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She huffs and pulls her knees up, wrapping her arms around them and staring toward the east, where the light is increasing every minute. “You never answered my question earlier.”
“What question?”
“Why you’re so freaked out about heights. Were you always like that, or is it because your sister jumped off the bridge?”
So much for her letting me off the hook. I rub my bootheel against the asphalt. “Neither. Both.”
“Come on, tell me,” she says, pushing me with her shoulder. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.”
“Your what?”
“Your secret,” she says. “Your greatest fear.”
My greatest fear isn’t heights, but I’m not in the mood to share that with my tormentor, so I don’t correct her. “Okay,” I say, picking up my pack and taking out my last cigarette. “My first girlfriend died jumping off a balcony into a pool. I was holding her hand when we jumped. I felt it. The vibration through her arm, the sensation of her skull cracking on the tile, before I lost my grip on her hand. That’ll teach you not to face your natural fear of heights just for kicks.”
“Oh my god,” Gloria says, sounding horrified. “I—I’m so sorry, Colt.”
I shrug like I don’t think about Destiny every damn day. “It was a long time ago.”
“I know, but… Damn. No wonder you’re so fucked up.”
I laugh bitterly, rolling my cigarette back and forth between my thumb and finger to loosen the tobacco. “Yeah, that’s why.”
She reaches over and lays her hand on my knee. “I’m not being a bitch. I’m genuinely sorry, Colt.”
“Her best friend Dolly said she always got lucky, until the one time she didn’t. But maybe she did, y’know? Maybe dying was her biggest stroke of luck yet. Just think what the Dolces would have done to her if she was alive.”
“They leave Dixie alone.”
“Yeah, well. Destiny was not Dixie. They would have done to my girlfriend what they did to my sister.”
“Let’s get down,” Duke says, stumbling over. “I want to move. Let’s go back to the game and catch some zombies.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” I say flatly.
He scowls down at me like he’s not sure if he should follow orders from a lowlife like me. I know he will. It just takes a while for him to accept that.
“Here, I’ll put on some music,” Gloria says, pulling out her phone and appeasing her king so he doesn’t have to bow to a peasant. “Why don’t you dance?”
“You’re just trying to get me to take my clothes off,” Duke says, grinning. “I’ll strip for our favorite little whore any time. All you had to do was ask.”
He peels off his T-shirt and slides it between his legs, riding it while Gloria’s phone plays “Back to Black.” For a minute, I just watch him move. His body is so ripped it’s hard not to stare. It’s fucking annoying how good he looks. The whole lot of them are as beautiful on the outside as they are ugly on the inside. The only thing marring his perfect body is an angry red scar on his chest that almost looks like it says “Doll,” but it’s hard to read from our angle.
After a minute, he loses interest in us and lets himself go to the music. It’s a spectacle to behold, watching a demon dancing alone on the roof while the first colors of sunrise begin to streak the sky. His jeans ride low on his hips, and his muscles stretch and bulge in the glimmer of the security lights as he moves his bare arms and torso.
“Good call,” I murmur to Gloria, finally placing my cigarette between my lips. Her gaze follows the movement, locking on my mouth while I turn my head and angle the end of the cigarette into my palm to meet the flame from my lighter.
“I’m surprised he’s comfortable enough around you to let you see this side,” she says.
“Why?” I ask, exhaling a cloud of white smoke into the chilly morning. “I’ve known him longer than you have.”
“You think you know the Dolces better than me?”
“Not better,” I say, giving her a meaningful look. “Just differently. I knew them before their sister died. Before they sold their souls to the devil. In some fucked up way, I think they like having me around because of that. Same with Dixie. They let us stay because we’re the last people who knew her.”
“I think he’s the best one,” Gloria says, watching Duke move his body in the completely unselfconscious way only someone who’s high can do. “Even though everyone else treats him like an afterthought.”
Maybe that’s why I can tolerate and even understand Duke at times. That was my place in my family too. But I’m not going to reveal that to Gloria Fucking Walton.
