Yes, Kevin was a jerk, he used me, and when I was done with him, he refused to leave me alone.
And yes, Christian, my high school boyfriend, made my life a living hell for months because he couldn’t take no for an answer without getting his feelers all in a bunch.
But Gabe’s reaction seemed extreme.
“Apparently, gonzo runs in the Stark family,” Raye shared. “When Cap told me that, he said it was a mild reaction compared to how Luke lost it when some bad shit happened to Ava back in the day.”
I wasn’t surprised the overprotective streak ran in the family.
“You seem freaked,” Raye said.
“That’s because I am,” I admitted. “What happened to me was really bad at the time. But first, it was a while ago, and for the most part, I’m over it, or as over it as you can get when something like that happens to you. Second, I’m far from the first girl some dick did something like that too. And sadly, I won’t be the last.”
“That makes it okay?” Shanti asked.
“No, definitely not,” I answered. “But it’s the way of the world until that world can be changed.”
Raye set us to walking again and said, “Yeah, and the world is not gonna be changed by women putting their foot down about this kind of crap, seeing as a lot of us have been trying to do that for forever. It’s going to take men realizing it’s total crap, and them doing their part to put a stop to it too. If one guy said, ‘dude, you’re such a tool,’ that would all have ended, because he was a tool, and he was performing for other men. Instead, a bunch of other guys piled on, again, performing for each other. It’s not all on us to break a cycle. It’s also on them. Actually, it’s mostly on them. And I’m down with the way a man like Gabe would break that cycle.”
I couldn’t say she was wrong.
But it was still thirteen years ago.
As important as it was, our discussion couldn’t carry on because we’d made it to the murky west side of the hotel, hunkering out of sight beside the ancient ice machine. Even though we didn’t think the motel was being watched (and if it was, they were watching Duane), we still needed to get around it and to Joey’s room without being seen.
Raye had her phone out and was sending a text.
We waited.
When she got a return text, she said, “Joey confirms the door’s open. Let’s move.”
We skedaddled out of our hiding place, rounded the building, hoofed it down the walk and went right into Joey’s room.
We shut the door behind us.
The vinyl curtains were firmly closed.
And Joey was in a black, micro-mini, pleather skirt, a tight white tank with the outline of a sexy red bra easily seen under it, and she was wearing the red St. Laurent high-heeled boots she’d saved for then splurged on last winter that, fortunately, your average dude who bought sex wouldn’t know cost nearly two thousand dollars.
She had chestnut hair out to there, a lot of red lipstick, an eyeliner wing that was to die for, and truth told, if I leaned that way, I’d do her.
“Shit, bitch, Richard Gere would have driven right by La Julia to get to you,” Shanti praised with a wide grin on her face.
Joey hitched a rounded hip. “I try.”
A knock came at the door.
“Well, Duane isn’t fucking around,” Raye murmured as she looked out the peephole. She turned back to us. “It isn’t Duane, it’s Jinx.”
She then opened the door and Jinx surged through.
We all surged back to give her space because she gave us no choice.
Raye closed the door and asked, “Is everything all right?”
“Gringas!” Jinx exclaimed.
Then said nothing.
