She stiffens. “Back when I was young, I was naive and very, very silly for not believing you’d earned your bad reputation.”
I lay a hand over my heart. “Wounded for life.”
She flips me off, and I smirk.
“Seriously though, Trick, I want my phone. I’ll have someone bring me some clothes, and I’ll get out of your hair. How about now?”
“Nah.”
She glares at me. “So you expect what? That I’ll wander around here half-naked for a few hours? As if you’re paying me to?”
“Would you like me to pay you to?” I ask, knowing the reaction I’ll get.
She flips me off again, and I’m tempted to take her over my knee.
“Seven grand in credit card debt from helping little sis. You could use the money.”
She freezes. Then she pulls the blanket tighter around herself. “How do you know that?”
I look her up and down, knowing just what to say to make her understand I can find out anything about her anytime I want. If she hadn’t flipped me off, I wouldn’t go there. But she’s a girl who used to adore me and I don’t like seeing defiance directed at me. Sassiness is one thing, if a girl’s flirting, but Laurel flipping me off isn’t something I’d allow if she were mine.
“I’d estimate it’s about a week until you get your period based on when you last bought tampons.”
Her mouth opens, but for a moment she’s speechless. It takes several beats for the stunned furrow of her brows to give way to an angry expression. She turns and stalks back to the guest room, throwing words over her shoulder. “Stop prying into my life.”
Not a chance, little girl.
The burner phone rings. It’s a call from C’s burner.
I pick up, my gaze flicking to the open doorway of the guest room. “Hey.”
“How’s your head?”
“Intact. Should probably drop a staple in my scalp. Thanks for reminding me.”
“What about your guest?”
“What about her?”
“She still there?”
“Yeah.”
There’s silence, which translates to disapproval. He’s not wrong. I disapprove of my keeping her in the apartment too.
“Till when?”
“Don’t know.”
“She need a ride somewhere?”
The corner of my mouth quirks up. “Nah. I’m running a C Crue special.”
“How’s that?” he asks, his voice lower now.
“The one where a girl’s got a story to tell, so one of us invites her over for a few days.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
