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My next phone call is to Nick, asking him to see if any crew members want to earn extra cash by moving the rest of Presley’s things out of that place.
No way I’m letting her go back there, ever.
She doesn’t know it yet, but Presley’s about to set up permanent residence with me.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Presley
I wake up a few hours later, groggy from the pain medicine. My foot feels a little better but still achy.
An urgent need to pee has me reaching for the crutches, and eventually, I hobble into the bathroom.
I don’t notice the addition of all of my favorite products at first. It takes a moment to absorb the fact that all these bottles and accessories are not just happenstance. That bottle of moisturizer is actually mine. And so is that makeup case on the counter. Pulling back the shower curtain, I see all my hair products in the exact state I left them in at my apartment.
I expected Wade to grab a toothbrush, sure. But this is way more than I would pack for a night or two.
How long does he think I’ll be staying?
When I’m finished in the bathroom, I slowly and clumsily hop toward the bedroom closet and slide open the door. There must be fifty outfits in here.
I start to feel a little heated.
I’m trying to sort out my feelings on this when my phone rings. It’s Ernestine.
“I didn’t expect a thank you note, but when are you coming for a visit?” the older woman demands.
Wow, it’s nice to hear her voice. Leaning against the dresser, I tell her everything that happened to me today.
She’s horrified, of course. “And where did you say you ended up?”
I sigh. “I’m being held captive at Wade Wood’s house until my foot heals.”
Ernestine is thoughtful for a moment. “Is he that big boy with the arm tattoos and an unpleasant disposition?”
“That’s him.”
“Huh,” she grunts. “Well, listen. Nobody’ll judge a girl who falls ill with Stockholm syndrome.”
“Ernestine!”
“I’m just saying you are underfed, and that boy clearly knows how to eat! He’s got a good job, and he ain’t getting any younger. You’d make some good-looking babies, too.”
“Goodbye!”
“I’m just saying!” Ernestine repeats.
From her mouth to God’s ears.
“I’ll let you know when it’s time to bust me out of here, okay?”
I’m still laughing at her long after we hang up.
Opening the dresser, I find enough panties, bras, and socks to last me weeks, not days, and I’m reminded once again that Wade is either a poor judge of how many clothes a woman needs for an overnight visit, or he thinks he’s my warden.
“What are you doing out of bed?”
The question booms as I snap shut the dresser drawer on a startled jump.
