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She shrugs. “And yes, I remember that shitty song you put on and all the lyrics and how it’s not like me at all but simply what people say about me.” She runs a hand through her hair and rests her head against the seat.
“Your hair doesn’t look greasy,” I simply reply.
It makes her chuckle in a relaxed breath. “Thanks.”
I let a moment pass, thinking of what she said about those lyrics. That she’s not a girl who takes drugs and uses people for sex just to fill a void left in her life. She’s not the Art Hoe from the song, it’s just what people say about her.
And all I can do is wonder for how long she’s been lying to herself. Because, as far as I’m aware, that’s precisely what she does.
When I unlock the door to Sam’s penthouse, I already know he’ll be waiting behind it like a lion in a cage. I even hope he thinks one of us got hurt. My stomach twists thinking who of Rose or me getting hurt would make him the most worried. I bury the feeling down before pushing the door open.
What Ididn’texpect was for Sam to have come with our sweet collateral, Rachel. They’re mid-conversation like an old couple arguing about who lost the remote.
“That’s not a valid excuse,” Rachel snaps. “If I’m not home by the time he gets there, I’ll be telling him I got kidnapped by a big, tattooed English man. I’m sure they’ll find you easily enough.”
I’m surprised Sam even wastes a few of his precious words on her. The argument definitely isn’t worth it.
“What did you tell him last time?” he sneers. Rachel—who was the one doing the pacing while Sam sits on one of the stools by the kitchen island—stops as far away from him as possible.
She seems to calm down, knowing what Sam is getting at. “That I got attacked in a Silver Falls alley.” She swallows.
“Right…” Sam nods slowly more times than necessary, pretending to be lost in thoughts. “And you even had a cut on your throat. Blood on your blouse as well. It looked legitimate enough.”
The way she throws daggers at him stops me from getting in between them. I wouldn’t want to get one in the heart.
“So,” Sam insists. “What did your fiancé do then?”
She shakes her head over the argument because she knows she’s lost it.
“That’s right, nothing. Don’t worry. If you’re that desperate for an excuse, I can mark you.”
“What the fuck.” Rose’s voice is hard as she pushes past me, both her shock and mine having finally worn off.
She walks toward Rachel. It’s an automatism that can’t be stopped. I’m watching a train on its tracks, leading her right to the woman she loves with no hesitation. My brain pulls the jealousy strings in my heart.
Come on, Malik. You were the one in control, don’t let it slip so easily.
I catch the beginning of their conversation; everything else in the room is non-existent. The worry in Rose’s voice as she asks Rachel if she’s alright, the possessiveness when she touches her body. The way it’s reciprocated. Rachel’s eyes when she understands the way she’s dressed and fear over what could have possibly happened. I didn’t take her collar off. Couldn’t get myself to, and she didn’t bother asking. I prefer seeing her with it.
“Lik.” Sam’s Britishly clipped monosyllable brings me back to reality, and I turn to him.
He hasn’t even gotten up from his seat.
I raise an eyebrow at him, and he shakes his head like I’m dumb. “What’s the problem?”
“Ah,” I nod. “The problem.”
He looks confused, and I hate it. I hate that he’s not even a little worried I could have found out he cheated on me. I hate that he’s reassured enough in his lies that nothing shows on his face. That something wrong automatically meanssomeone elsedid something to me. Not him.
I’m still by the door. I close it behind me and lock it. No one is getting out of here until I’ve given Sam a piece of my mind.
35
LIK
Dead Body– Call Me Karizma
Silence reigns after the locked bolt resonates throughout the room.
