Who knows?
In the years since I last saw her, it seems her demons have grown much larger than extra doses of Xanax and day-drinking could keep in line.
“Where is it?” I ask. “The picture?”
“In my bedroom. On the dresser.”
“Where’d you send the e-mail from?”
She glances toward the small table and I see an old laptop there.
That’ll go with me.
“How many other former boyfriends and clients have you tried to hit up?”
Resignation fills her features. “You were the first and, hopefully, the only one I’d need.”
The past almost three decades havenotbeen kind to her. I am a bastard and a horrible human, but I want to stand here and gloat over that. She’s rubbing at her arms now, notices me noticing her, and she tugs the sleeves of her sweater down to cover the needle tracks.
“Something wrong?” I ask.
“I was going to go out before you arrived.”
I pull the bottle of vodka—her favorite brand—out of the bag and set it on the table.
I also don’t miss how her eyes light up.
“Maybe that’ll help.” I take the bottle of pills out of my left pocket—I don’t know if she’s put together that I’m wearing gloves inside or not yet—and shake it before I toss it to her.
Her eyes widen, her hunger unmistakable before she looks at me again and tries to school her expression.
Too late.
She frowns. “What’s the catch?” she asks.
“I needed to know everything you had on me.”
She seems to have forgotten I still hold a gun on her. She gets up and grabs a glass from a drainer sitting on the kitchen counter. I’d almost expected her to grab a knife, but she’s so hungry for the booze and the pills that she doesn’t bother trying for false bravado.
Then, she pauses. “Do you want a glass?”
“No. Still not a drinker.” Which is a lie I feel zero guilt about telling.
She shrugged. “I was assuming. Sorry.” She returns to the couch, cracks the seal on the bottle, and fills the glass, leaving the cap off of the bottle.
She opens the pill bottle and shakes two of them into her hand, considers it for a moment and adds a third, then washes them down with vodka.
I cannotbelieve I once stuck my dick in this woman.
I cannot believe I once surrendered my heart—and control of my body—to this woman.
There are alotof things I cannot believe I did with, for, and to this woman.
Things I cannot believe I let her do to me…or let her have others do to me.
Worse, the things I let her make me do to others, especially Eddie.
Ironically, one of the reasons I fell in love with Owen—and Susa—is due in no small part to her.
