“Doesn’t matter,” I said, setting part of the blanket over my head. I wished I had one of those ski masks to put over my face. My nose felt like ice. “But nothing scary!”
She laughed at me when she noticed how I looked all bundled up, then flipped through the channels. “The only movie the monster has isMy Blue Heaven.”
“Why do you seem surprised?”
She shrugged. “It’s kind of like the music he was listening to last night. Makes him seem a little…human, which is weird.” She glanced at me, before she turned toward the TV again. “Ooh.I Love Lucymarathon.”
“We need hot chocolate,” I said.
“You need to call Assanti and ask him how to turn the damn thing off.” She paused. “Oh yeah. He left two new cellphones on the kitchen table. Told me to tell you to use one. The other one is for me. He doesn’t want us using the ones we have while we’re here.”
She started laughing at something Lucy said, and before I knew it, we were both curled up on the couch, both of us wrapped up in the fuzzy blankets, the day almost over. An assortment of food and drink containers were proof of the day we’d had. We’d cleaned out his fridge and then ordered in four different times. I was so tired and so full that I felt almost drugged.
“Does it feel like it’s gotten warmer in here?” Cilla said.
I blinked at her. “Yeah, it does.”
“That’s weird,” she said, snagging the last breadstick from the bag. She pointed it at the TV. “Have you ever seen this one? Where Lucy goes to Italy?”
“The grape-stomping episode.”
“Yeah!” She smiled. “I’ve done that before. Stomped on grapes in Italy.”
“Was it fun?” I grinned at her.
“It was okay. Don’t get me wrong. It’s beautiful there, but I’ve always wanted to go to Casablanca.”
“Really? Why?”
“No true reason. Just calls to me. Maybe because it sounds so romantic.Casablanca.” She pointed the breadstick at me. “Have you ever been?”
“To Casablanca?”
She shrugged. “Casablanca, Italy, anywhere far, far away from this...existence.”
“No,” I said.
“You should have Assanti take you there—”
I laughed and curled up even deeper into the softness of the blanket. It had warmed up, and it was making me feel even sleepier. “I’m not sure it’s like that for us.” Or if it was even possible.
The beginning of our relationship (again), or whatever we were doing, might end tomorrow—even being in his private penthouse was against the rules.
No fraternizing with the men who belonged to Club Desolation outside of its doors.
She finished the breadstick and shook her head at me. “Don’t bethatgirl in the novel,” she said.“You do realize, if that guy would’ve done to you what he did to me last night, he’d be dead right now? I’ve seen the way Assanti looks at you. You’re the first person I’ve ever seen him look at like you’re his equal. Actually, like you’re human.”
I didn’t want to get into specifics with her. I knew how Aniello looked at me. It went straight through my flesh, past my veins, my bones, and hit me square in the chest—right in the heart. But I didn’t want to dwell on all the darkness. Working at Club D and feeling it day in and day out was enough. Even though this place was cold, even clean to a fault, it felt lighter to me. It wasn’t connected to anything in Desolation.
“Assuming the angry guy from the strip club isn’t dead,” I said.
“He’s not,” she said, certain. “Assanti wouldn’t have grabbed the bat. He would have just disappeared behind the building. He wanted to leave that asshole remembering. What’s he going to say to other guys thinking of trying the same thing if he can’t talk?”
I nudged her leg with my toe. “Tell me about Joey.”
Even though we talked about the circumstances they faced, she never really spoke about him directly. I had no idea who he was, except the guy she claimed was as serious about her as she was about him.
Her face fell and she turned toward the television. “I hate him.”
