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Chapter 5
Danica
“Cocaine’s a helluva drug, man.”
Pausing in themiddle of the walkway that leads up to the cottage, I double check the numbers on the side of the house next to the front door. Then I pull up my brother’s text again with Ryan’s address.
324 Dolphin Lane. Yep, I’m definitely at the right house.
Taking another look at the front of the cottage, with the porch light shining brightly as I walk the rest of the way up the sidewalk, I’m a little surprised thatthisis where Ryan Hutton lives. It’s definitely a nice cottage. But it’s so… dark. On a street filled with brightly colored cottages from pink to purple to yellow, this one I’m currently walking up to is the only one on this street painted black. Black siding, black trim, black roof, black portico along the front of the house, and a black front door. It’s also the only house without one colorful flower or bush planted in the rock landscaping, or one potted plant under the portico. It does, however, have a whole bunch of questionable scorch marks in the grass of the front yard.
The only splash of color, if you can call it that, comes from a wreath hanging on the front door covered in black and white artificial flowers, with a white wooden sign in the middle of it that saysFuck Off. And down at my feet is a tan-colored welcome mat that saysGo Away.
It’s definitely not the most inviting home I’ve ever been to. I hardly know Ryan, but the polite, nerdy man I met at the pizza shop, and the kind, dad-joke telling friend of my brother’s I’ve been texting, certainly doesn’t seem like the type of guy who would livehere. He seems like he should live in a mini Disney World, driving the neighborhood crazy with “It’s a Small World” constantly playing from a speaker on his front porch.
Knocking on the door, I start to wonder if I’ve gotten Ryan Hutton all wrong. Maybe he reallyisa serial killer.
The door is immediately flung open before I’ve barely removed my hand from the wood, and theFuck Offwreath bounces against the door when it’s jerked to a stop before it hits the wall behind it. I’m greeted by someone who isnotRyan, as he stands in the doorway, holding onto the handle. The man looks like he just came in from the beach after a day of surfing. He’s shirtless, wearing a pair of brightly colored board shorts, with the bronzed skin of his lean, muscular body on full display, and flip-flops on his feet. He swipes one of his hands through the wavy blonde hair on his head as he smiles hopefully at me.
“Hi! Are you selling Girl Scout cookies?”
“Um, no.” I laugh, looking around him and into the house at the interior, which is just as black as the exterior. “I’m looking for Ryan.”
“Ryan Hutton?” the man asks, and I nod. “Nope. He’s not here. You sure you don’t have any cookies on you? I could go for some cookies.”
“Sorry.” I just shrug, wondering where the hell Ryan is, when he told me to be at his place at this time.
“This one time when I was in Vegas with my friend Millie, I got into an argument with a UFC fighter over Thin Mints. He knocked out two of my teeth, but we hugged it out after. Then, we snuck into a show at Excalibur, stole a sword from one of the actors on stage, took a shit in the fountain at the Bellagio, and I woke up in a church in Idaho two days later without my pants. But my two missing teeth were in my shirt pocket, so that was cool.”
“What?” I whisper in shock as the guy stares somewhere over my shoulder in a daze.
“Cocaine’s a helluva drug, man. Ahelluvaa drug.” He nods with a smile on his face.
Blinking a few times, he shakes his head with a chuckle and looks at me expectantly again.
“Right,” I mutter, shaking my head as well to try to erase everything he just told me. “I’m sorry, do you live here?”
“Yep, sure do!” The man smiles.
Great. Ryan already has a roommate. Somethingelsehe failed to mention to me.
“What’s with all the burned grass in the front yard?” I point over my shoulder with my thumb, wondering what else I’m going to add to theReasons Why There’s No Way in Hell I’m Going to Live Herecolumn.
“Oh, that?” The guy laughs. “That’s just what happens on Wednesdays. Who were you looking for again?”
“Bodhi, who’s at the door?” a woman shouts from somewhere in the house before I can say Ryan’s name again.
Jesus, how many people does Ryan live with?
“Oh, your tattoos are badass.” A woman with short, bright-blue hair pops up behind the guy I now know as Bodhi. When she steps out from behind him and into the doorway, I see she’s holding a tiny, sleeping baby in her arms.
“Sorry! Wrong house.” I immediately turn and start walking away from the cottage, not even caring if I’m being rude. I’m not living with a weirdoanda woman with a baby, no matter how good Ryan’s explanation is… or how desperate I am.
Is this what he meant by complicated? Because his baby momma lives with him?
“Wait! You’re the one who stopped by Laura and Dean’s wedding at the Dip and Twist earlier!”
I pause on the walkway when the woman shouts after me, slowly turning around with a sheepish smile. These people must be friends with Laura. I don’t want to piss off anyone who’s friends with her. She’s nice, and she’s the first sort-of friend I’ve made since I got here.
