Page 61 of Mister Dick


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“No.” I shook my head savagely. “She’d promised us and Axel.”

“I saw it myself, Boyd. And she wasn’t just snorting. She was shooting too. She lied to all of us because she was weak. And she was weak because she’s human. And because she’s human, we stand by her in spite of those things. And because she’s our mom. And because we love her no matter what. But at the end of the day, she’s an adult. She’s her own person, and her mistakes are her mistakes. To put the blame on some sixteen-year-old kid who just had her heart broken, by you, I want to point out, is kind of unfair, don’t you think?”

“You were the one that started all that crap.”

“Hey, I was just a kid too, remember?”

“Christ, I don’t know what to think.” I prowled the room as I dove into the bottle with gusto.

“Take some time to get it right,” he said pointedly. “Drink the bottle if you have to. Go to bed and try to look at it from a different angle tomorrow. That’s if she’s worth the effort.” He cocked his head. “Judging from how tightly you’re hanging on to that whiskey bottle, I’m guessing she’s worth the effort.” He set down his beer and headed for the door. “Daisy Duke is foaling, and I want to be there when she drops.”

He left me alone with a lot to think about. I sank onto the sofa and closed my eyes, suddenly so damn tired, the only thing I wanted was sleep. Which sucked because the only thing I saw when I closed my eyes was Echo.

By the time I emptied the bottle, I was drunk, but it was the kind of drunk that brought clarity. I knew Echo and I were combustible. That we were complicated and imperfect. But I also knew she had three freckles to the beside her right eye, and that just before she fell asleep, she sighed. I knew that she was quick to laugh and quicker to fight. I knew that she sang like an angel with a dark side, and that her fingers had more talent in them than most players I knew.

I loved her. I fucking love her. And there was no other woman for me. That meant I had to accept every perfectly imperfect piece of her.

As sleep circled my fuzzy brain, I let the empty bottle fall to the floor and realized either way, I’d find out Friday.

I had no way of knowing that the shit was about to hit, and it was about to hit big. If I had known? I would have flown to New York City right away and made things right between us.

But I didn’t, and that’s life. She doesn’t always play fair.

25

Echo

I canceled the photo shoot, which was something I’d never done before. Not even that one time when I’d been so hungover, I had to run to the bathroom every ten minutes or so and puke my brains out. Not even then. I’d always prided myself on the fact that I showed up. I got the job done no matter what. It was always for the brand. My brand.

But this was different. I didn’t give a crap about my brand because I couldn’t function. My mind was like the tilt-a-whirl at the fall fair we used to go to at the park around the corner when we were kids. It spun me around and around, and I was afraid of falling off.

How the hell had Boyd

found out what I did way back then? The only person who knew was Lyric, and no way would she betray me. So the question of who did, who hated me that much, sat beside me as I spun around on that damn tilt-a-whirl. But it was the other question that haunted me more, because it was the other one that cut to the bone. Why hadn’t I been honest? Why hadn’t I told him myself?

I chucked my cell phone across the room. It was that or I’d call him again, which was pathetic, and I wasn’t up to taking that kind of rejection. I flopped back onto the bed and glanced to my right as someone knocked. Ali was there in the doorway.

“I brought you some chicken soup.”

“Is everyone gone?” Thirty minutes ago, my apartment was overflowing with members of my team. The glam squad. Reps from Ancient Vodka, the product I was doing the shoot for. My stylist and his assistant. Everyone. They’d showed up because this was a big deal and it was worth a lot of money. They showed up, and I’d shit the bed.

“Here.” Ali set down the large bowl of soup on the table beside my bed, and I realized I was hungry. I hadn’t had anything to eat since I got up at six that morning, in Louisiana. “This smells really good.”

“My mom makes the best.”

“This is your mother’s?” Surprised, I sat up and began to take out the extensions that made my hair look like it belonged to an Amazon. Half my head was done. It was when they’d started on the rest of it that I’d lost whatever mojo I’d had and canceled the whole thing. My fingers snagged on one of them, and I turned around so Ali could finish the job.

“I called her when I knew things were going sideways. Her soup fixes everything.”

“It won’t fix this.”

“Give it a chance.” She scooped up all the hair extensions and tied them together. “Look, I don’t know what happened, and I don’t need to—”

“I screwed up. That’s what happened. That’s what always happens. It’s like there’s this cloud that hangs over me and blocks all the sunshine. Blocks out anything that’s good.” I looked up at her. “I thought I had things figured out, you know? But I did something stupid, and it doesn’t even matter that I was sixteen when I did it, because it was that bad. I can’t take it back, and I can’t make it right, and it sucks because I want to so badly.”

“Then do it. Do whatever you have to do to make things right. Whatever you have to do to be happy. Sometimes, life makes us grovel a bit. Makes us remember that we are, after all, only human. So unless you murdered somebody or—”

“I lied and broke up my dad’s marriage to Boyd’s mother. And I didn’t just lie, because that’s not my style. Nope. Not Echo Mansfield. I took things to the next level and fabricated evidence and presented it to my dad, and he kicked her out and ruined her life, and now Boyd knows and he hates me and I’m in love with him and…”

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