him. Honestly, why did he get him for me if he hated him so much?
At least I don’t have to worry about keeping Milo happy. Far as I can tell, we both enjoyed the sex, and that’s all I need to worry about owing him. All I expect in return is to stay alive.
I go to Iggy’s tank and stroke him on the head. “Hey, I know there’s been a lot going on. Let’s get you out of there for a little while, huh?”
Supervising Iggy while he’s stretching his legs provides a soothing distraction, but the silence of this little cabin feels awfully loud. In the distance, I can hear a lawnmower, a soft hum against the pitter-patter of Iggy as he explores.
Turning on my phone reveals a message from my pimp.
Brennan:Everything okay? Jalen said your last client turned out to be a wild card.
Rowan:Putting it mildly, but if you talked to Jalen, then u know I’m ok
Brennan:I know you’re alive, dumbass. Needed to make sure you’re not rocking in a corner and playing music on your lips.
What a thoughtful guy.
Rowan:I saw this show where some firefighters had to fight a scary-ass fire and some of them died so the fire department brought in a therapist. U going to do that if I tell you I’m messed up about it?
Brennan:My mental health program involves telling you you’re still above ground so suck it up. Your “friend” Milo was here earlier, and he suggested you’d need some time off. When I say suggested, I mean he shoved his piece in my fucking face and demanded so believe me when I tell you if he tries that shit again I’ll shoot you both.
Rowan:U saying he shoved his dick in your face?
Brennan:I would’ve had a much better reaction to that than the steel he had the nerve to aim at me
That makes me chuckle a little, even if it shouldn’t. Brennan’s a dangerous guy. But Milo is too.
Not wanting to annoy Brennan, though, I close the phone and leave it on the table. My laughter fades, and I’m back to the empty echo of the cabin. As I wander around, I realize the wooden floorboards creak under my feet with every step, and for some reason, that makes the place feel even emptier. Creepier.
When I realize I’m bouncing my gaze between the windows and the doors waiting for something to burst through, it’s clear I need to get a grip. I chafe at the standing hairs on my arm as I resist the urge to grab a knife from the kitchen drawer.
“Okay, Iggy. I need to wash all this regret off me.” My skin is sticky from being with Milo, and I think I have ash from the fireplace on my arm.
I scoop him up and return him to his tank, but my stomach growls and sends me into the kitchen before I make it to the bathroom. Last night I looked through the cabinets, and lookingthrough them again doesn’t tell me anything new. A lot of nonperishables. Canned stuff. Dried beans. Oats. Rice.
A wave of sadness washes over me. “All those times Mom wanted to teach me to cook. Shoulda paid better attention, Ig.”
Grabbing my phone again, I pause with my fingers hovering over the buttons. Tucker’s out of my life. I could call my parents. Ishouldcall them. That was always the plan. Assuming their number hasn’t changed.
Do they still have a landline? Tucker’s beach house didn’t have one anymore. No point, he’d said.
A tremor goes through me, making my fingers too shaky to dial. All the ugly things I said when I moved out come back to me.
You don’t know what you’re talking about.
He loves me.
