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I ignore him, inhaling a deep breath, and tell myself no matter what I see on the other side of the door, I love this man. I’m not leaving here until I tell him. I may also remind myself that one goes to jail for assault.
The door opens and I’m engulfed by a feeling of relief. He’s sprawled out on top of the bed, belly down, butt-naked, but alone. I close the door and lock it, before I lie down next to him. I nudge him several times, but he’s down for the count.
The bathroom door opens. I glance up, meeting eyes with a petite blonde. She stares at me, and I stare back, asking, “Who are you?”
“Who the hell are you?” she asks, chomping her gum like a cow chewing its cud. I stand, looking her over. She wears tight jeans with cowboy boots, and a red flannel, tied at the waist. Her thick makeup is applied perfectly and her lipstick matches her shirt. “I’m the girl he brought back here tonight, so you should probably leave.”
I smile, taking a step closer to her. “But he didn’t sleep with you, did he?”
“He did, too,” she insists, smacking her gum more aggressively.
“Hmm. You’re not a great liar,” I say with confidence.
“Why do you think I’m lyin’?” she asks, tapping her foot.
“One; you’re dressed, including your boots. Two: You hair isn’t trashed. Three; You’re lipstick isn’t smeared. Four; you aren’t sweatin’, and five: if you slept with him, you wouldn’t be sneakin’ out of his room, because you’d be tryin’ to hold on to him.”
“You his girlfriend?”
I shake my head. “Nope, just hopin’ to be.”
“Well good luck. My girlfriends and I have been followin’ the tour for a while, tryin’ to hook up with him, but he’s usually too drunk. Tonight, he finally asked me to come to his room, and then he passed out two seconds after we walked in. He’s a loser.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
A full blown smile overtakes my face as she stomps out of the room. I get up and lock the door again. He’s not a loser.
He’s mine.
“Faye. Faye, wake up.” My eyes open in darkness. I glance up to Battle’s face close to mine. In the dim light coming from under the door, I make out his blue eyes that I’ve missed so much, it’s painful. Next, I get a whiff of his alcohol laced breath. One match and the motorhome would go up in flames. “What are you doin’ here, Faye?”
I reach down into the pocket of my jeans and pull out the dice I brought with me. “I want to play dice.” I hold them up and smile.
He doesn’t. His brow furrows before he rolls to his back.
“When did you get here?” he asks, his voice full of worry.
“In time to throw the buckle bunny outta your room,” I say, not masking the hurt in my voice or pretending not to feel it.
“Nothing happened.”
“I know,” I say. He’s so busted. If he didn’t care about me, if he didn’t love me, he wouldn’t have said anything.
“You should go.”
“Play dice with me, and then I’ll go.”
He turns on the side lamp, and I cover my eyes until they adjust. I sit up when he does, feeling victorious. He’s unshaven, with deep circles around his eyes, and he’s put on boxers. He looks as miserable as I feel. After an annoyed sigh, he glares at me as he takes the dice from my hand and rolls a twelve. I roll a seven.
“Are you glutton for punishment?” he asks with a devilish grin.
“Yes,” I answer, sliding the dice over to him. He rolls a two. I win and look straight into his eyes. “Do you love me?”
Truth is our game, and this is our moment. He can’t lie.
His gaze lowers as his hand works through his hair. “It doesn’t matter.”
“You didn’t answer.”
